#his deep seated sense of guilt that he's constantly fighting against. that he needs to repress and deny in order to function. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

After the Circus- Part 3

@janekfan

cw: strained friendships, arguing, fainting, dizziness, trauma, references to Jon's getting covered in lotion, disassociation, food mention, mentions of panic attacks (none in the story), canon typical season three Tim headspace (although he's being less mean!)

After his kidnapping, Jon continues to have a rough time

The next time Jon wakes up, he is actually able to sit up. He’s alone on the cot. For a moment, he almost panics, looking for Martin in the darkened room.

It’s hard to see. The only light is from the hallway, oozing in because the door isn’t entirely closed. He doesn’t have his glasses on. He doesn’t know where those are.

Does he just have to resign himself blurry vision and the headaches? Not as if he doesn’t get enough of those. He sighs. He can’t even remember when he last had them. Did he have them when he was kidnapped? Did he have them when he got back?

He makes out Martin’s blurry form sitting slumped in front of the cot. Leaning against it and the wall. Asleep.

Guilt pools in the bottom of Jon’s empty stomach. He doesn’t know what time it is. But Martin has, presumably, been here for hours. Jon doesn’t know how many, sliping in and out of lucidity too quickly to get a firm sense on space and time. Martin should be at home, forgetting all this supernatural shit as often as he can, for as long as he can. Not worrying about Jon. Christ, certainly not worrying about Jon constantly since Prentiss.

All those times Martin dragged him to lunch, or provided tea when he still treated Martin like shit.

Jon can’t look at him.

He wishes he could get Martin onto the cot and let him get some proper rest, but even in top health, he couldn’t lift Martin, let alone do it without waking him. Best to just drape a blanket over him and let him rest.

Jon… well he needs to get up. Get to the loo, get a jumper, get some water or food if he can manage it. He isn’t sure. There’s still a good chance he’ll just end up on the floor again. Especially without his cane.

At least he doesn’t have to worry about Georgie. He was leaving her place anyhow. She wouldn’t have expected a call. Probably.

Standing isn’t great, but he manages his first two tasks. Leaning on the wall is the best he can manage, but he makes the way to the break room, drowning in an oversized hoodie. And finds Tim.

Tim is on his phone. He looks… tired. He’s still wearing that familiar scowl, but it’s softer. If Jon didn’t know better, he’d say Tim was looking worried. If Jon didn’t know better, he’d think Tim might be worried about him.

He’d think about that more, if his vision wasn’t starting to darken. He takes a rather abrupt seat on the floor, in hopes of staving off another faint.

Jon, essentially slamming into the floor makes Tim look up. There is a long moment where he is caught between sitting still and rushing over. (See if he’s still awake, if he’s hurt himself, if he’s hit his head, get him some salt and a sports drink. The routine still ingrained.) But. He doesn’t know.

He finds himself half standing, phone halfway on the table, screen still on, game chirping at him angrily as he loses.

He finds himself hesitating for a long moment, before he walks over to Jon. Slowly.

Jon’s conscious, but looks he’s contemplating if he’s going to stay that way.

Does Tim want to help?

Does Jon even want his help?

If he touches Jon, will he scream again?

If Jon screams, will Martin wake up?

He does care if Martin wakes up. Martin hasn’t gotten much sleep… in months, but especially not in the last couple days looking after Jon, and making sure Jon got enough water, and any meager amount of sustenance that he can manage.

Tim wouldn’t stay for Jon, but he is staying for Martin.

He stands there, looming over Jon. Jon shrinks away. Instead of making Tim feel vindicated, he just feels empty.

He should help Jon. So Martin doesn’t lose even more sleep making sure Tim doesn’t follow the impulse to yell and kick and argue, or simply run away. That won’t help anything. He’s been fighting the impulse to hurt Jon for a while. But… but he can’t muster that anger, not now.

Not when Jon’s wearing a jumper that Tim left at Jon’s flat back in Research.

Not when Jon looks small and tired and sick and beaten.

And, Tim knows, he’s had his place in this. Much as he wants to blame the circus…

And that’s another thing, isn’t it?

This should bind them together, right? Even more so than the years of friendship before everything went to shit. This shared trauma. Even more so than the worms? That was a one-and-done day, and yeah, there was stuff leading up to it. Yeah, it left a hell of a mark. But it didn’t really change Tim’s life the same way the Circus had. Yeah, there was pain and pt and permanent scars, but the worms didn’t take Jon for a month, they didn’t kill Sasha and Danny.

Fuck, he doesn’t know. It all sucks.

The Worm trauma should have brought the three of them together (four, if Sasha had made it out, but that wasn’t the worms, now was it? Well, if not for the worms, maybe she wouldn’t have been taken. HE DOESN’T KNOW.) The more Tim thinks about this, the more half finished, nonsense bullshit he thinks up for himself.

None of what he’s trying to tell himself makes sense, and the confusion and anger sit heavily in his gut as he just stands there, like a moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He drags his hands through his hair. Greasy and coated in days old gel. He needs some sleep. He needs a shower.

He should get Jon something to eat.

“I’m going to touch you, ‘kay?”

Jon looks too tired to argue. Good. He doesn’t think he can deal with Jon’s waffling or guilt or any of that bullshit. The ‘oh no I’m just grand why am I on the floor? no reason, let me just stalk you it’s fine.’

Not now, Tim.

Too tired for proper anger, and even if he wasn’t… Jon looks just pitiful, and the fight that he’s itching for won’t be satisfying if Jon passes out or cries on him.

Jon mumbles out, “‘kay.”

Good.

Tim scoops him up, just about effortlessly. And Tim doesn’t know if that’s the months of pt and vigorous workouts, or that Jon has dropped maybe 5 kilos that he didn’t have to spare. Or both.

Tim’s gotten his muscle mass back, maybe even more than he had to start with… all that extra rage funneled into gym time. Not particularly healthy, but better than drinking himself into a stupor every morning. Just… you know, most mornings. As you do.

The change of position is enough to knock Jon out the rest of the way. Head lolling against Tim’s chest.

Something flickers deep in Tim’s chest. His first impulse is to crush the feeling, but… he doesn’t. Jon isn’t okay. Tim isn’t okay.

He wants his friend from Research back.

Which… He doesn’t know if that’s possible. Not with broken trust and hair-trigger tempers. But, he’s just so tired.

He dumps Jon on the couch. Not too gently, but he props his feet up and goes to get him some lucozade and heat up a can of soup.

Jon’s starting to come around again by the time he gets back. The soup is… lukewarm at best. They ought to harass Elias into getting them a better microwave… In any case, it’s full of salt and it isn’t cold. So… that’s something. A little more substance than water and lucozade. So. It’s better than nothing. Try to get Jon up to eating an actual meal, but Martin had pointed out that he isn’t sure when Jon last ate solid food, since he was kidnapped by plastic bastards who apparently don’t really know how humans-or vaguely nonhuman monster bosses work and how often to water or feed them, so they should take it easy on Jon’s system for now. Which will make it easier on all of them.

Jon struggles to sit up, and Tim doesn’t know if he wants to help. Instead he holds the food and drink and …looms. Jon sits up and tucks his feet up, so the blood doesn’t pool, Tim’s memory supplies. Not particularly monstrous. …It’s painfully familiar.

“Small sips, then a little bit of soup.”

Jon nods, squinting up at him.

Probably not a good sign that Jon, apparently, couldn’t find the glasses folded on the box next to the cot with another glass of water. One Martin instructed Tim to keep constantly full. Should he be worried that Jon is still so out of it? Maybe?

But he’s heard what the Circus can do to people, and he doesn’t have any clue what they did to Jon. All he knows is, Jon is even more shy about touch than he has been. Not that Tim really noticed. But… he isn’t blind. Jon’s been waking up screaming more often than not when someone touches him. He seems okay when you go slow, or wakes up with Martin holding him, but an unexpected, or sudden, or moving at all hand, starts him into a panic attack.

How much does Jon even remember of those? How many has Martin talked him through? How many did Jon lose consciousness during? A lot of the last variety. But he doesn’t know the numbers.

Jon’s looking dizzy again by the time Martin rushes in. Tim had just helped ease Jon back down. Martin is trailing the blanket that Tim had been pretty sure Jon had been draped in last time Tim had actually been in the room and not playing on his phone. That besotted fool, Jon, must have put it over Martin before getting up.

“Where is he, Tim!”

“Martin, Martin. Stay calm, would you? Keep your voice down.” Tim is not used to being the one trying to deescalate. But Jon looks about half asleep. Barely registers the shouting. “Relax. I didn’t hurt him. Think he got up for the loo or for something, nearly fainted in here. Got him some soup and everything.”

Martin drops heavily into the nearest chair, with what Tim figures must be a hell of an adrenaline crash.

“He’s okay, Martin. Didn’t hurt him. I… I don’t think I want to hurt him. Not sure if I did in the past…I sure wasn’t helping. But I don’t think I do now.”

Martin doesn’t respond.

“He… he looks so… fragile. I… miss him. And I miss you.”

Tim looks down at Jon, and almost wants to tuck his hair back. That frizzy and tangled hair that Jon usually keeps… well not neat. But clean. It’s been scrubbed within an inch of its life. It’s dry and sad, and Tim almost …almost wants to fix it. But he isn’t ready for that.

Christ, he’s tired.

He joins Martin at the table, not quite ready to meet Martin’s eye. Not ready to see what Martin might say in return.

“I miss you too.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #martin blackwood #whump #hurt/ comfort #jon has pots #cane user jon #cw strained friendships #cw arguing #cw fainting #cw suicidal ideation #cw ptsd #cw dissociation

51 notes · View notes

zukos-scribe · 3 years

Text

Grief

Peter Parker x Reader

Ok this is another one of my fics from my old blog that I edited heavily and am reposting on here. So if you've seen this before don't worry.

Major trigger warning for dying/death/torture/etc.

You were breathing hard, sweat pouring down your face as you tried to gain your bearings. It was hot and dark, only one rickety old lamp hanging high from the ceiling.

It illuminated your face along with the other person sitting in the room with you, Peter.

Peter Parker.

He's your best friend, you were the only person in school that he trusted with his spiderman secret from the very beginning. And he's the guy that you had been crushing on for the past three years.

But alas, he was currently crushing on a really popular senior girl named Liz. You had to admit, she was beautiful. A lot more than yourself. Every time she talked to you or Peter, your insecurities grew.

You considered yourself more of the background friend. Someone that was there to lean on if needed, that friend that would have to step behind the others when walking down the sidewalks.

However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a good friend. He was a great friend. He was there when you needed him, listened to you geek out about your interests, made sure to include you in conversations with others.

He was your best friend.

Even though you wanted him to be more.

But it had been harder since he had become spiderman. He was rushing around, he didn’t have as much time for you anymore. Study dates and friend time had become near impossible. Weekend tech and gaming events had disappeared.

It was the night of the homecoming dance, and he had rushed out of the school looking desperate and scared, even ditching Liz after bringing her as his date.

You didn’t know what was happening so you chased after him.

“Peter!” you called as you ran after him.

“Go back! Y/N! Don’t follow me!” he yelled, changing into his spiderman suit. You continued to run after him anyway. But he was too fast for you now.

“Peter!” you screamed as he took off.

You stood there outside of the school watching as your best friend and the boy that you loved swung off into the night.

“Well, how sweet it is that I found spiderman’s little…. Whatever you are,” a threatening voice suddenly said from behind you.

You spun around to see whoever it was, but a pair of hands reached out to grab you before you could see their face.

Then, blackness. ~~~~ When you woke you were in that darkened room, only the one rusty light on the ceiling. It didn’t shed light on anything other than Peter’s face and an IV going into your arm. Your wrists were gently tied to the arms of your chair with pieces of cloth. The two of you were seated at a table across from each other, with another chair on your right side. Obviously, someone was going to be joining you.

You looked at Peter in fear.

“What’s going on?” you croaked.

“I don’t know.”

You stared at him until a loud mental bang rang throughout the room.

A pair of hands appeared by Peter’s head, wrapping a dirty piece of cloth around his mouth. Peter’s eyes widened in fear and he tried to fight off the man.

“Now, Peter if you want to me to take off that gag you need to listen first of all. Although I think by the end of this you won’t be able to care anymore. I aim to destroy you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as he sat down in the chair next to you.

“Well darling, I think that our precious spiderman here is about to lose his best friend forever. That IV in your arm is slowly killing you. But, if you can talk fast enough, you might be able to save yourself. But I don’t know, you’ve never said anything like this to him before.”

“Tell him what?” you asked confused.

“All of those deep dark feelings that you’ve hidden away in the back of your heart and brain. The ones that only come out when it’s late at night and you’re done with the world. The ones that began to appear after Spiderboy here came into the picture So go ahead, get talking. I’ll be one room over.”

The man got up and removed your constraints before leaving the room.

Peter looked at you with worry and confusion in his eyes. He tried to say something against the gag, but nothing coherent came out.

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so sorry,” you cried, letting your head droop. “I didn’t want you to ever find out about any of this.”

He started to struggle in his chair, trying to loosen his bonds. You reached over to carefully slip the gag off of his mouth. You wanted to help him get free, but he was cuffed to the chair with mental.

“Y/N, what is he talking about? Are you okay? What’s going on? What feelings are you keeping from me?”

“Peter-”

“Please Y/N, just be honest with me.”

You looked at him with the saddest expression that he’s ever seen in his life. Your cheeks seemed hollow, your eyes were empty and sad. You weren’t yourself. How long had you been feeling this way?

“Ever since you became spiderman, it’s been so hard. I constantly feel left behind, you don’t have as much time to spend with me. I just sit in my room now watching the news, hoping that you’re still safe and alive. Then I see you in school the next day and you seem fine, but you don’t tell me anything. Then you go off and-” you paused, a coughing fit coming over you.

“And what?”

“You go and get distracted by Liz. You’re so infatuated with her, you don’t see that I’m standing right beside you, just like I’ve always been. I love you Peter. More than a friend, but you don’t see it.”

Peter stared at you horrified, guilt was creeping into his eyes.

“Y/N I-”

“It’s okay,” you coughed out. “You don’t have to love me. I've already accepted the fact that you never would. I just miss my best friend. We used to tell each other everything. But you've been keeping so much to yourself that I felt so helpless. What if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything about it. Or I never found out and one day you just disappeared."

He started to try and say something but you were hit with more coughs, each one worse than the last one. Blood appeared on your hand. You were dying. You didn't think that it would be so quick.

“Y/n, hang on. I’ll get us out of here,” Peter cried, trying to break free again. He was becoming frantic.

You slumped in your chair. You felt cold, your eyes were drooping, your head was fuzzy. You couldn’t think straight anymore. You looked tiredly at Peter who was trying to free his hands.

