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fairyhaos · 3 months

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seventeen and babysitting kids

ib the return of superman w svt bc i watched all the eps w jeonghao + junshua recently and it made me soft :((

masterlist

seungcheol:

better with kids than some of the others, but cautious. has the experience to take care of the child, but he's worried about coming off as too mean or harsh bc he's used to dealing with grown men with the mannerisms of children instead of actual children n he's too afraid of making the children cry if he's too strict w them. is very Parent when it comes to looking after the child, like, literally acts like their mom and makes them eat their vegetables and fusses over them when they spill something and makes sure they go to bed on time. the efficient person when it comes to looking after children

jeonghan:

he's so sweet. maybe a little too sweet bc as soon as the child is making the slightest whining noises he's dropping everything and doing aegyo or getting out all the toys or offering snacks bc god forbid a child starts crying in his care :((( good at being all gentle wheedler when he's exhausted out of his mind tho but he's just so weak that he doesn't do it often. lets them stay up half an hour past their bedtime. plays hide and seek with them a total of twelve times in a row. he's exhausted by the end of it, but the parents are smiling and the child is telling them how much they adore jeonghan and really that makes it all worth it for him

joshua:

the adorable uncle!! spends fifteen whole minutes explaining his name to the child, before giving up and telling them to call him jisoo. which leads to even more confusion bc he has two names???? what???? very excitable, but also clueless. he's an only child, what can he say? lets the kid get away with most things. when he inevitably exhausts himself two hours in by going way too hard while playing chase, he speaks in a cutesy tone and tries to convince the child to play some more sitting down activities. it always works, and honestly even tho he's terrible at puzzles it's better than going thru fitness training for five hrs straight

junhui:

eagerly participates in the child's made up games! pretends he's a superhero spy with them, pretends he's a magic prince(ess) with them, pretends they're pirates and encounter a ginormous sea monster with them. forgets to feed the child dinner because they're too busy playing, and so he lets them eat a whole hour after their bed time and because they're so late it takes ages to wash up and tuck the child into bed and eventually, the kid is only just going to sleep and it's three am and the parents are pulling up to the front of the house. but it's okay, because the child had fun and junhui had fun too

hoshi:

loves it the most when the children pretend they're animals. or if they have animal toys. managed to get into a fight with one of the kids once bc they wanted to be a tiger and soonyoung insisted that only he could be a tiger. almost made the child cry before eventually agreeing that they could both be tigers. gets hungry really quickly, so he ends up eating half of the child's dinner, then gives them loads of junk food to compensate for it. bad idea though, because now he has a child that's bouncing off the walls and it takes him hours to convince them to Not try and be spiderman and climb the walls and to Please get into bed because your parents are going to be home any minute and they are going to Obliterate me if you're still up

wonwoo:

he's chill. acts like a ghost that's simply observing the child's movements. only speaks when they start doing something they shouldn't or when it's time for dinner or when they should go up and get ready for bed. sometimes plays with the child if they ask him really nicely, but most of the time he's zoned out and staring at the wall, letting the child do whatever they want (so long as it's within the rules that he's been given)

jihoon:

awkward with children. doesn't know what to do. introduces himself and then holds out his hand for the child to shake. sits on the couch like he's ready to bolt any second. ends up putting the tv on for the child so that the silence in the room isn't too deafening. definitely warms up more as the night goes on, and ends up engaging in conversation with the child about how their life is at school. he forgets the names of all the children that the kid mentions though so he has no idea who has drama with who and how they're all connected but he nods and frowns and gasps in what he hopes are all the right places

minghao:

he loves children. so eager to play with them, encourages them to introduce all their toys to him and their histories and their relationships. shows them his cool hand tricks, has them gaping at him in awe for several minutes after. he's very shy, surprisingly, so desperately wanting to be all hyper and loud with the child but worried it will come off as too excitable. tries to teach the child better habits, too, talking to them about handling emotions and how emotional manipulation w tears will Not work on him, nice try. makes sure they eat their greens, and helps them brush their teeth as they get ready for bed. reads them a book and does one last finger trick before patting them on the head goodnight <;3

mingyu:

dramatic. big baby. literally acts like a child too. by the end of the evening, he's made a new friend and has pinky promised thrice that he'll come over some time for a proper play date with them. lets the child do whatever they want, with him and just in general. doesn't force the child to eat their greens bc honestly he finds those yuck too, and lets them go to bed later bc they gave him the most adorable puppy eyes and he's weak for that. reads them like five bedtime stories, acts out two of them, and would have definitely sung a song as well if he hadn't gotten a text saying the parents were coming home. rated 10/10 by all the children he's looked after

dokyeom:

the sweetest :(((( literally the most adorable with kids. treats them as if they're his younger siblings. is unintentionally doing aegyo the entire time he's with them bc he's just being influenced by so much cuteness all around him that he does it too. lets the child play with his hair, his clothes, his fingers. does the child's hair for them when they ask, and throws them into the air so many times that the child is almost sick all over him. plays hide and seek several times, two of which he was the one hiding from the child. almost forgets to put the child to bed, but then tucks them in really nicely and sings to them so sweetly. can't leave the room until the child falls asleep tho bc they insisted on grabbing onto his fingers and won't let go bc they're afraid he'll go away :((

seungkwan:

very fussy over children. dotes on them like he's a rich musty aunt, pinching their cheeks and calling them adorable every five seconds. participates in their made up games, but is hit with reality minimum three times every game bc even though he loves pretending he's a princess dressed in a pink and purple dress, it does feel weird when reality slaps you across the face. very good at Following the Schedule, and becomes almost sergeant-like while the child is brushing their teeth, standing over them and measuring the time to make sure they're doing it correctly. kisses the child on the forehead goodnight, giving their cheeks one last squeeze before tucking them in for the night

hansol:

kinda just there to have food. he's good with children tho, paying the right amount of attention to them and making all the exaggerated facial expressions that they adore. finds kids rlly adorable, but also just kinda sits there n munches on snacks half the time. asks the child how much english they know, quizzes them on the numbers from 1 to 100. all in all he's pretty good with children, feeding them on time and getting them to bed on time. ends up being so good that they fall asleep a long while before the parents come home, so he's just kinda sitting on the couch n staring at the wall for a while

chan:

literally acts like a child too (2). great with kids and matches their energy immaculately. isn't really into dressing up or chasing, but he's great at made up games and board games. once spent the entire evening playing snakes and ladders, bc it was a tense match okay and he was sure the child had to be cheating bc how were they always ahead of him?? makes sure they eat their food properly + very good at convincing them their veggies taste delicious. watches the child jump on their bed for a solid ten minutes, despite having been given express instructions to Not let the child jump on the bed, but really, how can he say no when theyre so adorable?

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tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM.

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help.

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths.

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air.

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression.

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you.

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you.

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place.

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head.

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building.

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting.

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended.

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly.

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit.

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place.

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags.

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her.

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound.

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious.

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage.

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in.

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought.

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same.

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation.

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it.

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered.

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out.

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either.

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms.

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet.

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound.

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train.

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could.

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse.

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away.

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself.

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped.

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you.

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session.

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone.

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt.

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower.

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips.

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader

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octuscle · 4 months

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I'm tired of being fat and dateless can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes having his snake drained if you get what I mean

I'm tired of being fat and dateless, can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes his snake emptied, if you know what I mean

Well, you're not exactly the catch of the day… Well beyond 300 pounds. It's amazing that you made it to the age of 55 with your blood values. You look much older with your bad skin. Yes, you won't get a date like that… But I'll see what we can do for you.

It's not easy for you to get out of bed in the morning. Neither is taking a shower. You struggle into your jogging suit and sit down at your computer with a box of donuts. Before the pandemic, you were sometimes still in the office. Since then, you've only been able to work from home. You rarely leave the house anymore. What's the point? You take a break after two hours. Dealing with suspected money laundering cases is an annoying job. You drink a large glass of water with a shot of grapefruit juice. And do a few squats and a few press-ups. You've been trying hard to lose weight for two years. You've already lost many kilograms. But the flaps of skin that now hang from your tits and hips are an expensive price to pay. But you feel better for it. But now back to the computer. You get paid by the case.

You have a lunch break with friends. At a vegetarian restaurant a quarter of an hour away. It's raining and at first you wanted to go by car. But you're not a wimp and any exercise is good. So you take the bike. Yes, you look anything but sexy in those rain overalls. But you enjoy the looks when you take it off. You've been training hard and eating healthily for five years. You look quite respectable for a man of 50, even if the sins of the first 45 years of your life still show. But now you don't need to hide among colleagues who are sometimes 15 or even 20 years younger. The food is delicious and it's fun to chat with your colleagues, who you meet far too rarely in the office. It's not easy to lead a team that only works from home. Okay, you're not a good example today, but you try to be in the office as often as possible. If only because you enjoy the bike ride. And because it's close to the swimming pool.

The lunch break took a long time. The afternoon was short. Nevertheless, you finish work at 18:00. You have HIIT at 19:00. At 44, you are one of the oldest participants. But you easily outperform some much younger ones. Your job has been your life for eleven years. But sport is your passion. Giving your all during the day and even more in the evening is your motto. When the course ends at 8 p.m., most of the participants are panting and crawling into the shower more than they are walking. You hit the weights again.

At 11pm, Mike, the gym manager, switches on the emergency lights and turns off the music. Your signal that it's time to end the workout. You are once again the last one on the training area. You pull your T-shirt over your head, drop your pants and post up in front of the mirror. Not too bad for a man in his early 40s. Mike approaches you from behind, hugs you and grabs your nipples. Damn, this guy knows exactly where your on switch is. You're actually a disciplined nerd. But for once you give up an hour of your precious sleep for a good fuck. And if you spend the night at Mike's, you also save yourself the trip to the morning gym before work. So you fuck another round straight away.

Amazing pic found @rickmuscleguy

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #age reduction

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

Note

oh my god I am frothing at the mouth PLEASE tell us about how Unohana is SO WEIRD ACTUALLY

(her reveal is my favorite thing in the whole series and I was obsessed with Bleach for a good long time)

I love Unohana. She's magnificently insane and deliciously fun to write so far.

My take on AEIWAM Unohana is that fundamentally, she just wants to be happy.

Oh, that doesn't sound too nuts. I hear you say.

Yeah, but I also headcanon that she has ADHD. We joke a lot about it on this site, but if you have the good fortune to have functioning dopamine factories, allow me to explain the worst part of it, for me.

There's no passive happiness.

Most people, as I understand it, if left to their own devices without undue stressors like capitalism or any particular stimulation, tend to be able to feel pretty okay most of the time. Which fascinates me because if I am left alone without undue stressors but no stimulation, my malfunctioning dopamine factories will shut down and I will rapidly develop a terrible black depression and paranoia that life is cruel and I will never experience happiness again and also my appetite vanishes and sleep cycle collapses and I will end up mentally and physically distraught, sometimes in less than an hour.

So I've always got to be doing something, or The Horrors get me.

So imagine Unohana, and with a brain that wants to die if she gets bored... living in fantasy magical ancient japan. Not much to do, out in the early days of the soul society, besides being attatcked by monsters, or participating in warfare, or starving to death. the first two, at least, get the blood pumping, but the first is difficult to come by regularly, so as a young woman, the most interesting thing that happens to her on the regular is Mortal Combat.

And how exciting it is! Adrenaline! Dopamine! And on the rare occasions she meets a fellow combat enthusiast, she also gets one of the best things about ADHD- Recognition Responsive Euphoria. You know that great feeling you get at Con or meeting another person with your special interest and you guys just VIBE and it feels like you've been best friends for life in less than five minutes? Yeah, apparently Non-ADHD people don't get that.

So naturally, she develops her skill in combat, not in pursuit of Honor or The Art or something nebulous like, that, but in the simple Pursuit of Happiness. She gets very good at it, and a lot of people die.

