#but one and a half weeks ago it culminated to the point I was nearly crying in pain and was sent home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quill-pen · 6 months

Text

So... I watched Helluva Boss? And Ozzie protecting Fizz from Mammon inspired me. So I banged out a little thing. Enjoy!

@rom-e-o @m0nsterwife @ray-painter @st0r-fruit

The Declaration; A DND Scroogeverse snippet

The Priestess stared at him in that same way so many others had: Fear, disgust, abhorrence--it was all there in her eyes. Suddenly the rampaging chimera wasn't the monster anymore--he was. The disappointment, frustration, and anger that flared inside him at that, caused Ebenezer's wolf to tighten its grip on him.

This woman had traveled with their party on this quest for a week or more, had come to know him, even be friendly with him. Then just like that, at the revelation of what he was, all faith and trust she'd culminated in him--which had been strong enough for her to willingly partner with him--was gone. Washed out with the tide. It made him want to go as wild with rage as he would during the full moon and decimate everything in his path. Eb fought back the urge, clinging to the little humanity he could hold in this wolfish state. His grip on the struggling, screaming chimera tightened, and there was a sickening crunch as he broke the the base conjoined necks, severing the spinal column with his force. Immediately the creature went silent and limp.

"Y-You're... a werewolf..." the Priestess just barely uttered, voice meek and full of horror.

A bestial growl echoed from the man's chest before he could stop it. "Yes," he snarled in his wolfish voice.

"That's why you wouldn't use my sword," the woman murmured to herself in realization. "And wouldn't handle my relics like everyone else." The horror in the woman's eyes was instantly replaced with righteous fury. In the blink of an eye she was on her feet, both swords drawn and brandished towards him. "Beast!" she spat. "Hell beast! Foul! Cursed! Unfit to live!"

Ebenezer's vision began to go redder at the edges and tunnel-out, a sure sign his wolf was about to overtake him and go wild. At this point, with being threatened and seen as something to be sent back to the shadows, he was just about willing to let it. "Funny," he growled. "You were calling me 'friend' just a few moments ago, now after I've saved you, I'm just a dirty, worthless beast."

"Don't you speak to me, Demon! You're a fell monster--unclean and not worth the air you breathe. Such is the fate of the cursed and fallen." Her silver blades flashed and sang through the air as she whipped them around in an attempt to intimidate. (She really was green.) "It is part of my calling to put you poor, ruined souls out of your misery, and to keep your seed from spreading and tainting the world."

Something inside Ebenezer cracked. He released a roar of anger as he hefted the carcass of the chimera and chucked it away to clear the field between them. It fell upon and crushed one of the abandoned huts several yards away. He noted how the young woman suddenly looked unsure and a bit fearful again at such a display of brute strength. It pleased him more than he cared to admit. "Do it then," he challenged, voice dark and almost incoherent with the bleeding through of his wild nature. He flexed his fingers and his claws grew larger and sharper, still dripping with the green-black blood of the chimera.

The Priestess shook off her fear and reset the determination and anger in her eyes. "You don't think I will?" she hissed.

Ebenezer's snarling lips curled into a sinister, cheshire grin, somehow baring even more of his sharp, bloodied fangs. "A half-baked warrior priestess, nearly just torn to bits by a chimera, facing off in a battle to the death with a werewolf?" he replied with a dark, snarling laugh. "I don't think you will--I don't think you can. Fledgling."

Fire flared in the Priestess' eyes. With a cry of a anger, she slashed her sword. "Yaaah!"

There was a flash of light and a sharp, icy hot sting cut into the great gray wolf's chest. He winced and grabbed at his sternum. When he pulled his paw away, he saw more blood, only this kind was dark red: His blood. Rage boiled up inside him and his large, pointed ears flattened to his skull as he slowly looked the woman's way, all his teeth bared. His vision was going redder; she was becoming the only thing he could see and focus on. "You'll regret making me bleed, Fledgling." He licked his slavering jaws.

The woman merely gave him an indignant glare and spun her swords into new positions before using a gravity sigel to rocket herself forward. "Hhhhaaaahhhh!"

The werewolf braced himself, his wildness almost ready to pull him under. She'd cut him, yes, but he didn't fear the Priestess. Despite her power, she wasn't as skilled as she might be; her youth and bravado made her sloppy. Even now, as she came on, she was being reckless, opening herself up to a well-timed slash that would too easily cut into a chink of her armor. It was pathetic, really--almost frustrating how easy she made it.

The sound of rushing water roared in Ebenezer's ears and he felt the blast of cool, moist air as it rushed upon him. A massive cascade of water parted around him and slammed into the speeding Priestess with such force the impact ripped through the air, and carried her upwards in the splash. The woman flew skywards and then crashed to the ground, drenched, stunned, gasping for breath.

Ebenezer stared in bafflement. What the bloody-

"You better back the hell up, bitch!"

Ebenezer actually startled a bit as Bess landed in front of him in a flash of blues and grays. Immediately, the red in his eyes began to recede, his wolf started to settle. An unexpected feeling of relief came over him.

Groaning and spluttering, the Priestess started to push herself off the ground. She glowered in their direction, her eyes so dark it was amazing Bess wasn't smote down on the spot. "You're interfering in Moon Priestess affairs, Sister!"

"Since when is committing murder a Priestess affair?" Bess snapped, swords drawn, but not yet brandished.

"There is no such thing as murder when it comes to the cursed and damned, Sister--or have you forgotten your teaching?"

"I've forgotten nothing. But I do question everything."

"Heresy!"

"And if that's what I'm to be burned for, so be it."

"It's a werewolf! A beast! Poisoned, corrupted, and tainted in flesh, blood, and soul! It's a danger to the Light and must be eliminated, Sister!" The Priestess was on her feet again, summoning her fallen weapons back to her.

At that Bess readied her weapons and moved into a fighting stance. "I'm not your Sister," she growled. "And if you move against him, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Ebenezer felt his heart stop and his stomach sink. Threatening the life of a Moon Priestess, even as an ex-Priestess, was tantamount to painting a target on one's back. The Lunar Temple did not take kindly to their kindred being threatened and often took it upon themselves to see that those with the gall to make such threats were dealt with so they may never bring harm upon the Temple again. So for Bess to be saying such things and while protecting him--another blasphemous act....it chilled the wolf to the bone as much as it warmed the deepest recesses of his soul. "Brightness," he murmured just loudly enough that only she would hear, "don't. Please."

Bess just dared to glance back over her shoulder at him but did not back down from her stance.

"You're protecting it?!" the Priestess bellowed in indignation.

"I'm protecting him," Bess corrected, "yes. With my life, I protect him--just as he protects me with his."

The younger female snorted. "You truly expect me to believe a beast of darkness and corruption--a mindless, monstrous, child-devouring demon of bloodlust, would protect anything other than itself?"

Bess smirked. "There's a lot you and the Temple don't know about werewolves," she taunted. "Or any so-called "beast of darkness" for that matter."

The Priestess became quiet for a long moment, a curious look on her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between the ex-Priestess and the beast standing behind her, as though she were trying to work something out--add something together. Finally realization flashed into her eyes. "You love it," she breathed in disbelief. "You're in love with the beast."

"Don't, Bess," Wolf insisted more loudly this time. It was bad enough she'd already threatened this woman; if she confessed to breaking the most sacred of the Sisterhood's commandments by loving one of the cursed and damned--that was it. She would be corrupted just as he was in the eyes of the Lunar Temple. She would be one of the number of fell creatures on their list to snuff out.

But Bess. Didn't. Back. Down. "Yes," she answered clearly, unashamedly. "Yes, I do love him. With everything that I am, was, and could ever hope to be, I love the werewolf, Ebenezer Scrooge."

The young Priestess' blades sang again as she slashed them savagely about. "Then you are a heretic and blasphemer!"

Bess' face hardened and went dark. Her grip on her swords tightened. "And you never should've left home, Girl."

I'mma let you guys decide if Bess killed her or sent her packing with her tail between her legs and a message for the Temple to leave Bess' Pack alone.🤗

#scrooge 2022 #netflix scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #scrooge #fanfiction #scrooge x oc #ebeness #ebenezer x bess #bess scrooge #dnd au #dnd scroogeverse #werewolf scrooge #moon warrior bess

10 notes · View notes

kinthinia · 1 month

Text

Life Update

I don't really talk about my personal life online anymore, but I find myself wanting to today.

I used to shout into the ether over in my deviantart days, but I feel a little like I've outgrown that site. And also that site for writing is kind of dead, and didn't tumblr start out as a blog anyways?

I don't actually know the answer to that question...

Two years ago, I got engaged. I was working at a job I loved. What I didn't know at the time, was that the job I was working at was slowly, insidiously becoming more and more toxic. I was told when I signed up that it was a small, quiet office, and I really believed that. Mondays were the busy day, I did the scheduling for just two people, it was good.

But when I needed to get a sub to cover my position, they'd cover one vacation and often decline because the office was busy. Busy was the answer I kept getting back. And the people I worked for kept insisting the office was slow and how lucky I was to work in such a slow-moving office.

I made average, normal mistakes and was shamed in front of clients and given no way to voice how I was feeling because every reprimand was done in public in front of clients. I can't tell you how small that makes you feel.

This culminated in my work putting together a staff meeting and I was really excited to be able to voice my side of things, of how busy the office had actually started to feel for me, how I couldn't keep up with anything. But I couldn't quite pinpoint why. But instead, my employers sat me down and told me that I was the problem, that it was my mental health, that I had depression.

I didn't get to share my side of the story.

I went to my doctor. I was diagnosed with anxiety and low mood, PTSD, RSD and a handful of other diagnoses that have no bearing or major influence on my life that I can't even remember all of them. Minor doctor lingo stuff for putting feelings inside of boxes with a neat little label that is seldom useful.

I started seeing a therapist. She aslo agreed with my doctor that my anxiety and low mood weren't actually impacting me at my job, because my PTSD manifests in heavy masking and I would almost rather die than break down or fail at my performance based job.

I stopped writing. I just... couldn't. I had a window where I had a good thing going before it literally blew up in my hands.

I want to say, all of this was going on while I was knee-deep in planning a wedding.

A month and a half before my wedding, my work informed me that my hours were being cut. Effective within a week. They'd hired someone to replace me. They reminded me during this 'meeting' that I hadn't earned 23$ an hour as a wage because they'd noticed that I wasn't keeping up with the workflow. I asked in what way and they stated "let's not talk about specifics."

They hired a temp I had cover me for a week during xmas, the deadest week of the year and said that the office flowed so much smoother when she was around. Geez, wonder how that's possible.

For some context, I went from having 2 people who's schedules I booked. ALSO these people didn't tell me until maybe 2 weeks beforehand if they had a major meeting or anything going on, and I was expected to just know they had this as an issue.

Anyways. They hired my replacement at 30$ an hour.

I stuck it out because my wedding was less than a month away. I got married. My employers who were supposed to be in my party and show up, called like 14 hours before my wedding to cancel.

I was effectively let go while I was on my week off to celebrate my wedding.

I want to mention around this point I did start taking medication to some success.

I found a new job. I didn't transition well. I got another job. It's been nearly a year and I finally feel like I'm settling in and I don't have to worry about being stabbed in the back.

I want to preface this by saying, like the way I got hired at that initial job was because I was friends with the owner. The employer behind everything. Did you know she didn't even message me congrats until a week after my wedding that she was supposed to be in? Not even a condolence from her or her husband after my mom died.

And I'd known her husband for six years. Six years.

I'm obviously better off without them, that much is more than clear, but also....

Writing has been hard. Life has been hard.

I've been very... empty for the last two years. Despite my marriage being amazing, my husband is great, my wedding was amazing, everything else around that, including parts of my honeymoon have been an empty, agonizing.... blah. Blegh. A nothingness. The absence of warmth, if you will.

ANYWAYS it's been 3 weeks without that feeling. And I've started writing again. I'm 6 campaigns deep into Baldur's Gate 3. I like k-pop now.

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking with me.

#life update #about me #long #tldr life was sad #anxiety #depression #work life issues

2 notes · View notes

the-kipsabian · 1 year

Text

so im gonna go insane for a minute about kip (yet again) excuse me cause he posted something last night and i havent stopped thinking about that ever since

so heres the tweet in question (tumblr is being a bitch about previews so sorry links only jnsdkjasd), which made me finally look that quote up. its a riddle, and the answer very fittingly is “redemption”

which then led me to relisten the other promo from last week

“slayer of regrets, old and new, sought by many, found by few

clementine, zest friends - misunderstood

we’ve done this dance for far too long”

what i think he means by the ‘misunderstood’ line here is that kip is basically either accusing them of faking the zest or the best friendship. both valid options, possibly meaning both at the same time. it feels like a throwaway line, but idk i can make it fit lmao (in this context i doubt hes talking about himself, although in general that is fitting for his character too lol)

“we’ve done this dance for far too long” - ive touched on this before, but like. arcade anarchy was almost two years ago. im fairly sure kip was already injured at that point and on his way out, then that loss happened and then the betrayal with miro - so its been two years of basically the best friends living rent free in his head with the thought of redemption always being there. what we’ve seen has been barely a month and a half of program, but heres the deal - in reality its been nearly two years. pac was just a detour (or mayhaps a catalyst in the sense that him having the all-atlantic title before woke up kips real hunger), everything between that and what culminates this friday has just been a mere delaying of the inevitable

also sure in the past weeks we’ve seen effectively one avoiding the other in the case of the title shots and matches - the times they have faces have been fairly brief, tho eventful, but it has never truly been a wrestling match one on one. the most intimate dance if you will

im sure i had another thought about this but yeah. i’ll se you on friday when i lose my mind for real <3

#i cant wait for him to finally say 'kip sabian' again #in relation of him being a champion #all-atlantic champion kip sabian has an amazing ring to it <3 #wrestling #wrestling musing #boxman saga #enjoy i dont know what im doing anymore this is fueled my unlimited excitement for friday and having looked up some of my older takes last #night and seeing i have actually been surprisingly correct about most of these somehow LOL

8 notes · View notes

softiem · 3 years

Text

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face.

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

804 notes · View notes

vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

Text

Kirishima X Male!Reader: Movie Night w/the Bro’s ((18+))

Kirishima was the winner of the poll I started recently, to see who was going to get lewded, so here you guys go ;3 Enjoy!

“What’re you doing? Kirishima asked quietly, honestly curious- bless his heart- as one of your hands found it’s way over to play with the waist of his shorts, under your shared blanket. Fingers dipping into the waistband to run along the other boy’s hip gently. A blush as crimson as your boyfriend’s favorite hero overtaking his cheeks, visible even in the low light of the room, as you shrugged. “Nothing. Mind your business, movie’s finally getting good.”