“I don’t want to die in here,” you whispered.

Peter froze, his eyes full of panic.

“No. I won’t let you die. You’re going to be fine, we’ll get out of here. I’m going to get you help.”

He managed to break the restraints on one of his hands before beginning on the other hand.

“Just stay awake for me please.”

You shook your head slightly.

“I can’t.”

He managed to get his other hand free and ran over to you.

“Alright, we’re going to get out of here.” He tried to help you up but you fell to the floor. He gathered you in his arms and tried to figure out a way out of the room.

“I love you Peter. I’m sorry.”

“No!” he screamed. “Y/N! Wake up! Please! Wake up, please wake up!” He buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

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

(does any of this make sense? idk anymore)

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #tw: injury #tw: death

53 notes · View notes

kpop-fanatic-lover16 · 4 years

Text

Submit – Park Seonghwa

Warnings: mafia, angst and a tiny bit of fluff at the end <3

The rotting monster inside your chest kept pulling your mood down as you punched constantly at the sand filled bag in front of you. Anger was clouding your mind and your body shook with adrenaline. Every punch you threw slowly began to get shaky and fell through the cracks when it came to delivering strength. This had occured multiple times for more than a month. It felt like you were loosing yourself in this stirred up anger. How in the world could you refocus long enough to gain the slightest bit of your reputation back?

He was dragging your focus away with every observation he was making as you worked your hands and arms raw of energy. The fact that his eyes were burning into your body wasn't helping your self-esteem.

"Focus!" Jongho's voice boomed out, scaring you slightly off track. He sighed impatiently at your pause and walked up behind you for the tenth time. His hands jerked your torso at an angle and he lined your shoulders up with the punching bag. "The first one ready is the first one to win! You'll never be ready if you continue to punch like that. Refocus and for the love of my sanity, punch the bag correctly!"

Having enough of his shouting, you disregarded his commands and turned around. "Enough! I can't hardly stand because I'm exhausted and your shouting is worsening my form!"

Jongho's jaw tightened at your outburst. "Winners don't get exhausted."

When you tried to walk away, he grabbed your arm to jerk you back to the punching bag. It threw you off, but you still proceeded to attack him. Jongho wasn't happy with this either. Within half a second, he had you pinned to the floor. One of his hands was pressing your head to the floor while his body blocked yours from moving out from underneath him.

"Get out of this room." he growled, his patience spent with trying to get you to cooperate.

Feeling beaten down you left Jongho and his furious attitude, which he tried to keep contained. How in the world were you going to regain your focus? You had to be strong enough to co-exist in this mafia and you were nowhere near close to being good. All you had to do was defend yourself and then you could go anywhere without fearing for your life. Those were your husband's rules and nothing else would satisfy his demands.

Back in the lounge, you walked in on a pool match between two of your husband's friends. They lifted their heads to acknowledge your entrance, but you paid them no attention. As you were passing by them to get to the stairs, that led up to the bar, a pool stick blocked your path. Annoyed, your eyes followed the arm attached to the pool stick and up to gaze at San who was in charge of technology, especially skilled in hand to hand combat, and a beast in artillery.

"Boss is waiting for you upstairs." San mumbled with a caring look in his dark eyes. You reached down and squeezed his out stretched hand and nodded before taking a deep breath and walking over to the stairs. You glanced over your shoulder at Yunho and San who watched you leave the room.

Up two flights of stairs, was a bar in the lounge space near your room with couches and a huge fireplace warming the cold wood floors and the wide open area. When you looked around only the bartender was in the room leaving you to wonder what San had meant when he said your husband was waiting for you up here.

The bartender, Wooyoung, smiled and watched you take a seat at the end of the bar before working on making your usual. He set the drink down in front of you and gave you some extra fruit to snack on while you waited for your husband who was apparently dealing with some business in his office.

"He seemed agitated before he took the call he's on right now." Wooyoung warned, knowing you weren't having a good day and having a sense that your spirit was down.

"Did he? I'll talk to him about it then." you replied, finishing the last bit of kiwi and sliding the bowl back to him so he could clean it up.

Not long after, Wooyoung turned in for the night and left you in silence; but not before telling you to help yourself to any bottle of alcohol he had because his nature was that of a kind one. It brightened up your mood a bit, but you still felt ashamed of yourself for not making it as far as you wanted to in training.

Slowly, you twirled the black straw in big circles to stir the contents in your cup as you sat in thought. What interrupted your train of thinking was the gentle touch of strong hands resting on the tops of your shoulders and softly sliding down your arms to rest on your elbows. A hushed kiss brushed the nape of your neck and a deep heavy sigh left the person behind you.

"Are you wearing the new perfume I got you?" Seonghwa questioned, coming around on your right and taking a seat on the stool next to you. You nodded, tearing your eyes away from your cup and giving him a halfhearted smile. The guilt was overwhelming you to the point of tears because you didn't want to disappoint Seonghwa after you had promised to train hard and make it in his network.

"I can feel your sadness my love," Seonghwa hushed, noticing your mood and sensing a bad day. "Let's turn in for the night so you can rest."

Another nod was all Seonghwa received as he pulled you off the stool and walked with you to your shared room where he let you get ready for bed. He seemed on edge when he thought you weren't looking, but changed immediately when he noticed you watching. It was a strange thing to see because Seonghwa was never this paranoid about any situation, whatever it might be. While you changed, Seonghwa also got into bed time attire and retreated to your king size bed where he sat on his phone waiting for you to join him.

"Seonghwa," you called from the bathroom while you finished rubbing your moisturizer into your skin. "Wooyoung said you were agitated earlier."

"Oh I was just irritated by the lack of maturity during that business deal." Seonghwa admitted, smiling innocently at your curious figure. With a soft smile, you gazed at him from where you were resting on the bathroom door frame. He was lying. Wooyoung said it was before the business deal that he was agitated.

He set his phone down on the bed and patted the spot next to him in an invitation. Happily, you walked over to the bed and climbed in on your side. Practically bouncing, you nestled under the sheets and pulled them up to your nose, sneaking a glance at Seonghwa who watched you with a sparkle in his eyes.

"What are you so giddy about?" Seonghwa chuckled. A kiss was pressed to his cheek before you pulled away and cuddled into his side.

"You are hot tempered some times." you teased hiding your knowledge about his lie. Secretly, you poked his side with your index finger and laughed at the sudden desperate attempt he made to move away from being tickled in the sensitive area.

"What happened today that made you so upset?" Seonghwa asked lightly, pulling you closer under the covers with him as you both settled into a comfortable position.

"Just Jongho." you truthfully spoke, avoiding the real reason you were so upset and blaming Jongho who was only a quarter of the problem. Seonghwa hummed in disapproval at the networks maknae for being so insensitive. He guessed right when he asked if Jongho was being too hard on you which only made him more on edge.

"How come you are on edge?"

"It's nothing to worry about."

Seonghwa shut down the question, making it impossible for you to ask it again. For a brief moment, Seonghwa caught you off guard as he leaned down closely, touching his nose with yours and then pressing his lips against yours in a very tender kiss that left you breathless. He curled you into his side and pulled you tightly into him before turning off the room lights and forcing both of you to sleep. It was a bit strange that Seonghwa was acting this way, but Jongho had worked your body so hard you couldn't fight off sleep engulfing you if you had tried. The clock next to your bed ticked its last tock before peace left the present and raging panic reared up behind you with a unwanted series of unfortunate events.

"Y/n! Y/n! Wake up, Sweetheart!" a voice desperately whispered in a panicked fashion. Alertly, your eyes shot opened and searched frantically for your arousor. When everything came into focus, Seonghwa was standing on your left side hovering over you.

"What is it?" you mumbled out, trying to form words after a while of sleeping. It wasn't as easy as you thought it would be. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning.

"I need you to get dressed quickly." Seonghwa urged, pulling the covers off your body and gently, yet hastily, taking your arm and sitting you up in bed. Without hesitation or doubt in what he was doing, you got up and quickly went to your closet to change into something other than your pajamas. Seonghwa suddenly appeared in the bathroom as you finished combing out your hair. "Pack anything that is important to you because we're not coming back."

Confusion and worried sunk into the pit of your stomach as you rushed to grab the duffle bag in your closet. Quickly, you unzipped the front part and dumped all of your essentials in there before running to your beside table and packing important stuff. When you finished that, you grabbed a reasonable amount of clothes and a few pairs of shoes. There was no telling where you were going to end up so you needed to take what you could.

Seonghwa suddenly appeared in the doorway with his face mask on and a baseball cap over his head to hide his eyes as best as he could. Thinking of your identity too, he tossed you a mask and a cap as well before rushing around, grabbing gadgets he had stored in your bedroom after a long day. He wouldn't look at you in the eyes for more than half a second as he glanced at your frozen figure. Then it clicked.

"Is this what I wasn't supposed to worry about?" you questioned, putting on the cap and face mask. Seonghwa peeked at you in the corner of his eye, but continued to grab things around the room where he stuffed them in the equipment bag he was holding. "Park Seonghwa, answer me!"

Seonghwa stopped and finally faced you. "Not right now Y/n!" he boomed, shocking you in your spot.

"The vans are ready." San suddenly informed from the bedroom door with Jongho right behind him. Seonghwa watched you for a second longer realizing his choice in tone and words.

Anger filled your body as you turned around and snatched your most prized possession; the wedding ring Seonghwa had given you as a promise to never lie and to always work as a team. Shaking your head at your husband, you smashed the diamond on your left ring finger and then grabbed your zipped duffle bag so you could get going. With boldness, you brushed past Seonghwa and straight to San and Jongho where the maknae took your bag immediately, heading down to the loaded vans. San got the worst of your anger as you bumped into him on your way out. The sound of his shoulder whacking into the wall behind him thumped the sheet rock and elicited a gasp of pain from San.

"Brat." Seonghwa growled under his breath as he finished getting the gadgets. With his jaw clenched, eyes wide in warning, and his head tilted to the side slightly, San gazed at Seonghwa with a 'you better stop, you've already set her off' expression. Seonghwa responded by roughly tossing the bag of gadgets at San and leaving the room right on his tail with a 'don't test me' look burning in his eyes. San didn't say anything in response and lead the way down to the vans where everyone was loading up.

"Everyone get in a van or you're left behind!" Yeosang barked orders as men rushed around the paved driveway. Only when you appeared did Yeosang's hightened commands and top priorities calm down to a low level.

"You're in van number three," Yeosang's voice came back to his normal volume and his tone returned to calm and collected. Not that anyone had to point it out, but you were ticked off at the fact that everyone knew what was going on and Seonghwa refused to tell you.

"Load up!" the sound of your husband's voice roared out as he walked out onto the driveway. He quickly made his way over to you and Yeosang who stood still watching the commotion. He grabbed your hand in his like he normally would and made an attempt to bring you to one of the vans. You knew your role in your marriage, but you couldn't fulfill that role if Seonghwa didn't fulfill his. Making quick work of his hand you pulled away and turned away from him.

Suddenly, you were forced to face your husband by the jerk of your right shoulder and was startled by the extremely hard grip on your bicep. Seonghwa yanked you closer to his face and lowered his tone. Yeosang left the two of you to your arugment, knowing better than to eavesdrop.

"I think you've forgotten who has the power here."

There was nothing Seonghwa could do to scare you because you loved him too much. He could be intimidating when he wanted which unnerved you a lot, but you were never scared. You lifted your chin up and leaned in closer with a hard gaze in your eyes. "I think you have forgotten that your power as a mafia boss does not command my submission to you."

"As a mafia boss everyone, including my wife, is sworn to submit to my commands." Seonghwa growled, squeezing your arm in his palm. Pain shot up your shoulder and burned your skin. With your left hand, you reached up and smacked Seonghwa on his cheek. Not hard, just enough to get his attention and clear his clouded head.

"The only person I swore to was my best friend at the alter where I promised to submit to him as a wife and a friend." you felt his hand release you slowly as the words you spoke sunk into his head. Your tone faltered in that moment as they too sunk into you. Seonghwa had completely disregarded you from the love of his life to just another person in his network. "And in case you forgot, you swore to love your wife as a husband is supposed to, and not order her around as if she was another human being underneath you."

Seonghwa completely released you, struggling to lock his gaze with yours and collect his thoughts. He was lost in everything you had just said to him and even more stricken over the slap to his face. He took several steps back from you and tried to hide the obvious stinging in his eyes at the power you had stood up to him with.

"Get in a van," Seonghwa mumbled, getting ready to walk away from you but stopping in his tracks and glancing over his shoulder with a softer tone. "Please."

It didn't take very long before everyone was loaded up and the sound of slamming van doors thudded through the air. Van number three roared to life as you jumped into the passenger seat and buckled yourself. Yunho, another one of Seonghwa's friends, steered the vehicle out of the driveway and behind van number two who was following van number one. Hongjoong and Mingi, weapons and drug handlers, were the drivers for the two vans in front of your van where they led everyone far away from only one of Seonghwa's many bases.

"Hey, if you're interested, " Yunho spoke up. "I could give you some training tips."

You looked over at him with interest. Yunho glanced over at you and smiled slightly. When you first decided to train in the business Yunho had stepped up to help, but Jongho ended up being your trainer because he was in charge of strength. Now it seemed like a reasonable offer since Jongho did nothing to improve what you were lacking in and only drove you to put in more power.

"I would like that." you answered, matching his teddy bear smile with a smile of your own. "Thank you, Yunho."

A few days later, you were now stationed at another base nearly ten hours away from the last one. Seonghwa hadn't seen you in nearly three days because he was so busy in trying to get everything up and running, but mainly avoiding the problem at hand. The distance drove you further into thinking that he didn't love you anymore and all that was holding him back was the courage to ask you for a divorce.

Another loud bam disrupted your day dreaming and brought you back to reality that kept slipping from you. Yunho had just demonstrated a palm punch to one of the boxing bags, but you hadn't been paying attention. Jongho and Hongjoong sat off in the distance watching Yunho train you in strategy rather than power.

Yunho knew your body type could never be as powerful as Jongho was raising it to be, so to save your energy, Yunho was working your critical thinking and other stealthily abilities to try and get your self esteem back up. Of course you still needed to learn hand to hand combat but Yunho would work on that as soon as he knew your confidence was back up to a solid nine or at the lowest, an eight.

"Y/n." Yunho began, noticing your loss in focus. Confused, you looked up and saw the concern in his facial expression. "What is on your mind?"

"Nothing, just haven't been sleeping." you replied, brushing a thin layer of sugar over your lie in hopes of not worrying him. It didn't pass Yunho though and everything came to a stop as Yunho pulled you gently by your wrist over to where Jongho and Hongjoong sat. Hongjoong opened his left arm and let you lean into him; he was the only one besides Jongho, San and Yeosang who knew you and Seonghwa were at odds.