But she starts getting... too good at it. The fights don't last, there's nobody willing- let alone able, to meet her on her level and the previous joy she felt fades and fades until she is once again left in the darkness.

Then, a Miracle happens! Some punk stabs her in the lung :)

Man, what an evening for her. Kills a hundred men with barely a stroke and there's no more joy in the world for her when suddenly some barely-legal scarecrow looking bastard with a raggedy sword he pulled out of someone else's corpse appears at the top of the pile of bodies and then goes Ape. Fucking. Shit. on her.

It's the most fun she's had in ages! He's strong and fast and his moves are inefficient but delightfully unpredictable and by the GODS the STAMINA! Alright, she might be 1,000 years his senior but in the soul society age really is just a number and she can't help but be charmed.

So she flirts back by nearly cutting his face off. This DELIGHTS him!

And there it is again, that sudden feeling of intimacy between like-minded individuals, only these two ships aren't passing in the night, there' here to make Titanic 2: Electric Boogaloo. They make eye contact, and know-they're just like me.

True Love is a wonderful thing.

It's also a great opportunity for a surprise thrust and she only sort of manages to block it, and despite the feeling of blood pooling in her lung, she returns the blow full across his chest.

She staggers back, coughing.

He, miraculously, sits up, coughing. He won't die if he can crawl off somewhere to lick his wounds, but he can't continue the fight either.

She stands up, teeth gritted through the pain, and sheathes Minazuki. "What's your name?" She asks. "So I may find you to fight again."

"Don't have one." he wheezes. "But I'll never forget yours."

She's had men spit that as a threat to her before. It sounds very different as a declaration of love.

"Yachiru." she says, trying to not cough up blood. "Unohana Yachiru."

A Year later, there's a problem.

Soul Society has a bit of a problem with lungs. They can make entire fake bodies for shinigami to travel the living world, but individual organs, especially lungs... never seem to transplant well. Perhaps it's the fact they're already dead.

Her left lung is "healed" in the sense that it no longer has extraneous holes in it, but... Godsdammit, she still has all the power but none of the stamina. Barely 10 minutes into a fight and she's wheezing worse than The Old Man. 20 minutes and her hands are starting to shake and she's seeing spots in her eyes because she can't breathe well enough to keep the oxygen in her veins. Her fights usually last seconds so functionally she's still one of the most powerful people in the afterlife but it's a far cry from where she was before.

She can no longer be the 11th division's Kenpachi. Hell, she can no longer be the woman she was before.

"Unless you figure out some new medical miracles, this is as healed as it's going to get." Explains the chief medical officer after yet another frustrating checkup.

"...If that's what it takes." She decides.

The next morning she re-enrolls in the Shinigami Academy, under the name Unohana Retsu. The sole change she makes to her appearence is to braid her hair down the front of her chest because people WILL ask about the scar, and she doesn't want to think about how badly she's letting down that warrior with no name.

Either she needs to learn how to get back to his level, or find a new rival and learn to heal them to actually last the 20 minutes she has, or she'll die.

She studies.

To her vast surprise, bodies are actually fascinating. She'd previously seen that there were lots of interesting organs inside people but now learning what they are and how they work and the fact that the human body is already astonishingly death-resistant compared to most animals AND a carefully balanced meat sculpture minutes away from catastrophic failure at all times delights. She learns about the extreme ways humans can survive and the bizarrely mundane ways they can die, and she starts to form an idea- not an image, not a philosophy per se- but a working theory of how to keep someone alive and moving for as long and far as they will go, and what they need to stay upright.

This idea shines so brightly that it can keep that terrible darkness away.

The century practically flies by, and one night she stays up manually pumping the mechanism on a device used to keep the also-failing lungs of a young boy going after the power goes out. He's been blessed by A God that he's lived as long as he has, but even Gods can fuck up sometimes and she effectively has to breathe for him for twelve hours until the God gets its shit back together and he can breathe under his own power again.

"Hell of a fight you put in, keeping him alive." says one of her colleagues, collapsing beside her out in the 4th division medical garden where all the doctors go to smoke.

Retsu slowly exhales the smoke, fatigued but still coming down from the high of success. She cocks her head. Her body aches and her mind races and her heart thrills, just like- "I guess it was. " she realizes. "Interesting fight, going 12 hours in the ring with a dying child and winning because he walked away at the end." She laughs, and hands him the cigarette to share.

"You weirdo." he colleague laughs. He's far too young to remember when she was Yachiru. Most of them are these days, and it's a weird sort of peaceful anonymity and personal joke. "You weren't fighting the kid. If we were actually allowed to fight patients, I'd've stabbed the Kuchki hypochondriac decades ago." he grumbles, taking his own drag.

She snorts. "Who was I fighting then?"

"Death?" smoke billows out as he laughs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She freezes. Oh. Oh. That's why she likes this so much. She's gone from fighting mere men to the one opponent she knows she can win battles with, but never the war, and who will defeat her personally someday.

"Are. Are you crying?" he asks, a little worried.

"I- yes." She laughs, tears streaming down her face. "I just fell in love all over again."

"Ouch." he nods sympathetically, offering her the cigarette back. "Who with?"

"Death's own Angel, apparently." She giggles, feeling positively prepubescent with this crush.

And thus she goes on, for centuries, learning everything there is to know about bodies and minds and how the two keep each other going and the ways she can help. She gets very good at it, and a many more people do not die.

But there is a special, secret place in her heart for that nameless warrior that defeated her in battle, and made her stronger than every before.

Nearly 1,000 years after she stopped being Kenpachi, she is supervising the annual "see if you can kill the captain" tournament. Her colleague Kaname is there, a walking anxiety disorder with undoubtedly real but strangely hard to diagnose phantom pains, but he's still easily in her top 10 coworkers of all time because he made her a new medical record filing system so functional they were actually able to recataloge three millennia of medical records into a usable format in under a decade. He can come twitching into her office any time he likes, especially if it gets her that mass vaccination process for the Rukongai he's been biting The Old Man's heels for.

Then

as suddenly as he had appeared the first time,

He's back.

He's older now and larger, having matured into a spectacular bastard, but there's no mistaking that cutting edge on his reiatsu (which, oh, that has gotten much, much stronger since last time) or that scar running down his face as he turns from where he had just cleft the previous Kenpachi in twain, and stares out into the crowd in the shower of blood, challenging anyone to do something about it. Hell, even when Yamamoto appears to congratulate him on his promotion, Death's own angel's first reaction is to turn to fight the old man without hesitation.

He then promptly picks three different fights with four captains in under five minutes, tells Yamamoto to shove the job up his ass, imply he's had a WILD collection of vocations in the last millennium and furthermore, he has to get home to his daughter.

...Named Yachiru.

Hilariously, Unohana is only having the second weirdest time about this here, because Kaname and Kenpachi are, somehow, even weirder than she is.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Everyone in this fic is a freak and I'm having a great time

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th3secr3th1story · 9 months

Note

getou reacting to you having a mental breakdown/crying

geto reacting to a breakdown

of course, thank you for the request! hope you're ok

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst ig, first time writing in present tense wheww yazan dont fuck it up..., soft!geto, reader is stresseddd about life, crying, established relationship, no prns used, if u see any typos IM SORRY. i proofread but it's late and im tired!

words: 1,026

some days are harder than others. ups and downs are normal (and expected), but knowing that doesn't make difficult times any easier to manage.

you're a strong student, there's no doubt in that. you consistently perform well in all your assessments, sparring sessions, and missions, but sometimes it feels like the better you perform the better you're expected to do.

that day, geto is able to tell something is off. you didn't participate as often as you usually do in class, your typically composed expression seemed strained, you ate your lunch slower than usual, and despite beating him in a fight, you seemed less focused.

"are you okay?" he asks as the two of you walk down the hallway, turning your face gently to look at him.

"yeah, just didn't sleep too well last night," you smile, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand before quickly heading off to the bathroom.

despite being in a relationship with geto for over a year now, vulnerability is still challenging. not to say you've never confided in him, since there's no one you trust more, but putting thoughts into words never comes easy.

you don't know how you make it through your last class. just the thought of all your homework, your upcoming mission, the fact that it's only october, if you're really going to be risking your life for a living--you can't wait for the school day to be over.

once the final bell rings, you gather your things and leave the class, not stopping to thank the teacher or say bye to your friends as you normally do.

"what's up with y/n today?" gojo questions.

that confirms geto's suspicions. something is wrong, and he's ready to help.

once you reach the dorm, you shut the door and flop down onto the bed with a sigh.

"is it always going to be like this?" you wonder, feeling the stress from the day pressing down on your chest, practically suffocating you.

before you know it, half an hour of staring at the ceiling has gone by before a knock shakes you out of your thoughts.

sliding the door open, you see geto standing there staring right at you with his hands in his pockets.

"hey," he says, breaking the silence.

"what're you doing here? is everything okay?" you question, beckoning him in.

"you've been acting off today. even satoru noticed, which is definitely saying something since he's always in his own bubble," he grumbles the last part, smiling a little.

"what's going on? i need you to talk to me," he continues.

sitting down on the bed, you sigh for what has got to be the thousandth time in the last 12 hours and try to figure out how to formulate your words.

"today was just hard, i guess? i don't really know," you mumble, not even sure of what to say.

"what do you mean?" he asks, encouraging you to open up, sitting down next to you and placing his hand on your leg.

"i just feel like there's a lot of pressure to do well, from my parents and teachers," you respond, not sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

"like, the more missions i come back from successful, or the more projects i do well on, the better i feel like i have to perform. which of course isn't a bad thing--i mean it's probably a good thing, actually," you start, feeling the familiar stinging of your eyes.

"but it's still kind of tiring because i feel like i can't really catch a break. like, once i finish something, there's always something else waiting for me," you stop for a second to sniffle as the tears start to fall, quickly wiping them away.

geto scoots closer and wraps his arm around you, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

"and i get this is the life of a jujutsu sorcerer and i just have to suck it up and get used to it, but it's hard, you know? i don't know how to get my shit together."

your breaths are coming in quicker now, placing your elbows onto your knees so you can lean into the palms of your hands.

"i'm just tired, suguru. really tired," you choke.

"i feel like i'm going insane. i mean, what if i fuck up my next mission and then that's it?" you ask, letting silence wash over the both of you as you cry into your hands. you shake your head, feeling the embarrassment push through you.

at first, geto doesn't say anything, processing your words, before he pulls you back into his arms, hugging you tightly and letting your tears fall onto his shoulder.

"i get what you mean, y/n. you're not crazy," he whispers into your hair, rubbing your back as you continue to cry hard.

"you keep talking like you're alone," he continues, "but you're not. satoru's here, shoko's here, baby-" he turns your head so that you can look at him, "-i'm here."

"expectations are challenging, and they can definitely feel suffocating. but you're more than a failed mission," he whispers softly, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

"mistakes are inevitable, and yes, failure is always a possibility. it's unrealistic to expect yourself to complete every single mission perfectly, you know. i doubt anyone ever has."

"but what if i disappoint everyone? i don't want to be a failure," you whisper, shaking your head as you look away from geto.

"listen, it still doesn't mean you're weak or incapable. you're the strongest person i know, and your dedication to everything you do just proves that," he smiles, pulling you in so you can rest your head on his shoulder again.

"stronger than you and satoru?" you ask, finally smiling a little as the tears begin to subside.

"way stronger," he responds, kissing your forehead before pulling the two of you down to lay on your bed.

"wait, i have homework, suguru-"

"just for a bit, baby. i know how tired you are, it's okay," he whispered, pulling you in closer and beckoning you to finally close your weary eyes.

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animeyanderelover · 1 year

Note

Yandere tamaki, bakugou,kirishima,shinsuo(separate)

Taking care their unwilling kidnapped sick darling

It's been too long since I've writen for My Hero...