“Totally,” Kaminari muttered, spread out like a starfish over a beanbag in front of the two of you, alongside Sero, Bakugou, Ojiro, and Sato. All of the boys cuddled up with various blankets, and pillows; even Bakugou, hoodie drawn over his head, hands stuffed in the pockets as he sat against the coffee table, watching the movie unfold in front of them with a bored expression. You and Kiri commandeered the sofa just before the movie started- couple privileges, you’d claimed, which the other guy’s had groaned about, but couldn’t argue against. Settling themselves in, a few feet away from you, before pressing play. Mistake number one. Mistake number two had been picking a movie you’d already seen, thus ensuring your inevitable boredom. And when you were bored, you got antsy. And when you got antsy, you bothered Kirishima. He was your boyfriend after all, it was sort of one of his jobs to be an endless supply of entertainment. Though your impromptu boredom, paired with the previous weeks grueling training schedule, and Kirishima’s skimpy little workout tank top he’d decided to wear to movie night, culminated in one overarching problem. You were so. Fucking. Horny. The last time you and Kirishima had had any privacy, for any extended amount of time, was over a week ago. The bite marks on your inner thighs had already begun to fade, and try as you might to press on them when you jerked off, to keep them fresh, they were almost gone. You were pent up, and you knew Kirishima was too. If the lingering looks during training, and the hungry gaze he fixed you with in the locker room after was any indication. There’d just been no time, nor privacy, to act on anything. Until tonight. Privacy be damned, you reasoned, entirely with yourself, as you draped yourself across Kirishima’s side early on. Running a hand along his arm, nipping at his ear. Pressing kisses to his neck. But dear god, was your boyfriend thick headed. Too pure for his own good. He wasn’t the smartest when it came to social cues, not initiated by himself of course. He could tell you were bored, that much was clear. But he assumed you’d grow tired of messing with him, and fall asleep or something. He’d happily carry you back to your dorm, he’d done it many times before. But then your hand was in his shorts, palm flat, and warm against his waist, as you settled it there for a few minutes. Your other hand snaking around Kirishima’s waist, and cupping his hip gently. Lips just barely brushing Kirishima’s cheek, as you leaned the both of you back into the cushions. One of your legs swinging over Kirishima’s under the blanket, as you settled in. Half on his lap. Everyone was so preoccupied with the movie, they didn’t hear Kirishima’s soft, needy whine, as he finally realized what you were up to- when the hand in his shorts slid down to cup his cock through his underwear. “Y-Y/N...we...our friends are here,” Kirishima hissed, right next to your ear, though he couldn’t help the hitch in his breath, and the low moan that left his throat, as you began to massage, and stroke his cock through his underwear slowly. Careful of showing any outward movements off through the blanket, in case someone were to glance back. “They’ll never know,” You assured him quietly, pressing a kiss to his nose, before trailing your lips down, to kiss just in the crook of Kiri’s neck. Licking over where you kissed after, before you latched on to suck a hickey into the tender skin just below Eijiro’s ear. Grip tight on your boyfriend's cock as he went to cry out. Quick to cover his lips with yours, you swallowed Kiri’s noises, smiling against his lips as his tongue slid out desperately against yours- and you indulged him. The soft, wet noises of your make out just barely reaching Sero’s ears, who glanced behind himself briefly: rolling his eyes at the two of you, not catching the quickly rising tent between Kirishima’s legs, as he went to turn the volume up another ten or so notches. Completely drowning out your noises. “They making out again?” Bakugou asked gruffly. “Yep.” Sero answered with a huff, popping the P for emphasis, as the other boys groaned, and steeled their expressions forward. “Tch.” Bakugou snorted, shaking his head at his best friend's antics. God, they were so gullible, you thought briefly, as you listened in as best you could over the sounds of the movie, before turning your attention solely back to Kirishima, as you moved back down to suck hickeys into the sensitive skin of his neck. Slipping your hand quickly beneath the fabric of Kiri’s briefs, to take hold of his now throbbing cock. Kirishima gasping into his fist at the contact. “Missed this,” You sighed against his neck, turning your head to look down at where you began to slowly, so, so slowly, stroke Kirishima’s cock below the blanket. The heat, and weight of your boyfriend's cock against your palm causing your mouth to water. “A-Ah! Me t-too! Me too,” Kirishima whined, twitching in his seat as you slid your thumb up and against his weeping tip. Precum bubbling over the head of his cock at a rapid speed, the longer you worked him over. Kirishima’s gaze flickering between you, your hand, and the others in front of the both of you. The thrill of being caught humiliating...but so exciting. What would they say? Your hand down his shorts, palm already so wet from his pre, stroking his cock where anyone could watch. God, they’d call Kirishima desperate. A slut. Can’t even keep it in his pants. And they’d be right. But so were you. If anything, you were a bad influence, because Kirishima never would have initiated this on his own. Though you knew of course, he’d never do anything he wasn’t truly comfortable with. Your communication was top notch between the two of you, and you both found consent incredibly sexy. Even if it was slightly...dubious, at times. You could both always say no, and it would always be respected. But Kirishima simply nodded as you whispered ‘more?’ into his ear, biting his lip to stifle his cries as you pulled the blanket down, the cool air of the room rushing over Kirishima’s hard cock now, as it bobbed openly in the room. Just feet away from your friends. “So hot,” You nearly cried, gripping Kirishima’s cock at the base, shaking it back and forth. Swinging the heft of it around like a bat, before pointing it straight up, and continuing to stroke him. Out in the open- one turned head, and they’d see just how kinky the two of you really were. Kirishima’s fat cock, out and throbbing in your palm- precum dribbling down the side, slicking the way, the longer you edged him. Leaving him to throb openly for a moment, you brought your hand that was around Kirishima’s waist back to take hold of his dick- your wet hand fishing the boy’s heavy balls from his underwear, to roll and massage in your palm. Kirishima’s legs stretched out, as he threw his head back, and bit onto his fist to keep from moaning. Though he couldn’t help the sound that left him when you leaned over his lap, and spit right onto the head of his already wet cock. Thank god the action scene on screen decided to include explosions at that very moment. The rest of your friends cheered at the chaos, as you spat another glob of spit onto Kiri’s cock, stroking him in earnest now, just as Kirishima captured your lips in another heated kiss. Your brain felt fuzzy with heat as he kissed you- tongues swirling together, your hand a wet, tight blur on Kirishima’s cock as you jerked him off. The soft plap plap plap of your fist against the top of his balls all you could hear, over the blood rushing in your ears. You knew it was because you were hyper fixated on the sound, but the thill of imagining the others hearing, and /knowing/ making your own balls draw up tight to the base of your own hard cock, so close to jizzing your jeans it wasn’t even funny. “Gonna cum,” Kirishima whispered against your lips, forehead pressed against yours, as his body tightened- abs hardening as his quirk manifested briefly- Kirishima's hands on your shoulders as you both panted in each other’s faces. Hot breath ghosting your cheeks as you squeezed his balls a little tighter, and ran your thumb along his slit on every upstroke. Taking Kirishima’s bottom lip between your teeth finally did it- Kiri’s grip on your shoulders leaving bruises as he hunched forward, and gasped- cock growing impossibly thicker, as he came. Long, hot, white stripes of cum shooting out all over Kirishima’s chest, and stomach. Eight, nine, /ten/ hefty pumps of hot cum shooting out, before it lessened to a thick dribble down his length, and your knuckles. Searing against your skin, as your own cock gave a valiant throb against the inside of your jeans, and you whined into Kirishima’s throat- your boyfriend catching his breath. You both leaned back, breathing heavily- Kirishima’s cock soft and wet against the front of his shorts, which you quickly helped slip him back into. Patting the front of them with your clean hand gently, before leaning back fully- bringing your cum covered hand up, and glancing briefly to the side at Kiri. His breathing had stopped altogether, as he watched you. “Not gonna let it go to waste,” You chuckled, winking at the redhead, before sticking your tongue out to scoop up the thick globs of cum coating your knuckles. Slurping on each of your fingers, licking in broad strokes across your palm even, as Kirishima watched, still holding his breath. Only when you’d licked off the last little drop of his spunk, did he finally exhale. Tugging you up and onto his lap, so he could bury his face in your chest. Nuzzling between your pecs like a pleased puppy, as you snorted, and did the same in his wild mane of red hair. “Holy- dude! That was so hot!” He whispered heatedly. “Talk about manly, I- nothing will ever top that. Literally /ever/, holy /shit/!” “Wait till next time, i’ll sit on it,” You offered quietly, the air in your lungs expelling quickly as Kirishima hugged you a little too tight, biting down on your neck just this side of rough. “You’re such a menace, oh my god. Who knew my boyfriend was so...so lewd! Jeez…..but is that a promise though?”

((Reupload, apologies! Tumblr was hiding this one from the tags and some of my followers, so hopefully this helps! <3))

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x male reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n #Kirishima #eijiro Kirishima #eijiro kirishima x male reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima x male reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima imagine #vicious vixxxen

366 notes · View notes

tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Bite to Break Skin {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Welcome to my first time writing for A/B/O dynamics, one of my absolute favorite things in fanfic. There’s so much potential and I’m definitely interested in exploring it with other characters! Just a small heads up, this one is pretty dialogue heavy throughout.

“C’mon,” he said as his breathing finally slowed, “we gotta get up.”

The fingers combing through his damp hair paused. “Can I wear your shirt?”

“You’ve been wearin’ ‘em for years, ain’t gonna stop you now, idiot,” he huffed as he peeled himself away from her, their skin tacky with sweat. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t be shitty to me, Katsuki, I have your virginity!”

“And I have yours. Even exchange. No reason to stop teasing you,” he grunted. Pulling her to her feet he guided her towards his bathroom with a hand on her lower back.

They cleaned up in easy silence, each of them still feeling the content fuzziness in their minds that now seemed amplified and even better than usual. At different points they briefly wondered if that was normal after losing their virginities.

Probably, they decided. For them it was a natural progression in their over two-year relationship. Having gotten together just after the provisional license exam in their first year their hero course schedules only got busier and they got less time to spend together between classes and training and work studies and internships. But those moments were coveted and left plenty of time for them to take their relationship at the perfect pace for them.

Two years of wandering hands and mouths had culminated that afternoon while the majority of the class had gone to the shopping district and neither of them could regret a single thing about it.

“Katsuki?”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she smiled, fingers absently twisting the hem of his shirt that she wore.

“’Course you do,” he smirked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and returned them to his bed, the grey sheets rumpled. He bunched them down to the end of the mattress and laid down, pulling her to lie next to him curled into his side.

He was always so warm and she loved it, now especially as the chill of January lingered in the dorm hallways and throughout their rooms. Being close to him as they laid together was one of her favorite things about their relationship. As much as he seemed like a loner in their first weeks at UA she never believed it was true and once they were together behind closed doors he was happy as long as they had some sort of contact with each other. She’d never been prouder of being right than that day.

His attentiveness was something she knew would likely contribute heavily to his secondary gender when he presented in the future. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be an alpha, and an amazing one at that. His protective streak and pride in his own abilities couldn’t be attributed to any other presentation. While she herself was unsure of what she would present as, he had always promised that it didn’t matter.

“Alphas want omegas but I want you, and that means I get you no matter what we are,” he’d grumbled one evening not that long ago when she revealed her fears of presenting as a beta and not being what his alpha would need. “Secondary gender can go fuck itself if it thinks I’d leave you over some random omega. Shit, you don’t even know if I’d be an alpha anyway, dumbass.”

If she hadn’t been sure about him before, that conversation had cemented it in her mind and in her heart. Katsuki Bakugo was the one for her and it sent her heart into a tailspin to know that he felt the same way.

She pressed herself closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and of her thoughts.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled against her forehead.

“So’re you.”

“Nah, your skin’s pink like you took one of your showers from hell.”

She huffed out a laugh. “’M fine, Katsuki. It’s ‘cause you’re warm and I’m still kinda hot from before.”

“You’re always hot,” he said with a pinch to the seat of her underwear.

“Just cuddle me, you ass.”

His arms tightened around her and they laid together in comfortable silence. At one point she started to doze against the warmth of Katsuki’s chest, one hand on his hip at the waistband of his sweats. She’d never felt safer.

In the middle of her dreamless nap she awoke to a persistent poking to her nose. When she opened her eyes, her boyfriend’s furrowed brow came into focus as she blinked. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

“You’ve got a fever.”

She wanted to protest but the trails of sweat she could feel having trickled down her back was unmistakable. She definitely felt warm but she wasn’t disoriented or feeling sick.

“It’s like a full body fever,” Katsuki muttered, dropping his hand from her forehead.

“I feel really hot, but I don’t feel sick,” she told him, sleep leaving her as confusion took over.

He fisted the collar of the shirt she wore at the base of her neck, squeezing for just a moment before pulling back a glistening hand.

“Shirt’s soaked with sweat, take it off and I’ll get you one of my tanks,” he said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his drawers.

She peeled the sticky fabric from her skin, the feeling more uncomfortable than the fact that she was sitting topless once it was off. Nothing Katsuki hadn’t seen plenty of times after all.

A black tank top hit her chest before falling to her lap and she picked it up immediately, pressing her nose into the bundle. It’d barely been a minute since he left her side but she needed the comfort. Which is why when all she smelled was the scent of detergent her nose wrinkled.

“It doesn’t smell like you,” she complained, and he laughed from where he was straightening the other tank tops in his drawer.

“It’s clean, dumbass, I haven’t worn it yet. I’ll be next to you again in like two seconds anyway.”

“Hurry up,” she whined, slipping the tank top over her head and surprising him with her needy tone. “I haven’t smelled roasting chestnuts in almost two minutes, this is cruel. I even miss the little bit of sugar.”

He turned to her with furrowed brows. “I smell like that right now?”

“You smell like that all the time, ever since I’ve known you. What, you don’t know what your own cologne smells like anymore? You gone nose blind?”

He shook his head slowly. “My cologne is sandalwood. Always has been. The sugar I’ll give you because of my quirk but your perfume has nothing on that with your sweet cherries’n shit.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “That’s not my perfume, Katsuki. My perfume is the same floral one I’ve worn since middle school, it’s not fruity or sweet at all. Come here, do I smell like that now?”

He crossed back over to the bed and sat in front of her, gently tugging her forward to press his nose into her hair. Her face tucked under his chin and she breathed in the same familiar scent.

“Sugared cherries just like always,” he muttered. “Do I…?”

“Mhm, roasted chestnuts with a pinch of sugar,” she replied almost dreamily. It was stronger than usual, but maybe that’s because she was concentrating on it. It felt like it was surrounding her and through her and it made her skin burn hotter. It was good. So so good, and she wanted and she needed more.

She pressed herself closer to him, his confused grunt falling on deaf ears until he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her from himself to look at her. He’d felt her skin grow warmer against his bare chest, the heat startling. But when he looked at her panic shot through him as she doubled over with a whimper.

He called her name but she didn’t answer, just clutched her stomach harder while curling further into herself and whining low in her throat.

“Alright, hey, hey, listen, okay? I’m calling Aizawa, he’ll help us figure out what’s wrong,” he tried to soothe, pulling her back into his chest. Her skin burned against his but he needed her to know he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere when she wasn’t alright.

It was awkward trying to reach his phone on the bedside table with her curled against him but he was hellbent on making her feel better and if that meant practically popping his shoulder out of its socket with the stretch so fucking be it.

“What’s wrong, Bakugo?” was the greeting he got and he immediately started listing off what was happening as she continued to tremble in his lap.

“She’s burning up to the point I feel like I’m touching an oven and she—”

“Todoroki’s still in the dorms, call him up and have—”

“NO!” he snarled into the phone. “He doesn’t need to be near her, just tell me how I can help her! She’s in fucking pain and nearly incoherent right now! You’re not fucking helping me!”

Aizawa was silent for a long moment. “Bakugo, where are you two?”

“We’re in my dorm and I’d appreciate if you could save the damn lecture for when she’s actually conscious enough to fuckin’ hear it too.”

“How long has she been like this? What was she doing when she started feeling the fever? Is there anything that’s—”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know! An hour or so and we were just here, she was asleep while I scrolled through my phone.”