"As much as mafia survival requires physical strength and a great mind to work your way through tough situations, your mental state is vital. Without your mentality, you can't win against your opponent and at the moment you can't even focus."

"I'm sorry." you apologized, guilty once more for not trying your hardest to be the best you could.

"What's bothering you?" Yunho repeated, hoping you would tell him, Hongjoong and Jongho, exactly what was keeping you back.

Silence held the air for a few moments as you contemplated on whether or not to tell them about the fight you had with your husband. The trust you had built with these boys was strong and unchangeable, but like with every person you trust completely, there is always something you hold back from telling them. Hongjoong and Jongho hadn't heard of the whole fight, but they knew that things were sore. Subconsciously, you felt a light squeeze from Hongjoong.

"Seonghwa and I got into a fight right before we left in a hurry." you sighed, finally letting the words that have been built up inside you for nearly three days flow out. "He wouldn't tell me what was going on. Not even before we went to sleep. Then he treated me like I was just any other person under him by ordering me around like a rag doll."

"He didn't physically hurt you, right?" Jongho mumbled, glancing around Hongjoong. Even though Jongho was tough on you, he cared gratefully for you. Part of that care was always with him even on the rough days.

Denying the question, you shook your head. At least he hadn't done so intentionally. "Right before I got into a van, I realized that he hadn't been looking at me as the girl who walked down the aisle to him. Now he's been ignoring me since we got here and hasn't bothered fixing anything. I already tried to, but he kept saying that he's busy."

"We're not continuing our training until you both work out the disagreement. I know you won't improve if your mind isn't one hundred percent clear." Yunho stated, leaning back a bit and giving you a pointed look. Deep in the back of your head you knew he was right, things needed to be fixed.

Later that evening, Seonghwa was in his headquarters going through some blueprints all the while coming close to half a centimeter of pulling all his hair out. The stress in his body was overwhelming his nerves and the lack of sleep was killing his brain in the slowest way possible. Those two things were depriving him, but the biggest one was you.

Seonghwa breathed a heavy sigh as he dropped the blueprints and left his desk to go sit down on one of the armchairs by the fireplace that was burning wildly. His head fell into his hands at the thought of your argument and all that he had done to hurt you. Everytime it popped into his head he saw your eyes; the extra shine they held which indicated you were close to tears and the dark shadow they casted into his heart. The life from them was gone and it had been his fault. Never in a million years had he meant to treat you as if you were a peasent under his feet. All he wanted to do was protect you from fear and the stress that Seonghwa constantly withheld.

A knock at the door to his office disrupted his thoughts and pulled his head out of his hands. He rose from the armchair and walked over to the door, instinctively putting his left hand behind his back where his fingers brushed the metal of his gun, which was tucked into the waistband of his pants. Without hesitation, he opened the door and revealed who had knocked.

"Y/n." he breathed. Just the sight of you gave him energy. He opened the door farther and let you into the dark room. The door closed shut once more as you looked around his new office.

"Are you busy?" you asked, praying that he wouldn't turn you down. The room was warm compared to the air out in the hall and one light by his desk helped to display the room.

"I'm never too busy for you," Seonghwa hummed out, following you over to the armchairs. "You know that."

"Oh," you hushed softly. Seonghwa watched you closely as you sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. "I guess I thought after three days of not hearing from you that those words didn't apply anymore."

Seonghwa felt his heart break once more. Silence engulfed both of you as you waited for him to do anything. What you wanted him to do was to grab you and hug you for the first time again and kiss you and apologize for everything he had done and maybe start over. The thoughts inside your head kept telling you to prepare yourself for the worst and to just give up on the whole matter. Seonghwa remained silent to the point of breaking. Having enough of drowning in your thoughts, you got up and made a plan to leave.

"Y/n, wait." he spoke, breaking the quiet and blocking you from escaping his grasp. "Just let me think and give me the chance to speak."

The two of you stood still for a second as you waited. Finally, he held out both of his hands for you to take, which you did. Initially you thought he was going to take you somewhere, but instead he pulled you close to him and straight into one of his warm hugs. His cologne filled your senses as you came in contact with his shoulder. In that moment, Seonghwa broke.

For the first time in so long, tears escaped his eyes and everything about you engulfed him. Your hair, scent, feeling, height, soft skin and how hard you were squeezing him. He choked on his tears and tried to breathe in heavily. "I've made the biggest mistake of my entire life. Pushing those I love far away."

"Seonghwa—"

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you anything. My rival found our location and knew exactly where you went on a daily basis. They threatened to kill you and so I made the initial decision to leave, but I hurt you in the process while I thought I was protecting you. I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want you to fear for your life like I did." Seonghwa pulled back from the hug and cupped just under your ears to look into your eyes. "Y/n, all I want to ask you is two things and I will never ever ask for a single thing again."

His thumb moved under your eye to catch the tears that you didn't know were forming. Both of your foreheads connected as you gathered up the fabric of his shirt as his sides. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this without you."

"I'm not going anywhere." you promised, squeezing him closer to you. That was the first request, and the other?

"Please," his words uttered out in a whisper as he closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Submit to me again."

Now it was your turn to cry. Not caring about anything, you tilted your head up and kissed Seonghwa with the most passion you could muster up. His broad arms curled around your waist as he closed the gap between both of you. Fresh tears fell from his face when his eyes closed, trying to feel every bit of you in that one kiss.

"I love you so much and I promise to do so every day for the rest of my life. Don't forget that." Seonghwa whispered after you had pulled back. The tears were falling so fast that you didn't have the chance to respond. He tried his best to dab them away with his fingers, but it wasn't doing much.

"Why are you crying so much?" he chuckled lightly, reaching behind him to give you a tissue. You laughed half-heartedly at the light joke.

"What do you mean why am I crying?" you questioned with a bit of humor laced in your sobs.

"Sweetheart..." he cooed softly at your empathy and pure heart.

"I finally have my Seonghwa back and how could I hate a husband who protected me from harm?" you breathed out, dabbing your eyes with the tissue.

"I love you." his lips pressed to the crown of your head and held their spot for a bit as the both of you sat in a comfortable silence.

"Bad time?" San's voice suddenly spoke from the door. To hide your laughter, you hid your face in Seonghwa's chest. Your husband turned to look at San.

"Make yourself scarce or I will dart you to the fireplace mantle."

San was gone in a flash, but not before giving Seonghwa a flirty wink and a thumbs up. When San got into the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had been walking on thin ice around Seonghwa for the last three days and now that everything was all right, maybe San could keep his head.

"Took them long enough." San mumbled fiercely under his breath.

564 notes · View notes

susustories · 4 years

Text

Warnings: Swearing.

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Word count: 2005

Anonymous: this can be either platonic or romantic, but, todoroki’s friend/s/o just fighting endeavor (with her tongue and witty words) and the entire family’s there for that- like she’s now apart of the family and can go to family dinners and stuff, you’re not doing financially well? oh, that’s weird how did a frack ton of money just appear? you have a bad family, screw them just live here we already have a room for you. being bullied- oh boy is he in the hospital

A/N: Aaa, this was nice to write! It’s a cute idea, but i was in an angsty mood so I tried very hard to keep the fluffy atmosphere and I hope I did it right! I was originally going to do it like a small headcanons post or a very small scenario thing but here we are. Thank you for the request!!

You and Todoroki have been dating for a few months now, and usually, it would mean that you should’ve at least met his family once. But Todoroki wasn’t a very common case, you learned, and you were still learning with each day you spent with him.

It took him a while to open up to you at first, but you were patient with him. When you found out about..well, everything, you were glad you were.

Apparently nothing was beneath the Number One Bastard as you dubbed him now, and you were disappointed. Your blood boiled whenever you saw him on screen, whenever people praised him as if he weren’t the bastard he truly is. You couldn’t blame them, but it still upset you.

You couldn’t imagine how bad it must be for him to constantly be told how amazing and heroic his abuser was. How people wanted to see him grow up to be a ‘great hero like him.’ Every time that happened you found a way to end the conversation and go back where you two could be alone, so you could give him the most reassuring hug you could give. It was your best, and it was enough for him- that’s what he said.

You both already did so much to keep your relationship on the low, and although he told you that Endeavor changed, you understood why he was still anxious. Back then, anything his father saw as a distraction had to be removed so Shouto could stay focused on the goal he had in mind for him, and he was afraid of losing you, even if it seemed unlikely now.

So when he came to tell you that you were going to see that bastard, you were worried. “Why? I thought you didn’t want him to know?” You asked softly, sitting next to him, your hand gently running through his soft, fluffy hair.

He melted into the touch, his arms gently wrapping around you as he cuddled closer to you. Todoroki desired affection, having been starved from it at a very young age, and you were glad to offer. It still made you smile how he looked so cute cuddling close to you like a small child, and he had a way of making it look very cute, but you didn’t know his secret yet.

He sighed, “He found out.”

“Oh.” Came your intelligent reply. You took a deep breath, pulling him closer. “It’s alright, it’ll be okay. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong, alright? Besides, even if he decides to be an asshole I won’t let him! I’m not training to be a hero for nothing! I’ll be there for you, Shoucchan.” You said encouragingly as you held him close. You’d make sure nothing goes wrong.

You were serious about everything you said that time, and your words manifested into actions a few days later during your visit.

Shouto’s sister was present, and you were honestly glad. She was just as great as Shouto had told you, she was kind and very humble. Unlike some people.

He asked you about your family, your quirk, your internship, your grades- it frustrated you to no end. You hated sitting around and being interrogated like some sort of criminal. Fuyumi tried her best to lighten up the atmosphere, but it didn’t do much. It didn’t help that you already hated him before coming here, and seeing him in person just elevated those feelings. He may have changed, ever so slightly, but he still bothered you. Whenever you saw him you couldn’t help but think of the man he was to Shouto and his family. Sure, maybe you shouldn’t have reacted so strongly to his mere presence, but you did.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, you stood up, glaring at him with utter disgust and all that anger you’ve been trying to bury deep inside you this whole time. “Enough!” You could see the Todoroki siblings stiffen in their seats while Endeavor looked shocked for a moment at your outburst, before glaring right back at you, daring you to continue.

“You’re not checking the specifications for some headphones for God’s sake! I didn’t come here to be interrogated. You’re so entitled for someone who doesn’t have enough common sense to deal with a five year old, dammit!” His eyes widened slightly at the last comment, knowing exactly what you were hinting at, but you weren’t done yet. No, you were just getting started.

“People put you on a pedestal as if you were some sort of God, but you’re only a selfish bastard who doesn't care about anyone but himself, and you know it! You’re-” Shouto gently put a hand on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze to calm you down, whispering quietly. “Y/N, it’s fine. How about we leave? I’ll tell Fuyu you liked the food, and maybe we can all go meet up later if you want.” He suggested calmly, trying to deescalate the situation.

You grit your teeth, then nodded, letting out a huff of disappointment. You were mad, yes, but you weren’t going to upset Shouto. You glanced back at his bastard of a father, then frowned upon noticing the guilt in his eyes.You felt bad, you shouldn’t feel so bad for someone like him but you weren’t some heartless monster.

You sighed softly as you walked out with Todoroki, hoping Fuyumi-san could forgive you, you really wanted to show her more appreciation for the food she prepared, but the damage was already done. You just wanted to get out of there before you could mess things up more. However, you do admit that yelling at him felt nice. He deserved getting called out on his bullshit for once.

Todoroki took your hand in his as he led you out and walked aimlessly with you in the quiet streets of Musutafu. He was silent for a few minutes, and you were worried you had upset him, then he spoke up as a soft smile tugged at his face.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said, stopping and turning to fully face you, squeezing your hand gently.

You blushed slightly at the comment, you expected him to be upset at you for ruining things, it’s not like he wanted to invite you to dinner, but you thought he would’ve preferred it if nothing like that had happened. It wasn’t the best first impression after all.

“You...I was anxious at first, when we went there, but after what you did…” He smiled wider, his heterochromatic eyes conveying too many emotions at once for you to understand, but his love and admiration for you were clear as day.

“I love you, so much. You’re always ready to do anything for me, and I want you to know that I’d always be willing to do the same. And I want to apologize for never telling him to stop, but back then I-”

You tackled him in a tight hug, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, catching him off guard. “First off, you don’t need to thank me, I’d be glad to do that any day, you know. I love you too, Shoucchan. I know it must’ve been stressful for you, so you don’t need to apologize, alright? I know that you’ll be there for me when I need you to be, you always are.” You mumbled quietly as he held you, arms tightly wrapped around you in a gentle, warm embrace as the snow continued to fall around you both.

“I know. I’m not upset that you did that, I’m just...surprised, impressed even.” He chuckled softly, holding you tighter, warming his left side slightly and making you cuddle closer to him.

He buried his face in your hair, closing his eyes.“People are always intimidated by him and his status as the Number One hero, I was just...shocked to see someone scream at him like that.” He murmured softly, his tone fond as his warm fingers ran through your hair in the cold winter. You smiled, hugging him tighter. “You should’ve listened when I told you I didn’t give a shit about his hero rank.” You commented, smirking slightly as you pressed another kiss to his cheek. He looked so pretty during winter for some reason, and there was always something about his cheeks that made you want to kiss him. He looked so soft...like a small little child. It suited him, he was so sweet and cute, he might as well be one himself.

He nodded, his eyes looking directly into yours, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip. “I’m so lucky, aren’t I?” Before you could even think of a response, you felt his lips softly press against yours, his arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up. You closed your eyes, kissing back, letting your hands cup his soft face as the blush on your cheeks only got brighter. You could see a light blush on his cheeks once you opened your eyes again to stare back at his.

Then, you decided to break silence, clearing your throat as you noticed people looking at the couple who just randomly kissed in the street. And maybe the prettiest boy they’ll ever see.

“So..cold soba?” You said, your face flushed in embarrassment.

He nodded with a smile. “Cold soba.”

A few weeks and family meetings —Excluding Endeavour—later, you and the Todoroki’s have begun getting closer, especially you and the oldest brother, Natsuo.

You would hang out with them, and maybe stay over sometimes at Fuyumi’s insistence, and they were good company. When Shouto mentioned the first meeting with Endeavour to Natsuo in front of you, you weren’t sure what to expect, but certainly not a “Ha, he had it coming!”. And with that, your friendship blossomed.

He would do your homework for you sometimes, and even drive you to places, and in turn, you and him would have some relatively harmless fun at the flame hero’s expense.

For instance, there was this one day where he told you he needed you for an important task, and you decided to go and meet him up near Endeavor’s place, and he stood there with some eggs, a mischievous grin on his face as he told you he wanted you to egg his father’s house with him.