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationhip, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, overprotective behavior, mentions of abduction, sickness

Unwilling kidnapped darling is sick

Katsuki Bakugou

💥 Katsuki keeps that frowning scowl on his face as he forces you into not one but three blankets and just tells you to rest and do as he tells you. Is he angry at you? Probably, he blames you a little bit for getting yourself sick like this. You should have done this and that like he told you too but you just had to play the rebel which is, admittedly his doing. Kidnapping you was a wrong choice but a choice the hero made nevertheless. Your rebellious attitude had to be expected but it's incredibly hard for Katsuki to hold back his temper at times. He won't succumb to his anger and scream at you and scare you like some sort of asshole. He isn't the violent bad guy you might write him off as and he is adament to prove that to you. So maybe he's partially responsible for your sickness now too, he should have taken better care of you.

💥 Despite what his darling might think, Bakugou is actually disturbingly good in nursing them back to health. He's informed and knows how to use that knowledge practically too. He cooks the food that will benefit your health, knows how much you need to take from which medicine per day to feel less like shit and still respects the fact that you need rest. Sure, he checks still multiple times a day for your temperature or to see if you have no problems whilst sleeping but otherwise he just lets you rest. Katsuki even acts like he wants the distance, tells you that he doesn't want to get sick too and luckily you never test him in this conviction since you despise him. He might want to cuddle up to you a bit but knows that you'd hate it and that would just mean scratching his ego. A hint of arrogance can't be helped though since he basks in the fact that you're more reliant on him now and he occasionally rubs that into your face although he doesn't push you to the point where you refuse said help.

Eijiro Kirishima

♦️ Kirishima makes an instant fuss over his darling when they start feeling sick and tired and is likely over the top enough to swoop them up in his arms and carry them into their bed. His poor baby got sick so it's obviously his job as their loving boyfriend to take care of them now that they'll need him. Everyone gets sick once in a while, don't worry. This will pass soon. I' say that he has less knowledge than Katsuki and whilst he might know the common folktales how to help with this and that, he has only vague ideas when it comes to the medicine. He's probably the type who'd actually try to nurse you back to health without relying on pills and medicine unless he realizes that it would seriously help you. Tries to make jokes in hopes of making you feel a bit better, he generally talks a lot unless he knows that you just need some silence right now.

♦️ Kirishima kind of glosses over the fact that you're still an unwilling participant in this all because this man has straight up kidnapped you, even if it was in a risky situation. He's decided to put his delusional walls up in order to defend his actions and with your sickness in full work right now, you have not the energy to argue with him anymore. Eijiro grows even more clingy, tells you that he has a robust immune system so you won't have to worry about him getting infected by what you have. Affection and cuddles are good medicine too after all! Well, that's at least what he always tells you when he has you trapped in his grip. He spends hours like this with you where he dozes off a bit and you somehow manage to do too even if begrudgingly. He is a bit more clueless at times but refuses to let you help, reassures you that he'll figure out how much of this specific medicine you need. You just rest and get well soon.

Hitoshi Shinsou

💟 Hitoshi feels guilty after the abduction of his darling, especially since he used his quirk without any hesitation. Sure, you were in danger but it doesn't change that he feels like he just used you the way everyone else was always afraid he'd use his quirk when he was younger. This guilt only gets fed more when you fall ill because you vehemently won't listen to his pleads to be more careful and due to the increased stress of the situation you're in. He sort of panics at first since he hates to admit it but he doesn't really know what he is supposed to help you with in this situation. There is this lingering hope that he can change your opinion of him at least a bit though by taking care of you now and proving to you that he genuinely loves you. He just sends you to bed at first and spends hours in front of his laptop, reading online what he can do for you now.

💟 His approach is similar to that of Katsuki in that he also lets you rest enough. He knows that you're in a bad mood now that you've fallen sick and are forced to rely on him more and for that very reason he's afraid that you'll potentially snap at him and hurt his feelings if he acts too overbearing. It's already a relief enough that you accept the food he prepares you and the medicine he gives you to ease your symptoms. He never brags about it to you though, Hitoshi is just grateful that you comply with him right now instead of continuing to be angry and worsening your health even more by doing so. You might accept his help because you're worried that otherwise he might brainwash you again, he doesn't know and is too afraid to ask you that question. He doesn't speak much but there is some sort of pride bubbling up in his chest when he notices that his treatment helps you and the sickness you're enduring as of now.

Tamaki Amajiki

🌗 Tamaki is devastated by the cold shoulder his darling gives him and copes with it by thinking lowly about himself. He understands you, he's just a miserable person isn't he? Taking you away out of his anxiety to be left by you and ruining you like this, he really is a low piece of trash. When your health slowly deteriorates, the guy suffers a small panic attack and instantly blames himself as the reason. He must really make you sick. A part of his consciousness knows that he shouldn't overdo it but that part is muddled under all the panic that his brain produces as he can't help but turn overbearing now. His poor sweetheart is suffering so much right now, how couldn't he? Even if it's just your common cold, Tamaki will act really dramatic and make it look like something more serious as he starts acting like the worst mother hen you've ever met.

🌗 You're placed in a bed with multiple pillows and blankets and he even goes out to buy you more, occasionally even gets you a cute plushie to cheer you up a bit. He spends a lot of time in the kitchen or hunched over his mobile and reading articles how to help you. He gets you medicine and asks you in a jittery tone if you could take a bit since it should help you. He's still scared that you'll hiss at him, insult him even if he almost expects it because of what he has done. He lingers around you, often peeks into your room to see if nothing is bothering you. Deep down Tamaki really wants to lay cuddled up next to you though even if he might get sick too. His immune system should be strong though, right? You find him staring at you when he thinks like that although he looks embarrassed away the moment he snaps back to reality. If he's desperate enough to tip into his delusional side, you might wake up one day to his form holding you tightly against him, mumbling that you'll be fit soon.

#yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere kirishima #yandere eijiro kirishima #yandere shinsou #yandere hitoshi shinsou #yandere tamaki #yandere tamaki amajiki

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de-facto-slut · 1 year

Text

° Our Little Secret °

( Dark! Steve Rogers X Female Reader )

A/N: I was suddenly hit with this idea like a ton of bricks. It’s a little rough and hasn’t been proofread but enjoy.

Summary: Captain America tags along on a work trip.

Warning ⚠️: Minors DNI. 18+ . Nonconsensual, Dubious Consent, very public sex, humiliation, degradation, Chikan, Oral male receiving, somnophilia, NSFW, this is not an exhaustive list.

Did you read the warnings? Proceed. . .

It was a long and exhausting week at Avengers HQ. Honestly, every week was a hard one. Most of the time some of the stuff you dealt with seemed beyond the scope of your degree. This was not a job for the faint of heart, from alien invasions to near-apocalyptic events. You found yourself working long days and even longer nights cleaning up after these heroes. Luckily, Tony was kind enough to reward all the staff in the administrative and business departments with a trip to a ski resort on Whiteface Mountain in Wilmington, New York. At first, you didn’t even want to go, you would have been fine with a weekend at home. A chance to catch up on cleaning, chores, and errands you had neglected for work.

Yet, there you were standing outside Avengers HQ with your packed bags among your excited co-workers. Your friends had convinced you to go after you shared the details of the trip with them. Their logic was sound. You could not skip an all-inclusive trip on Mr. Stark's bill.

There was a long row of charter buses lined up on the street before you. You eventually made your way over to a line as you watched your colleagues hand over their bags before loading the bus and you eventually followed suit. You thanked the driver before getting on the bus to find a seat. Fortunately for you, you managed to get on the bus early so you had a chance to pick the optimal seat, and for you, that was the back. You made your way to the second to last row and chose the seat by the left side window.

As the bus began to load, you turned on your earbuds and placed them in your ear hoping to catch up on some sleep on the four-hour drive upstate. Once your music began to play, you sank into your seat and closed your eyes waiting for sleep to take you. It hadn’t been more than two minutes before you felt a tap on your shoulder. You opened one of your eyes and both of them widened in surprise before you immediately removed your headphones.

“Cap-Captain? What are you doing here?” You were embarrassed at how you choked on your words, but he didn’t seem to take notice. You have seen him enough times to know what he looked like, even in a plain sweater and a baseball cap.

“Please, it’s just Steve. I thought it would be good if I tagged along. Do you mind if I sit here?”

“No! Go ahead!” You replied as you moved your things from the seat beside you and placed them between your legs. He promptly took a seat and looked around the bus. Everyone else seemed to be just as surprised as you were. This wasn’t your first time meeting Steve Rogers. You had run into him often in the elevator, you normally would carry on short polite conversations. But nothing noteworthy he’d remember. You hardly ran into any of the other Avengers despite working in the same building. You just handled the paperwork they often neglected or didn’t care to think about.

But, of all the things you would never expect, you would have never expected to see the Captain tagging along on a work trip. Ever since you started this job there was a clear division, the little guys and the big guys. And the Big guys had a Quinjet to get to and from, Steve didn’t need to ride a charter bus. Not to mention none of the actual Avengers members went on work trips or participated in most work events.

You shifted in your seat, you never realized just how big he was until now. His body looked massive in the bus seats. They weren’t built for men like him.

“ Am I taking up your space?” he asked a look of concern on his face.

You shook your head, “ No, you’re fine.” you lied.

“Good to hear. Sorry, I decided to join the trip last minute and didn’t think they would have any seats left,” he admitted.

You looked slightly confused, and your lips moved faster than you could stop them, “ Why did you?” you suddenly kicking yourself with how the question came out. “ Sorry I-”

He cut you off with a chuckle, “ I miss the simple things like bus rides and getting to know people. I get to travel the world but never get to see it or enjoy it, you know?”

You nodded, “ Yeah, I think I get it.”

“Besides, you guys keep us running, so why not spend quality time together with the ‘whole team’,’” he added, leaning back into the chair in an attempt to get comfortable.

“I figured you guys would be too busy to consider the whole team,”

“Yeah, now the team has expanded; I can afford a few days to myself.” He explained.

“And you want to spend them on a work trip with ‘team’ members you’ve never met?”

“Well, you’re a friendly face, Y/N, was it?” he asked.

You’re eyes widened slightly as you flashed him a shy smile. “ Oh, so you remember me?”

You had told him your name once in passing.

“ The Elevator. Floor 15.”

“ Wow, that’s an impressive memory,” you said, genuinely surprised.

“I never forget a friendly face,” he stated.

You replied with a smile. It did make you feel warm inside to be noticed by The Steve Rogers. So many people would sell their souls just to be seen by an Avenger, and there you were, boring office worker, and he remembered you.

“Oh! by the way, how did that date go?” he suddenly asked.

“Date?” You asked.

You were confused for a moment before you suddenly remembered.

It had been a day when you knew you’d leave the office late, and you had scheduled a date for that day—poor planning on your part. A guy, Nathaniel, who you had been chatting with for months and finally had the courage to meet. You had to rush and get changed in the ladies’ room that night. When you had gotten to the elevator, you were surprised to be greeted by Steve. You had never seen him leaving the office so late. He was a true gentleman that night. You made small talk. He complimented your appearance and wished you luck. Steve even insisted on walking you to your car, since it was late and claimed that parking garages were no place for a lady at night.

“Oh, that date. It didn’t go so well. He...uh...never showed.” you explained, slightly embarrassed.

Steve’s face was unreadable for a moment, and you could swear that you saw something flash behind his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it was there.

“ I’m sorry to hear that. The guy doesn’t know what he missed out on. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” he mentioned sympathetically.

You shrugged your shoulders before giving a soft nod, “ You’re right. Thank you,” You smiled, “It’s just that dating is hard these days. Not everyone is Captain America-” you quickly stopped yourself. “ I mean, not everyone shares your values,” you corrected.

He smiled, “ Ah yes, I’m America’s golden boy. Can’t top that.” he joked. “ Honestly, I don’t know how you guys do it these days with all those dating apps.”