Aizawa’s tone went knowing as he prompted, “And before that?”

He weighed his options for answering. They were already in shit for her being on the boys’ side of the dorms, how much worse could it be? They were consenting adults and they were responsible about it and if it did help figure out why she was—

“That’s what I thought,” Aizawa sighed before he could decide how to answer. “I can’t be there to help but I’m sending Recovery Girl. Try and keep her comfortable until she arrives.”

When the line went dead, he could only mumble out curses as he dropped his phone and kept her pressed against him. Her little noises of pain had lessened and she didn’t feel as tightly coiled in his arms as she had, but he was still worried. At least the old lady might actually be able to do something.

“Well I must hand it to Aizawa,” Recovery Girl chuckled as she pulled the thermometer from her lips, “the man does know his students.”

“The hell are you laughing for?” Bakugo hissed. He had been pacing back and forth while she examined her, hovering close and getting more frustrated by the moment. Sure, his girlfriend didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment but he wanted whatever caused it to be taken care of now.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy, you may be an alpha but I won’t be disrespected.”

He did a double take, sputtering, “An alpha? I’m eighteen, I haven’t presented!”

She smiled in amusement. “Not fully, no, but you’re both presenting as we speak. Fated mates can present at an earlier age when establish an intimate connection prior to turning twenty. It likely hit her first being an omega and that pulled you over too. I must say I’m a bit surprised as fated mates are quite rare at your age, though maybe even more so that this took so long. It’s admirable of you children to take things slow but when I was your age—”

“We’re fated mates?” she murmured, breaking the older woman’s rambling. “So we…?”

“Quite a spin on the high school sweetheart’s trope wouldn’t you say? Certainly a story for the pups.”

“Wait, so she’s burning up because…” he trailed off as his cheeks flushed pink. “This is…”

“Yes, yes, this is her heat beginning and your rut will follow, keep up boy. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail on that—”

“NO!” they shouted together, mortified.

She laughed, high pitched and maniacal. “Oh alright, I’ve had my fun. You children are so easy to poke at these days. But I do suppose we need to get you prepared for the next week or so. Dear, make a list of things you’ll need from your room and Bakugo will go fetch them for you.”

“I can’t just go myself?”

“Look at that boy’s face and tell me he’s alright with you leaving his den.”

Of course when she looked to him Katsuki’s face was contorted into an angry grimace, his lips twitching back to bare his teeth.

“Just tell me what you need,” he ground out, and she quickly rattled off everything she could think of that she may possibly need. Without a word he disappeared through the door, a lingering touch to her hand a silent promise to return quickly so as to soothe any worries of abandonment or actions that could be interpreted as rejection by her inner omega.

Recovery Girl turned the chair towards her and grabbed her bag from the floor. “We have a few things to discuss now, dear.”

She went over the arrangements made by Aizawa for their classes and schoolwork as well as daily drop offs of prepared bento boxes for them since they wouldn’t be leaving Bakugo’s room. Their parents had been contacted which sent a fresh wave of nausea through her for reasons other than the heat, but she was assured that it wasn’t as a punishment since they were both eighteen. Still, she could only image the conversation she would hear at the end of her heat when she heard from home.

Expectations of what would happen during the shared heat and rut were next and she while she was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter, she was proven wrong. As awkward as it was though, at least she was talking it over with another woman; having the same conversation with Aizawa would have killed her.

Finally, it seemed that the verbal torture was finished as Recovery Girl reached into her medical bag with one hand and beckoned her closer with the other.

“Let me see your arm, I need to give you a preventative injection.”

“Ah, I uhm,” she stuttered, cheeks still reddened but not from the heat, “I’m already taking…”

Recovery Girl shook her head with a chuckle. “Presenting alters your existing biology by releasing additional hormones which awaken parts of your mind and body that contribute to the primal instincts of your secondary gender. Generic contraceptive methods would be fine for a newly presented beta but as an omega the hormones released at presentation boost your fertility to a point where the pill may as well be candy for all the prevention it does.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now unless you and that boy of yours have decided that you want pups within the year I need to give you this.” The syringe was brandished in front of her.

She held out her arm and she cleaned the area with a swab before feeling the familiar prick to her skin and the cold chill spread into her heated blood.

“Any last questions for me before he gets back?”

She went to shake her head but paused. “Just… what about our quirks?”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Quirks take a backseat during these times unless a threat arises. Once bonded you will kill and die for the other and your pups, but for right now you two shouldn’t have an issue. I’d say ‘won’t’ but I think we both know your class has a habit of finding trouble, hm?”

“More like trouble finds us,” came a grunt from the doorway.

Katsuki reentered the room with her laundry basket on his hip and a tote bag over his shoulder. He visibly relaxed as he crossed the threshold and set her things on the floor at the foot of his bed.

She sat down on the plush area rug to go through what he’d brought, her legs tucked beneath her as Recovery Girl began speaking to him about the upcoming week like she’d done for her.

Rifling through the laundry basket she pulled out her pillows and blankets as well as her favorite hoodies, then she pulled everything out of the tote and put those sweaters and shirts onto Katsuki’s bed. Once everything was piled atop his sheets she began to sort through everything, enjoying the familiar smell of her own things mixing with the scent of Katsuki’s den. She hoped he would scent a few of his shirts and let her use his pillows and blankets for her nest.

“…and once you know the heat and rut have passed I’d like you to give me a call so I can come and assess you two.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki mumbled, his cheeks burning from the conversation as he took the offered slip of paper with her number. He’d never been more relieved to have a conversation end, and as soon as the door closed behind the terrible old bat he turned back to his girlfriend and his heart nearly stopped.

She was absently arranging his sheets with some of what he’d brought from her dorm to make the beginnings of her nest. Their combined scents filled his room to an almost dizzying potency but he had never felt more alive, more proud, and his inner alpha growled happily in his chest. Here was his mate, his omega, building a sweet-smelling nest in his den for the two of them and their pups.

The thought of pups broke through the haze of his instincts to allow nerves to set it. They were only eighteen and just about to finish their last few months at UA before becoming fully licensed heroes. Having pups wasn’t something they could do, at least… at least not now.

Recovery Girl had mentioned the preventative and rationally he knew that she wouldn’t give them something designed to fail and he was grateful for that but at the same time, he’d love to have pups with his mate. She was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner and he knew his mate would be the best mother to his pups. He’d thought so long before they presented and he was sure he’d think it until he took his last breath.

Her soft voice brought him out of his musings as she looked up at him through her lashes and shyly asked, “Could you… scent a few of your shirts and sweaters? For the nest?”

“’Course,” he replied, and seeing her eyes flicker towards his discarded pillows added, “You can use anything of mine. We’re mates.”

The heat-induced flush on her cheeks darkened slightly with embarrassment, but she nudged his pillow towards him anyway. He grabbed it and held it in his hands feeling both uncharacteristically anxious about scenting something for the first time and filled with pride at his mate seeking out his scent for her nest.

As he scented different things for her and she took them to construct their home for the next week or so he could see the flush fading little by little and he saw less sweat droplets running down her hairline. It was almost as if the larger and more structured the nest grew the tamer her inner omega became. That soothed him too, making him thankful for the calm before the storm of her first heat really began and pulled his rut to the forefront with it.

He leaned against the far wall as she worked in silence arranging their things into the what he assumed was a perfect nest—he didn’t know much about omega nesting instincts but it looked inviting enough to him that he had no qualms about spending the next week tangled with her in the textile haven. It was as if the movement she caused sent more of that sweet smell of hers wafting through the room and he could’ve sworn the sugary scent was getting stronger by the moment.

With a few last cursory pats to the sweatshirt walls she looked up at him.

"Do you think we'll lose ourselves in the heat and rut?" she asked quietly, shifting from foot to foot.

Katsuki sighed. "That's what happens with most people."

"You know, I… I knew you were it for me a long time ago, Katsuki. This morning is an amazing memory and I guess, even if this is how we get to spend the rest of our lives I'd like to remember this first too."

"Then maybe we can bond before it fully hits. I can… smell that it's going to hit hard again and that you're already feeling it creep up.”

The slick feeling between her thighs meant he was probably right. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I guess I'm just nervous."

"Hey, I know this whole thing became way bigger than either of us thought but I’m still me—the alpha part doesn’t change that. Shit I couldn’t even think of hurting you without wanting to die before, can you imagine what type of insufferably sweet asshole I’m gonna be now?” he asked with only mild disgust as he crossed his room to lay one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

The smile he received was worth the uncomfortable admission of his feelings; reassurance wasn’t his forte and sharing his feelings even less so but he’d always try for her.

“I know, and I’m happy you’re the one I get to be with.”

“C’mon, your nest looks good,” he said, easing her forward towards his bed. “We able to get in it yet?”

She kissed his cheek. “Yeah, let’s get in our nest, alpha.”

The shudder was hard for him to suppress, but he allowed her to pull him into the plush space where they laid together once more. They laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki reached out to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand where it lay between them.

It was an unspoken agreement to take all the time they could before allowing themselves to indulge in the instincts of their new secondary genders, and they spoke quietly about what it all meant for them.

Mates were more permanent than marriage and fated mates even more so. The idea of claiming bites at only eighteen was daunting but at the same time it was always the plan anyway. Of course they knew they’d present but that seemed far off and more inconsequential the longer they were together prior to a few hours ago. They had their after-graduation plans and a claim had been a mutual desire, and even pups sometime in the far future. Secondary gender, as Katsuki had loved to point out, wouldn’t change that.

But with the presentations occurring and revealing them as an alpha/omega pair there were still some things that hadn’t been discussed or planned for, and they needed to be addressed.

“I’m getting warmer,” she murmured.

“We’ve got a long week ahead of us but it’s nothing we can’t handle,” he smirked.

She gave him a weak smile and pushed past her nerves to bring up what had been on her mind since her talk with Recovery Girl.

"Will… will you…?"

"If you want to, we can bond now while we're still mostly clear-headed. Some shit I’d like to remember too, you know?"

Her cheeks went pink. "No—well, yes that's probably a good idea but I… I'm… will you actually knot me?"

He choked on his tongue. "Fuck, shit, do you want me to? Do I need to? For your heat?"

"I don’t— Don't you need it to get through your rut?"

"It's… I don't want to make the decision for you, alright? If you want me to I will and if you don’t I won’t. ‘S always your choice.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand rising up to trace his cheekbone and the slope of his nose, even the dip of his cupid’s bow until she came to a stop at his chin. She pressed lightly and he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not afraid of you or anything like that. It’s all just very sudden and a lot to wrap my head around, you know? Six hours ago we were virgins and now we’re literally together for life. That’s not bad, just a lot.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s why I want you to make the call. I ain’t gonna force you to do something you don’t want. We got forever to figure our shit out.”

She laughed. “Yeah we do. For now though, I want you to. We’re gonna bond today and then heatshare, rutshare, and get tied together for the next week. This morning was amazing and now that we know we’re fated mates I think that’s gonna make it even better.”

“Once is all it took to get you addicted, huh?”

“Shut up!” she whined as she pushed against his shoulder and turned away with a blush. His loud laughter echoed throughout his room and she crossed her arms with a pout.

“Oi. Look at me.”

She rolled onto her side to face him again, lips still pouted cutely. His eyes were soft as he looked over her face and she felt proud of the small smile upturning his mouth as he did.

He reached out to smooth a hand over her hair and then gently nudged her shoulder. “Lie back.”

She moved onto her back and he settled himself over her, lying between her parted legs. It was familiar and made her smile; they’d laid together like this a hundred times over the course of their relationship and maybe it was the perfect way to cross into something more permanent.

“Katsuki,” she murmured, feeling his hands go below the tank top. He pushed it up and over her head, tossing it to the side and fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

His hands slid beneath her, pressed between her body and the sheets below, and he kissed her softly. Her hands slid up his back before settling over the solid muscle of his shoulders.

“’M gonna be the best alpha on the fuckin’ planet,” he said as they pulled apart. His lips ghosted over her cheek and down her jaw to settle at her neck. “Know I already got the best omega.”

“Will you say it?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes.

The huff of a laugh and curl of his lips on her skin made her shiver. He moved in closer to her and raised up to whisper exactly what she wanted.

“I love you.”

Her arms tightened around him and tried pulling him closer but she knew it would never feel like enough until they bonded.

Katsuki seemed to understand that too because he moved back to her neck and grazed his lips teasingly for just a second before sinking his teeth into the perfect spot as a claim.

She gasped as her head tipped back at the rush of sensations that seemed to flow from the bite. Her brain filled with static but her body felt a rush of coldness like ice water had been poured over her to combat the heat she’d been feeling for so long. Her heart sped up in her chest and she knew it was synched perfectly with Katsuki’s. The entirety of her being was aligned with his and the bond cemented as she let herself move forward and bite into her mate’s neck to stake her own claim.

Time seemed to speed up before slowing down again when she was tasting blood off of both her and Katsuki’s lips as his hands cradled her face and kissed her deeply. The coolness she had experienced during the claim had been almost completely swallowed by the heat she felt pulsing through her and becoming tangible as a needy whine against his mouth. He was so close and smelled so perfect and she wondered if she could feel him closer, her hands digging into the defined muscles of his shoulders as she held him against her.

“Look at my pretty mate,” he said lowly, his voice hushed. He nosed against the underside of her jaw just above the fresh bite as his hands roamed over her torso. “My omega, smellin’ so sweet just for me.”

The purr that bubbled from her lips surprised her but his warm hands on her and the quiet praise pushed it aside quickly when he kneaded her chest.

Her hands traced over his arms, fingers trailing down over dips of muscle. “The strongest alpha I know is all mine. I’m so lucky to have such a handsome mate.”

A please growl rumbled through his chest as her fingers hooked in his waistband and began sliding down the sweatpants until he was able to kick them off. He quickly returned the favor with her underwear to leave them both completely bare. With their scents completely unhindered for the first time with the bond formed, they could both smell the heavy, warm sweetness of roasted chestnuts and cherries that filled his dorm room. It was spicy but soft and made their heads spin knowing that this was them.

Katsuki’s hands roamed the familiar curves of her body as he leaned forward to kiss around the bite mark, feeling her lips against his neck as she did the same to him. Shivers ran up his spine at the contact and a groan escaped him as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me what you need.”

She whined, hands splayed on his toned stomach.

“C’mon, tell your alpha what you need,” he coaxed.

“You,” she whispered. “Your knot. Your pups. Our pups.”

When we’re ready, was the silent understanding about the request.

Their hips met as Katsuki rolled his forward, breathy moans coming from both of them as they relished the still-new feeling of intimacy and clutched onto one another tighter.

Instincts took over, cutting the moment short, and filled with room with groans and whines and pleas between the two of them. There was no slow fumbling like there had been earlier but instead the primal need to be closer and chase the pleasure that came with the heat and rut.

She kissed him hard as the heat throughout her body pooled low in her stomach and she could tell the difference in the feeling of closeness but her hazy mind couldn’t dwell on it past knowing that this was what she needed, what would finally cool her down at least a bit.

“You’re mine,” she murmured as her back arched up from the bed and her nails dug into his shoulders.

“’M yours. You’re mine,” he grunted, mouthing at the bite once more.

Their scents were overwhelming the closer they came to their end.

“C’mon alpha, need your knot,” she whined, crying out as he still within her.