Truth to be said, it was an important task, and you weren’t disappointed.

Fuyumi on the other hand, enjoyed seeing Shouto happy with you. She loved her siblings, and she’d do anything to ensure that they were happy, and seeing Shouto smile and laugh with you around made her happier than anything else. She wasn’t a fan of arguments but she never got upset with you because of it. Fuyumi would make you chocolate chip cookies, and give you some each week, she was like a second mother to you, except better.

She was also smart, and a teacher, so you went to her with advice a lot and she always helped. She helped you correct grammatical errors in your essays, which you were endlessly grateful for because you were always busy with your work study.

The two of your would go shopping together sometimes, and whenever your gaze lingered on something for too long, she noticed. She was more observant than you’d given her credit for at first, but it was a pleasant surprise when she got you that black coat you’d wanted to buy back at the store with her.

When they moved out after Shouto started working with his friends, they invited you over more, and you always felt right at home there...they never made you feel pressured to participate in activities you didn’t want to, or act a certain way. It felt like being with your family, but different.

It was a nice kind of different, you told yourself, a content smile on your face as you and Fuyumi watched a cute cartoon movie about gems.

Yeah, a nice kind.

#taiketsu means confrontation in japanese #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader #natsuo todoroki #endeavour #enji todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #FOUND FAMILY-#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagine #fluff #fanfic

86 notes · View notes

c-c-cherry · 4 years

Text

Missing You Dearly

Jotaro is really bad at feelings. He also really needs a hug.Can be read as either shippy or platonic, depends on how you see it.

I wanted to write something with Star Platinum being protective of Joot because I just find Star and Jotaro’s friendship super adorable

Word Count: 2620

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The night sky was beautiful. Jotaro never thought he’d see such beautiful sights, especially at his age. The stars shone brightly over them like a comforting blanket piercing the sky. A beautiful and lulling gaze came over the desert wastelands, and Jotaro never thought that the desert could be any more beautiful than it was now. He wanted so much to take the scenery in as the rest of his companions slept, but he couldn’t.

It was hard to enjoy it with all the pressure they were under.

It was tense. They were all tense. The looming threat that was constantly held over their heads was getting more and more difficult to bear, although they all got up each morning and acted like it was nothing.

Avdol and Polnareff still bickered over some stupid thing Polnareff had done and Joseph still cracked jokes even though his daughter was less than 30 days away from taking her last breath. Kakyoin tried his best to lighten the mood, but his efforts were fruitless when it came to Jotaro.

They all brushed it off as him being too stiff or angsty--as most teenagers were. But Jotaro just didn’t get it. How could everyone act like everything is fine? His mother was dying. DIO could destroy everything with the flick of his wrist and they were all playing games and telling stories in the back of Joseph’s jeep instead of planning their plot against him?

And now everyone was asleep. Well, everyone except for Jotaro, it seemed. The night sky was beautiful but the growing worry he felt dulled the stars in the sky. He lit a cigarette and stuck it between his lips.

The sky didn’t feel so much as a comfort anymore. It wasn’t a blanket; it was too big, too vast. He wondered what was going on up there. What could be out there? If he stared long enough at it, he felt like he was being sucked in. Would it feel good to be sucked in? Maybe he wanted to disappear more than anything.

He bit his lip as an overwhelming sense of dread filled him. He felt like an idiot. They were going to defeat DIO. His mother would be fine. Everyone was sure of it, even Avdol, even Joseph.

So why wasn’t he?

He sighed shakily. He felt too sweaty. Taking off his hat, Jotaro ran a trembling hand through his hair.

She’s gonna be fine, he told himself.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he really was worried. Jotaro was worried about his mother. And not just that--he missed her, too.

He missed the way she would kiss him on the forehead before school every morning. The way she would always make him breakfast by the time he trudged downstairs, never batting an eye when Jotaro would push it away, insisting that she stop babying him, but always getting him to eat it somehow.

He missed the way she would make him soup when he was sick and always made sure he got enough water. He never quite figured out how she could tell that he was under the weather from just a look or just from tenderly touching his forehead. He remembered the way he would weakly swat her away, only to find himself in his bed with a glass of water and a painkiller on his bedside table.

He- god- he missed the way she could always tell when he was upset no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She would never make him tell her anything, just wrap her arms around him and gently push his head into her shoulder. The smell of her perfume and the feeling of her clothes always reminded him of his childhood.

“Deep breath, Jotaro…” she would always say gently into his ear, “It's hard right now, but it’ll get easier and easier with each breath.”

She would say it every time, every goddamn time he needed it. Jotaro would always make fun of her for it. How could she say that, not knowing what he’s going through? Hell, it could be a test, a bad day at school, a fight he had gotten into…

...Yet, even though he would call her a bitch, call her clingy and stupid and annoying, he would always let out a breath in her arms. And he would feel just a bit better.

Though he would die before he told her that.

He wondered what she would do if she was sitting next to him right now. No, he knew exactly what she would do, and it only made him angrier. A wave of guilt washed over him. How many times had he called her a bitch, told her to die? What was the last thing he said to her before she got sick?

He could feel Star Platinum’s aura emerge around him. The stand, for once slow-moving, wrapped him up in a hug. He didn’t know if the stand was trying to replicate what his mother would do, but the warm embrace only made him feel worse.

“Get off of me,” he found himself snapping quietly. He didn’t want comfort. He didn’t need it. He didn’t deserve it.

“Ora,” the stand whispered. His words were meaningless, but his tone sounded concerned, almost sad. Maybe Star felt sad, too. His stand was a part of him, right? Could Star feel sad? Jotaro could see the worry in his stand’s eyes as he tried to take Jotaro’s hands in his.

“Ora ora.”

“Shut up,” he snarled, “You’re going to wake everyone up.”

As if on cue, he shot up from where he was sitting as his stand quickly dispersed and settled beneath his skin again. A figure rummaged around through the darkness until a flashlight clicked on.

“Good, you’re already awake.”

Joseph.

“What do you want, old man?” he grumbled. His skin still felt prickly and the dread he was feeling refused to go away. Joseph didn’t need to know that.

“It's better if we travel before the sun comes up,” he answered, “I’m setting up the Jeep. Go and wake up the others.”

Jotaro scoffed, but did so anyway, the uneasy feeling still hiding under his skin.

Once everything was set up, they crowded into the car. Avdol drove with Joseph sitting shotgun. Kakyoin and Polnareff occupied the middle seats and Jotaro had the seats in the very back to himself. The vehicle had enough leg-room for them to feel comfortable, but Jotaro felt like he was suffocating. It didn’t help that he was also 6’5”. He would normally take a seat in the middle section and let Polnareff take the back, but he would rather die than be surrounded by everyone.

Especially Kakyoin. He always asked too many questions.

Joseph was telling Avdol some story about his past adventures and Kakyoin listened intently. Polnareff chuckled every so often from in front of him. Whatever was so funny, Jotaro wasn’t listening. When was the last time he told his mom he loved him? When was the last time he had told her anything at all? What were the last words he said to her before he left?

He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t fucking remember.

“How’s Holly doing, Mr. Joestar?” Kakyoin asked. Apparently, he had tuned back in at the wrong time.

He heard Joseph sigh. “Not well. The doctors are saying her fever is becoming worse by the day. They tried her on a new medication, but…” Joseph paused, rethinking things, “Oh, talking about it is just dampening the mood. We’re doing all that we can. Anyway, these Pillarmen came out giant mounds of rock and-”

Jotaro froze.

It all hit him at once that he could never see his mother again. No more soup, no more breakfast, no more sweet remarks, no more hugs that he always took for granted, no more-

Who was he kidding? He was just 17. He wasn’t ready to lose his mom. He couldn’t lose his mom. He wanted her with him to hold him and hug him and worry about him and-

“-Don’t you think, Jotaro?...Jotaro?”

Polnareff’s voice sounded from the seat in front of him as he blinked in and out of his thoughts. Kakyoin turned around to face Jotaro, only for Star Platinum to appear, shielding Jotaro from their sights.

“Jota-”

“-ORAA!”

Star Platinum’s voice boomed loudly as he raised his fists in defense. The car swerved.

“Shit!” Avdol cursed, swerving the car back onto the road.

Joseph whipped his head backwards. “What the hell is going on?” Alarm turned to confusion as Star remained there, glaring at his allies. Joseph frowned.

“Uhm..Jotaro? What the hell is your stand doing?”

Jotaro bit his lip as tears formed in his eyes. For once, he was thankful that his stand decided to act on its protective nature.

“Ora.” Star Platinum said, now crossing his arms as if to say, ‘I’m not moving’. Jotaro felt a lump form in his throat. No matter what Star did, it wouldn’t bring his mother here. It wouldn’t save him from whoever he had to confront later. He couldn’t sit there forever.

“Is everything okay back there?” Avdol yelled tensely. Joseph didn’t answer and Polnareff seemed to be in a staring contest with Jotaro’s stand.

“We’re alright, Avdol,” Kakyoin answered. He didn’t elaborate. Telling him that Jotaro’s stand was acting weird would just make him unnecessarily stressed.

Polnareff and Kakyoin locked eyes in concern. Star wasn’t going to move. Joseph gave up on trying to talk to Jotaro and turned to Avdol to resume his story about some Italian adventure.

“You think he’s good back there?” Polnareff whispered, careful not to say the wrong thing under Star’s watch. Kakyoin frowned.

“Let me talk to him. Just...talk to Joseph or something,” he whispered back, leaving Polnareff to turn his attention to the front. Once he was sure that Polnareff was laughing hysterically again at some things Joseph was saying, he turned his attention back to Star Platinum.

“Hey, Star,” he said, “Wanna let me in? I need to talk to Jotaro.” he said, smiling innocently at the purple stand. Star shook his head, keeping his arms firmly crossed.

“Please, Star?”

“Ora.”

I guess that’s a no, then, Kakyoin deciphered, sighing.

“Look,” he reasoned, “I know you’re just trying to do what’s best for Jotaro, but if you’re this worried about him right now, I think he needs to talk to someone.”

Kakyoin thought he saw a glimmer of doubt in Star’s eyes, so he pressed on.

“I know the only reason you’re doing this is because you can’t get through to him. Just let me talk to him, just for a bit.”

Kakyoin waited, ready to accept loss, but he heard Star Platinum snort in defeat and silently moved himself a bit to the side, letting Kakyoin slip through before the stand resumed its position, blocking everything else out. Kakyoin could still hear the muffled conversation from the protected back of the vehicle, but tuned it out as he sat in one of the three seats, leaving his friend a bit of room.

Jotaro had his arms crossed and his hat pulled in front of his eyes, staring at the ground in silence. Hostility was coming off him in waves, but Kakyoin knew the man would never hurt him on purpose.

“What the hell do you want?” Jotaro snapped quietly, turning his body away from his red-haired friend. Kakyoin shrugged.

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well you can go then because I’m fine,” he growled in reply.

Kakyoin never really had many friends before meeting Jotaro, but he did get good at reading people. He knew when someone was upset, no matter how much they tried to deny it or brush it off.

“Wanna talk about it?” he opted for instead of asking him what was wrong again. Jotaro felt his face heat up and the lump in his throat grow bigger. Why can’t he just fuck off?

“There’s nothing to talk about, so no,” Jotaro snapped back. Kakyoin could hear just a shred of doubt in his voice as he spoke.

Jotaro wasn’t exactly a talkative man. He usually kept to himself and always seemed to be in a pretty grumpy mood. Polnareff often remarked on how Jotaro needed to ‘lighten up’ a bit, let loose more. They had even cracked Avdol’s stuffy personality, but not Jotaro. Never Jotaro. He thought back to when Star popped up and shielded Jotaro from the rest of them. He wondered why the stand had done that in the first place, it only seemed to draw more attention to him. He only acted after-

-After they talked about Holly. Kakyoin wanted to kick himself.

Of course.

“You have a right,” Kakyoin started, causing Jotaro to lift his head up in confusion, “To feel like this, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” Jotaro snarled. Kakyoin could feel the man building up his walls of anger again.

“Dio is putting your mother’s life in jeopardy. You have every right to be angry...or sad. You’re allowed to worry about her. You’re allowed to miss her. You know that, right?”

He saw Jotaro’s expression soften with surprise, as if he were caught doing something he shouldn’t. Kakyoin waited for the man to say something, but he quickly realized that Jotaro definitely wasn’t going to.

“I never told my parents I was going on this trip, but I wish that I did. I know they’re worried about me, but I really don’t have the courage to tell them. Maybe I’ll tell them when we all come back from this.” he said, filling the air between them.

“I guess I just didn’t want them to freak out if I really told them the truth. But...maybe it would be better if I-”

That seemed to break Jotaro.

“Everyone’s acting like this is normal,” Jotaro snapped. Kakyoin stopped talking, letting his friend finally express himself.

“The old man’s fucking daughter is dying right now and he doesn’t seem to care, does he?” he scoffed, feeling his eyes water “And no one seems to care that we’re on a fucking suicide mission.”

Kakyoin felt himself soften, “Jotaro-”

“-I didn’t even-” he paused, feeling his voice crack, “-I didn’t even tell her that I loved her. I just-- fucking left. I had the chance and I didn’t fucking do it. And now she’s-”

Jotaro growled in irritation as he pulled his hat further over his eyes. Kakyoin expected the man to tell him to fuck off again. He didn’t expect Jotaro to pull towards him and rest his head on his shoulder.

Legs crossed and arms folded over his waist, Jotaro kept his head down and pressed into Kakyoin’s side.

“Jo-”

“-Shut up,” Jotaro breathed out, not trusting his voice to do the talking. Kakyoin just nodded and wrapped an arm around his friend. He could feel Jotaro digging his face further into his shoulder, as if he were too ashamed to show his face to his friend.

"It'll be alright," he said, letting them shift their bodies for Kakyoin to wrap him up in a proper hug. Jotaro buried his face into Kakyoin's chest, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Just- shut up," Jotaro repeated, his voice cracking this time. Kakyoin sighed and just pulled him closer. As long as Star Platinum was blocking them from everyone else's sights, he knew they weren't going anywhere. The pair sat there in silence, letting the voices of their teammates in the distance drown out the tension between them.

If he heard Jotaro sniffling every so often, he didn’t comment.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #joseph joestar #oldseph #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #tenmei kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #angst #hurt/comfort #crying #c-c-cherry's fic #star platinum

73 notes · View notes

klovenhooves · 4 years

Text

Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages, Chapter Two: Acts of Service

Johnny felt like he’d been living in Groundhog’s Day. Every day he woke up, and it still wasn’t the weekend yet. He was constantly tapping his foot, jumping his leg up and down under the table, as if willing time to speed up. He wasn’t used to feeling so jittery about something – Miguel commented knowingly that Sensei Lawrence had overdosed on caffeine when he fidgeted too much during training.