You made an exaggerated disgusted face, and he laughed.

“ Yeah, it isn’t ideal, but I’m sure you don’t have to worry about the perils of dating in the 21st century.”

He raised a curious eyebrow, “ What do you mean?”

“I’m sure women throw themselves at you.” He was handsome; there was no denying that, and there was no way he wasn’t aware of that fact.

He chuckled before shaking his head, “ Surprisingly, that makes things even more difficult. I can’t tell who is generally interested in Steve, not Captain America.”

You tilted your head slightly and poked your tongue into your cheek “ Yeah, I guess I didn’t consider that angle,”

He shrugged and leaned back into his chair, “ Most people don’t.” He glanced down at the headphones in your hand. “ Oh, but don’t let me keep you from enjoying the ride.”

You followed his eyes to your hands and quickly tucked the earbuds away in your pocket, “ No! That’s okay! I just wasn’t expecting a seat buddy for the ride, let alone one I could talk to.”

Steve smiled at your comment and softly nodded his head in response. When would they be another opportunity to talk to an Avenger? Let alone the ‘Captain America’.

“ Well, feel free to let me know when you’ve had enough of me...”

“Oh no, I don’t think that’ll happen.”

⚠️

You made it through the first half of the ride talking about all sorts of things with Steve. He told you about his adventures and missions over the years and you listened intently. You preferred when he talked because your life sounded dull in comparison. He didn’t talk about his feats like someone who just wanted to brag, he was actually quite humble and down to earth.

Before you knew it, the buses had stopped at a rest area to allow passengers the chance to stretch and use the bathroom. The sun was setting now, as you stood outside in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, New York with your arms wrapped around yourself to protect from the cold. Honestly, any place outside the city seemed like the middle of nowhere to you. The moment you and Steve got off the bus, he was bombarded by the other employees asking him questions. They kept him busy by asking for pictures to autographs or trying to get stories out of him. You left him to his fans as you made yourself busy. You checked your phone as you stretched your legs while walking around the rest area.

Eventually, you made your way back to your bus. You were about to climb back on when you heard your name being called, “ Y/N!”

You turned to see Steve approaching you with two steaming cups in his hands.

“ I thought you could use a pick-me-up to make it through the remainder of the ride,” he lifted the cup offering it to you.

“ Oh, thank you, that’s very thoughtful. sadly, I can’t drink coffee,”

“It’s tea,” he replied.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “ In that case thank you, I love a good tea.”

Steve simply nodded and smiled in response. “You’re welcome. Ready for the rest of the journey? Hope I haven’t been boring you.”

“ No, not at all! Your stories are the stuff of movies,” you joked as you climbed back onto the bus. You both took your seats as you opened the lid of the tea and blew on the hot liquid before taking a sip.

“ Mmm...that’s good,” you complimented as you settled back into your seat.

“ Glad you think so, I was hoping I didn’t overdo it with the honey,”

“No, I’m actually guilty of using a lot of honey in my tea.”

“I’m glad I nailed the taste,”

You were appreciative of him and his presence on the bus. It was so easy to talk to him about anything, something you didn’t expect. Not only that, but he was attentive to whatever you said. The conversation flowed easily between you two. He kept you entertained with his endless stories and jokes. That’s why you were surprised when the first yawn came.

“Oh, I’m sorry I think my lack of sleep is catching up to me,”

“It’s okay, I know everyone has been working overtime...” he said gently placing a hand on your knee. “ Feel free to sleep the rest of the trip, I won’t bore you with my stories,”

“You weren’t, I wanted to hear more,” you replied, you hadn’t immediately noticed his hand still on your knee. His thumb was drawing circles on your skin. Normally you would have moved your knee away or politely bring attention to the invasion of space. But, for some reason, you could not formulate the words. It was as if the act itself was paralyzing you. You finally moved your hand atop of his to gently move it away, but instead, it stayed there.

“Steve...”

“Hm?” He hummed unconcerned.

“I don’t feel too well...” your mumbling was hardly coherent.

“ Shh, it’s okay....here,” he whispered. His hands moved from your knees to your thighs, but you could barely register what was happening.

“ Just relax...” was the last thing you heard before feeling like you were being submerged in water.

⚠️

When you eventually came to your head felt full of buzzing bees. You weren’t sure when or for how long you were asleep. However, you could feel the slight jostle of the bus as it was still in motion. You blinked a few times your vision still blurry as your head swayed. You attempted to bring your hand up to cradle your head, but your arms were way too heavy. You tried to call for Steve, but when you swallowed your mouth was too dry to manage more than a pitiful groan.

“There she is...” you heard Steve whisper in a low tone. “ I was worried for a second, maybe the tea was too much.”

“ T-tea?” you finally managed to get out the words feeling like sandpaper against your tongue. What was he talking about? You blinked a few times, your vision cleared, and you noticed Steve leaning over you.

“It was just a little something to get you to relax,”

Your eyes followed his arm as he reached between your legs. Your eyes widened at the fact that your leggings were pooled at your ankles exposing your cotton panties. How had you not noticed? You tried to close your thighs together and reached for his arm in an attempt to stop him, but your grip was weak and he simply shrugged you off, forcing your legs wider.

“S-steve Stop!” You tried to scoot further from him and against the window.

He grabbed your thighs and pulled you back toward him and quickly covered your mouth, “Shhh...” he whispered a smirk slowly appearing on his face as he pointed to the rest of the bus. Confident in his threat he removed his hand from your mouth.

“ You always were so quiet. Standing in the back of the elevator hoping not to be noticed. Oh, but I noticed you, those tight little skirts you wear, the way you bite your lips when you were thinking too hard.” he replied in a low voice careful that any of the other passengers wouldn’t hear him. “ I was going to wait until we got to the resort but...you just made it hard,” His hand made his way back in between your thighs where his thumb began to circle the swell of your clit through your panties. You could feel the wetness that had already formed while you were passed out.

Steve dipped his head into the crook of your neck and peppered kisses on your skin. His tongue glided against your skin as you tried to push him off of you, but he felt as if he weighed a ton. You were weakened by whatever he gave you plus he was Captain America, a god among men. You can hear him as he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and you wanted to scream, you wanted to yell for help. But you also didn’t want the attention, just as he threatened.

"Steve Please-" you begin but he quickly covered your mouth. " Sweetheart, there will be plenty of time for begging," he cooed as he managed to free himself from his jeans.

Before you could think he grabbed a fistful of your hair as he sat back into his seat pulling you down towards his lap where his cock poked through the zipper of his jeans.

"In your mouth." He slapped the side of your cheek lightly, but you did not move immediately. Instead, your eyes were focused on the seat across the aisle with your sleeping colleague in it. You had a hard time coming to terms with what was happening. "Sweetheart, I don't like repeating myself."

Tears sprang to your eyes but you knew it would be better to just comply. Maybe if you did what he wanted it would be over quicker. You wet your plump lips before taking him in. The taste of him evaded your mouth, his precum coating your tongue. Head thrown back, he released a low grunt, "Atta girl."

The grip on your hair was tighter, as he moved your up and down his cock. You took him down your throat best you could as he held you there. Your spit pooled at the base of his length as you tapped him to let you up for air. "Ah, fuck you're good at this," he complimented before forcing you down again. “ You could quit your job and become my personal cock sucking slut.” Closing your eyes you did your best to tune everything out and just focus on the task at hand. Maybe the quicker he finished the quicker this would be over.

Before you could totally focus on blocking everything out he suddenly yanked you off of him causing you to yelp. “ Uh uh, not yet,” he pulled you onto his lap and made quick work of your leggings. He placed his hands on inside your thighs spreading them. He slowly began to grind himself against the flimsy wet cotton that kept him from your entrance. “ I can’t tell you how long I have waited for this. All the different places I thought about taking you...yet surprisingly a bus was not one of them,”

He lifted you slightly pulling your panties to the side and reaching under you to take his cock into his hand. He pumped it once before sliding it against your wet lips. He moved his hands to your hips as he moved against you. His fingers dug into your hips, his grip capable of leaving bruises. It was as if he wanted to snap you in half, but instead of crushing you, which he could have easily done, he aligned himself with your entrance and thrusted upwards impaling you. He released a deep groan.

His entry burned and stretched your walls as you weren't completely ready to receive him. You released a pained groan and Steve immediately moved to cover your mouth. "You don't want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are... do you?"

You immediately felt panicked as you looked around the bus, everyone either sleeping or consumed by whatever media they entertained themselves with. Steve's hand left your mouth traveling to your neck where he tightened his hold on you. He pushed you back into him so that your back was flush with his chest. You could hear him breathe as his lips were against your ear. His hips were still as if he were giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

"Please- please let me go...I won't tell anyone..." you begged. "Oh, I know you won't." He replied. "Who is going to believe you? I'm America's Golden Boy." He gave a sharp thrust of his hip and you released a silent sob. He began to move slowly, not out of comfort for you, but not to draw attention to the both of you.

He released a hiss, " Fuck Sweetheart, I knew your pussy would be the perfect fit." He slowly thrust into you, moving his hands under your thighs to lift your legs. If anyone were to turn around your pussy was completely exposed to them. You buried your face in your hands, as they grew wet from your tears. "Aw, you're crying. Don't cry." He shushed you with gentle kisses on your cheek and neck. His kisses were a stark contrast to the brutal way he was handling your body.

"Don't act like you don't like it, you want this," he cooed into your ear.

"No, Please it hurts." He gripped your chin tightly in his large hand, turning your head to face him. " Oh yeah? Then why the fuck are you drenching my cock?" He moved his fingers up his shaft gathering the wetness onto his fingers. He brought them up to your eyes to see. " See that? See how you’re reacting to me? I can feel you squeezing my cock " He brought his fingers to your lips and you immediately turned your head away from him.

"Clean them up." He ordered. But you still refused to look in his direction. You heard his tongue click and he released your hips before pressing his fingers to your lips while his other hand held your jaw aggressively. The pressure caused you to loosen your jaw for relief and he stuck his fingers right in. You feared he would actually snap your jaw, as you knew him to be capable of. You hesitated but moved your tongue to lap your essence from his fingers. " That's my good girl." He groaned into your ear. And he resumed his slow pace of thrusting into you.

" I won't have to hurt if you just comply. I can make you feel better than Nathaniel could ever."

Nathaniel. That was the man you were supposed to meet on the date that one night you stood up. How did he know his name? You never mentioned his name before. “ H-how?” you managed to ask despite his fingers in your mouth.

“ Like I said sweetheart, I wanted this for a long time. I wasn’t going to let some nobody take what is mine.” Steve slowed taking slow deliberate strokes inside of you. His cock repeatedly hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over. One of his hands lifted your sweater exposing your breasts as he took a nipple between his fingers. As much as you hated the thought, his fingers were skilled at torturing you. You involuntarily released a moan.

“ That’s it, sweetheart. No need to fight it,”

Your mind was reeling and it was hard to think about anything other than how he was making you feel. Against your wishes, your body reacted in favor of Steve’s ministrations. He squeezed your hips again and his thrusts become harder, “ Fuck! The way your pussy is gripping my cock...” Breath hitching you grip the seat in front of you, and you can feel yourself unraveling. A spring within you threatening to pop. Steve’s hands leave your nipple and grab a fistful of hair turning your head to face him and you try not to meet his eyes. “ Look at me when you drench my cock in your cum.” And reluctantly your eyes meet his.

He slams himself into you again lifting your leg to rest on the seat’s armrest. You can’t help but shake, sinking your nails into his thigh as your head pounds. Your pussy clenches down on his cock tightly and you try to muffle your moan into his shoulder. “ That’s a good girl...” Your vision goes white yet you still feel him burying himself deep inside of you. His thrusts are slow as he comes inside of you. He makes sure to bury himself inside of you as he continues to fill you.