His teeth sank into the bond mark fully again, and she bit into his as she felt exactly what her inner omega needed, what she herself wanted, and allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of contentment and pleasure she would live in with her mate going forward. Warm and sated and full and safe with her alpha was where she wanted to stay.

“Bakugo. A word.”

He stalked over to his teacher, watching his mate step into the hallway from the corner of his eye. The new bond was sensitive and he was anxious when he couldn’t be with her. “What?”

“May I ask which of you proposed the idea of a non-traditional bite?”

“The hell are you talking about? We both have bites and they’re scarring the right way.”

Aizawa regarded him silently for a moment before waving him off. “It’s not important. Go.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and left the room, and he gathered his sleeping bag in his arms to set up in the corner for his midday nap.

It was annoying and awkward to have to deal with the paperwork and phone calls to guardians because two of his problem children couldn’t keep it in their pants while on campus—what he wouldn’t give to have seen Mitsuki Bakugo deal with this shit—and he certainly didn’t like the fact that he had to relay to the class what had happened either. He had prepared what would’ve been one of his best punishments to date for when the overwhelming scent of newly presented and bonded mates had lessened at least a bit, but it had all been abandoned the moment the two stepped up to speak with him.

Her embarrassment was obvious, the fact that her twice her age male teacher knew exactly what had been happening in that room for the past week probably enough to make her want to vomit, but furious blush aside she held herself well. Bakugo had (likely somewhat unintentionally) over scented the room alarmingly with equal parts calm for his mate and warning to his alpha teacher, his own blush prominent.

What stood out though, was the bond mark on her neck. It was already scarring which was to be expected and its placement was correct but it was backwards. Traditionally a bond mark was given to an omega by an alpha in the midst of a shared heat and rut, primal positioning meaning that the bite was given from behind. It was biology, instinct, the overwhelming need to lay claim—he understood that, had experienced it many times over even long after a bond mark was given. Fated mates were more susceptible to this too, especially when presenting early.

But this type of bonding mark made him think that it wasn’t fueled by that need or desire built deep into the rumbling chest of an alpha. At least, not completely. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate, vulnerabilities laid bare before the person they’re going to spend their life with. That wasn’t easy, and a week prior he would’ve said that Bakugo would probably never be able to do it. To see that it was quite the opposite and seemingly unconscious on his part was fascinating.

He considered that instinct wasn’t the reason but the more he thought about it as he sat cocooned within the warmth of his sleeping bag, the more he realized it may actually be the opposite. Maybe it was instinct. Love was funny like that sometimes.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I have a few ideas about a possible sequel for this story that would take place in the future when they’re ready, though nothing concrete just yet!

847 notes · View notes

resident-leevil-old · 3 years

Text

okay well anyways somebody asked me if i felt like talking about my raccoon city survivors au with mia and ethan again and the answer is YES.

> AU MINI FACTS <

- Ethan's mother died while giving birth.

- Ethan Winters and his father moved into Raccoon City when Ethan was a baby, around 3-4 years old.

- Ethan trans ftm because im trans and i said so.

- Mia trans mtf because im trans and i said so.

- Ethan & Mia are childhood friend to lovers in this au.

- Ethan's father worked for Umbrella, and Mia's father worked for the Connections while her mother also worked for Umbrella.

- Mia was born in Texas, but her family moved to Raccoon City after she was born. They still owned property in Texas, though.

- Mia & Carlos are related because I said so.

- so yknow the "dude its been three years" guy? that's their childhood friend and his name is Kyde because i said so.

- Albert Wesker Personally was ordered by Spencer to kill those scientists btw.

- a lot of this au is because i said so tbh

> AU SUMMARY <

Ethan Winters, Mia Oliviera, and Kyde Wells work together to survive six days of the Raccoon City Outbreak. In the process they uncover secrets and encounter many obstacles that just nearly cost them their lives.

> CHAR.BGROUND <

ETHAN W, SR - A scientist who worked for Umbrella. He lost his wife during the birth of his child E///// Winters. Struggling with the death of his wife and the harsh decline of his mental health, he began to experiment with viruses and vaccines in an attempt to bring his wife back, even using his child as a subject at certain points due to the child having strong genes from the mother. He acknowledged that he was a horrid father, but justified his actions by claiming he would bring back a better mother. He thought of Albert Wesker as a friend, and told him the truth of his research.

ETHAN W, JR - A quiet 14 year old that had a hard time making friends. Due to experiments from his father, Ethan is a culmination of infections and viruses that each impact him in different ways. As he grew up Ethan refrained from talking too much as to not interrupt his father's work, causing him to become selectively mute.

MIA OLIVIERA - Younger sister of Carlos Oliviera. Mia skipped a grade due to her intelligence and advanced knowledge on many things kids her age normally didn't. She very easily got sick as a child, though she seemed to outgrow it as she got older. She was schooled both at home and at school before the outbreak. She shared classes with Ethan Winters (Jr) and Kyde Wells.

KYDE WELLS - A friend of Ethan & Mia, known for his cowardice. Kyde has a heavy sense of self preservation, but a weighted sense of compassion as well. He only ever has risked himself for his two friends.

JAMES HARISON - Mia's father. He worked for the Connections as a scientist and a researcher. Harison and his wife often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

MARISA OLIVIERA - Mia's mother. He worked for Umbrella as a researcher. Oliviera and her husband often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

JAKE VERANO - An Umbrella worker who had been trapped in the underground facility for a week, listening to the sound of his coworkers being eaten alive. Unstable because of his experience, he tries to create a cure using the intel of Ethan W (SR).

> FULL AU <

[September, 25, 1998.]

Ethan Winters walked home from school when his father failed to pick him up. He walked through the streets, paying no mind to a big fight breaking out near him. On the way home, he meets up with his friend Kyde who had also been walking home. They talk and walk together for a bit, before splitting up.

When Ethan arrived home, he noticed the front door of his house had been opened slightly. Confused, but wary, he entered the house, knowing it was uncharacteristic for his father to forget the door was open.

He entered the living room, and found his father laying on the ground dead, shot twice in the head, having just been killed moments prior. Ethan moved over to his father, before Albert Wesker walked out of his father's office.

Ethan barely has much time to react to him, overwhelmed by his own panic and the death of the only adult in his life. Wesker - wanting no witnesses - shoots him three times in the chest, and leaves under the impression the child is dead for good.

Ethan Winters dies for the first time that evening.

[September, 27, 1998]

For the past two days, Mia and her parents have been barricaded in their home, unable to leave safely. Mia sat in her room for most of the time, unable to look out of the windows due to boards covering them. During those two days Mia tries to call Ethan and Kyde several times in hopes that they were safe. Neither of them answer.

Until this day, the 27th, at 2:00 am, when she calls Ethan. And he answers.

{TRANSCRIPT OF THEIR CALL:}

Ethan: h-hello?

Mia: [Ethan]! You're alive! Are you okay?

Ethan: I'm breathing. [Pause] I'm breathing. You okay?

Mia: I'm boarded up in my house, we can't leave safely. Everything is a mess. I'm so glad you're alive, [Ethan]. Are you safe? I'm guessing you're safe.

Ethan: Not sure. Not sure. Find you soon, here alone. Alone.

Mia: Alone? What happened? Where's your dad?

Ethan: [Pause.] [Loud sound in the distance.]

Mia: [Ethan]? Are you okay?

Ethan: [Dial tone.]

Mia speaks with her parents about the call, expressing worry about her friend. She spends a while trying to convince her parents that Ethan may be alive (purposefully omitting the dial tone) and need their help. Finally, they agree, and at 12 pm, they head out with all the resources they could gather.

Managing to stay out of sight, the family make it to the Winters' household. They find Ethan hiding in his bedroom, one infected laying in the hallway with a pole through its head and Ethan's father laying in the living room dead.

They rescue Ethan, and flee from the house. Mia's parents explain that they need to evacuate the city, but that they wouldn't be able to drive, so they'd have to move on foot. They returned to their house and rested for the night.

[September, 28, 1998]

The family and Ethan head out again, this time aiming to evacuate the city. After several close encounters with large groups of infected, the kids and Mia's parents are unfortunately separated. Given instructions by her parents, Mia leads Ethan through the city, having to take detours due to infected blocking pathways.

Eventually, during the night, they run into Kyde, who has lost his parents trying to escape the city. The three of them take refuge in an empty abandoned house, and rest for the walk in the morning.

Ethan sits up for a while, thinking about what happened to him, and trying to figure out how to explain it to his friends. Eventually he falls asleep, unable to figure it out. In the morning they head out again.

[September, 29-30, 1998]

During another detour taken due to large groups of infected, Ethan is kidnapped by a man in a white lab coat.

Mia & Kyde go after them, refusing to leave Ethan behind. They manage to find him after roughly half a day had passed.

Ethan had been in a hysterical state and through tears he explains to Mia and Kyde what had happened to him in his house a few days ago, confessing that he had died and revived two days later. He warns the two of them that whatever Jake, the white lab coat man, did to him, it made him dangerous and unstable.

Mia and Kyde refused again to leave him behind, and spend hours gathering information from files and research left scattered around. They manage to make Something that was able to calm him down and cleanse what they had learned had been called the "T-virus" from his body.

As soon as Ethan had woken up again, they fleed the facility, Mia & Kyde both making sure he didn't collapse on the way.

[October, 1, 1998]

They don't stop running when they're out. A broadcast goes out saying that the city will be blown up in four hours due to being unable to contain the outbreak. The three of them realize they won't be able to get out if they take anymore detours unless they find a vehicle with gas in it and a clear road to drive on.

Three hours later, out of options, nearly to the city boarder, and faced with another group of infected blocking the only straight shot out, they decide to risk a run through. However, just as they were pushing through, a helicopter flew overhead and spotted them. Calling to them, the pilot tells them to attempt making it up a building nearby if they could.

Through pure bullshittery and luck, they manage to make it up, and they board the helicopter. Just as it begins to take flight, the city starts to blow up bit by bit. In the distance, they see other helicopters flying.

> AFTER THE AU <

Mia and her parents reunite, her parents having managed to get out before the children did. Kyde goes to live with his relatives in Texas, and Ethan is offered to live with them as well.

Mia's parents move back to their texas home, and everyone who had been in the city were given therapy. Eventually the three grow up and graduate from highschool, and move on to other things, never once separating.

The three of them eventually move into a single house together in California, and some time after that Mia and Ethan get married. And for a while they live happily

And then, Mia witnesses Ethan having some sort of attack in the middle of the night one time, and realizes that he hadn't been completely cured of whatever had been infecting him in the city at all, and that it had only gone dormant for some years. While he wasn't vicious or attacking anyone, Ethan had just been really plagued and didn't even remember the fits that only seemed to happen every other night.

Out of worry and fear, Mia begins to work for the Connections, hoping there was something she could learn from them in order to help her husband finally be cured. And years after, RE7 began.

And THAT, my friends, is my Raccoon City Survivors au with the Winters, also known as Raccoon City Winters.

57 notes · View notes

ubemango · 3 years

Text

delicacies of the season (m)

part 3: days apart

note: hey!! What’s up!! first, I officially have named this series!! it’s right up there for ur viewing glory! ok anyway here’s something before I disappear for the next four weeks because I am drowning in school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also just a side thingie for this story: I’ve already established that oc isn’t on birth control but here I’m implying that they’re doing natural planning (i.e. fertility awareness where the person who menstruates keeps up with their cycle and thus only has sex when their cycles allows for it). PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS UNLESS YOU KNOW THE RISKS!!!!!!!! Oh Lord putting your impregnation chances up to God?! I couldn’t do it. But also this is fanfiction and nothing bad will happen to this couple so let’s all just... suspend disbelief for a second ok

PAIRING. taehyung/reader GENRE. romance, farmer au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 2.5k WARNINGS. kitchen sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a good ol’ creampie bc wot is the ubemango experience without one :/ SUMMARY. Taehyung missed you.

Auntie Gaeul comes over when the rooster crows to tell you to check out the passion fruits today. They’re ripe not because she’s seen them but because she just knows. Call it the Elder Instinct for Ripened Foods. You tell her you’ll give her half the harvest, and she swats at you before she leaves.

“Stop being so polite, I’m not that old,” she spits in jest. “And make some of that honey iced tea your grandma makes. If there’s extra, then I’ll have some.”

Taehyung would probably like some, too; he chugs down anything with passion fruit like he’s about to go into hibernation. And when you come back home from the fields with a basket-full perched heavy on your back, you resolve to make some tea right away to bring over to his house to see if he’s there. You haven’t seen him in five days—his cousin had the stomach flu, and his aunt needed the extra help with tending to the livestock. Being the eldest nephew (and the only one who can drive a motorcycle) had him obligated right from the get-go.

“Grandma! Can you show me where you put the honey jars, I can’t remember where they are. And can you help me peel these—um. You’re not Grandma,” you stop.

Taehyung looks up from where he’s perched on the stairs of your awning, flicking bits of strawberries to the ground for Danbi to eat. Your little puppy scrounges it up so fast she nearly falls over on her fluffy bum.

“I told her to go play bingo with the rest of the granny crew, someone’s betting chicken feet,” he says. You smile wide when he trods over to you for a short kiss, slipping the strap of the basket off your shoulder to put on his. The hand he keeps low on your back is as warm as the ten AM sun. “Hi. I missed you.”

“I was just gonna go see if you were home,” you say. He smells like the wind. Something you’d scrunch your nose at but he makes it work. “When d’you come back? How’s Daeshim now?”

“An hour ago. And he’s better. He ate up all your ice cream, only thing he could keep down.”

You frown. “Poor baby.”

“I know. You gonna clean these now?” He nods his head toward the water basin, carved rock he’d installed for you on your third anniversary.

“Yeah. Can you start? I’ll just wash up quick,” you offer. Suddenly you’re aware you’ve got an ugly shirt with oil stains and holes in random places—nothing Taehyung minds, but the occasion probably deserves better.

“Got it, boss,” Taehyung says. He slaps your ass before you run to the bathroom. A familiar signal of his intentions but he’s too polite to bring it up so quickly.

“Hey!”

“Hurry up,” he calls. As if you’re going to take another five days to get back to him but you get it. You missed him, too; a little more than you’d like to let on. Your grandma is great company but she watches her TV too loud and she hates when you’re not there to sit with her because she might need your help switching channels. It’s a miracle you didn’t jump Taehyung the second your eyes landed on him.

You change into whatever shirt you’ve tossed on the floor that looks semi-presentable. It’s too early for your sweat to reek like it does under the afternoon heat, but you spritz some perfume on your neck anyway. Just for upkeep, because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t anticipating sex, a sloppy makeout session at the least. Danbi’s too hyper to be left alone, plus your grandma likes making surprise visits at your house because she’s a forgetful woman.

By the time you’ve come back from scrubbing the dirt and dead ant bits caked under your nails, Taehyung’s a third of the way through the basket, tossing the clean passion fruit into a bucket Danbi is trying so hard to climb into. She yelps when her fat paws slip at the edges.

“Danbi! Mama’s gonna be mad if you get hurt. I’ll give you some later.”

“Go play with your toy,” you call out to her. “Danbi! Go!”

Her ears perk up at your command, and she pants and pants till she decides to go in the complete opposite direction of the ball and into the patch where all the potatoes are. She hasn’t hit her teething phase so you’re safe from her snuffing anything out with her mouth. It’s her fur you worry about. She’s such a nice shade of white amongst the semi-wet dirt, it almost hurts seeing her get soiled.