He got some extra push ups for that, not that he minded, the little twerp.

And then, suddenly, it was Saturday morning, and he was jogging out to his car, keys jangling like his nerves, trying not to think about how eager he was to get to the beach. This time they would be without Robby, without Anthony, alone in the ocean.

Maybe Diaz had a point with his little love language thingy.

At least, that’s what he thought at ten in the morning. By noon, he was pretty sure the love languages thing was bullshit, because he was still waiting for Daniel to show up, and he was about to admit to himself and his stubborn pride that he wasn’t coming. He scoffed, pushing himself off the hood of his car and into the driver’s seat, trying to stifle the ripple of disappointment that ached a little like embarrassment.

He was a high school kid again, playing games with the pretty girl and hoping she knew the rules. Except this time, he was the one who didn’t know the rules.

He grabbed his phone from the cupholder beneath the radio where he’d left it to keep the sand and salt out of it. He almost didn’t look at it. What would he find there, but another avenue to hurt his feelings? Daniel probably hadn’t called.

He sighed and pressed the top button. There were five missed calls on it, and a text from Robby.

“CALL ME NOW,” it said.

He obeyed the text message, thinking ironically that whatever shit was about to hit the fan would at least distract him from Daniel LaRusso.

“What the hell did you do?” Robby’s voice was hoarse, tired, like he’d been yelling for a while already. Johnny’s hand twitched around his keys, itching to turn them in the ignition, to find his son, find the problem. He stuck his hand under his thigh and forced himself to stay still.

“What did I do?” Johnny repeated. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He could hear something in the background, deep sounds of wood hitting wood, and running water. “Cobra Kai never dies, right?” Robby sneered. “Isn’t that what you say?”

“Yeah…” Johnny trailed off, trying to put together too few available pieces of the puzzle. “Look, I don’t know what –”

“Cobra Kais trashed Miyagi-do last night,” Robby spat.

Suddenly, Daniel’s absence made sense. “Send me the address,” he said firmly, speaking over Robby when he could hear his son preparing to deliver another painful blow. “Now.”

***

He could see the devastation before he even got out of the car. “Cobra Kai Never Dies” seared into his vision from the side of LaRusso’s favorite yellow vintage car, black and stark and painful to look at. He grimaced, shoving the door of his car open and listening for the approach.

It didn’t take long for Daniel to find him.

“Get the hell out of here, Johnny,” he snapped from the porch, and even from a distance, Johnny could see that he was sunburned, sweaty, exhausted. “Before I call the cops.”

“I didn’t do this,” Johnny answered, holding his hands up in the sign of surrender. “I swear. I would never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

That hurt more than Johnny thought it would. He blinked and looked down at the worn earth beneath his feet, almost sand. They should have been at the beach right now. They could have been having fun.

He steeled himself. As much as he didn’t want to, he was going to have to swallow his pride if he wanted to convince Daniel of his innocence. More than that, he wanted to convince Daniel so completely that he would never again believe him capable of something like this.

Because what man would love someone capable of something like this? Whoever had done this had stomped into Daniel’s sanctuary, his shrine to his dead teacher, and crushed it under their boot without remorse. Even when he was blindingly angry, drunk, miserable, Johnny would have never dared wreak havoc here.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “Just tell me what needs fixing.”

Daniel took a step down from the porch, eyes intent on Johnny, so sharp that Johnny wanted to flinch away from them. “What?”

Daniel was itching for a fight, Johnny could see it in his gaze. He wondered if that would make him happy, and considered giving it to him.

But no, he would be selfish, and deny Daniel their personal brand of intimacy. Let this be a new one. “Let me help,” he said softly. “What do you need me to do?”

Daniel furrowed his brows, eyes roving over Johnny’s face like he would find the truth in the lines around his eyes. Johnny let him look, content to suffer under his gaze, waiting to be sent away.

“You really didn’t do this?” He wanted to believe him, Johnny could see in the sad downturn of his mouth.

“LaRusso, if I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t resort to vandalism,” Johnny replied, tilting his head, giving Daniel a genuine smile instead of his typical smirk. “This has teenage kid written all over it.” Then, without thinking, he blurted, “We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

Daniel clenched his jaw, the bunched muscles protruding from the pressure. “You’re right, we aren’t.”

***

Taking Johnny through the back gate brought the initial shock back; Daniel could see the wreckage as if through his eyes – the broken pots and tipped over plants, the shredded punching bag, the toilet paper all over the trees, the spray paint. He had been trying to clear it up for three hours, at least, and it still looked like he hadn’t even started. It almost made him turn around and leave – though what he would do when he left, Daniel couldn’t tell. He was stuck between wanting to fix everything, put it all back the way Miyagi had it and going to a bar and getting wretchedly drunk.

“Holy shit,” Johnny breathed beside him. Daniel spared him a glance, enough to see that he was clearly still dressed for the beach, and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t called to tell Johnny he wasn’t coming – that felt like the closest thing to a courtesy he could give him when he saw the dojo. He had stood there, where Johnny was standing now, trying to reconcile the Johnny he had been thinking about against his will all week with the one who was callous enough to send his students to do something like this.

He didn’t dare hope that Johnny had nothing to do with it, lest he be wrong.

“Where do you need me, boss?” Johnny asked when Daniel didn’t answer.

“Uh,” he stammered, looking around the yard. “We really just need to get the trash picked up first.”

“Cool,” Johnny said, turning away and yanking toilet paper out of the tree beside him. “Go get some water, LaRusso, you look dead on your feet.”

“I don’t need –”

“You do,” Johnny interrupted, and there was that unfathomable softness again, apparent in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the set of his mouth. “Go get some water, and get some for my kid, too.”

Daniel stared at him for a moment, trying to replace the hardened, angry face of Johnny Lawrence in his mind with this almost reasonable one. He sighed, feeling his muscles ache with the breath, and nodded. He returned a few minutes later with cold bottles of water, holding them up for the kids to see. He could feel Johnny watching him as he passed them out, cracking his own open and drinking greedily until the bottle was empty.

When he looked back, Johnny gave him a self-satisfied smirk and kept cleaning.

Daniel felt like he was being constantly barraged by epiphanies about Johnny Lawrence lately. He remembered keenly the understanding he felt when he stood next to him at his childhood apartment.

“A nice house doesn’t mean nice things are going on inside.”

The words made so many unexplained details about Johnny make sense that Daniel kept catching himself thinking about it weeks after. No wonder Johnny had been so angry as a teenager – no wonder he’d adapted so well to Kreese’s teachings. No wonder karate had always been so important, and such a dire skill to learn.

Now, he was seeing new facets, like Johnny surfing, still boyish and energetic in the ocean, familiar and knowledgeable in the way Daniel always wanted to be about anything.

And here he was, slaving away under the hot sun, to prove to Daniel that he hadn’t trashed his dojo.

Daniel wanted to comment that he didn’t think a rich boy from Encino could work so hard, but he found that he was unwilling to break the easy peace they’d found. Instead, he helped Johnny unhook the punching bag from its hook and carried it inside with him.

“I can tape it up,” Johnny said, surveying the cuts critically. “That should hold it for a while, depending on how much you wail on this thing daily.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ll get the tape.”

He ended up kneeling across from Johnny on the wood floor, his hands holding the different gashes together so Johnny could tape them closed, his hands both careful and sure.

“I will find out who did this,” Johnny said after a while, peeling another piece of duct tape free. “I didn’t teach them –”

“I know you didn’t,” Daniel interrupted, and he could see Johnny turn his head to see his face more clearly. “No criminal worth his salt would stay to clean up the mess.”

Johnny chuckled, a genuine laugh under his breath, and Daniel smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever heard that laugh before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Daniel muttered, ducking his head lower, closer to the punching bag so Johnny couldn’t see it. “I should have.”

“No,” Johnny muttered, pressing the duct tape into the gash Daniel was holding closed, his fingers brushing over Daniel’s as he secured the tape in place. “I wouldn’t have called me either.”

Daniel looked up at him, accidentally catching his gaze and holding it. There was a sadness in Johnny’s eyes that Daniel could feel, radiating from him like he was trying to warn him away. He wondered why that was. He could feel the edge of Johnny’s hand, pressed onto the punching bag right near his own, warm and soft.

“John –”

“Dad,” Sam blurted, trotting up the stairs and into the house. “We need more hands to pick up the statue.”

Daniel tore his eyes away and found his daughter, face red and hair frazzled. “I’ll be right there,” he said.

“Let’s go,” Johnny said, picking up the punching bag, his voice a forced replica of his usual tone. “I’ll help you.”

Daniel was left to gape after him as he carried the heavy bag by himself back to its hook and replaced it.

***

Johnny couldn’t explain where his strange feeling of hope came from, but once it settled in, he couldn’t shake it. Something about working with Daniel to fix that punching bag, the way they spoke plainly, even if they said it while looking at the punching bag instead of each other, felt important, like Daniel was starting to see him as something other than an immature bully.

He followed Daniel and Sam to the tipped over statue, where tracks in the grass told him that Robby and Sam had already tried to pick up the statue themselves and stumbled. He could tell just by looking at it that it was too heavy for the kids to pick up by themselves, and maybe even too heavy to himself and Daniel to pick up.

“Robby, can you get me those two broken fence planks?” he asked. Robby furrowed his brows at him in confusion but didn’t argue, trotting off to grab the planks.

“What are you thinking?” Daniel asked, stepping closer to him, close enough that Johnny could smell that he was wearing sunscreen. He was reminded, again, of their plans to be at the beach.

“If we can use those rocks and the planks to get the statue just a few inches off the ground, we can probably get it the rest of the way ourselves,” Johnny said. “I had to do this at a landscaping job I did about ten years ago. Some rich Encino broad –” he caught Sam’s close gaze out of the corner of his eye. “Some rich Encino…woman…insisted that she wanted slabs of marble sticking out of her garden in the back yard, and one of them fell over. I was the only one there, so I had to get creative to get it back up.”

“You did a landscaping job?” Daniel asked as Johnny passed him a plank.

“You’re the white-collar guy here, LaRusso,” Johnny remarked, shoving the plank under the statue. “Not me.”

Daniel didn’t answer him, but mirrored his movements, setting his own plank underneath the statue and looking to Johnny for his cue.

The statue was heavier than he expected, but after a few seconds of struggling, it started to lift off the grass. Daniel huffed a surprised scoff, too out of breath to do anything else, and Johnny grinned at him.

Robby and Sam slipped in and took hold of the statue, Johnny and Daniel following, and after some clumsy struggling, the statue was upright again and looking as sturdy against the fence as it had before. The kids cheered, high-fiving first each other, and then their fathers.

“Alright, you two, why don’t you go cool off in the shade and drink some more water?” Daniel said, his eyes landing only momentarily on Johnny. They obliged without argument, trudging off toward the house with heavy feet.

Johnny could feel Daniel’s eyes on him in the wake of the kids’ absence. He turned away from him and surveyed the garden, far more tranquil than it had been when he arrived. He could hear the running water and the deep sound of the wood chimes that he’d heard when Robby called.

He could understand, in quiet moments like this, why Daniel was so protective of this place.

“I want you to try something,” Daniel’s voice broke through his reverie. Johnny turned to see him, a smile just barely quirking his lips upward, his hair tousled and messy from the wind and the work. The sun was starting to sink behind him, leaving gold behind in strands of his hair, his skin supple and dark in the sunlight.

“Is this when you tell me you have weed?” Johnny replied.

Daniel rolled his eyes and led Johnny to the edge of a pond where a round platform floated in the middle.

“Torture device?” Johnny asked.

“Get in the pond, Johnny,” Daniel said, toeing off his own shoes at the edge.

“Are there fish in there?” Johnny asked, peering in.

“There aren’t fish in there,” Daniel laughed.

“Are you sure –?”

Before he could finish, Daniel had grabbed him around the middle and pulled him into the pond with him. The water was ice cold when he went in, so cold he felt the shock ricochet through his body. And then he felt Daniel’s arms around his middle, just barely releasing so they could find the surface safely, and the cold didn’t matter.

He broke the surface, spluttering, and found Daniel grinning at him, trying to hold back his laughter. He launched himself in Daniel’s direction, catching him around the shoulders and shoving him into the water, yanking him back up only a moment later, hand tight around Daniel’s upper arm.

“You don’t want to play that game with me,” Daniel said warningly, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning like a fool. “I’ve been almost drowning my cousins since I lived in Newark.”

“I grew up in the ocean, LaRusso, a body of water intent on drowning you without any help,” Johnny retorted, still holding tight to Daniel’s arm. “I think I can handle you.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows at him, and before Johnny could think of another witty retort, Daniel’s leg was snaking around his and yanking his feet out from under him, sending them both below the surface of the water.

Beneath the surface, Johnny could see the stones on the bottom of the pond, recently scraped clean of algae, if the little green spots in the cracks of the rocks were any indication. Daniel, beside him, was untangling himself from Johnny’s legs, swimming toward the surface again. Deftly, without any struggle, Johnny waited until he broke the surface, gave him time to take a breath, and wrapped his legs around Daniel’s waist, pulling him back down below again.

Daniel glared at him, his eyes almost black under the water, and pushed them both to the surface.

“Okay, okay, time out, we’re actually going to drown each other,” Daniel said, one arm sliding around the small of Johnny’s back to hold him up in the water.

It wasn’t until Daniel’s hand settled on his hip that Johnny realized he still had his legs hooked around Daniel’s waist. He just assumed Daniel would break free of the hold when he made his way to the surface.

His surprise must have shown on his face because he could both hear and feel Daniel chuckle.

“Thank you,” he said, and if Johnny hadn’t been so close, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “For today.”

Johnny didn’t know what to say. Brushing off Daniel’s thanks would feel like he was cheapening what they had accomplished today, which, based on their track record of working together, was unheard of. But he didn’t really feel like what he did required thanks when really all he wanted was to prove to Daniel he hadn’t trashed the dojo.

And then he remembered one of the love languages that Miguel told him about.

Acts of service.

Perhaps this was the one that would work.

He watched, as if in slow motion, Daniel’s gaze drop to his lips. There was still water running down his face, settling at the point of his chin, dripping in the silence, harmonizing with the chimes at the back door to the house. He could lean in – he moved to unhook his legs from around Daniel’s waist, but Daniel’s arm around him tightened and stilled his movement.

“Tighten your legs,” Daniel said quietly, the same words Johnny said to him last week, and Johnny’s gaze snapped up to his eyes, deep, soulful brown in the shade, eyelashes still wet.