He lets out a relieved sigh as you you try to fight the urge to cry. He pushes you off of him and you could feel his cum dripping onto your seat. You quickly pull your sweater down and reach for your leggings feeling utterly humiliated. He chuckles catching your attention as he looks past you and out of the window.

“Would you look at that? We are already here and that means I have a whole weekend to break you in.”

#dark!fanfiction #dark fanfic #Dark Fic #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #drabble #steve rogers #captian america #mcu #dark!marvel #marvel

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misschizuchi · 2 months

Text

I trusted you once, and it ruined me

“Forgive me, Father, for I cannot help but admire the Chosen of your sworn foe”

She began to write with a cool head, with a steady hand she wrote out every symbol very carefully, breathing calmly and restrainedly. Towards the end of the letter lines began to wobble a little, and a couple of words here and there were separated by wet drops, which, when dried, left gaps in their place that were too large to be missed. The last words - a promise to God - were written as if on her last breath. Only after putting an end to last sentence, Durga threw the quill away from her with a nervous jerk, as if it had been burning her fingers all this time. She was breathing heavier than usual, unevenly, but she didn’t sniffle, no sobbing: a couple of stingy tears, and even those appeared from an overabundance of feelings previously unknown to her. To admire someone, to truly sympathize with them was an extremely odd feeling. Wrong feeling. So much so that after that one quickly came shame and disappointment in herself, fear even. Durga feared only her Father and God - essentially the same person, but in any case he would not have appreciated her affection for Enver Gortash. She thought so. And she wasn't the only one...

Should she have confessed? She convinced herself that there was nothing to confess, but a long separation sometimes drove her crazy, and Durga was angry: emotions were uninvited and unnecessary, not love, but excessive attachment to the tyrant made her feel weak and insignificant, so she lost her temper more often than usual on those around her, tore flesh and tossed heads only to prove to herself that she had not changed and was still who her Creator intended her to be. The desire to express her admiration for the Chosen One of Bane, however, did not recede. And the opportunity presented itself.

Correspondence is so unreliable when everything important needs to be discussed. The three Chosen Ones gathered in one place to speak with each other in person. Ketheric Thorm did not like to talk to either of the other two. Gortash and Durga could talk for hours when they managed to find the time. The Chosen One of Bhaal hoped that today they would find it. And at the same time she held hope for the completely opposite. In general, she relied on fate: if tyrant decides to pay attention to his old friend, she will explain herself, and if not, then so be it, even for the better. She already worried too much about something she shouldn’t worry about at all. So much so that sleep escaped her. This time the bed in the richly furnished room remained cold. The Bhaalspawn wandered around the room in irrepressible anxiety, glancing at the slightly open door. There was an unpleasant feeling in her stomach, but Durga attributed everything to her idiotic excitement from meeting Gortash. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the door close with a slight click. Durga snapped her head up, turning around to see Bane's Chosen. Finally. She was even slightly surprised that she herself was amused: she did not hint to him at all about the upcoming conversation, he hardly had a reason to come to her, and the question “why is he here” flashed through her head, despite the fact that Durga was exhausted in anticipation when he comes to talk. And Gortash froze at the entrance, leaning on the door frame, keeping his hands together, as if he was acting out shy, although his usual smile indicated that he felt quite confident.

They greeted each other in their regular, informal manner, smiled at each other, and her smile was a little forced, which did not escape Enver’s gaze. He approached her with slow steps. Durga sighed loudly when he knelt down in front of her* - he just wanted to meet her eyes. His words and gestures emanated... participation. Even caring. Which wouldn't be so strange if it weren't today. Durga often showed care for him, especially in the tiring evenings. It should not be unusual that from time to time Gortash returns this care. But today it only made her more nervous.

What happened, my friend? You look too sad for someone who will soon rule the Sword Coast. You should cheer up and throw away this melancholy. Sadness is the lot of old man Ketheric. Tear a couple of prisoners to pieces, it will cheer you up! No? Honestly, I'd take a look: to see you in action, in all your glory inspires me so much. I would even say I can't help but admire...

What a convenient hook, so as not to bite, not to cling to this opportunity. Durga started talking. A very calm, but fast speech restrainedly and clearly conveyed one idea: the Chosen One had sinned before her own Creator, sinned and humiliated herself with just one thought, did something for which she had to pray for God’s forgiveness, and the reason for this guilt was Enver Gortash.

He looked at his friend with some surprise, but with such insight in his gaze that it quickly became clear: it was as if he already knew about everything, and was surprised not by the fact of such feeling itself blossoming in assassin, but by the fact that Durga decided to express it. He, however, did not interrupt, looking at the woman’s face with much attention, smiling slightly. The Chosen of Bhaal could not stand this look, pressed her own face to the man’s cheek, whispered in his ear a little more nervously, as if she was afraid that their patrons would hear her words and punish both of them. And she wouldn't want anything less. She felt guilty and was ready to be punished. Moreover, she wanted to be punished for her affection. It would have been easier if she was the only one to blame, but Gortash did not push her away; on the contrary, he took her by the shoulders as if he wanted to embrace her figure.

Why don't you laugh at me? Make me stop! Call me a fool. Remind us of our plan. Slap some sense into me. Do something, Gortash, I am not fine.

Why should I do anything? I’m happy with everything... I really didn’t think that I was causing you such emotional turmoil. If it bothers you so, just order me and I'll leave.

No need! Don't go. I’m not... Stay, Enver.

A man's hand ran through her hair, gilded claws catching several springy curls.

I won't leave anymore. You really are a fool.

The entire dark silhouette of a grown male completely dissolved, as if turned to dust settled at his feet. Black short hair became a long blonde braid, and the cloak transformed into blood red chitin. Durga did not see the face, but, still pressing her cheek against another's face, she knew clearly who was hugging her.

Dear sister, you are such a fool...

The raised blade pierced the Bhaal’s princess back so quickly, so fiercely. Many times too. She died in someone else's arms, spat blood on pale shoulder, unable to process fast enough what was happening

What he's been whispering to you all this time for you become such a slob? But I'm not you. I won't have anything to apologize for.

and only one thought was spinning in her head: she became weak indeed, her feelings were taken advantage of, it’s just wasn't Him who did it... The irony.

*Durga is a gnome therefore much shorter than Gortash

Consider this a draft that will never be rewritten in something better. It's nothing more but a sketch for a scene I imagined, and I don’t think I conveyed everything exactly the way I wanted, including possible dynamics between Durga and Gortash. But it's good enough. I was inspired by several headcanons that I've read on here. In original fantasy of mine Gortash and Durga would have sex, but I am so much into angst right now than smut 😁 so death of the Chosen One it is, much better.

#my art #fanfiction #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 gnome #enver gortash #durge #durgetash

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sercezgazety · 5 months

Text

At some point, Dan decides to teach Herbert how to drive.

There are many quite rational reasons to do that. It’s an investment, you see. A little bit of effort now, and soon, Herbert will be able to run errands all by himself. No more waking Dan up at three in the morning, and no urgent calls from telephone booths in the middle of nowhere (how does Herbert get there in the first place, remains a mystery). Most importantly, no need for Dan to participate in obtaining the bodies. It doesn’t make that much difference, not really — if somebody finds the car suspicious, if anyone notices how often it’s parked in the vicinity of the morgue, it’s going to be very easy to trace it back to their house. There isn’t that many people parking around here, and that’s mostly because they have actively chosen a house in a desolate area. Dan tries his best to doctor the plates with a marker and acrylic paint, or, in one particular instance, with nail polish. He changes some F’s into E’s, C’s into zeroes, and then hurries to get rid of the evidence the moment they’re back. He has an entire system in place, never picking the same morgue twice in a row, rotating between different towns and counties, carefully studying the map to avoid any patterns. More than once, he’s proposed going across the state lines. Herbert didn’t agree, of course, deeming any drive longer than one hour absolutely unacceptable. They have to be fresh. Need I remind you, Dan, what happens when they’re not?

Dan doesn’t need to be reminded, actually. It’s not something one can ever forget, though Herbert at times acts as if he’s managed to do so anyway.

But they compromise, at least sometimes, opting for ossuaries that are farther away and have been confirmed to have terrible security. Dan’s system’s been working so far, yes, but let’s face it, it’s mostly been pure luck. When they run out of it — and that’s a question of when, not if — they’re both going to be in the same kind of trouble. Dan’s way past plausible deniability at this point, even though it’s Herbert who keeps recklessly stealing organs right from their own goddamn workplace.

Still, it would be nice to avoid at least some of these midnight drives, especially when Dan’s shift starts early in the morning. He’s been dead on his feet for months now, though he’s smart enough to never phrase it like that when complaining to his roommate. A prospect of Herbert being able to attend his morbid business alone is something that Dan can’t help but consider alluring, sue him.

And so, he brings it up one day during a breakfast that was supposed to follow a full night sleep but ends up being eaten over a sink while Dan’s desperately trying to get rid of the blood on his last good sweater before the stains become permanent. His shift starts in forty minutes, and he’s had two hours of sleep before Herbert dragged him out of bed to play his chauffeur.

Here’s the thing: Herbert always gets in the back of the car. It shouldn’t be that annoying, it gives Dan some space to breathe. There are even rare times when West isn’t backseat driving, but it doesn’t change the fact that he treats Dan as his servant, and he’s probably never noticed he’s doing that.

God knows Herbert’s trying, and that’s the saddest part. Dan would have to be blind not to notice that, the way he’s suddenly started to agree to at least some activities Dan proposes. They have movie nights from time to time, and while Herbert sits there on the couch, both rigid and restless, radiating discontent when things blow up onscreen and our hero gets the girl, he doesn’t say anything. It’s the kind of self-restraint Dan never suspected him to possess.

Once, just once, Herbert makes dinner, and it’s surprisingly edible. It’s just chemistry, he says, and that’s true, but it never stopped his sandwiches from tasting and looking like shit before. The apron he wears is the same one he puts on in the basement, and he fails to see the problem. He starts making Dan coffee in the morning when he remembers to, and presses Dan’s shirts on one occasion. Every now and then, he decides to wash the dishes, even if he hasn’t used any of them. All of these activities, perfectly ordinary, have this air of grand gestures. To Herbert, they probably are. Dan sometimes worries what else the guy might come up with, and dreads the day when he gets a bunch of organs wrapped in a bow. Herbert knows he’s halfway out the door at this point, perhaps he even thinks he’s already made up his mind. He hasn’t, but there’s no need for Herbert to know that.

Herbert’s miserable solution is to play house. And it’s not that he’s bad at it — which he is, by the way, absolutely terrible, not because he’s performing the tasks wrong, but because he’s putting so much effort into things that shouldn’t require any; and because it’s him. As simple as that. It’s eerie, to watch him try to deal with domesticity, and all of it would be endearing in a girl who’s only learning how to become a housewife. But to watch Herbert scrub the plates clean when reeking of dead things, to observe him trying to sit on a couch without staining it with blood that still hasn’t dried on his shirt, it’s terrifying. He’s pretending to be something he’s not, and the ugly truth keeps peeking out from underneath his every little gesture. Dan wants to shake him and scream until he stops, gives up on acting like a normal person, like someone with whom Dan might be willing to spend his life. As if this arrangement, whatever it is, wasn’t temporary, and as if Dan bringing girls over was something that offended Herbert on a personal level.

The disdained grimace he makes when he sees any of Dan’s guests is presumptuous and just plain rude, so much so that sometimes Dan can’t stop thinking about it for hours, even when there are legs wrapped around his waist. Dan, the girls say, breathless as he’s finishing, but all he can hear at those times is really, Dan? in Herbert’s monotone. As his toes curl, so do imaginary Herbert’s lips in a snarl, and yes, in that exact order.

“Are the two of you—” one girl asks after Herbert’s been particularly Herbert upon walking on them in the kitchen. She doesn’t finish the sentence, frowning and trying to figure out the least offensive way to say what she means.