“Like a little cotton ball,” Taehyung says. He points to the bucket. “This good?”

You nod—it’s enough to have extra for Auntie Gaeul. “Yeah. Wanna carry it to the kitchen like a good man?”

“As if I’m not one already,” he snorts, grabbing the handle. “Danbi, come!”

This is how it always goes. Taehyung ogles from over your shoulder (usually he’s off to the side but he’s a lot clingier, not that you mind) while you do your business because you don’t trust him with a knife. Not since the time you’d tasked him with chopping garlic and he’d nearly sliced his palm open when he tried crushing them first.

And now you’ve got a new addition to the routine: Danbi sniffs around the dried leaves for the fire, sneezing when she breathes the ash in too hard. You hear her collar jiggle as she explores the earthenware stacked on the side. You made sure Taehyung left the door open because she gets antsy fast.

“Can I just say that I have a thing for seeing you use a knife,” Taehyung says, hands stroking your tummy because he’s got nothing better to do.

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.”

“Who said I was trying to hide?”

You laugh. “What are you trying to get at, mister?”

“I’m saying I missed you,” he says simply.

“So that’s why you kicked Grandma out the house,” you tease. Taehyung splutters in your ear.

“No! They really are betting chicken feet. What do you think I am?”

“Horny.”

“Ugh.”

You turn your focus back to the chopping board. Taehyung lets the sound of the knife smooth down the goop of the insides fill the space.

“...Are you mad if I am?” He whispers tentatively.

“Oh my god. It’s ten in the morning.”

“You think my dick cares?”

“You think I care?” you joke.

Taehyung gasps. Like his heart just shattered from your vitriol, but all you want is to finish cutting up these damn fruits before you’ll allow his hands to touch you. “Wow. You—? Okay, fine.”

“Wha—”

“I appreciate your hard work,” he coos. He wraps himself around you even tighter, traces a slow kiss on your neck. “Really. But don’t pretend you didn’t miss me too.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you.”

And that gets you to shut up. Taehyung only swears when he wants you to stop talking. Not for the sake of real anger but to show you he’s got something brewing, and you’re here to take whatever it is he’s about to give you.

“I just wanted to be a good fiance and visit the one I love the most after five days because I missed them so much.”

His teeth catch the lobe of your ear. Biting down softly because he’s still aware you’ve got the knife in your hand, but you’ve lost all motor skills the second he started his little bit. You drop the handle slowly. At the last second you push all the shit you’ve laid out on the counter to the farthest corner. Something tells you this space is being defiled this morning.

“Good. Are you wet?”

“N-No.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about that, huh.”

You watch his hands glide up, and you’re half-expecting him to fondle you gently, the way he teases you when you think he’s taking it slow. But instead he goes right for the kill: using those long fingers to pinch right at your tits just to get you to gasp into the feeling. You roll your eyes shut, let your head fall back on his shoulder.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whine.

“Take your shirt off for me.”

You’ve never exposed yourself to kitchen utensils and rice wine on the pantry shelves before but Taehyung makes you want it. He shows his appreciation for your compliance with another hard grope of his hands, this time with his mouth sucking on your neck too. Craving your skin like he’s been absolutely deprived. The calluses on his fingertips rub your nipples raw.

“You smell good,” he croons. “Come here.”

You nearly tip over from how fast he spins you around, but he catches you easy, tongue on yours in the next second. The desperate tug of his lips on yours, the smack of your spit when he pulls you in deeper, all the intricacies of needing someone else to save your own sanity—it culminates here, and now your ass is up on the cold of the counter, Taehyung pulling back from one last kiss to drag that same heat down your body.

“Please let me eat you out here, holy shit.” He tugs at your pants, slides your underwear down with it. Mouthing hungry at your mound because you haven’t answered him yet, so you just groan a quick please, yes and he doesn’t even look at you before he presses his tongue inside you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the guilt of ruining this space with your (embarrassingly) uncontrolled libido is raging. But you could care less with the way Taehyung swipes his tongue around your clit, gets you clawing at his hair for brief respite. You’ve most definitely exceeded wet boundaries. His chin practically shines.

And he knows it’s because of him. Not just from his mouth but the knowledge that he wants you trembling towards a heady orgasm, the kind that consumes you whole. His laving gets bolder with every stroke, every moan you try to keep stifled but it’s useless. “Taehyung. Oh my g-od, fuck—no d-don’t use your fingers, I’ll come.”

He laughs, adjusts your thighs so you’re not cramping. “Think you’ll tap out?”

“I wanna come on your dick,” you pants.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “You’re perfect. Oh my god. I’m so fucking hard. Can I come inside you?”

“Yes yes yes yes, just get inside me already.”

Taehyung’s foot gets caught on his pants when he shoves them off, nearly crashing face first into your pussy again. And he laughs and you snort and when he’s naked waist-down he kisses you again, a little slower this time, a breather for just a moment.

“I know it’s only been five days but I missed you. A lot.”

You trap his hips with locked ankles on his back. “I know.”

“It’s just—I had to shovel so much horse shit—”

“Oh don’t say that!” You bat at his chest.

Taehyung snickers. “Sorry. Ahh, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You can stick your dick inside me and we can go from there,” you suggest.

“I like the way you think, missus.”

It’s almost laughable when he sinks right in. No resistance, just the slick of your arousal and his spit, an unholy mixture for this thick sacrilege. Taehyung’s eyes stay locked on the sight.

“Fuck yeah. Oh baby…”

If it’s got him uttering curses this early in the round then you’re definitely worse off. You’ve got one profanity for every inch he’s claimed inside you, all lined up behind your teeth but you don’t have the brain capacity to get them out. He fucks you straight to incoherence.

Your delirium keeps you mum. Taehyung will make up for it. He slots his hand up the back of your thighs, hits deeper when you arch through the pleasure. “Holy fuck that’s so good,” you whine. “Taehyung—oh god.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just pants hard with every moan you’ll give him, and you watch the sweat glow on his collarbone, the thick of his neck. Places you claim with your mouth when you lean forward because it’s too hard to keep balance without his gravity.

Taehyung breaks when you bite. “Sh-it. Oh fuck you’re so hot. ‘M not gonna last, shit.”

“You’ll fuck me when you come?” you plead, hold his gaze. He’s just as gone as you are. “You’ll fuck your cum inside me?”

“Yeah baby. I’ll give it to you. So fuckin’ good.”

He never lets up. Just keeps that steady fucking, stiff with every drive into your slick till he adjusts your knees with one push. Pussy open to the angle that gets you begging for his thumb on your clit because it’s right there. You fall back on your hands, no steady grip because Taehyung’s faltering too.

“Oh—!” You flutter your eyes shut to pending ecstasy. “Tae—please—harder—right there right there don’t stop!”

“You gonna come for me?”

It’s a rhetorical question. You know he sees the way your chest collapses, the rub of your clit in quick gestures for your high. He’s got you right in his hand.

“Fuck—ohhh yes!”

“Ugh,” he whines. It’s nearly lost to the ringing in your ears, the clench of your pussy from his pounding. You cream him so good when the orgasm’s strong enough, pulsing hot, the rough intensity. And that’s not lost on him when he cries: “God your pussy’s so wet. Holy shit.”

Usually you’re spent by the time your vision’s cleared to the sight of Taehyung fucking you through it. But he’s promised you something, and you’re greedy for it.

“Come inside me,” you urge, guiding a hand through his hair, pulling hard at his nape. He keeps his eyes on his dick priming you for those final strokes.

“I’ll fucking come,” he snaps. “You ready? I’ll come so good for you baby. Come so fucking—good—!”

He stiffens with a shout, grinds his teeth, lets his orgasm splash inside with so much heat you mewl. And he keeps minimal movement, thrust for soft thrust because it’s too much with the squeezing you tease him with.

“I.” Taehyung clears his throat, panting to a stop. “I… wow.”

Your ass is rubbed raw against the counter. But you’ll risk it again to see the glint in his eye when he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your hole, onto the floor for you to clean when your legs aren’t jelly.

“Wow,” you repeat.

“Do… Am I… Am I ovulating?” He looks genuinely confused. “I don’t… I’ve never been that horny before.”

You snort. “Five days felt like forever, huh.”

Taehyung kisses you slow. “If it means we get to fuck like that again then I’m going to the city for a month.”

“Hey!” You pinch his arm, using his bicep to stand up, tiptoeing around the mess on the floor. “God. Help me clean up here, please. And where’s the dog?”

(Danbi sleeps peacefully in the wicker basket, head lolled on one of the passion fruits. You make sure to bring her over to Auntie Gaeul’s for extra snacks.)

#bts smut #taehyung smut #v smut #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #v scenarios #ubemango fic #f: farmer!tae series #f: delicacies of the season

316 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 4 years

Text

✩ -- BLEACH ON A BUZZCUT ; 1 / 1

summary: captain rex needs to fix his hair. you help. pairing: captain rex x war correspondent!reader, established relationship warning: angst! and tenderness! mention of fives’ death. word count: 2.2k a/n: dedicated to @cyber-nya. i will probably write more about these two if people are interested. i really love this idea of a war correspondent for the HNN! would be fun.

Captain Rex, in all his years, has always ensured one, simple thing through the long, grueling tide of war:

His hair will always be blonde.

Save for that three month campaign on Kashyyyk, that is. Back then, dying his hair was the last on a long list of concerns. Food, shelter, and not drowning in the heavy monsoon months were at the top. His hair had grown out into angry little blonde tipped tufts, then. The roots of his hair looked like that of his brother’s. His beard, just as dark as the roots, itched. General Skywalker had laughed, citing the fact he’d never seen Rex with anything but his usual bleach blonde buzz.

“You don’t look like the Rex I’m used to.”

He sighs and runs a hand over the grown-out buzz in the barrack’s bathroom mirror.

The words stuck.

Anaxes reminds him of Kashyyyk. Different, but...

He feels the same. Tired, weary, and alone.

You plant your knuckles on the open archway of the bathroom as if you’d heard that thought from across the clamoring airbase. The rap-rap-rap snaps him from his stint in the land of self-pity. Rex’s eyes, warm and soft, land on you leaning in the doorway.

You frown. You know that look on his face.

“Been looking for you.”

Rex, fresh out of the shower, moves to the bench where his blacks sit. Beside those, a half-used bottle of bleach that’s been living in his foot locker for the last month. Beside that, a cup he’s stolen from the mess. Kix had lended him a pair of mint-colored surgical gloves, as per usual. Sure, maybe it’s a gross disuse of GAR medical materials, but... His vanity outweighs his guilt.

First though, he needs to shave. The three day old stubble is begin to rub the inside of his helmet wrong.

Rex, GAR issued towel hanging on his hips, snags the razor on the edge of the bench and turns back to run the water of the sink.

You’re moving across the room. You’re quiet -- and you’re watching the way the Captain wets the razor. You’re quick, snagging the GAR issued travel tin of dry-to-wet shaving cream from atop his folded blacks. You hand it to him, and Rex’s eyes sit on your for a moment.

“Everything okay?”

You lean against the mirror in the space between his sink and the one behind you. Your arms are crossed tightly.

Rex, ducking his chin and snagging a dab of the shaving cream, smears the foamy substance across the sharp curve of his jaw. You watch a bit enamored with the gesture, following the trail of white that paints the planes of his cheeks. Only when it’s even does he speak.

“Fine,” it’s tempered and slow, “You?”

You almost snort. “Rex...”

“Tired,” he supplies, then, realizing yeah, he’s being a little unfair, “I’m... tired.”

“You’re being called a hero,” you push yourself off the wall, spreading your stance and tilting your head, “You and Echo and --”

“Yeah.”

Oh. Your mouth closes almost immediately. Guilt washes over both your faces.

Rex drops his head again. “Sorry --”

“No,” you shake your head as he leans to grab the plastoid razor. The handle is battered and chipped. It’s his trusty one -- one that’s followed him in his pack on nearly every mission he’s run. It fits in his hand neatly. He drums it against the sink as you shake your head, “I... I know it probably sucks... Seeing him go.”

Rex snorts. Then, with an incredibly steady hand, carves a clean shaven path through the shaving cream along his cheek. He finishes the swipe, flicks off the foam, and huffs.

“He’ll be okay,” Rex says, voice wavering, “Just, uh... I’d thought it might be like old days.”

Your heart whines. Hurt pulls at your features. Rex ignores his own heartache.

Things are different. This isn’t Kashyyk. Not like when he had Fives and Echo and Jesse and Kix and Hardcase by his side. Not like when Torrent was whole, or when Ahsoka minded his recklessness and him hers. Everything is different.

And he was stupid to think it could be the same.

Rex is quiet while he finishes shaving. By the end of it, he feels a bit better. Cleaner. Less run ragged. The blonde, bulky and wide with muscle, bends over and splashes his face clean in the sink.

You touch his shoulder when he stands up.

“Hey,” you say, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, you know.”

Rex’s lip quirks.

You have long since become a fast fixture in his life. The affections between you both had blossomed and bloomed and... it had culminated in nights spent together in small cots on planets near and far. It was an unspoken bond -- one that was sewn together with stolen kisses and wandering hands in the final hours of war torn nights.

You’d met him months ago -- before the Outer Rim sieges had risen to the escalation they sat at now -- when you’d been working public relations and doing press releases for Senator Amidala and the other Republic aligned senators.

You’d shook hands with General Skywalker on the terrace of the Naboo Senator’s balcony, and then his Captain’s. The Jaigeyes on his helmet betrayed the kind eyes beneath.

(You were beautiful, standing there in the sun before him. Even now, in the humming overheard lights of the Anaxes barrack bathroom, you’re beautiful.)

Two weeks later, you’d been sent to tail the 501st and report on the war for the HoloNet News in juncture with the Outer Rim Node. HNN had been wanting a reporter in the field for a while now and... Padmé had put in good word.

“Keep an eye on Anakin,” she’d smiled, “And Rex, too, will you?”

You kept that promise you made.

Rex is standing before you now -- tanned skin marred with starlight colored scars. They dash across the planes of his chest and abdomen like comets in the sky. One scar, a large circular hole that swirls in the center of his chest like a collapsing star, has its own gravity. The scars on his body paint a universe in and of itself. Mapped and ever expanding.

He touches your cheek. His hands are warm and calloused.

“I know.”

The smile you give him is reserved for moments like this. Tender. Quiet.

You lean into the touch and kiss his palm. Rex chases the touch with a sturdy press of his lips to your forehead. He speaks against your brow.

“Gotta fix my hair.”

You laugh. “I do love blondes.”

Rex’s chest rocks in amusement. He moves away, towards the bench -- you linger. The electric buzzer, copped off Jesse, hums alive in Rex’s hands. You touch his forearm. Brown eyes look up in question.

“I can help,” you say, “I don’t mind.”

He lets you take the clippers from his hands. And then, he move to stand in front of the mirror again. You trail behind, a head shorter than the trooper, and crack a wry smile when Rex bends -- with an expression of haughty pride -- so you can reach his head.

The peek of brown has climbed up his short bleached hair. It feels odds to reveal a trail of dark brown hair when you run the clippers over his head. You teeter on the balls of your feet, catching a smirk in the mirror on the Captain’s face at the need to get a better view of his head. You swat at his back. He laughs.

The work is easy enough -- and in a minute or so, Rex looks more like Cody than himself. It’s disorienting. His hair was so... his... that the absence of the blonde made him look so much like his brothers. You’d not thought of him as a clone for a long time, now. This moment serves as a reminder.