He could lean in – he watched Daniel lick his lips and reached up to grab onto the side of the pond, steadying them both against the side. He leaned in, just a fraction –

“Dad –”

Immediately, Johnny released Daniel’s waist and moved away, far enough that he bumped against the platform floating in the pond.

Daniel’s eyes were still on him, dark and unreadable. “Yes, Sam?”

“Sensei Kreese is here.”

#lawrusso #Johnny Lawrence and the five Love languages

12 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 26

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud

They haven’t spoken since they left the house; a rather brief and terse conversation about where Millie had left not only her shoes, but the noise cancellation headphones she likes to use on trips out of town. That was twenty minutes ago; halfway into their drive to Port Douglas and not one single word has been exchanged, nor even a sidelong glance. They’re both on edge; the aftereffects of the long and exhausting night before, Esme’s brief yet intense battle with a PTSD ‘flare up’, and now the raw and anxious nerves surrounding the visit with Tyler’s father.

The nightmare plays on a continuous loop in his mind; the old man’s booming voice and vicious words, his mother’s tearful begging and pleading that only cease when the beating begins, Austin’s appearance as a grown man and his refusal to lave Millie behind. It’s all there; every vision, every sound. Even the feel of his heart breaking deep within his chest and the scalding sting of tears as they rolled down his face. And the cravings linger, his brain and body desperate for those old vices. The only coping mechanism he’s ever known or practiced. It’s the familiarity of the old life that he misses; not the dirty work or the blood on his hands but the escape the job had provided him with. He’d constantly been on the go; jumping from place to place, relying only on his skills –and his confidence in them- to get him through each day. He hadn’t had time to think; too busy trying to keep himself and others alive. Now it seems as if he has all the time in the world to think. To dwell. And it’s slowly tearing him apart inside. He knows he should be grateful for what he’s been given; a second chance at life, a normal existence surrounded by people who love him and depend on him. And he IS. Yet at the same time, the past won't leave him alone. It had been his way of life for half of his years on earth, and both his brain and his body are struggling to let go.

Guilt. So much guilt. Over the fact he just can’t it go. That he can’t leave the past where it belongs and be content with a normal existence. He’s one of the lucky ones; he’d gotten out of the game relatively healthy and with most of his sanity still intact. He was able to find someone to have a family with; someone that not only understood the hardships and the horrors of the job, but didn’t judge him for the things he’d done or the mistakes he made or the number of broken and often dead bodies he left in his wake. Tons of mercs would give anything to be in his shoes, they’d kill –figuratively and some probably literally- to get even a taste of love and happiness and domesticity. And yet he was taking it all for granted and practically pissing it away.

He casts a glance through the rear view mirror. Millie with her earphones on, her face intense and her eyes riveted on whatever game or movie she has playing on the tablet in her lap; her baby sister fast asleep in the car seat beside her. She’d forgiven him quickly. He’d sat down next to her on the patio and had never said a word; giving her the time and the space to brood and to get over her temporary hate for him. And in a matter of minutes she’d been climbing up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck and he in turn had been apologizing profusely for hurting her. He’d never meant to pull her hair or yell at her afterwards; explaining that he had a lot of things on his mind and they were making him angry and anxious –and even sad- and that he never should have taken them out on her. And even though she’d held his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks and said “I still love you, daddy” in that little voice of hers, he had still felt like complete and utter shit for what he’d done.

He looks over at his wife next; sitting with her elbow resting on the window ledge, her eyes closed with her palm pressed against the side of her face and two fingertips massaging her temple. The color has returned to face; she looks healthy again, vibrant. But her shoulders remain incredibly tense and her jaw tightly clenched.

“It’s why you have a headache,” Tyler points out, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Your jaw. Clenching it like that. It’s why you feel like shit.”

He braces for it. A smart-ass comment or just a ‘fuck off, Tyler’, but neither come. Instead she gives a shaky smile and closes her eyes once more; thumb and forefinger moving up to rub at the bridge of her nose. But he notices her jaw relaxes and her shoulders drop slightly; it’s a good sign, he figures. She hasn’t told him where to go and how to get there and she’s finally starting to relax. So he takes it one step further, dropping a hand from the steering wheel and reaching across the middle console to lay it on her thigh. Feeling his own sense of relief when she doesn’t shoot him a dirty look or yank her leg away.

“You look really nice,” he says, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her knees as he admires her simple cotton sundress. A light orange that reminds him of the tail end of the sunrise, with a neckline that sits off her shoulders and a hem that just skims the bottom of her knees. It’s hard sometimes; finding just the right words, even when it comes to the simplest of comments or what should be the easiest of compliments. He knows what he wants to say but doesn’t always know how to get the thought across. Usually he’ll rely on body language and facial expressions; she’s always been on expert on reading them, right from the start. That second morning in Dhaka when she’d told him that his eyes did all the talking for him.

Her eyes open once more and this time she turns her face towards him and gives a smile of her own. Then lays her hand on top of his own and pushes her fingers through his.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “What happened with Millie. I didn’t mean to pull her hair. It was an accident. My mind completely wandered and...”

“You know what’s not what upset her, right?” Esme gently interjects. “It’s not that you pulled her hair. She knew you didn’t mean to do it. It’s that you yelled at her. You hurt her feelings. You scared her.”

“I didn’t mean to do THAT either.”

“What’s going on with you? First last night, now freaking out on Millie.”

“I had a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares before.”

“I’m not talking about the nightmare. I’m talking about other things. When we were...you know...” she peeks over her shoulder, making sure that Millie isn’t paying attention. She’s fallen asleep; her head resting on the side of her booster seat, hair falling over her face and those long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks. “You were rough,” Esme continues. “And I’m not talking about your usual rough. The rough that I like. I mean like hard core rough. It wasn’t you, Tyler. It was...I don’t know...scary.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if she even wants him to say anything. At first, he’d thought it was all part of the game she likes to play; how she gets when she’s egging him on to be aggressive and manhandle her. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be pain involved; hair pulling, choking, bite marks and bruises left behind. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her resistance and her fighting back were genuine; not until she’d started to cry, and he realized that not only were the tears real, but so was the fear in her eyes. Suddenly it wasn’t a game anymore and he felt sick. That he could ever cause that kind of reaction in her when he’d spent years doing everything in his power to protect her.

“I know we joked about this morning,” she says. “But that? Last night? That was not you. That wasn’t even Dhaka Tyler. I don’t know who that was.”

He swallows heavily. There’s bile sitting square in his throat and he’s not sure he wants to vomit or cry. “I said I was sorry.” Tt sounds lame, even to his own ears.

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want you tell me what’s going on. And don’t say nothing. Because it’s been building and building. For days. You’re like this wire that’s being pulled too tight and you’re ready to snap. Things were fine. Things were good. So good. Is it us? Is there was the real issues? You’re not happy and you don’t want there to be an ‘us’ anymore?”

“What?” He can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes. Of all the fucking things she’d think, that is the most ridiculous. At least in his eyes. “Baby, you know that’s not it. That it’s not us. You and I are the only thing that’s NOT going to shit right now.”

“Then what is it?” she presses. “I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself most of the time. I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me. What is it?”

“It’s everything,” he admits. “Every single fucking thing. It’s Ovi and it’s Nik and it’s Millie’s birthday and it’s my father and it’s...everything.”

“Then tell Nik you’re not doing it. Call her and tell her you changed your mind. That she needs to find someone to train him. Because if it’s going to tear you apart like this...”

“I can’t. I can’t back out now. I bailed on her once. I can’t do it again.”

“Fuck Nik. You did what you had to do to keep your sanity and come home to your family. You CAN back out. And you need to know if you feel you can’t do it or if it’s only going to make things worse for you. Stop being so fucking stubborn and like yourself for once. Jesus Christ. Why do you do this? Why do you not care about what you’re going through?”

“I have to do it,” Tyler insists. “It’s Ovi, I can’t let him down. No matter how pissed off I am. No matter how much I want to fucking strangle him. If I don’t help and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. And that’ll be a hundred times worse than what I’m going through right now.”

“I don’t want you doing this if it’s going to break you, if it’s only going to tear you apart from the inside out. I don’t want that happening to you. Because there’s six people that you need you, Tyler. Whether you think we do or not. I do not want this destroying you.”

“I just need to get through it,” he reasons. “I just need to bust his ass and hope it either breaks him and he gives up, or that I did a good enough job to keep him alive.”

“And if you have to go in and get what? What then?”

“Then I pray I don’t fuck up and I make it home.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” she mutters, then inhales deeply and exhales slowly, grip on his hand tightening. And minutes pass before she speaks again. “Do you miss it?” she asks, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “The job. Do you miss it? I want you to be honest with me. I want you tell me the truth even if it’s going to hurt. Even if you know I’m going to hate what I hear.”

“Esme...”

“Tyler,” her tone is firm. No nonsense. “Tell me the truth. Because lying about it will only make it worse. For both of us. Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“How often is sometimes?”

Sighing, he releases the hold on her hand and scratches at the back of his head. A nervous habit. “Lately? Every day.”

“Wow...” her eyes widen, and she nods slowly. “...I was not expecting THAT.”

He’s immediately on the defensive. “You wanted me to tell you. You told me to tell you the truth. So I am. You...”

“Every day, though? Every day for how long?”

“A couple weeks. Maybe more. A month at the most.”

She blinks in disbelief. “A month? A fucking month? Addie isn’t even a month old You’re telling me that I was still pregnant with her...trying to keep her inside of me so she’d stand a chance if she was born too early...and that entire time you were missing the job? While I’m trying to keep your daughter safe and alive, you were thinking about THAT? Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

“I don’t want to fight,” he keeps his voice and calm and even, despite the fact he feels every remaining of control being chipped away. “You told me to tell you the truth and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I mean I expected you to miss it and a hard time giving it up. But a month? You’ve been away from it for half a goddamn year. So five months you were fine and now all of a sudden...”

“It’s just because of Ovi. If he’d never come to me with that shit....”

“That was a week ago. Not a month ago. What explains the three weeks before he said anything? Are you serious right now, Tyler? What the fuck?!”

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? That it makes me sick that I miss it? That I fucking hate myself for even thinking about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I feel like a shit human being because of it?”

“I want you to hear you say that you don’t want to go back to it!”

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. I said I missed it sometimes.”

“What is there to miss? Getting stabbed? Getting shot? Getting fucked over by guys like Mahajan? Killing people?”

“No,” he scowls. “I don’t miss that. What the fuck? Is that what you think of me? That that’s who I am? That I enjoy that shit?”

“Then what the hell is it? Because it didn’t end well, Tyler. It didn’t end well in New Zealand and it sure as hell didn’t end well in Dhaka. What is there to miss?”

He struggles to keep his composure. “Esme, I don’t want to fight. Can we do this later? Can we not wait until we get home to talk about this? Can we just get this visit out of the goddamn way before talking about anything else? I just want to get to my dad’s, stay for a bit, and then leave. Then we can talk about whatever you want.”

“A month? A fucking month?”

“Esme...stop...please...I don’t want to fight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t...”

“I said I don’t want to fucking fight!” He roars, and his foot slams down on the brake. Bringing the truck to an abrupt and violent halt in the middle of the backwoods country road; tires crunching on stones and gravel, sending plumes of dust and dirty swirling and dancing around them. His chest feels impossibly tight; his heart races and his lungs with every breathe he tries to draw in. He’s dizzy, nauseous; sweat gathers across his forehead and at his temples and back of his neck. And he’s suddenly aware of how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel; knuckles turning white and cracking, wounds reopening.

*****

“Tyler...”

He’s vaguely aware of the hand on his bicep and the sound of her voice; urgent and concerned. It seems as if she’s far away; distorted and muffled, as if he’s underwater and can’t quite make out what she’s saying to him. And as the pressure in his chest builds, it becomes fight of flight. He chooses the latter; throwing the truck into park and reaching for his seat belt, fingers numb and hands trembling as he struggles with the release. Frustration sets in; profanities slipping from parched lips, hot, bitter tears streaming down his cheeks.

He feels as if he’s on auto-pilot, no longer in control of his actions. And the gravel cracks and pops under his feet as he finally escapes, fresh air feeling as if it’s scalding his already aching as he draws it in large, choking gulps. Wobbling slightly with each step he takes, hands on his hips as he repeatedly paces the length of the truck. The simple counting begins to settle him; one foot in front of the other, reciting the number of steps in his head. The same way he had almost seven years ago on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. When he’d first stepped onto its war zone and began that long and tedious journey to freedom. He’d been in agonizing pain; quickly losing blood, growing weaker with each inch, yet continuing to advance. Spurred on by what he had waiting for him once he finally made it.

And then Saju’s dead body and the sniper and his useless right leg forcing him to drag himself to safety. A tearful Ovi at his side, begging him to get up.

Dhaka. Fuck. Fucking Dhaka. It makes the panic build again. Makes it all so seem real; like he’s right there again. Tasting his blood in his mouth and feeling that absence of strength and hope. But he hadn’t been ready to give up just yet. Because he had something...someone...to lose and was going to fight for them. And there’d been that glimmer of hope; when he’d gunned down those last two assailants and limped his way towards the finish line. But that little bastard Farhad had shot him from behind and...

Fuck Farhad. Fuck Dhaka. Fuck Amir and Gaspar.

He forces all thought and memory of it out of his mind; closing his eyes as he leans back against the grill of the truck. Concentrating on better things...happier things. Getting married, experiencing the birth of his ‘rainbow baby’ and all the others that came after her. Reminding himself that he has people who love him. Unconditionally. That rely on him and depend on him and make him want to be a better man. He would have given up a long ago; had he NOT had them. If Esme hadn’t have been there when he woke up in the hospital nearly seven years ago.

His breathing has returned to normal and the dizziness and nausea nonexistent when he hears one of the doors open behind him. The sudden press of her shoulder against his is comforting; it grounds him. Brings him back to the here and now. She’s done this before; talked him down from many a ledge. And he has no idea why she sticks around and keeps giving him chance after chance, but he’s thankful she does.

“Hold your daughter, Tyler,” she says, as Addie lays along her arm. “Hold her and feel how real she is. Feel that she’s here. That YOU’RE here. Not wherever your brain is telling you you are.”

“I can’t. Not like this. What if I hurt her? What if I...”

“Take her,” Esme insists, and he relents, bringing that baby...HIS baby...up to his chest; one hand on the back of her head, a forearm under the bum. She’s so tiny...so light...so fragile. So perfect and pure. And he places his nose against the side of her head; feeling her hair against his skin, taking in the soft scent that clings to her clothing and hair, feeling her warm and the beat of her heart against him.

“That’s your reason,” Esme tells him. “Your purpose. Why you have to keep fighting and not let this destroy you.”