There’s dread lurking behind the smile plastered on her face. Is Dan sick? They’ve already slept together a couple times; is she going to get sick as well?

“God, no,” Dan says. “Me and Herbert? No.” Then he bursts out with laughter that ends up being a bit too long and a tad too loud.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody,” she reassures him, but she’s clearly lying, because after that, he hits the longest dry spell in his life.

Dan can’t blame her. No one’s above suspicion, and some tensions are bound to appear, it’s only natural. People are angry and scared. Everyone has the right to make their own choices, and that’s fine by him. Live and let live, Dan’s grandma used to say, and it’s a good rule he tries to uphold to this day, but it’s getting more difficult to do so as some of the guys recklessly spread the disease among straight people. It gets even more terrifying when you work at a hospital and get to see the ravages.

Some of the bisexuals, despite what they are, are probably decent people. Not all of them brought it upon themselves, and Dan really wouldn’t want to be in their shoes when watching the late night talk shows.

Dan is sick, but not in the way she wanted to inquire about. He’s just suffering from prolonged exposure, and it does things to his head. There are times when the infernal little man doesn’t do anything wrong, and Dan still wants to throw a punch just to hear him whimper. He wonders if Herbert would make a sound similar to the one he makes when the reagent hits. Other times, he wants to bang Herbert’s head against the wall until he wails. He doesn’t; he’d never. That’s not who Dan is, but he also realizes if he stays here long enough, that’s who he might become. Those are still the least disturbing things he’d like to do that his brain spits out at him; at least in those scenarios both of them are fully dressed. Dan’s been losing arguments for a while now, unable to focus on anything but the images that appear in his head uninvited. There’s something seriously wrong with West if he makes people around him feel this way. He’s the disease, a cancer that just keeps on spreading.

Which is funny, because they do have a fight, one of the relatively big ones, over a stage four patient with a pair of surprisingly good lungs that Herbert can’t wait to get his creepy hands on.

“You’re aware there’s a difference between a person and a corpse, right?” Dan hisses after having dragged him into a storage room.

“That’s an idiot question.” Herbert straightens to his full unimpressive height. Maybe he really thought it was a question. Maybe he just wants to rile Dan up even more, gets some sick satisfaction out of it. “Of course there’s a difference. For now.”

That opens the floodgates. Dan spends the next ten minutes detailing all the ways in which, so far, West has succeeded at producing corpses out of living people, and the very moment he brings up Meg, he gets primly asked whether he’s done wasting their time, given that they’re on the clock. Then, Herbert leaves Dan seething to attend another patient. Worst part is, he actually helps that one, while Dan’s so angry and late, he almost botches up a surgery. By the time their shift is over, Herbert doesn’t apologize, doesn’t even ask whether Dan’s going to drive him, he just gets in the backseat and waits.

And Dan, the spineless creature that he apparently is, drives him home. They eat in silence, Meg’s absence hanging between them, though Dan’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s noticed.

Herbert might be trying to be less insufferable, he might be acting as if Dan didn’t need a woman in his life and as if he were able to fill that role, as if he were a— a person, a proper person capable of feeling. He might be doing all that, fine, but only when he remembers to. It’s very easy for him to slip, or just never realize that this specific thing he does is typical of him and him alone, something that inadvertently reveals the rot that runs through his veins. Taking the backseat and expecting Dan to drive him around is one of those things, and Dan should be glad there are still some reminders of who he’s dealing with, but. But it’s degrading nonetheless, and that’s not something Dan’s ever been into.

When he brings up the driving lessons for the first time, Herbert acts like a petulant child. Declines with a scoff, and it’s clear that the thing he finds most offensive is not the fact that Dan is trying to weasel out of grave-robbing, which, fair is fair, he is. Rather, Herbert can’t stomach the idea that he himself might not possess some ability. Before he admits that might be the case, almost a month passes.

Dan might have had something to do with that realization, purposefully arriving late at the appointed place (not nearly as many times as he’d like; just enough so that it doesn’t become suspicious), forgetting to pick Herbert up after his hospital shift, failing to bring some of the supplies and slowing down the work. Going to the pub for hours, leaving Herbert to his own devices with a car but no driver.

Herbert knows what he’s been doing, there’s no question about it. Can’t prove it, but knows, and the knowledge makes it probably even worse; now he’s fully aware to what an extent he’s dependent on Dan and his good mood. It must be humiliating. Wouldn’t be to any other person, probably, but it’s Herbert we’re talking about.

“At some point, I won’t be around,” Dan says on Thursday. “Who’s going to drive you then, hm?”

It’s an offhanded remark, something that just spills out of his mouth while rehashing the same argument for the millionth time, and it wasn’t supposed to sound like that. It wasn’t even supposed to be said out loud, not for weeks, months to come. There’s a finality to that statement that Dan didn’t intend. Herbert picks up on it immediately, judging by how his entire frame stiffens.

He works his jaw silently for a moment, and Dan wants to apologize, go back and rephrase it, but maybe ripping the band aid off wasn’t the worst idea. Yeah. Maybe it’s for the better.

“I have work to do,” Herbert finally declares, looking somewhere else. He flees to the dead things in the basement, and he might be walking there with slow, measured steps, he might not run, but it’s still very obviously an escape. The half-eaten dinner and the dishes he offered to clean just a five minutes ago are all but forgotten, and he doesn’t come back upstairs that night.

On Friday evening, though, he takes the front seat and watches Dan the entire drive home with an odd look of determination. This might be the first time Herbert’s ever shut up, and instead of cherishing it, Dan tries to fill the silence with some chit-chat. It gets ignored.

The second time Herbert does this, it’s so disquieting, Dan turns on the music. Herbert’s hand flies to the dashboard, and he turns off the radio immediately, but that’s a good sign; it means he knows how to do that. He’s been paying attention, and with that, they can work.

The third time, he clears his throat the moment they leave the parking lot.

“Fine,” he spits, and doesn’t elaborate.

continue reading the chapter here as Herbert runs over one animal after another

#cw for queerphobia and AIDS mentions #re-animator #reanimator #danbert #herbert west #dan cain #instead of editing the fith chapter or finishing the sixth I'm posting parts of the fourth one on tumblr dot com #because it's not doing great

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eoieopda · 1 year

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I loved the dad joon and dad yoongs drabble 🥹 it's freaking cuteeee omg jade 😭😭 *whisper* can you do dad-to-be or dad seokjin too please...? I'm on a seokjin missing hour 🥹 thank you ❤️❤️

of COURSE! i’m combining this with a request @cinnamin-ji made for my 1k drabblepalooza which, of all things, was SUPER TUNA 😩😂

listen here

c: marriage!au, dad!jin, fishing? lol, not proofread because i’m tired but i’ll come back later to fix what i imagine are numerous, glaring errors!

Kim Seokjin wasn’t known for his quietness. In the years you’d been together, you’d only identified two circumstances in which he was silent. Still.

Come to think of it, perhaps sleeping didn’t truly belong on that list. After all, Seokjin had a habit of talking to you even while he slept. More alarmingly, he proved that sleeping and making himself laugh weren’t mutually exclusive. On more than one occasion, his unexpected giggling broke free from his dreams and ripped you out of yours.

With sleeping crossed off, the only circumstance left on that list was fishing. He went often and, thanks to you, he never went alone.

Initially, it confused you whenever he asked you to tag along. It was well-known that you didn’t have the stomach for catching - or releasing - living, flopping, terrified fish. So, you figured, he wants someone to talk to. Unfortunately, you learned the hard way that your constant chatter scared off all the nearby wildlife.

After spending countless, sleepy mornings by the water, it finally dawned on you: conversation was never the point. Seokjin simply wanted to do his favorite thing, in his favorite place, with his favorite person at his side. Even if you were half-asleep, or reading, or knitting to pass the time, you were along for the ride. That was all that mattered.

Well, not all.

Someone had to be there to praise him whenever he successfully caught something. Clapping for himself was too difficult to do while reeling in his prize; and it didn’t hold a candle to your proud grin. Lucky for him, he’d married his biggest fan.

Well, you used to be his biggest fan. Now, there was stiff competition coming for your title. A brand-new contender, a dark horse vying for the role of Seokjin’s favorite person. You were, of course, amenable to a tie. Negotiations were stalled, but would resume once your sole competitor could speak in sentences.

This morning’s trip was a special one. For the first time, it wasn’t just the two of you on that dock, basking in that lakeside sunshine. Importantly - though he was too shy to say so - Seokjin was eager to share his beloved pastime with someone who might actually, meaningfully participate in it. Unfortunately, that dream was a few years away from becoming a reality.

After all, his new fishing partner had only just mastered the art of sitting up on her own.

As you sat in your foldable camp chair, you tried and failed to think of anything better than your current view. No sight could ever compete with that of your husband trying his very best to cast a line, all with a seven-month-old baby strapped to his chest. Two perfect halves making up the whole of your heart.

Every time he drew back, Jinseo’s relentless wiggling prompted Seokjin to lose his focus, his balance, and his - self-proclaimed - perfect aim. When he did manage to follow through on his dutifully-practiced cast, his baited hook would end up in the shallows with the weeds. So, he simply kept trying.

After his seventh unsuccessful attempt, he turned around to face you. You expected him to whine out all his frustration, but he quickly proved you wrong. Instead, he was laughing so hard that his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched. If you looked closely, you might’ve spotted a stray, mirthful tear making a break for it.

Jinseo, that chubby-cheeked menace, was unbothered by her role in her father’s downfall. She babbled and kicked her little legs as if her life depended on it, none the wiser. And when she giggled, she did so with her entire face.

Just like her father.

Through your own laughter, you gestured to the marshmallow baby squawking happily under the brim of her floral sun hat. “Do you want me to take her off your hands for now?” You called out, but quickly amended, “Er - off your chest?”

“We’re okay!” He chirped with a wave. Unbeknownst to him, his most-loved accessory echoed his movement - albeit with a tiny, far chunkier hand.

Copy, paste.

With the fondest look you’d ever seen in his eyes, he beamed down at his fishing partner and tickled her sides. As he did, he cooed, “Isn’t that right, Jinnie?”

Her reply came in the form of giddy squeals and spit bubbles, but it sure sounded like a resounding yes to you. Having drawn the same conclusion, Seokjin shot you a wink and a smirk to match.

“See? I’m finally not the only Kim who likes to fish!”

a/n: did give my own name to the aforementioned marshmallow baby? yes. yes, i did. do i regret it? absolutely not! lil beeb ain’t the only jinseo droolin’ over kim seokjin 😂

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acknowledgetheabsurd · 5 months

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“Ah! yes, my dear love, panic is good, and if it hadn't come to me, who knows! I was beginning to despair of us and to wonder if those unlucky days we lived together really existed and if others would still come. Deep down, deep inside me, I always kept, naturally, the certainty of finding you again; otherwise how else could I have endured those long dreary hours that passed, that slipped mercilessly in their frantic course and before which I stopped, stupid and terrified?

Yes; something deeper, more serious and more true than my already worn out and helpless imagination, has held me back to you, to us, to myself; it is the earth, the sky, the sea, the breath that you have put in me; it is the life that I have only really known since you are there in me; it is this dull pain that rumbles in the middle of me, this endless stretching towards a goal that seems to me every day more distant, more elusive, more abstract but also more necessary and more vital. By what miracle must I love you more as your image moves away from my memory? I don't know, but that's the way it is and I know of no greater suffering than that of one who tries in vain to recreate dear and disappeared trappings.

My very desire clings desperately to me to support its impulses and it is no longer a fold of your lips, a look from you, your hands or your beautiful face that awakened a storm in me, but my legs spreading under the thrust of my hands, my body rolled up in a certain way. Of course, by a supreme effort of intelligence, I still manage, rummaging through my memory, to recreate a distraught look that I know well, a familiar gesture that overwhelms me. But I have to resort to my will and it is rare at this moment that I am surprised by an image of you that has fallen into oblivion and that an external fact reforms in my mind, without me having expected it.