It’s a bit of a punch in the face.

His life -- as treasured as it is in your hands -- is nothing to the Republic he fights for. The thought is one you’ve bitterly swallowed down for months. All of them... hundreds of thousands of men. Nothing but canon fodder. Nothing but numbers on a datapad.

Rex notes the discomfort on your face.

He runs his hands over his fresh buzz and drops his hands to his waist. The defined muscles of his stomach move as he exhales.

“I hate it, too.”

“Does it bother you?” you mumble, “Looking so much like...”

“Like Jesse?” Rex snorts, “Sure does. Ugly sonuva --”

Your laugh makes him sport a wry grin. You shake your head, moving to eye the job. You did a decent enough buzz. The bleach will hide the imperfections, of course. You swipe at the back of his head and brush some hair from his shoulders.

"Why do you think I bleach the life outta my hair, huh?” Rex supplies as he leans around to grab the half used bottle of bleach -- the tube is blue and reads Fancy’s Hair & Dye down the side in Aurebesh. It’s the best brand he’s used; a favorite. No need for two rounds. Does the job in one sitting.

“Because I like blondes?”

A joke.

He laughs. You snag the bottle out of his hands, then point to the bench as you read the label.

“Sit.”

“Didn’t know you were a stylist.”

You swat his shoulder. Still, you’re reading. And when you finish, satisfied with the thirty minute wait time outline on the bottle, you hand it back and reach for the gloves.

“... You don’t have to --”

“Rex,” you mutter, “Shut up and let me dye your hair, will you?”

His smirk digs into his cheeks. “Why should I?”

You snap the gloves on and brace a knee on the bench beside his hip. In the mirror across the room, you can see the wrinkles along his cheeks return with his amused expression. You plant a sturdy kiss to his temple.

“This,” you say, opening up the bleach and quickly making work at spreading it along his scalp. It reminds you of shitty bleach jobs you did in university -- drunk in communal bathrooms surrounded by your classmates. It’s not neat, but you try to make the bleach even along his head, “is the most relaxing thing I’ve done in weeks.”

“War’s hell.”

“Eugh,” you recoil, “This stuff smells like hell.”

Rex grins. “Extra strength.”

“It’s that Mandalorian hair,” you chirp, smoothing the bleach. Rex’s eyes lull shut, “I never realized how dark it was.”

“It’s deceiving.”

“I like the blonde better,” you say, then adding, “On you, I mean.”

"Not a fan of Crys’ hair?”

You scoff. The 212th trooper had sunshine colored hair. Not like the near silver of Rex’s. His look was high-maintenance. Rex’s was... battle-ready. Easy. Handsome. Not pretty like Crys tried for.

“Despite the brotherly similarities,” you grin, satisfied with the now purple colored head before you, “I really do only have eyes for you, Cap.”

Rex rolls his eyes. “As if you wouldn’t drop me for Wolffe in a heartbeat.”

Another swat. Rex is going to start keeping count. You chuck the gloves in the trash, moving to prop yourself up on the bench next to the Captain as the bleach sets. “That was before --”

“Before you realized I was this handsome under the bucket?”

When you’d first began operating within the 501st, you’d had a few run-in’s with the Wolfpack. Their commander had readily stolen your attention, much to Rex’s dismay. He’d been pining for weeks by that point, and to hear you vocalize your evident attraction to the gruff vod’ika ticked a blonde right off. You still haven’t lived it down.

“Wolffe is... mysterious,” you shrug, “His holonet segments got a lot of traction, you know. Almost as much as -- ...”

Almost as much as Fives.

Charismatic, kind, and handsome. Funny, too.

Rex squeezes your knee. “Hey.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Still hurts.”

“Kills.”

His arm snakes around your shoulders. Your cheek knocks his bare shoulder. The shared grief ripples around you both tightly. But there’s comfort there. Two souls, hurting -- together. Better than before, and Rex certainly doesn’t feel as lonely as he did when he first set out to fix the blonde on his head.

The kiss is a little jumbled. Your nose bumps his and your teeth clack. It’s sweet and tender and you have to laugh into the gesture. No matter how often you two come together like this, in comfort and in passion, it still yields lovesick results. The 501st Captain has you wrapped around his thumb. It shows, especially when you lean in to steal another moment of the kiss.

Anaxes reminds him of Kashyyyk. Different, but...

He didn’t have you on Kashyyyk.

Now, he’s not so tired, weary, and alone.

But, still blonde.

#captain rex imagine #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #rex x reader #tcw imagine #captain rex reader insert #clone wars imagine

1K notes · View notes

defilerwyrm · 3 years

Note

For the ask meme: burning bright, anything about the parts at the table with the Nein. You write their banter so well!

FIC SPOILERS BELOW!

Burning Bright on AO3

The entire dinner scene hit me like a bolt of lightning while I was working on this fic. It started with Beau’s outburst, and then Veth’s willful denial and subsequent fit, and I built the two scenes around that.

Diving into particulars….

“Uhm,” he said, intelligently, but quickly recovered and flashed his friends a smile. “It is most impressive. Certainly a step up from a tiny hut.”

A direct reference to the name of the spell. Originally it was Leomund’s tiny hut. I have no clue why in 5e Wizards decided to 86 the attribution names on so many spells like Otiluke’s resilient sphere and Tasha’s hideous laughter. Things like that always made me curious about the (what I assume were) PCs the spells were named after. I had thought maybe it was because the characters who diegetically invented them were specific to one setting, but in that case I don’t know why Bigby’s hand is still Bigby’s but Evard’s black tentacles are no longer Evard’s. I don’t like it. As an aside, Widowgast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower is, mechanically speaking, Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion. Anyway. Moving on!

It was delectable that Caleb wanted to impress him.

This boy hungry and not just for soup

Flustered, Essek tried to fend them off, but it was Caleb that did him in. It was always Caleb. The human took a large roll from his own plate, broke it in half, and offered one of these parts to Essek, who tried his best not to choke.

“You need to keep your strength up, ja?” Caleb implored him quietly.

The steady hand that accepted was a point of pride because it very much wanted to quake. The Kryn weren’t bread people, but...did he have any idea what this gesture would mean in Rosohna? Any inkling at all?

This is another one of those places where I delight in playing to cultural differences. What I’d had in mind for what that gesture—breaking food into two pieces and offering half to someone—WOULD mean in Rosohna was a bit nebulous, as I like to keep the reader guessing a bit and let their imagination fill in the blanks; but my rough idea was that it’s a courting gesture that signifies “I can and will provide for you, even if it means less for me.” An expression of selfless caregiving and an offer of partnership. Not wholly unlike a bird bringing food to a prospective mate.

And actually it’s a little bit funny coming from Caleb, who has fuck-all to his name but his name, when Essek is a rich bitch who answers directly to the Bright Queen.

Not that he was about to say it out loud, but he was a quick convert to this whole bread thing. To say that it won him over would be an understatement. That seemed to be a recurring theme here.

I imagine if I’d grown up never really eating bread and was introduced to it in adulthood I’d be like “Where have you BEEN all my life?!” But also: the bread is friendship, the bread is the Mighty Nein, the bread is communion in the spirit of sharing rather than politics and appearances and power plays—things he thought he was fine without until they were foisted upon him.

Somewhere in the course of the multiple conversations going on at one time, Jester got an Idea, as she was prone to doing. He became increasingly aware of her talking about kissing, of all things, and this culminated in her shouting above the din, cheeks flushed purple though he hadn’t seen her touch any wine: “I have an idea you guys! Why don’t we all go around and say how many people we’ve kissed?”

Jester is the most wonderfully convenient deus ex machina if you ever need to insert an awkward or embarrassing conversation among the Mighty Nein, because this is exactly the sort of shit she would do.

Jester leaped up and slammed her hands onto the table. “Caduceus you’ve never been kissed?! That’s so sad!”

The firbolg was unfazed. He merely shrugged and said, “It hasn’t come up and I haven’t gone looking. Not something I’ve ever thought about, really.”

Jester’s tail lashed back and forth behind her like an overstimulated cat. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Fjord went a bit wild-eyed at this. Caduceus smiled gently and said, “No thank you.”

Three things about this part:

1) Jester’s tail doesn’t get NEARLY enough mention in fic! If I’m playing (or writing) a character with a tail you can be damn sure you’re gonna know what it’s doing! Makes me wanna play a tabaxi tbqh.

2) Cad’s “No thank you” is the sum total of his sexuality, lol. Jester was raised in a pretty highly sexualized setting, didn’t really get out much before she fled Nicodranas, and can be pretty naïve, so she doesn’t really get the whole aroace thing; but it never crosses Cad’s mind that this would be “abnormal“ or ”sad” in any way—it causes him no distress, as it shouldn’t. This is yet another “Same planet, different worlds” moment.

3) Fjord is physically restraining himself from yelling “JESTER WHAT THE FUCK” lmao

Veth kept picking at it. “So you’re um. You know. Into the fellas?”

Beau snorted. “I could’a told you that months ago.”

“Yeah you could’a!” Veth pouted with a self-conscious curl to her shoulders.

I saw a comment on Tiktok that said Veth was being borderline homophobic, but that wasn’t my intent! It’s just that she inherited a certain blind spot for male queerness from her player, and as hard as she’d been trying to encourage Caleb to hook back up with his female ex, it never occurred to her that he had a male ex, too—and given that they’ve been so close for so long, she’s feeling pretty self-conscious about the fact that she never figured out that Caleb is bisexual in all that time, as well as kind of upset that no one—Caleb especially—told her. She’s having a moment of “Why didn’t I know this? Did you think it was going to change things between us? Did I make you feel unsafe?” And also a little bit of “Okay well, now I have to get him to hook up with TWO people AT ONCE because my boy deserves threesomes 😤”

Jester went goggle-eyed at him. “You’ve only been with one person?” she exclaimed. “But you’re like a hundred years old! And very handsome. I would have thought you’d get like, all the ladies.”

Ladies. Right.

Veth might not be the only one with a certain blind spot.

Beau gave her a funny look, snorting. “I dunno, he seems like the kinda guy who turns down those offers left and right.”

..…But Beau’s got his number, for more than one reason. She’s got super gaydar, for one, and has him pegged as the type who’s very choosy about his partners (also mind you, this was before demi!Essek was canonized by WoG, so I was still rolling with my hc that Essek got around when he felt like it).

The uproar was instantaneous. Everyone—almost everyone—started talking or shouting at once. Beau’s voice rang out among the din with, “HOLY SHIT ESSEK FUCKS.” Strangely pleased with himself, he downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and spent the next few minutes fending off increasingly prying, personal questions until the Nein grew bored with his lack of answers and someone changed the subject.

There it is, the line that spawned two entire scenes!

He was not a war mage, but he was experienced and wily, and he was damned good at what he did, and as long as there was breath left in his body, the Mighty Nein would not fall here.

Joke’s on me, motherfucker literally has the War Caster feat -_-

But like in my defense, that’s just what it’s called in the book. The feat just means that you have either the training or experience to cast well during a fight, which I see as not necessarily the same thing as a war mage, which was my way of saying an arcane caster who is a soldier.

Veth stared at her blankly as if willing herself not to understand. “Caleb? With who?”

She breathed steadily. “...Essek. Caleb and Essek.”

Beside her, Jester squealed and brought her fists to her face.

Veth was less enthused. “WHAT.”

Beau’s mental commentary here is dead on. Veth still doesn’t really trust Essek at this point and has been pretty vocal about that…despite being the one to declare him part of the Mighty Nein? Eh, she’s allowed to have complicated feelings on the guy, all things considered. But I find it kind of comical and very Veth (and very Sam) for her to be all full of zest for trying to get Caleb back together with the frigging Volstrucker who is actively working for his abuser and worst enemy but balk at him hooking up with Essek.

Jester “explained” in a delighted yell: “Caleb and Essek are gonna fuuuuuuck!”

I don’t know, is this too unsubtle to call foreshadowing? The line flowed naturally in the dialogue, but it’s also letting the reader know exactly what they’re in for next, lol.

“...He’s going to break that little elf twink, you know,” Veth said, sounding distant. Seemed she was having some difficulty processing. Not too surprising, considering how adamant she was about wanting their wizard to hook back up with his old flame, the fucking Volstrucker. “We’ve all seen his dick.”

This was 100% taken from Sam’s little throwaway line “It’s above-average” but it turned out to serve two purposes other than reminding the reader that all of these people have seen Caleb naked:

1) It’s yet another thing Veth thinks she understands about him but doesn’t. Caleb’s a top like Dalmatians are purple and if you disagree then I respect your right to be incorrect ;)

2) That said, it is, in fact, foreshadowing for the sequel, in which Essek experiences a great deal of frustration. (I haven’t touched the damn thing in weeks, feels like; I’ve been too busy with work, being exhausted from work, and being in a tizzy about my upcoming surgery.)

Fjord blurted out, “I’ll join you.”

Poor Fjord has had such an uncomfortable night!

Hoo boy that was a lot. Thanks for the ask, this was really fun!! And sorry it took so long; I work Saturday nights and things got really busy for a bit there.

#shadowgast #ask box games #before long my song is dying #critical role #plz how do i fandom

9 notes · View notes

bohemianrequiem · 3 years

Text

Here’s my Codeswapped gift for @nemesisadraste ! I had so much fun writing for Sam and expanding upon her relationship with Odd and the other Lyoko Warriors. I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

Prompt - Sam becomes a Lyoko Warrior

If you had told Sam earlier today that her evening would be taking a turn for the unexpected, she wouldn’t have doubted it-

Things were always that way when Odd was around and that was how she liked it. The unpredictability of their dates as a simple plan for dinner would turn into an hours long romp through the market district of town, both of them perusing clothes neither one could afford, was just another part of the fun of their relationship. Funnily enough, she had come to begin expecting these little pleasant surprises the more time they spent together. However, there was another trend that Sam was beginning to develop over the last few weeks.

First, Odd’s phone would ring and would with his nonchalant greeting of “What’s up,”followed by the name of one of his various friends from Kadic. Usually Jeremy or Ulrich, sometimes Yumi, and very rarely a strange girl named Aelita would be on the other end. After a moment, Odd’s brow would furrow, his jaw would set, and an uncharacteristic seriousness would envelop his entire person. “For real? Yeah, I’ve got it. On my way.” He would then flip his cell shut and turn his gaze towards Sam, his features slowly softening to the goofy boy she’d come to care so much for.

“Sam, I know what you’re gonna say-“ He placed his hands up in mock surrender, a worried chuckle already slipping past his lips before he could even finish his sentence.

“Let me guess, you’ve gotta go?” Sam sighed, more out of habit than any actual disappointment. Like she’d said, this was becoming a frequent portion of their date nights. At least this time they’d actually got to enjoy a movie together and make it halfway through dinner. Her burger half eaten and now being laid down on a plastic red tray, she shrugged. “Do what you gotta do, man. Text me when you get back to the dorms for the night?”

Odd blinked once, then twice. “A-Are you sure?” Obviously surprised at her lack of frustration at his need to preemptively end their date. Sam just waved her hand in dismissal, as if pushing the worry out of existence.

“Yeah, Dude. I know Kadic’s got you guys doing hella group projects this semester. Go help your friends.” At least, that was the excuse Odd had used before. She might have believed it the first time or two, even if schoolwork wasn’t usually that high up on Odd’s list of priorities, but something about his behavior recently had clued her into the fact that this was about something much bigger than school. “So, go on. I’ll be fine making it back to my place.”