The tears come again, a mixture of shame and guilt. That he can have so much but not even realize it or appreciate it. That he was even given these things in the first place. All the bed decisions, all the blood on his hands...

“I’m sorry.” he manages. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” Her hand is on his back, resting between his shoulders. He can’t bring himself to look at her; afraid of what he’ll see her eyes. Disgust. Disappointment. Regret. “What are you sorry for?” she asks.

“Everything. Everything fucking things. All the shit I’ve put you through. That I STILL keep putting you through. I fucking hate myself for it.”

“I know you do. And I don’t' want you to. You have no reason to hate yourself.”

“Dhaka.” He says simply.

“Dhaka has nothing to do with this. I’ve told you a million times that I don’t blame you for how things went. You did everything you could that day. For Ovi. For me. It was out of your control. There was nothing more you could have done. You don’t think I realize that?”

“On the bridge. You shouldn't have had to do what you did.”

“That’s not your fault either. I don’t blame you for what I had to do or what I saw. I don’t you responsible for that. And I sure as hell don’t hate you. What will it take to make you realize that? To stop all that guilt and all that blame and all that hate for yourself. What more do you need me to say? Because I’ll say it. Whatever you need to hear, I will tell you.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I just don’t fucking know.”

“This has to stop. The way you shouldn’t try to deal with every goddamn thing on your own. Stop keeping shit inside and letting it eat you alive.”

“Why do even stay with me?” he asks. “When I’m such a fucking mess?”

“Because I love you. Because you’re my husband and my lover and my confidant and my best friend. Because you have a huge heart and you’re a good man that was forced to do terrible things.”

“But my brain...”

“Is troubled and beautiful and it’s going to be okay. You’re not only in this Tyler. Stop acting like you are. Let me help you. Let me love you. Please.”

Esme curls her arm around his waist and rests her head against his arm, and for several minutes never of them speak. And eventually the tears subside, and he takes a long, shaky breath and places his lips against the side of Addie’s head.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and presses a series of light, feathery kisses to his shoulder.

“Yeah...I’m okay.”

“We should just go home. You can call your dad’s and tell them that something came up and reschedule. I don’t think...”

“I’m fine. I told Millie I’d do this for her.”

“You know,” Esme muses. “You’re going to have to eventually say no to her. She's going need to learn about disappointment at some point in time.”

“Not today though. Let’s just do this. For her. Okay?”

“Okay. Do you want me to drive or...”

“You are NOT driving my truck,”

She smirks. “I think you love your truck more than me some days.”

“There’s nothing I love more than you.”

She smiles at that, and he kisses her softly. “I’ve driven your truck before,” she reminds him.

“And I’ve had it every time. You know how long it takes me to reset everything? Mirrors? Seat? I get in and my knees are up by my ears.”

“I have little legs! I can’t help it. Just because you’re absurdly tall...”

“Have you ever considered I’m normal height and you’re absurdly short?”

“You’re not normal height,” she laughs. “Not even close to it. You’re all legs and torso. And so are you kids. Well, except for this little nugget,” she smiles down at Addie. “This one is all me.”

“Poor kid.”

“Hey!” she objects and pinches his side. “That’s not nice!”

Tyler grins. “Can we still be friends?”

“Maybe. Depends how you make it up to me.”

“I’ll buy you tacos for lunch.”

“That’ll do,” she says, and stands on her tip toes to kiss him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nods.

“I just want you to be healthy, Tyler. That’s all I want. Because I love you and I worry about you and I don’t anything happening to you. You need to stop torturing yourself so much about Dhaka. I’ve never blamed you. Or hated you. What happened is not your fault. I need you to realize that.”

“I’ll try,” he promises. “I’ll try remembering that.”

“You saved my life. Not just there. In general. In every way a person CAN be saved. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her once more. “So much.”

“I love you too. Which is why I stay. Don’t ever ask me that again.”

“I won’t.”

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and rubs the middle of this back. “When you’re ready,” she says, and gives him a small smile before returning to the truck.

He wonders if he ever will be. Ready. If he’ll be able to truly let the past go.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

15 notes · View notes

doginshoe · 5 years

Text

What You’d Do To Me Tonight

summary: Lucy had been in a blooming high school romance, but now that the love has wilted between her and her husband, she searches for a solace. However, she finds it in an already broken man that manages to set her alight in more ways then one. When her secrets spill, she finds her world begins to crumble from beneath her feet as the two men in her life torture her already broken heart. TW: contains mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking, discussion of suicide related thoughts, abuse and swearing

thank you to @bmarvels and @katana-no-neko for reading this over for you. Ily guys

tagging: @lovelyluce @shadyhydrathesnekqueen @trollka21 @thewitcharisa @rvrplayz @millennial-star-gazer @sobatsu

part 3.

Lucy didn’t see Natsu for awhile after what happened. She told herself that she wasn’t ignoring him. She was just busy, yet she deliberately left her second phone in her drawer at work instead of hiding it underneath her mattress like she usually did. There was something unsettling about facing him again, even reading his texts she felt… guilty. Just thinking about what happened gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach that made her drum her fingers harder on her desk.

She knew she couldn’t handle lying to him again so she stayed away.

Though, she could almost call the turn of events lucky. Jackal was getting worse and she could sense that he knew something wasn’t right. He called her randomly throughout the day while she was at work, always asking when exactly she’d be home and she had even caught him peeking through the blinds when she drove up the driveway after work one day.

It scared her because she knew exactly what he was doing - bubbling like a pot of water left on the stove that was soon to boil over. That was their rhythm. He would brood and manifest his thoughts, grabbing anything that he could use against her and twisting it into something elaborate so he could pin it against her. So he had a reason.

The first time she had never been more confused and so full of self hatred. They had been at a party - a neighbourhood get together. She had smiled and laughed with her friends just like she normally would. Her mother and father had taught her how to engage, to be the perfect host or guest. It was in her nature to belong in the crowd.

Yet, apparently it had been a mistake. Jackal had grabbed her wrist. Hard. She looked at him with her eyebrows drawn in, questioning, but he only told her that they had to go home. He dragged her away with a flat goodbye and Lucy could only send a quick uneasy smile at the other party goers before they were out the door and he had told her to get in the car.

Those were the last people to see Lucy for a week afterwards.

They sat in silence as they made the drive home. She was in the passenger seat whilst she nervously bit her nails into her thighs whilst she tried to think of something to say. She wanted to know what was wrong, yet she was scared. Their fighting had been worse and she didn’t want to make him angry again. She never wanted to make him angry.

However, Lucy still spoke up. Her voice was meek and she found it hard to look at him, but if she could help him… She still loved him after all. He was her husband.

“Did something happen, Jackal.” She paused. “I didn’t think we would be leaving so ear-”

The car picked up speed as he started yelling. His eyes turned to her and they swerved on the road, barely keeping control as he lost it.

“You’re a filthy slut.” He had called her and tears welled up in her eyes as fear grabbed hold of her heart.

“You were going to sleep with him. Think I wouldn’t notice if you slipped away, huh?”

He grabbed a hold of her hair, the car swerving again as he picked up more speed.

“I-I don't know what you’re talking about,” Lucy screamed, but he only pulled on her hair harder. “Please, Jackal! I wasn’t doing anything. I would never do that to you. I love yo-”

He slammed on the breaks as she spoke, releasing his grip on her hair and letting Lucy’s face collide with the dashboard. There was a cut on her eyebrow and blood dribbled down to her nose. All she could remember was the metallic taste in her mouth, his manic screaming turning into white noise around her as she spat out blood.

Lucy blinked as her phone rang and she frowned down at her legs where she had unconsciously been scratching at her thighs again. At least she was wearing a skirt.

Her eyes turned to her bag where her phone hummed with the incoming call. With a sigh and a quick glance around the office she reached in to answer the device. She didn’t even have to check the ID to know who it was.

“Hello.” Her voice was hollow as she spoke, yet her fingers came back to pick at the fabric of her skirt.

“Hey, baby,” Jackal almost purred and she had to keep down a grimace, “When are you going to be home?”

Lucy hated it when he did this. The facade that he wore when he wanted to play with her, trying to spin her to get what he wanted. “Soon. I clock out at 4:30 since we aren't that busy on Tuesdays.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

The call ended and Lucy felt her stomach pool with unease. He didn’t even wait for her to offer a goodbye, not that it would be anything but clipped and short. She had stopped offering him a strained ‘I love you’ a long time ago.

With a sigh, she turned her focus back to her work, though she didn’t want to get it done. The longer she stayed the more time she had free from him, but her frown deepened. That wasn’t an option now.

He was closing in on her and it was almost suffocating.

Lucy unconsciously flicked her gaze to the phone in her drawer and she was tempted - to just fake sick right now and show up at his door. She closed her eyes as she imagined Natsu’s arms around her, the way his grin would almost constantly be plastered on his face. It wasn’t just the way he touched her anymore. He was safe.

She shook her head when the memories stirred of her last visit, the feeling from before tugging at her. Lucy always knew it was there. The guilt, but it was small - a weed that she could stamp out when it started to spread its roots. Yet, when she had lied to him it wrapped itself around her heart, tight. It was a reminder of what she was doing to him and she didn’t want to face that. Lucy needed him.

She rubbed at her eyes before she rested her head in her hands, a grumble stirring in her throat as she pulled her gaze back to her work in front of her.

It was going to be a long day.

With a huff she buried herself in her work. It was tedious enough and soon the thoughts that plagued her mind were set aside whilst she sorted through papers and files. Though, she barely got an hour through when a sharp buzz interrupted her train of thought. With a click of her pen, she pulled open her drawer, her hand shuffling to the back of her stuff before they pulled out the buzzing cell phone.

“Come over?”

The text lit up the screen and Lucy stared down at it. Natsu had no idea just how much he pulled her in, but her thoughts once again drifted back to that night and she threw it back into her desk. She couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Jackal was waiting for her anyway.

Her eyes glided to the time. 4:21pm.

Lucy sighed, again. Her whole body sagging with exhaustion as she thought of what waited for her.

She packed her stuff, shrugging on her coat before her gaze turned to her desk drawer. Her eyes glazed over with emotion, everything in that moment coming to the surface as she looked down. She had tried not to think about her other device that laid there. She wasn’t ready for him yet, but the itch was there. His text was still fresh in her mind and Lucy swayed between her choices. With a frustrated huff, she pulled open the drawer before stuffing the crappy phone deep into her bag, into the zipper alongside her spare pads.

It wasn’t like she would answer him, she told herself. It was for the comfort and that was all.

When Lucy opened the door to her home, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Jackal was poised on the couch, freshly showered and dressed up as he watched TV with a beer in his hand. She let out a short breath as she adjusted her bag and went to make her way up the stairs.

“You’re late.”

His voice echoed in the house and she stiffened in response.

After a pause she turned, her eyes meeting his as he turned his body towards her. “I told you. I don’t get off till 4:30. Plus the traffic was a little heavy on the way back.”

Lucy turned away from him, her feet turning to carry her to the kitchen as she heard him rise from the couch. She kept her bag on her shoulder as she opened the fridge to keep her hands busy, careful not to let him see the tremble of her fingers as he followed her steps.

“I was thinking we should go out tonight,” he said.

Her hand reached for the jug of water before she closed the fridge, her gaze barely reaching his as she walked to the cupboard for a cup.

“Really?” Lucy asked, “What for?”

She turned to him then, her lips curling up into a small forced smile.

He was quiet as he watched her pour water into the glass, his eyes flicking to her hands and then back to her eyes. It wasn’t until she had finished that he spoke, his gaze locked with her own and Lucy desperately wanted to run away - to tear her eyes from his.

“I think we deserve some time together.” His hand slid to her own and Lucy flinched. Jackals gaze darkened, but he still grabbed her smaller one. “It's been so long since we’ve been anywhere.”

Lucy’s gaze snapped to where his hand held her own.

“You’ve been good lately, Lucy,” He praised as he rubbed his thumb over her hand, “I felt that you’ve really been listening to me.” His grip tightened. “I want to treat you.”

She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as her lungs swelled inside her chest. He was too close, his hand on her. It was too much. Lucy pulled her hand back, but he caught her before she could and her breath hitched.

“I-I’m kind of tired,” She breathed, “It’s been such a long day at work and maybe you should just go on without me.”

Lucy took a chance, her eyes flicking up but she regretted it instantly. He was staring down at her with such an intensity that she felt her throat constrict. Her whole body tensing as his light green eyes held her in place with a piercing look. Her brain told her to run.

His lips were pulled into a deep frown. “I planned this for you.”

She couldn’t help the scoff that left her lips. “Sure. That’s what you did this for.”

He let go of her hand as he stood up abruptly, his gaze fierce as he grabbed a hold of her face and turned it towards his.

“Watch your mouth,” Jackal growled before he dropped her face harshly, letting her gaze fall to burn holes in the ground as he moved his way around the bench to her side.

“I wanted us to spend some time together… but I guess you have plans with someone else.”

Lucy shook her head, her hands curling in small fists as she refused to look at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“What?” A dry laugh left his lips. “You really think I believe you? I know you’re trying to sneak around behind my back.” He took a swig from his beer and Lucy could smell the alcohol on his breath as he stood near her. She kept her breath bated as he towered behind her, making her shoulders slump as she kept her head down.

“Please, Jackal,” She whispered, “Don’t do this.”

He laughed again. “Do what? I’m not doing anything, Lucy. It’s all you.” His words were laced with disgust as he said her name. As if just her existence repulsed him.

Natsu’s face flashed in her mind as Jackal continued to degrade her. He didn’t know… He couldn’t know… She repeated to herself. He always did this - trying to push it all on her like he always did, like he did at that party all those years ago.

“You forget.” Lucy was shaking now. “That it was actually all you.”

He slapped her across the side of the face, his palm pushing her head to the side. The sting burned it’s way across her cheek - spreading up her brow and to her nose where it then began to pulse when he pulled his hand away.

“Lucy... oh, Lucy. You know I love you... so just tell me the truth.” His words were sickly sweet, mocking almost as he snaked behind her and laid his lips alongside the shell of her ear.

“There's... n-no one else I promise,” she whispered and she closed her eyes as the tears started to spill down her cheeks, quiet sobs making her shoulders shake.

“Then tell me this.” He started slowly before his voice raised with each word, venom spilling into his tone, until he was shouting. “Why can I smell him on you?”

His bottle went flying from his hands as he threw it, the glass shattering against the wall. Lucy cried out in fear as she brought her hands up to her face to shield herself, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to escape from the reality she faced.

He grabbed at her arms, pulling them away from her face as he glared down at her. His breathing was heavy, dragging his shoulders high and making him look fierce. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and cried out as she tried to tear herself from his grip. Her arms pulling as she brought her leg up to kick him.