This may be good, by the way; it seems to me difficult and even almost unbearable to live three months in the way I lived the first times of your absence. In a way, I have to admit that nature is merciful, but you knew enough to know how unhappy I can be to be deprived of what is essential to me: life. Now, in this kind of sad and sullen rest, in this morbid sleep of the mind and the senses, in this long sullen silence, it is life that I miss, everything that is not you or with you is of little interest to me. There are days when this total lack of taste, of interest, of desire for participation that your distance leaves me, frightens me. I have always been used to living first for myself. But the drunkenness that carries me away when I think of your return, for me certainly, when the idea of our indestructible union is once again present, when I reflect on this certainty of us that no longer leaves me, my happiness is such that I would be ready to give years of anguish and drought to find again, at a detour from my sorrows, this enormous joy that annihilates me.

Ah, yes, may you live and all is won! Live! Live, my darling; that's all I ask of you. Of your love, I'm sure. Live. As long as you live, I will always exist in this world and the only thing that I see happening with horror in this future that is reserved for us is this death that will separate me from you forever. Death. It left me indifferent before I met you. I feared it, of course, I feared it in a state where it would take away forever the joys of the present that were the envy of every moment; but because I was living in the present, without ties, if I may say so, with the past and the future, unconnected with what was of a certain nature because I lived in a world that was enclosed within me that I tasted in the moment and felt satisfied with what I had every minute. I expected nothing more from the next minute and I felt somehow reconciled with the thought of dying one day. You put in me a continuous thirst, an expectation of "more" that never leaves me, a constant dissatisfaction and thus the horror of being one day frustrated with you forever and a revolt against everything and, alas, against yourself when I don't feel you are close enough to me, greedy enough for these days that are given to us.

You have aged me, my love; you have made me a woman when I was only a child, a human being, when I was only a small animal. It is impossible that this need I have of you will ever cease, you hear? And it is also impossible that one day you will not respond to it with the same hunger for me as I have for you. So abandon your fears, your torments so vain. Now it is no longer a question of conquering one another, but of conquering the world with one another, one within the other. I will never leave you, I belong to you absolutely and forever, and all is saved. This is what I had to tell you and I will only repeat it. Now, rest, heal quickly, work well and come back to me full of new energy and strength to fill up the gaps for those who miss me, locked up as I am in the middle of this city that I love so much and that I never get to see.

And above all, above all, my darling, my love, my beautiful, my clear, my lucid, my intelligent, my sensitive, I beg you, if it happens that one day one of my letters does not arrive on time, do not imagine all the disasters of the whole world. My poor love, do you remember that only yesterday I received pages from you asking me not to write if it would bother me or tire me? Do you remember? I smiled as I read these lines, but I hadn't thought that even the day after tomorrow the post office would give me the opportunity to laugh about it with all the happiness of the world in my heart. Hey, hey, everyone in turn! Before, not so long ago, I would have left you without news for a day or two on purpose. Now I feel unable to do so even though the idea touches me from time to time: but I'm not angry that the State took care of it for me. Forgive me. We have fun with what we can.

How is the wind? Here it always blows and it irritates me a lot. How is the sun? From time to time I see it hiding behind a cloud. It passes by, fast, busy, promising me better days. I entrust him with a lot of commissions for you. I hope he's doing it right. And your job? Here you go! Hebertot came to see me yesterday to tell me more about the Torrens story. I took it upon myself to calm his scruples towards you. What use are they for? Everything is done, and in the end, I don't think Torrens is worse than anyone else. Decidedly, the revenues are going up. It doesn't mean that the halls are full, but they are much more numerous and very hot.

When I learned that I might have to shoot a film in March, the master kindly asked me if I would like to be dubbed. I told him that he only needed to do it in case I got sick and that it might as well happen that I'm shooting or not shooting. He also asked me to think about a performance of the Righteous at the Cité Universitaire on Friday, March 3 and to see if I could accept or if it would be too tiring for me. Here at home everything is going on as it should. My father, cured of his angina, is waiting for the results of the blood test to find out when the first serum injection is due. At the moment, he feels terribly tired and a little impatient. Angeles is doing wonderfully, the days are going by and whether she wants to end her sad years in the Seine or show us a face lit up by Juan's presence, she doesn't change, she's still young.

As for me, I follow the laughter, the smiles, the anger, the complaints and the sorrows of the sea near which I was born; but today the sun shines all over the ocean and I want to scream with love, enthusiasm, joy, recognition, happiness. I love you, my love, and I thank you for always being what you are, for always bringing me more than I ask for, and finally for not letting this unquenchable thirst for you, for you always, cease in my mouth.”

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 6, 1950 [#173]

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betterbooktitles · 2 months

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I went through a tough breakup one summer. I closed all the curtains in my apartment and played Wii games day and night. I’d like to believe games saved me from a few other self-destructive habits but I was participating in those at the same time. I was using games to escape working through any negative feelings. All I managed to do was delay those feelings. That was the summer I worked on a paint crew and I was fired for not showing up too many days in a row. We can count at least one job lost to gaming (and drinking/sleeping in). Also, the time spent on The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess may or may not have precipitated the end of that relationship. Who’s to say?

When I think of the parties I’ve skipped, the hours of sleep I’ve lost, and the months of not reading or writing a word, video games account for a lot of lost time.

There were several games after that summer that I let eat up time. Fallout 3 shaved 4 hours of sleep a night off my regular schedule. Red Dead Redemption became a second job. By the time Dark Souls arrived, I bought it, decided it was ruining my life, and returned it to the store, only to repurchase it months later when I realized a mistake I had made that could be easily fixed and make the game more fun. It was not fun.

When The Last of Us came out, its main selling point to me was that you could finish it in under 15 hours. That’s a few more hours than the HBO miniseries based on the game! I don't believe this will be a trend in gaming. More likely, we’ll be stuck with all-encompassing games like Grand Theft Auto except worse because you’ll have a Meta Quest on your head. You'll have literal blinders on.

The book Reality is Broken explores the benefits of virtual worlds in the face of a deteriorating social structure and planet. Despite the games being used as a salve, other books like Johann Hari’s Stolen Focus and Adam Alter’s Irresistible, point out that the people making these alternate worlds actively disengage from them. Most especially World of Warcraft, a game tantamount to a slot machine. The people designing these pastimes won’t even get “high on their own supply” to quote Alter’s book. Some social media developers won’t let their kids use Instagram. Some Google employees try their hardest to unplug for long stretches and practice mindfulness. There are game designers who refuse to play certain games because they know people who spend 16 hours a day playing them. The issue with the “Do whatever you enjoy. Who cares??” attitude is that there are plenty of enjoyable habits and substances that will literally kill you if you do them too often. You might not succumb to World of Warcraft’s charms but I know I should not try it.

I know video game addiction is not as punk rock as substance abuse. A former coke addict can feel an intense urge from merely seeing a picture of the substance, like reading the word yawn and needing to yawn. It’s a trigger. If you’ve never played a game in the way I’m describing, my writing about it isn’t all that enticing, but my relationship to a game like Civilization 4, a disc I had to break in half in front of my wife to stop playing, or Dark Souls, which took up so much time when I was on a writing deadline, I took my well-worn copy and gift-wrapped it with a note saying “do not reopen until birthday” is all-encompassing. I can’t read a sentence in a history book that deals with troop movements now without getting the itch to turn on Civilization and kill 10 hours.

I feel like David Foster Wallace as played by Jason Segel in the movie version of the book about the profile of the writer called The End of the Tour.

“I am also aware that some addictions are sexier than others. My primary addiction my entire life has been to television. I told you that. Now television addiction is of far less interest to your readers than something like heroin, that confirms the mythos of the writer.”

I quit a job once after going to see Penn and Teller on Broadway, and reading in the playbill a fact I already knew: that the pair decided at a young age to only make money from entertainment, thus guaranteeing they succeeded or starved. It sounds scary but it worked. And Teller said the words (ironic) that I needed to hear: the true commodity in this life is time. They didn’t want day jobs interfering with their art. I realized an office job that expected me to work a 10-hour day plus commute was digging into my creative waking hours, but what happens when your fun takes anywhere from 4-18 hours a day?

To clarify: I don’t think video games are bad for you. I think they’re bad for me. There is a healthy way to consume games, but that’s like telling an alcoholic that one or two glasses of wine won't hurt. I start a new game the way Ken Erdedy gets stoned in Infinite Jest: I close the blinds and make myself dead to the world for a weekend. When I can’t get away with that, I spend hours away from the games thinking about what I’d like to do when I finally have the time to settle into one again. Every game is a bender.

Read the rest of the essay about video game addiction, Final Fantasy, and growing up in the 90s here.

#lit #reading #writing #gaming #video games #essay #addiction #funny #memoir #long reads #long post #final fantasy #dan wilbur #better book titles

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march2nd · 4 months

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HOPE

chapter V - HOPE next

remember when i said i will have finished part I by the end of the year? i lied,,,

tw: canon typical violence, mentions of psychological distress, reader is still a minor in this chapter!

word count: 960

Next day's morning you have reached the outskirts of the Capitol. You didn't get enough sleep last night and it shows. After you have finished watching the Games and went back to your room you found another video materials stacked on your bed. It left you wondering - who have put them there. The learning materials consisted of basic first aid videos and information you found surpassingly helpful - like how to treat knife wounds. Needles to say you have only slept for two or three hours before you were woken up by Wiress. You haven't interacted with her at all but she was kind to you even though she has seen through your lies.

At breakfast you couldn't concentrate well and did not participate in the conversation, preferring to focus on eating and getting some sweets for later. The sun rays illuminated the dining car creating a beautiful scene - people dressed beautifully, chatting and eating as much as they wanted to. A scene with so much contrast to the ordinary life in the Districts. Beetee and Wiress are probably used to this kind of life by now, having lived it most of their lives. Not mentioning your District Escort, originating from the Capitol who is yet to show up - but she does not seem to care at all. You are pouring yourself a fruit juice when you notice Xavier drinking something way better.

"Is it hot chocolate?" You ask with your eyes wide. "Can I have some?" You are very excited as it reminds you of your home. Taking the hot cup in your hands you think about the old times, when your father was more than just a fading memory. You take a sip of it. It is much sweeter than you remember, not drinking it for ages and eating less sweets in general has changed your taste buds. It's deep taste brings you back to the time when your family was richer than average and not broken. But those times will never come back and your mother and sisters are going to sink into more misery soon. The others still chat and you cannot tell what's the topic. You need to close your eyes for a moment to feel better.

Squeezing your eyes shut you loose yourself in your own thoughts. You can't bring yourself to hate Beetee and Wiress. They haven't brought any tribute home but it is not exactly their fault. Kids from your district are always considered as an easy pray. Maybe they are better nourished than those from the outer district but they always seem to lack that wild spark in them and in general they are the ones that consider themselves dead first. They never seem to score much in their presentations or stand out during the interviews. Your Districts boring theme and untalented stylists don't help in making you favorites even among your own people in Three. The best they can wish you is quick death as they got their fingers burned once to many times - when someone seems to be brilliant and design intricate plans they end up butchered up like animals few days later.

What breaks you out of your trance is the brutal comment you hear. "Being absolutely honest with you two, I would say Xavier has a higher chance to survive than our usual tributes," says Beetee adjusting his glasses. "That is, if he manages to install some traps and not get ambushed in the process." You begin to be furious as this is blatant discrimination of you. You want to stand up and start a fight but you try your best as not to show your true feelings, instead you are clenching your fist and digging up nails in your palm. "The boy can fight and is smart and you can help stay alive. I'm sorry but the best solution here is you two team up and then split as not to fight each other," he looks genuinely sad, which surprises you - just a second ago he confessed that he seems you as not more than a needed sacrifice.