Odd took his bottom lip between his front teeth, a habit that Sam had long since stopped trying to break him of, then nodded. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” He gave a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, then dashed off down the sidewalk. “I’ll text you later, okay?!” He called out over his shoulder as he rounded the first corner.

Another thing Sam had come to accept about Odd was that he was a terrible liar. Case in point, he had literally just ran off in the opposite direction of his school. After a couples minutes of anxious internal debate, she began to follow.

~~~

When Sam arrived at the old factory on the outskirts of the river that cut through town, she had initially worried that she’d lost Odd’s trail and accidentally followed someone else’s. After all, what would Odd be doing at some old place like this?

However, maybe this place wasn’t quite as abandoned as she thought. Despite the paint having chipped off the walls decades ago and piles of scrap iron cropping up throughout the interior, the floor looked relatively clear of dust and other small debris. Somebody, or maybe a groups of somebodies, had obviously been coming through here quite frequently to keep the dust and other objects from settling. That and the ropes hanging from the ceiling, one of which was still gently swaying from side to side as if it had just been handled, clued her into things not being quite what they appeared.

Deciding not to trust the rickety old elevator, which likely didn’t even run anymore, Sam followed one such dust-free path from the main floor of the factory down to another area full of old machines. They looked like the ones used in car factories to put heavy pieces of metal on the chassis of vehicles together, but had obviously been in a state of disuse just as long as much of the factory.

From this room, a winding trail that many times lead Sam to various dead-ends finally culminated in her opening a door into a spacious computer room, complete with some type of projection emanating from the center of the room. A few steps in and she could hear the frantic clicking and clacking of a keyboard across the room. Hidden by the sizable monitor in front of his face, a young boy spoke little.

“Okay, Odd. You should be able to see the construct now.....Yes, I know it’s huge, but you need to get inside of it and regroup with Yumi and Ulrich. I’ve lost contact with them for exactly-“ He checked his watch. “Ten minutes now. And communication with Aelita is spotty, at best. It’s up to you to....to uh....” His eyes lifted from his watch’s face to see Sam standing just a handful of steps into the room.

“Yo,” She put her hand in the area in a tentative wave. “Jeremy, right? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this isn’t your social studies project, is it?”

Sam swore she could see a vein in Jeremy’s forehead pulse as he slowly sat backwards and readjusted a microphone attached to his earpiece. “Odd? Were you aware that your girlfriend is here at the factory?”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Was he seriously just going to ignore her and act like they weren’t even in the same room together? “Is that really Odd on the other end? Let me talk to him.” She took a number of determined steps towards Jeremy, the boy defensively putting his hands up around his earpiece.

“No, no, I don’t think she’s infected, but she does look awfully upset. What’d you do to her this time, Romeo?” He stood up and put his hands out placatingly. “Samantha, please-“

“It’s Sam,” She interrupted as her march came to a standstill in front of Jeremy, placing her hands on her hips and impatiently tapping her foot. “Never Samantha.”

“Sam. Right.” He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I know this is gonna be difficult to understand, but you can’t talk to Odd right now. He’s on a very important mission right now. Odd’s still here at the factory with us, at least technically, but you’re not going to be able to see him until he’s finished.”

A mission? Was this some kind of code or was this dude seriously losing his marbles? “What do you mean he’s here but he’s not? Why can’t Odd just tell me all this himself, without all the lying and hiding?”

“He’s not hiding, Sam, he’s doing something extremely important. Come look.” Jeremy motioned her over to the computer monitor behind him. As she took in the many blinking lights and constantly changing lines of code, Jeremy sat down and relaxed. “See? He’s right here, located outside of this massive structure the geography of which I’ve been mapping for days now. The only problem is that I can’t quite figure out what’s inside of it. That’s where Odd and the others come in.”

“The others? You mean Yumi, Ulrich, and Canada girl, right?” Sam shook her head. “Wait, wait, so you expect me to believe that Odd’s inside there? Inside the computer?”

Jeremy nodded. “Exactly.”

Sam had come to accept a lot of things about Odd: from his personality, to his hobbies, but this went beyond all of that completely. Just as she was about to voice her disbelief again, a frantic beeping came from the computer. She watched over Jeremy’s shoulder as he began typing with near reckless abandon and spoke into his microphone again.

“Odd, bad news. You’ve got hostile hornets inbound. Four of them by the looks of it.” Four red dots appeared on screen, worryingly close to a blue dot indicating Odd’s location. The hornets zipped around the screen, surrounding Odd and barraging him attacks that Sam couldn’t see. From the way Jeremy’s face contorted with worry, though, she didn’t need to see the attack to know things were bad.

“This isn’t good. The hornets shouldn’t be able to move that fast. It’s like being inside the construct has super charged them or something.” A dull beep sounded and Jeremy tsked. “Odd, you’ve just lost fifteen life points. Be careful!” Sam could barely hear her boyfriend’s voice over the other end and desperately wished she could reach out and answer.

“What happens when he hits zero?” She asked, the quietness of her voice surprising her in the moment.

“What?” Jeremy was busy typing away on the keyboard as he tried to discover the source of the hornets’ sudden power-up.

“I asked you what happens when Odd hits zero life points. You said he already lost fifteen, so what happens to him when he hits zero?”

Jeremy pursed his lips. “He’ll be devirtualized. Right now, he’s inside the computer program, but if he loses all of his life points when he’ll be ousted and return to being here in the factory with us.” He added under his breath with added frustration. “At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen....”

“And what does that mean?” Sam was beginning to lose her patience with Jeremy’s infuriating tendency to under-explain what was going on.

“It means, well, that they aren’t coming back like they’re supposed to.” He leaned back and breathed out a deep sigh. “Yumi and Ulrich have already lost all of their life points, and yet haven’t devirtualized. I can only guess as to why, but their shared code must be stuck in some kind of feedback loop within the simulation. To put it simply...” He looked up to her. “I can’t get them out.”

Sam nearly slammed her hand down on the computer keyboard, but fearing damaging Odd, settled for simply unleashing a verbal tirade onto Jeremy. “And you just sent Odd in there to deal with it by himself? I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends!”

“Of course we are!” Jeremy shouted back. “Odd knows the risk, so do Yumi and Ulrich. He’s not alone though, he has Aelita inside Lyoko to help him and he has me out here to provide support. Ever since we’ve met, we’ve all always had each other’s backs and that’s not going to stop now.”

“Then...” Sam’s gaze turned from Jeremy and settled on the computer screen. Her anger slowly ebbing away and revealing the worry underneath. “What are we going to do now? What can we do to help Odd and the others?”

Jeremy bent over the keyboard. She could practically hear the gears turning inside of his mind - there was a reason his friends all called him Einstein - until he snapped his fingers. “If we could temporarily overload the construct with some bad data, then that should be enough to slow down the hornets and put Odd at a greater advantage.” A flurry of keystrokes filled the air. “But, ah, it’s no use. I have no dominion inside the construction, no access to any towers, and I can’t directly send anything to Aelita in order to sabotage the hornets. If we went that route, I would have had to given the bad data to Odd right as he was being virtualized. But it’s too late now-“

“So give it to me.” Sam cut in. “If you can’t give it to anyone else to make the enemies easier to destroy, then upload the data with me and I can take it to Odd and Aelita.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Jeremy was about to launch into a deep explanation of the danger of a first timer launching themselves into an already precarious situation, before Sam put her hands on the arms of his chair and gently swiveled it around to face her.

“You said you care about Odd, well so do I. I don’t care about what might happen to me, I just want to chance to help.” Her voice was quiet, but sincere. A bit of insincerity slipped in with her next words. “ ‘Sides, I wasn’t asking, Pointdexter. Now put me in before I start keyboard smashing this thing.”

Jeremy thought for a long moment, then another, before slowly nodding. He could see why Odd was so crazy about this girl. “Fine. Head downstairs to the transporters and I’ll guide you from over the speakers. I can’t follow, but I can get you where you need to go from here.”

~~~

It was like a rush of electricity moving up her spine, before spreading throughout her entire body. The next thing she knew, Sam was staggering to the ground and could barely catch herself before falling face first. In her ear, Jeremy’s voice spoke.

“A little rougher than the usual, but not bad for your first time. I kind of had to rush your Lyoko avatar, but it should suffice for the time being. Most of it was procedurally generated anyways so-“

“Dude, c’mon, mission at hand before we start talking technical?” Sam shook her head as if clearing out his voice.

“Right, right, of course. You should be able to see the construct before you, it’s geometry is marginally different from the surrounding sector.” True to his word, her dark eyes scanned upwards and eyed the pale stone fortress before her. It’s coloring clashes drastically with the surrounding fog and light lavender rock of the Mountain Sector.

“The entrance is wide open. Isn’t this usually the part of the game where you have to defeat some kind of gatekeeper or something to get further into the dungeon?” Sam remarked as she swiftly passed into the threshold of the construct fortress.

“This isn’t a game, Sam. This is a matter of whether or not XANA can gain a new foothold within the Lyoko program, thus giving him greater power in the real world.” Jeremy pauses for a moment. “And, uh, Yumi and Ulrich already took care of the krabs guarding the entrance earlier....so there’s that.”

“I knew there had to be a gatekeeper!” Sam yelled triumphantly as she trekked further in. Hard, angular edges formed from what looked like polished stone walls guided her deeper and deeper into the otherworldly building. “So, speaking of mobs, what kind of weapons do I have?”

Jeremy audibly pressed a few buttons on his end and Sam could hear the sound of metal clinking together on her belt. “Like I was saying, I didn’t have much time to code anything too fancy. These digital shurikins should help if you encounter any ranged enemies and this-“ A weight suddenly appeared on her back. “-Is a copy of one of Ulrich’s katanas. I’d suppose you know how to use these?”

“Of course.” Sam chirped. “Sharp end towards the bad guys, then throw and stab, right?” On the other end, Jeremy groaned uncertainly. “Kidding, kidding. I think I can make these work. Now, what about this thing?” She motioned towards the metal gauntlet that encased her right forearm.

“In addition to being armor, it acts the as the containment module for the bad data I need you to inject. Once you engage the enemy, all you have to do is get within striking distance with the gauntlet and then-“

“Uh, Jeremy? I think the enemy’s already here.” After turning a particularly sharp corner, the narrow hallway Sam had been traveling down opened up into a room with high ceilings and expansive flooring. Towards the center, Odd pushed a very weary looking Aelita out of the way of a hornet’s well placed laser blast.

“Get behind me, Princess, these bozos are stronger than they look!” He fire a quick barrage of laser arrows towards the trio hornets, but their impressive speed allowed them to easily dodge each blast.

“No, Odd! Here!” Aelita kneeled down and bowed her head. Within a moment, a rock-like structure the same color as the rocks from the Mountain Sector appeared overhead. It shielded them from the hornet’s blasts, but shuddered with each and everything strike.

Within Sam’s ear, Jeremy voice came to life. “Aelita can’t maintain that barrier forever. And once it breaks, they’ll be totally defenseless. It’s up to you now.” Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Sam removed one of the shurikins from her belt. As the hornets were completely focused on breaking Aelita’s barrier, they all but ignored Sam as she quietly slipped closer towards the enemy.

Angling her shot towards the wall, Sam let one of her bladed weapons fly. The shurikin gained speed as it bounced off the wall and hit it’s mark on the broad side of one of the hornets. The virtual insect fell to the ground, dazed from the sudden damage it had taken.

“Now! Sam!” Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to the screen.

“Already on it, Pointdexter!” She ran forward and, with a small leap, descended upon the hornet. “Slow!” Out of the wrist of her gauntlet popped two bladed prongs, that soon became buried deep into the hornet’s body. It shuddered for a moment as it’s virtual body was pumped full of problematic data manufactured by Jeremy. Sam pulled the prongs out of the hornet’s body and threw up a hand to cover her face as the creature exploded.

Above her, the other hornets shuddered and jerked midflight before falling to the ground. “You’ve done it! The hornets are down for the count, and the rest of the construct’s data steam has been disrupted too.” A few keystrokes pass. “And Ulrich and Yumi are being devirtualized now!”

“So, now what? Do we keep going further in or...?”

“No way. Everyone’s life points are way too low, not to mention you and I are going to have some explaining to do to the others.” Sam nodded her head as Jeremy’s voice left her ear. Before she could ask anymore questions, Odd practically slammed into her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked Sam straight up into the air.

“Sam! You were so cool! You were like ‘pew’, ‘shing’, ‘stab’, ‘jab’, and then you-“ Sam groaned out-loud.

“Dude, cool it! You’re gonna strangle me to death after I literally just saved your life! Put me down!” Odd loosened his near death grip around his girlfriend and slowly lowered her to the ground. He gave a sheepish laugh. Beside him, Aelita giggled at his bashfulness in front of Sam.

“Right, sorry. For real, how did you get here? Did Einstein call you or something?”

“Not exactly. I, kinda-sorta, followed you here from our date. Then when I saw you guys needed help, I had Jeremy virtualize me.” Sam looked Odd up and down for a moment. “Why...Why are you a cat boy?”

Aelita put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing, but failed to contain her amusement as tiny snickers slipped past. “Yeah, Odd. What is with the cat get-up?”

Odd’s cheeks flushed with color. “W-Well, it’s kind of a long story. I sorta showed up here like this the first time and since then I’ve just learned to roll with it. But what about you? You look awesome!” His eyes ran over the black jumpsuit with satisfying white lines going down the lengths of her covered arms and legs, accented by an indigo crop top overlaying the outfit.

“Jeremy told me he was using Yumi and Aelita’s outfits as a basis for mine, but most of it was generated automatically when I first got here, I guess.” Sam looked at Aelita and her gaze was instantly drawn to her point eyes and face markings. “I guess between you two, I’m kinda the odd one out. No cats ears, no elf ears, just plain ol’ human ones.”

“Hey, you guys.” Jeremy spoke to all of them through his computer’s microphone. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation on fashion, we really should get you three back home. Ulrich and Yumi are already here, so I’ll start the devirtualization process. You first, Aelita.”

As Aelita began to disappear into unraveling strands of code, Odd put a hand on the back of his neck. “Sam, I’m sorry you had to find out this way about what I’m always doing with my friends. I wanted to tell you, and I didn’t like lying to you, but trying to explain all this to you always just seemed so...impossible.”

“Odd, if you had told me about all of this, I probably would have thought your brains had finally melted out of your ears from playing so many video games. I’m not angry or anything, more like amazed really. I almost still can’t believe anything like this even exists. I’m glad you’re safe though. Aelita and the others too, of course.” She kicks the ground with her shoe. “So, uh, does this mean I’m like part of the team now or what?”

Odd shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to be. I’m sure the others would agree that you’ve already more than proven yourself, but there’s still a lot we would need to talk about first. What Lyoko is, what we’re fighting, where Aelita really comes from...”

“I knew she wasn’t from Canada!” Sam yelled, before laughter overtook both her and Odd.

“It was the best we could come up with on such short notice. You’re telling me people from Canada don’t naturally have pink hair?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure nobody from anywhere is a natural pink, dork.” Sam flicks his nose with her index finger as the devirtualization process begins to take her. “I’ll see you back topside, alright?”

Odd nodded. “Yeah, see you back in the factory, dork-kisser.”