"But —" You breath in and breathe out. "What if I have a better idea?" They look at you with curiosity. You don't have any idea what to say but suddenly everything goes black. You have to make something up quickly, but this one time Capitol seems to be your savior. You are entering it through the tunnel and everything is very loud in the carriage.

The Capitol emerges by the end of the tunnel and it is truly breathtaking. It is grand and majestic, with the buildings reaching the clouds. You have never seen anything like that and the water reflecting the city makes the scenery even more beautiful. If not for the people who live there you could imagine it as heaven. You and Xavier are glued to the glass until the train stops. You have reached your final destination and some people are waving to you from the platform. You shyly wave back overwhelmed and shocked by their unusual hair, clothing and mannerism. Unfortunately for you two, when another train enters the station the people seem to lost interest in you as they hurry to meet up other tributes which they deem to be more desirable - Careers. You have to win those people somehow as you know how crucial they and their gifts are. You know that you are meeting with your stylists later today. They have to make you look like a goddess. Until then you have to come up with the plan you will share with Xavier and your mentors. You begin to despite that boy, as everything seems to come easy to him.

NOTES:

WHAT IF I CHANGED NARRATION TO 1ST PERSON? wild thought ehehe (pls let me know what do u think)

tag list: @randomgurl2326, @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #forget me not #the hunger games #fluff #angst #xreader

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callmeyourala · 1 year

Note

How do you manage to do everything?

I think it may be as simple as - I type fast, think faster and am able to multitask.

Answering seriously? Doing many things at once is innate to me. I never had to learn this or practice at it; I think this is my factory setting. Even when I am at my least productive, I am still more productive than everyone in my circles.

My brain needs constant stimulation; I need podcasts or music playing in the background whenever I am doing anything.

You can typically find me multitasking on my laptop, phone and tablet all at once. I will be actively participating during lectures, whilst answering emails from my work and finishing up articles for my reps and no one notices.

One thing I try not to sacrifice is sleep. I work really quickly and I understand how much work I am able to accomplish at once, so I know that I don't need more than 10 hours a day to complete all my work. During the other 14 hours I get in as many naps as possible (my insomnia rarely allows me to sleep for longer than 5 hours at a time).

I also have no responsibilities really. Most of my work is done from the comfort of my university room. I only have to look after myself and my small space, and I never have to commute anywhere that's too far, unless it's for the occasional conference or business meeting. This means most of my time is my own to play with.

I think the key is knowing yourself. I know that I can handle this much work before I even apply for a new opportunity. I follow my calendar meticulously and always manage to stick to deadlines. Once you know yourself well enough, you can start taking on more responsibilities that fit around your lifestyle and that won't overwhelm you.

For example, I love writing so even if I get writer's block occasionally writing an article or paper is a pretty easy task for me. This means that even if I get a bunch of writing jobs at once I won't feel overwhelmed. However, if you asked me to do lab work and work retail at the same time I'd literally pass out.

I also understand what I'm good at but ultimately drains me, so I limit how much I do of it - for me it's social media content creation. I'm great at it but it tires me out and takes too long, so I only occasionally accept jobs related to it.

It also helps that I'm an introvert, so I can be in my own space for prolonged periods of time and not feel lonely or socially depraved.

My hobbies - language learning, sports, wine, electric guitar, fashion - don't feel like work. I regard them as my "mental massages" that help me to unwind from all of my actual work.

In life, my motto is "work smarter, not harder" and I work incredibly smart, which is why something that would take someone five hours I can typically do in two.

tl;dr - my MBTI is INFJ-A.

This is how I've lived up until now and it clearly works for me 😊

- ala 🕊️

#ala answers

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cain-sawyer-son-of-the-saw · 8 months

Text

I Lack Sleep, Here's Some OC Writing PART II

Themes: Bubba Sawyer x Rosette (Cain's mother, my self-insert OC), Bubba and Rosette as parents, How Rosette met Bubba and fell in love, Cain and Anne-Marie Sawyer having adventures around the farm and involving other Sawyers

Tags/Warnings: S/O, male x female, fluff, 18+ (I'll separate the 18+ from the fluff), pregnancy, pregnancy kink, baby, babies, gore, cannibalism, stockholme syndrome, child, children, rough events (for example, abuse)

Part 1: X

BRIEF INFO ON MY OCS PART II

Anne-Marie is marginally better than Cain in her reading and verbal communication skills, probably because she got to spend more time with their mother when she was small.

Anne-Marie also loves animals but not with quite the same intensity as her brother- she is well aware that some animals are scary.

When it comes to being read to, Anne-Marie generally prefers picture books but doesn't mind more detailed stories.

Anne LOVES to dance. She will dance to almost any kind of music and loves it when it's "music night" in the living room.

Anne-Marie also really enjoys baking with her mom in the kitchen as soon as she's big enough to participate.

Anne is also generally a little bit more of a stickler for rules than even Cain. But if her brother can manage to convince her that some mischief needs doing, she will play lookout and warn him if someone is coming that might bust the operation.

Generally, Anne and Cain get along like good friends. But there is sometimes a little bit of dissension, usually stemming either from Anne obviously having had more time with mom from the start or from Anne having always been a favorite in the family (Cain had a rocky past with grandpa Drayton).

BUBBA X ROSETTE

How they met: Rosette and her remaining friends were speeding back home after their run-in with the Voodoo Priestess when, completely drained of their energy, they realized they needed to stop somewhere for the night in Muerto County, Texas. They thought they found an old, abandoned house and could not have been more wrong. Within just a few hours, Rosette was the sole survivor. Bubba found her hiding out, dragged her back to his butchering room and managed to saw off one of her legs. He was very surprised when she didn't die but instead just passed out, even more surprised when he found she was still alive the following day and that the leg had grown back somehow. Rosette was absolutely floored when she noticed her new leg but the fear of having another limb sawed off overtook her. Bubba of course showed Drayton the dismembered leg and pointed to the leg that had grown back in an effort to communicate to him that the limb seemed to have just grown back. Realizing this could be a reliable, renewable meat source for the family, Drayton had Bubba shackle Rosette up in the barn so she wouldn't be able to make an escape and also started barking orders for Bubba to take care of her. Over time, Rosette noticed how gentle Bubba could be once he got used to her and she found herself falling for him over it. Of course, it took even more time for Bubba to get used to someone wanting to touch him without hurting him in some way...

If you in any way attack the kids or Bubba, Rosette will make sure you feel the receiving end of one of her leather boots and soon.

Rosette sees the way that Drayton treats not only her from the start but also how he mistreats Bubba and she has a very deep-seated hatred of him over it.

Rosette loves to lay back on a couch or a bench and let Bubba rest his head on her chest and Bubba finds comfort in listening to her heartbeat while they just hold each other like that.

In bed though, Rosette will often lay her head on Bubba's chest and enjoy his heartbeat while he holds her close. Sometimes, even the people who have the energy to kick some ass still like to feel protected.

Once Bubba learns he can trust Rosette to touch him, Rosette is NOT shy about showing affection- she will throw her arms around him for a full hug, twine her arms around one of his arms and snuggle her face against it, lace her fingers with his and lead him by the hand to show him something or even take a running jump to throw her arms around his neck/shoulders and kiss him. Of course, Bubba literally melts under all of this.

Rosette is about 5'7" tall and Bubba is 6'6".

While he's holding her against him, Bubba might sometimes bury his nose in her hair to take in her scent- it calms him down some to smell her perfume.

Because Rosette is smaller/shorter, Bubba treats her very gently, even though he knows she's pretty tough. He is usually very concerned that he might accidentally hurt her if he hugs her too tight or holds her hand too strongly, etc. She's always giggling while she reminds him that he doesn't have to be quite so gentle and if he starts to make a glum face, she'll kiss him- on the mouth, on the cheek or the nose- to let him know she's not upset.

Sometimes, Bubba will come up from behind her, wrap his arms around her, rest his chin on her head and they'll both be smiling like fools.

Rosette tends to instigate kisses more than Bubba does but when Bubba does feel brave enough to attempt instigating a kiss with her, if it's on the mouth, he will gently pick her up before he presses his lips to hers. Other times, he'll bend a little to kiss her on the forehead or the cheek.

Rosette often becomes a shy, giggling mess for a few seconds after a kiss, one of the few times her tough facade gets broken up. Seeing her flushed cheeks often makes Bubba realize how hot his own face is, causing him to act quite shy himself with a goofy grin on his face. The feeling drives him crazy.

Bubba also particularly enjoys how small her hands seem against his own- it makes him feel motivated to do anything to keep her safe.

Sometimes, when Rosette and Bubba are just chilling together, she will sing for him or read to him but Bubba's favorite is when she sings. Her voice just makes him feel all giddy when she's in songbird mode. He will often try to ask her to sing for him via random questioning sounds and singing related gestures.

While Bubba is out doing chores/farm work/chasing down a victim, Rosette is often probably fixing up a large pitcher of sweet tea with ice and if she's done her chores and her usual amusements of reading, singing, talking with the nearest neighbors and taking walks seem unappealing, she might also bake pies or cakes or cookies as a snack for the family to go with the tea. Bubba is usually really excited to dive into anything she cooks or bakes but as far as baked treats go, his favorite is apple pie.

Rosette once remarked on how good Bubba looked in one of his favorite masks and it gave him an idea. He surprised Rosette later with a fleshy mask he attempted to fashion into the likeness of a rabbit. (Rosette loves rabbits and Bubba is well aware of this.) She does not usually wear masks... But she does put on her rabbit mask to show some support for Bubba when they happen to attract fresh victims (she does still get used as a meat source but not as often since becoming a Sawyer). Rosette will also keep a rolling pin on hand during those times, something to knock the victim(s) out cold, preventing their escape. Before knocking them out, however, she is probably the only Sawyer that will apologize- she's not doing it because she genuinely wants to, only so Drayton doesn't have to get after her or Bubba for letting someone get away. As soon as they're really out cold or dead, the mask comes off for her.

Bubba gets this warm, fuzzy, proud feeling when he sees her wearing the mask he made for her and helping them take someone out. Meanwhile, Bubba's shows of speed and strength at these times drive her pretty wild.

Something that both Rosette and Bubba love doing is going out behind the house to lay in the grass, cloudgaze and make each other flower crowns... Bubba thinks the delicate, colorful flowers really enhance Rosette's beauty and Rosette enjoys seeing Bubba's happy, shy reactions when she puts flowers in his hair.

Sometimes, Bubba catches Rosette doing things he finds dangerous and he can't stop himself from worrying or trying to stop her. For example, he may walk in on her in the kitchen, cutting up carrots for a stew and maybe he thinks she's cutting just a little too quickly, a little too close to her fingers... and he will panic a little. Rosette will usually stop for a moment, smile from the feeling of having someone care about her well being and calmly explain to him that the carrots have to be cut and she will promise him that she will be careful with the knife. If he's still not reassured, he will come up behind her, gently wrap his hand around her hand and the knife handle and make sure for himself that she does the cutting safely. At other times though, he may try to just take the knife, like if he finds her trying to play Five Finger Fillet, thinking she will hurt herself. But the truth is, she's played that game and won more times than she can remember... and sometimes, when Bubba isn't looking, she might challenge Nubbins or Chop-Top to it... Or Drayton, with the secret hope that one of those times, Drayton will cut his own finger off.

Rosette and Bubba often do each other's makeup or at least do their makeup together, although it's mostly just on days when they have "company" for dinner. The result is that Bubba looks like a very pretty lady and Rosette's rabbit mask takes on a sort of Alice in Wonderland vibe with eyeshadows, blush, lipstick and extra long, curled, dark lashes. When they're done, Rosette will look at herself and Bubba in the mirror, tell him how good they both look and then giggle while she nuzzles him with the rabbit nose.

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