#code lyoko #code: swap #odd della robbia #jeremy belpois #Sam King

15 notes · View notes

honeytea8 · 4 years

Text

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

#JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #Dio Brando #Dio x Reader #Dio Brando x Reader #Masquerade AU #jojo #Dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #3D Renders

164 notes · View notes

deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

Summary: Everything would be perfect, if he could just get home. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2K Warnings: Miscarriage, HEAVY angst. Please don’t read if these things trigger you in any way. A/N: This is what happens when personal boy issues, wine, and crying Henry gifs collide. I apologize in advance. The song for this one is Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

“And then literally Desmond says, ‘just give him the bloody axe, he’ll do it himself!’”

You laugh at the culmination of Henry’s story, an anecdote involving a very large tree, a very nervous crew member, and a director who put more stock in his lead actor than any of the men hired to actually remove the tree from the shooting location.

“How’s our little one?” Henry asks after a moment, his voice tender and sweet, already a doting father even though you’re only six months along.

“She’s having a little dance party, but I think that’s due to the chocolate chip cookie I ate an hour ago,” you laugh, rubbing the belly that sprang up overnight; It seemed like only last week you still had a flat tummy.

“Well, you tell her daddy can’t wait to come home and give her and mummy so many kisses she’ll lose count.” You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart, cementing Henry as the man you want to grow old with and have many more babies with.

“Mummy misses daddy a lot. When are you coming home, babe?” You ask softly, knowing production had been plagued with delays ranging from weather to a stomach bug that had laid out half the crew and nearly all of the cast. Henry sighs thoughtfully, the sound making it clear that he too is frustrated by the schedule.

“If all goes according to plan from here on out, I should be home next month.” It’s not ideal, especially as your pregnancy draws to a close, but it’s better than nothing.

“I’ll be at Heathrow with bells on, and maybe your mother in tow,” you chuckle, trying to bring levity to a situation you knew was hard on both of you. An affectionate person by nature, you know it’s hard for Henry to be away from those he loves. You miss him more than words can describe and you know that him coming home will be the balm for all the aches, nausea, and trouble sleeping you’ve had since first getting the news.

“I can’t wait to see you, love. Miss you so much. Sleep now, and I’ll text you in the morning. Love you to the moon and back, darling.” Henry’s words bring tears to your eyes, as they always do when you’re apart for an extended duration, but you manage to keep your voice even as you respond in kind, saying your own ‘I love you’s in the nick of time, hearing Henry’s name being called by production just as you finish.

It’ll be a long month, but you know that soon enough, the man who keeps your heart will be back and you’ll be nestled in his arms, where you belong.

______________________________________

You wake from a decent sleep when, after rolling over, you feel wetness coat your outer thigh. Thinking you must have been dreaming of the ocean a little too much, you feel around for the bedside light switch and turn it on, rubbing your eyes to ease the switch from the darkness. You’re really not in the mood to deal with having to change the sheets, but what meets your eyes is beyond changing. Bright crimson instantly sets off alarms, and you look down to find that the source is exactly what you were hoping it wouldn’t be.

There’s little time to react as a bolt of pain ricochets through your entire torso, emanating from your womb and immediately making you want to vomit. You manage to reach for the phone and call for an ambulance, but make it clear they may have to break down the door to get to you. For once, you’re grateful that Henry takes Kal with him whenever he goes to shoot, as the dog would hinder more than help as you pull together all your strength to try and stand.

The room spins violently and you manage to grab onto the doorframe before your knees turn to jello. Taking several deep breaths, you wait for the wave of nausea to pass before dragging yourself to the staircase. Crumpling at the top of the stairs, you breathe slowly before moving down like a child pretending to be on a slide. You’re out of breath from pain by the time you get to the bottom and it takes the last of your energy to reach up and unlock the front door. Cell phone gripped tightly in hand, you do your best to stay awake, hearing the sirens in the distance.

Though you have no memory of arriving at the hospital, one directive repeats in your head like a marching order, and you make sure to tell every doctor or nurse that comes into your triage room that under no circumstances do you want anyone to be contacted, especially the father of your baby or his family. The staff at the Royal find the request odd, but because you’re awake and alert, they have no choice but to heed your wishes. With your own family an ocean away, your request leaves you no choice but to go through the ordeal alone. All the better, you think, guilt already forming as the doctor breaks the bad news.

Your world is overturned in a matter of hours. They put you on Oxytocin, and pain the likes of which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy is your sole companion for the next several hours as you’re induced for a birth you’ll never be able to celebrate. When all is said and done, the nurses ask if you want to hold your baby, and against your better judgment, you say yes.

Seeing her perfect, peaceful face breaks you.

______________________________________

A month and a half to the date of the phone call, Henry arrives at Heathrow to find, much to his confusion, only his mother waiting for him. He greets her warmly, but his eyes scan the arrival area, hoping that you’d maybe just run off to use the restroom. When he finds no indication of your presence, his attention turns back to his mother.

“Where is she, mum?” He asks, unable to piece together why you aren’t there, in his arms, where you promised you would be. Henry’s mother looks anywhere but at her son, unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was expecting had irrevocably changed.

“She couldn’t make it on account of the...I’ll take you to her, son.”

Henry tries not to let his imagination run wild as his mother drives north, past the home he shares with you. When the car crosses into Mayfair, Henry begins to panic. “Mum…” His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. His mother’s hand is clammy as it finds his, squeezing in a way that’s meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety.

He begins to visibly tremble when the engine cuts off in front of Nightingale Hospital. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? What happened? Mum, please.” His whispered appeal breaks his mother’s heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for her son’s sake.

“I’m sorry, Henry, love. I’m so sorry, my darling.” The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving Henry with no choice but to fly from the car and into the private hospital.

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for your room number. “The last name is Cavill. Please, hurry. I need to see her.” When it’s explained that patients aren’t generally allowed visitors, Henry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he’s losing his own mind. He asks to speak to the doctor in charge, and before long is ushered into an office and poured a cup of tea, the banal formality only serving to anger him more.

“Why is my wife in this godforsaken place?” He barks at the doctor the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The doctor takes a seat, his expression sympathetic.

“Mr. Cavill, I apologize that we weren’t able to reach you, but your wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney.” The doctor takes a deep breath, knowing that what he’s about to say will break the man in front of him.

“Your wife had a late-term miscarriage about a month and a half ago. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your child, and holding the baby afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health. She’s been residing with us since her delivery and I’m sorry to say, but as of late, she’s been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we’re simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm.”

Henry keeps his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can’t keep it together, he can’t see you and that’s all that matters to him at this point.

“May I see my wife? I’ve been overseas for the last six months, shooting a film. I w-was expecting her at the airport.” His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tinny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the doctor is blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for you taking over any allowance for grieving.

“I’ve been told she’s not having a good day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It’s the nature of her condition,” the doctor warns as he approaches your room.

It’s all Henry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The woman in the bed, staring passively through him isn’t the woman he loves, the one he would die for. That woman is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless facsimile that breaks him even more. Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he’d come home sooner.

______________________________________

By the time he’s back in his mother’s car, Henry’s numb to everything but the pain searing through his chest, “Take me home, mum. Please,” he murmurs, Henry’s head lolling onto the window for the duration of the drive back to your former home. He refuses to allow his mother in the house, pleading with her to go home and wait for his call. She takes Kal with her, knowing her son well enough to understand that he needs to grieve in his own way.

Henry’s not ready for the blood, having assumed that someone would have cleaned it up by now, but the Hansel and Gretel trail is hard to miss and with leaden steps, he moves upstairs.

Left in the exact condition it was last used in, the room you two shared leaves no question of what happened and what you went through, alone. His knees give out as he takes in the sheer quantity of blood on the bed, Henry guilt-ridden that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most.

Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others, Henry screams from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, Henry staggers to the bed and curls up around the remnants of his previous life, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #angst #deathonyourtongueoriginals #no puppers were harmed in the making of this fic

243 notes · View notes

pumpkinpaix · 5 years

Note

老师好！Thank you for writing! i found you through your MDZS story and i really adore your insightful writings about the show. In my opinion, i even think the show is better than the novel in their presentation of WX relationship ~ ! it feels more natural and less pandering. Another essay suggestion for you if you want to write --- In the show, who do you think fell in love first in WX? When were the "turning points" when they realized?

sldjfslikl first of all anon, it’s WILD that anyone would address me as 老师 and i’m simultaneously flattered and gobsmacked. (i’m really really really not qualified to be called 老师 friend—thank you, like, a lot?? but yeah, i gotta say i’m not that cool) thank you for reading my fic and liking it and apparently my one meta enough to come talk to me!! also, SORRY this took approximately a million years i’ve been working on it on/off for like. two weeks. (@the other anon who also requested meta—pls forgive me im really doing my best apparently these take a lot out of me)

confession: I wrote a WHOLE ADDITIONAL essay in response to your opinion about show vs. novel that i ultimately decided to cut because it flies a little too close to the discourse sun and you didn’t ask for that hahaha. if it turns out you are interested in it, feel free to hmu and i can post it (though i’ll probably try to keep it out of the tags for my own mental health’s sake im not cut out for this lmao)

that all being said, who do I think fell in love first? it was definitely lan wangji, and it was right here:

[id: screenshot of lan wangji watching wei wuxian making a wish to “protect the weak and curb the strong, with a clear conscience for all my life” from episode 7 of the untamed drama. wei wuxian’s eyes are closed, his hands clasped. lan wangji looks on with a surprised tenderness. /end id]

I think it’s safe to say that he already finds wei wuxian attractive/intriguing (see: his reaction to wei wuxian drawing his portrait, tying the lan ribbon around their wrists, the PEAK gay panic in his voice when wei wuxian trips and falls on top of him), but this is the first moment he’s really moved by him. up until this point, wei wuxian has been teasing, immature, A Nuisance™, too clever for his own good, troublemaker energy personified etc but he hasn’t ever revealed his deeper moral values in front of lan wangji—and he does it like this, without pretension, without irony. He doesn’t spend his wish on something frivolous or material: he wishes to be able to do good for all his life, to be righteous, to be kind. it’s the wish he makes for both of them. “the promise we made together all those years ago,” as he says, half a lifetime later.

like just. imagine, for a moment, being lan wangji, whose whole world is being constantly challenged and needled by this unfairly attractive, chaotic bastard and then he just comes out of left field with this. I think this is where lan wangji first recognizes himself in wei wuxian—that at their core, they share their most important values.

look what i’m saying is this is where I fell in love with wei wuxian.

(sidenote: I really think a lot of the tragedy of mdzs/the untamed is stems from this moment. wei wuxian fails, over and over and over, even when his wish never changes, even when all he ever wanted was to do good without fear.)

i had to think for a really long time to try and decide which moments i wanted to talk about on wei wuxian’s part, because i don’t think he’s nearly as easy to pinpoint. lan wangji falls in love like a lightning strike, but wei wuxian’s love is something that grows so slowly, i don’t think he realizes what it is until pretty late in the game.

so let’s begin with this moment on phoenix mountain:

[id: screenshot of lan wangji and wei wuxian facing each other on phoenix mountain from episode 25 of the untamed drama. lan wangji is waiting expectantly for an answer, having just asked, “what am i to you?”, hand behind his back. wei wuxian is holding his flute, expression complicated and uncertain. /end id]

this is the first time i think wei wuxian is asked directly to label his feelings about lan wangji, and he says, “i once thought of you as a lifelong, intimate friend.” and when lan wangji presses, “and now?”, he doesn’t respond.

two episodes later, when wei wuxian is taking the wen refugees out of their prison camp and lan wangji appears before him, I think he has some kind of answer to lan wangji’s question:

[id: screenshot from episode 27 of the untamed drama. wei wuxian holds out chenqing before him in challenge to lan wangji, who is offscreen. he is smiling, just slightly, resigned and fond and terribly sad. /end id]

“if there really must be a battle between me and them, then I would rather fight to the death with you. if i must die, then at least i would like to die by hanguang-jun’s hand. it wouldn’t be an injustice.”

if that isn’t some kind of confession, I don’t really know what is.

but it’s too late—he’s now a defector in the eyes of the four sects. lan wangji lets him go and wei wuxian rides away. the remainder of his first life, that’s how things stand. even through everything with a’yuan, the final massacre at the nightless city—even though there’s something really meaningful there between them, it’s all tinged with a sense of impossibility, you know? there’s no outcome where they can resolve it happily. wei wuxian has gone too far down that single-plank bridge.

the first moment i think wei wuxian has to confront the unresolved and unsaid things between him and lan wangji comes when lan wangji gets drunk that one night and tells him, “i have regret.”

“what regret?”

“that at the nightless city, I did not stand beside you.”

[id: screenshot of wei wuxian looking at lan wangji (offscreen) with tears in his eyes as the full realization of what lan wangji just drunkenly confessed hits him from episode 36 of the untamed drama. /end id]

“so all this time, you’ve been searching for me?”

earlier i said can you imagine being lan wangji for a sec, and i’m gonna say it again except god. can you. IMAGINE being wei wuxian in this moment. finding out that this person that you maybe suspected you had deeper feelings for but never acted on has spent the entire sixteen years of your death searching for you, regretting that he didn’t stand with you before you died? a regret that he’s been carrying in secret, alone, for sixteen years?? that’s A Lot to unpack.

however, I don’t think wei wuxian really, fully understands and accepts how he feels and how lan wangji feels in return, how far they’re both willing to go until episode 42, at the confrontation at jinlingtai.

[id: two screenshots from episode 42 of the untamed drama, right after lan wangji takes a stand beside wei wuxian against the four sects. image 1 is lan wangji smiling at wei wuxian: he is gentle and sure. image 2 is wei wuxian smiling back at him, eyes red-rimmed and wet. /end id]

even though lan wangji has been walking with him since dafan shan, he’s been doing it with a plausible deniability. and here, when wei wuxian is trying to give him an out, lan wangji puts everything he has on the line so that he can clearly stand with wei wuxian, without dissembling, without hesitation. “the feeling of of walking on a single-plank bridge into the dark truly is no worse.”

lan wangji is finished with regrets.

“it’s just funny, that’s all,” wei wuxian says, “back when the whole world flattered me with praise, you were the only one who would scold me. but now that everyone is calling for my death, all hating and condemning me, you’re nevertheless the only one standing by my side.”

i think after that, for all the remaining episodes, there’s an unspoken commitment between the two of them that underpins the rest of their interactions, which I think I can say without reservation that I like more than how it played out in the novel. EDIT 16 APR 2020: I changed my mind a while ago, ahaha. Turns out, I don’t prefer CQL over MDZS. I love them both so much. ;A; there’s something really profound about it, the trust in their unlabelled relationship. it really feels like the inexorable culmination of two adults in their mid-thirties coming together after falling in love for almost twenty years. there’s a maturity to it that isn’t present in the way the novel does the confession (which does have its own disaster energy™ charm) that I think highlights the fact that they love each other, not just because they admire each other, not just because they’re attracted to one another, but because they understand each other—because when they look at each other, they also see themselves.

#the untamed #the untamed meta #mdzs #mdzs meta #wangxian #陈情令 #mine #meta #mymeta #can i get a wahoo for the production team?#WOOF anon thanks for your patience #some of the wording in this is really embarrassing haha #i did my best!!#i hope some people like it #i also spent WAY too long on this #guys i edit every screenshot i'm not kidding #as always feel free to come talk to me about this #Anonymous #asks and replies

2K notes · View notes