When her knee came up to strike his gut there was a gasp, and Lucy used the loosening of his hands on her wrists to break free. She didn’t look back as she bounded up the stairs, her blood pumping through her a mile a minute as she took each step three at a time. The walls around her blurred as she dashed through the house, her legs taking her to the only room in the house that had a lock. The bathroom.

There was an enraged shout that was closer than Lucy would’ve liked, her legs burning as she pushed them hard - to be faster.

When she finally had her hands locked around the door knob, she screamed as she saw Jackal. His hands unclenching and clenching into fists as he came down the hallway. He looked manic, his lips pulled back into a snarl as he shouted at her.

“Get back here you Cunt!”

Without a moment's hesitation Lucy slammed the door closed, the lock sliding across as a fist was brought down on the wooden barricade. The sounds echoed throughout the room like thunder as he banged and kicked in the door. She could only close her eyes, the tears halted in her panic as she held her breath whilst gripping the knob like a lifeline, her whole weight pressed up against it.

She would not let him in.

“You lying Bitch,” Jackal screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

He punched harder, the door vibrating underneath her in response to his assault. With every hit the lock pushed against its restraints - the door pushing an inch out of his frame, but Lucy kept herself there. She pushed harder against the door, bringing it closed every single time it threatened to waver.

She would not let him in.

There was a loud burst of frustration before he kicked the door, his voice hoarse from his screaming yet he continued to yell.

“Lucy!”

She would not let him in.

Her heart leapt in her chest as the final hit resounded throughout the bathroom then there was silence. Lucy stayed by the door, the blood thumping in her ears as she listening - waiting for another scream of her name or another fist against the door, but there was nothing.

It wasn’t until she heard the screeching of car wheels that the blonde released her breath - the much needed air filling her lungs as she tried to calm herself down. Her hands were trembling as she let go of the door, her body sliding down to rest on the cool tile. Exhaustion took over and every part of her body ached as she took in deep breaths.

She barely noticed as the tears started again. A choked sob leaving her lips as she cried on the floor and let everything out. Her chest was tight and she couldn’t shake the lump in her throat as she hiccuped. There was nothing in that moment except for falling apart and Lucy was at her breaking point.

It took her a long time until she pulled herself from the floor. Her hands finding the sink as she tried to find balance on her wobbling legs, finally resting her bag on the bench. She took a moment as she turned on the tap, the cold water rushing into the sink as Lucy splashed her face and rubbed at her eyes. It was only then that she brought her eyes up to her reflection.

Her cheeks were red, the one that Jackal had struck considerable so, the angry handprint on her face still fresh as it marked her face. Mascara was smudged around her eyes and ran down her face in black blotches. Though, none of that mattered to Lucy as she stared into her dull brown eyes. They were blank - hollow. It was as if the life had been sucked from their depths and they could no longer shine.

A sharp pain spread in her chest, but she barely reacted. The heartbreak of her own reflection was something she was so used to seeing. Lucy was completely numb to it now. She couldn’t waste more tears on something that she couldn’t change, something that she couldn’t fix.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she stripped down, her body protesting in response as her muscles pulled in their tensed up state. Her hands were still shaking, but the blonde could only think of getting into the bath - to soak everything away and forget.

She didn’t wait for it to fill before she climbed in. The water filling up around her as she relaxed into the tub. The steam rose from the scalding water but Lucy could only relish in the feeling as it pooled around her thighs and distracted her from the ache that resided in her body. Yet, she couldn’t enjoy it completely. Her eyes wide open as her mind worked tirelessly to catch up to where she was feeling.

The water came up higher, covering just below her chin as Lucy slowly sunk - her brown eyes staring up at the ceiling lifelessly. It was hot against her skin, but she still felt empty as the water kept filling the tub up, up and up. The heat was the only thing that grounded her as she lay in the large bath.

She was tired and in that moment she wished that the water would swallow her whole.

And she tried to force it. Her head slipping under the still water as she encased herself in the warmth and made it take her. Maybe if she stayed there long enough she really would disappear - everything would disappear. If she kept herself here she would be gone and there would be no more pounding on doors, no more tears and no more hurting. She would finally have the freedom that she needed. To feel safe and at ease in her own home.

But the burning in her lungs told her otherwise, as well as the new sound of her cell phone ringing out in the quiet bathroom. With a gasping breath Lucy broke the surface, her hands coming up to wipe at her eyes before she turned off the tap and directed her gaze to the bench where her phone buzzed.

Without a thought she stood, water sliding down her body and onto the rug as she padded her way across the tiles to her bag where she found the source of her ringtone.

Natsu.

“Hello,” she answered, and her gaze connected with her own in the mirror.

“Hi,” Natsu’s voice rang out from the other end, his soft tone stirring something familiar in Lucy - a feign feeling of what it would be like to fall in love. “What’ve you been up to, Stranger? You’re not ignoring my texts, are you?”

There was a pause for her end. The silence weighing down on her as she stood in the bathroom and repeated his words in her mind.

“N-No!” Her voice broke. “Of course not. I was just at work and it was busy so I completely forgot about answering.” Her heart panged in her chest.

“Well then, what do ya say? Have you been missing me as much as I’ve been missing you?”

She could almost see the flirty smile on his lips as she spoke, the words coming out confident and making Lucy take in a sharp breath. Her eyes flickered to the door and then to the full bathtub until they finally connected with her own reflection again - the smallest of twinkles in her eyes.

“You better be ready for me. I’m leaving in five.”

She didn’t wait for his reply before she hung up. His surprised words cutting cut off as she clicked the red dial button on her phone and her own smile made its way up Lucy’s lips.

If she couldn’t drown herself from existence than she could always pretend to herself that she had.

___ Hello! I don’t usually leave stuff under stories but, as I’m going to be participating in NaNo WriMo next month in November, I will putting all my works on hiatus so I can focus on reaching my 50,000 word goal (this is my goal but I won’t have a choice if inspiration hits.) If you like to stay up to date with this story than you can either follow me on ff.net. My user is the same on here or tell me in the replies to tag you when part 4 comes out in hopefully December. Thank you!

#nalu #Nalu fanfiction #fairy tail #fairytail #ft fanfiction #Nalu fanfic #natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #ft Jackal #what you'd do to me tonight #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: suicide #doginshoe #fanficiton

110 notes · View notes

jenovahh · 4 years

Text

Comm 05 - NSFW - Opulence Ch. 2

Rating: NC-17, Explicit Tags: Female!Reader, NTR, Cunnilingus, Penetration

A continuation from the same person who commissioned Opulence! Thank you so much!

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

He is displeased.

That much you can tell just by looking at how is jaw is clenched, his movements rigid, but still elegant as he uses his knife to cut off another piece of his steak. You can’t help the pit of guilt that sits deep within your heart, knowing that you are the cause of his unhappiness.

He’s not making conversation, leaving the outing feeling cold and forced, and you do your best to remain in high spirits despite knowing that this date gone sour is all due to your own indecision.

It had been about four or so months since start your affair; you hated calling it that, but could find no other word more fitting to the fact that you were still in a (supposedly) committed relationship while entertaining another man’s affections. Your own infidelity nagged at you in the back of your mind, the proverbial elephant in the room in every sense of the word.

Which is exactly why your lover was currently cutting very fiercely into his steak.

Since that first time you had come together with Emet-Selch, you made an arrangement meet on the weekends; you would take your car to a nearby parking garage where you would leave it there for the night and slip into Emet-Selch’s luxury car, legs cradled by his fine leather seats and his cologne filling your senses.

The first month or so was hot and heavy; with the two of you hardly able to keep your hands off each other. His hunger for you would spark your own, the two of you sometimes hardly able to even get through the door of his apartment before clothes would start getting pulled off, if they ever made it off at all. Emet-Selch was a lover beyond compare, always pleasing you, even if you knew it also fed into his own pride. He took great care at learning your needs, wanting to see to them before seeing to his own.

You wondered if the desire between the two of you was palpable, despite your best efforts to keep the appearance of “just friends” when you continued to meet at the local coffee shop for lunch. He continued to let you keep up appearances of paying for your own food, swiping your own card, but as soon as you sat down you’d find a crisp twenty dollar bill waiting for you at the table. It was obvious that eating out constantly at the small cafe didn’t even put a dent in his finances, let alone his ability to treat you to fine dining every weekend.

He had proved his devotion, his ability to love and provide for you time and time again. He had cared for you more than your boyfriend ever had, even at the start of your relationship when the butterflies were strongest, which served to twist the metaphorical knife just that deeper. At this point, anyone was well within their rights to ask why you still remained with your boyfriend, the fact you were cheating on him aside.

Why remain with someone who did not love you, when someone who wanted to give you the world was right there?

A part of you knew you were even more terrible continuing to lead Emet-Selch on like this. He deserved better, no matter how much you expressed your love in other ways. He did not always say it outright, that he was jealous, possessive of your attention.

It would show in how hungry his hands were, how hard he bit down onto your flesh to leave marks in places he knew would be hard for you to hide. Places where you’d have to get more creative in your lies to your boyfriend, hoping you would eventually run out. He would buy you clothes that were so clearly outside of your budget, that if your boyfriend had paid attention, he would have noticed. Any and everything to wrap you up in his love, a clear beacon to anyone that was paying attention that you belonged to him, even if you refused to accept it yet.

Though from his sour mood, you feared it might not be that much longer.

You lightly squirmed in your seat, feeling the delicate silk of your underwear beneath your dress. It was one of his favorite ensembles that he had gotten you, all black lace that was so sheer, one could question why you would wear it at all. Hopefully this would be enough to pull him from his obviously dour mood, and buy you a little more time to at least warm up to the idea of finally ending things with your boyfriend.

You do your best to not force what little conversation there is, talking idly about your day, your job and its many frustrations. He responds with slight grunts to let you know he is listening, but otherwise makes no point to engage at all. You suppose it’s only fair, even he has his limits. You say nothing as you both finish your dinner and don’t bother for dessert. He’s silent the entire time as he helps you back into your coat, as he helps you step into his car. You wonder if you should say something to ease the tension, but know that he will speak when he is ready.

The hotel’s opulent stone glints even in the night as he pulls up to the front, his hand already outstretched for the valet to take his keys before the poor lad can even rush over. His hand is warm as he helps you out of the car, ever the gentleman even if he is upset with you for reasons you are still unsure of. Instead, you focus on the echo of your heels against the fine marble flooring as you stroll through the lobby, doing your best to not clutch Emet-Selch’s arm too tightly lest you give away your anxiety. You can hardly remember him walking the two of you over to the receptionist where he pays for your room, so caught up in your thoughts.

The quiet hum of the elevator finally jolts you out of your stupor, your legs moving automatically at the slight tug of Emet-Selch pulling you along out of the elevator and down the hallway. The tension seems even worse now with you right outside the door, the two of you both knowing the only reason you come to these hotels, but neither of you willing to say the first word that will make it easier to breathe.

The door swings open, and he finally releases your arm to where you may step inside the room first. You take a few steps into the suite, its wide open space no longer a shock to you as you lightly toss your clutch onto the bed. After a few months had passed, you had slowly adjusted to the life of luxury Emet-Selch had lived, seeing it better to accept his gifts rather than fight him on it.

He has still yet to speak, so you begin to slowly peel your coat off in a way you hope is sexy, unused to the act of seduction. You were capable of playing a tease of course, but before someone as confident as Emet-Selch, you had to admit that you were nervous, considering the mood he’s in.

Nonetheless, you feel his eyes on you as you move to hang your coat across the back of a chair, aiming to go for an innocent approach instead. You make no moves to let him know you are ready for him to have his way with you; merely strolling over to the nearby closet where you bend over to peel off your heels one shoe at a time as the skirt of your dress rises up the backs of your thighs. You hear his own clothes shift, spying him taking off his own coat in the reflection of the windows lining one wall.

“Did you want to talk?” You ask tentatively, gently putting your heels away. You give him a passing glance as you move to take your tights off, stopped by his hand practically slamming into the wall next to you. You jolt in surprise, preparing to turn and face him but his hips press against your backside, letting you feel how hot and hard he is in his slacks. His free hand reaches around to clutch at your hip, to press you even closer against him.

You do your best to keep up your act, your surprise genuine as he had never shown any kind of force in your time together. The way he held your hip right now was tighter than usual, a strength shining through that you didn’t think him capable of. You remain silent, waiting for him to speak, whether it is to answer your earlier question, or to say anything at all. If he is mad at you, mad at something else entirely, you would have him share his thoughts with you instead of letting the silence drag on.

“Emet,”

“You know I’m upset, don’t you?” He interrupts, his voice a low growl in his chest. You feel rather than hear him speak, the rumbling baritone of his words pressed against your back and the warmth of his breath against your neck. His lips press gently to your skin, a complete foil compared to his rough handling of your side as he keeps you locked in place against him. “Answer me.”

“Y-Yes.” You tremble, not from fear, but something else entirely. Excitement wars with anxiety feeling the hard outline of his arousal pressed against your lower back, but your rational mind fights to focus on his next words so you can learn the reason for his ire.

“How long must we continue this way?” He breathes, his hand leaving the wall to lay flat against your stomach, slowly drifting upwards. You gasp as his fingers dance up to your fluttering pulse, giving a light, yet possessive squeeze at your response. “I will admit...perhaps I had miscalculated your willingness to stay with your boyfriend…” He seethes, spitting out the title as if it is the most disgusting thing.

Somehow, despite knowing it is you in the wrong, you still find it within yourself to draw upon your own anger, bucking against him, earning a hiss from between clenched teeth. “Miscalculated?” You echo, trying to turn to face him, but his grip on you won’t let you budge. “What are you saying,” He cuts you off with a well placed bite on the back of your neck, hips pressing against you insistently as the hand on your hip leaves to slowly push the hem of your dress up your thighs. Somehow the heat of his hand rivals that of the one between your legs, your head trying to tilt downwards to watch the action but his hand on your neck won’t allow it.

“You know what I’m saying. Don’t twist my words.” He whispers lowly, jerking your dress up suddenly to where it bunches around your hips. You gasp as he roughly grips at your tights, yanking hard enough to rip through the sheer material, your eyes going wide with the action. His hand practically leaps to get back between your legs, fingers slipping between your lower lips, feeling the dampness of the sheer silk you wear. Your legs tremble already from his ministrations, eager for him to slip a finger inside but he continues to merely rub his fingers along your slit.

“D-Don’t tease me,” You whimper, but surprisingly he does not let up. In fact, his touch seems to grow even lighter as he presses himself impossibly closer to you.

“Hasn’t it been you who has been the tease for so long, my love?” He murmurs against your skin, hips grinding his length on the curve of your ass, his other hand yanking the collar of your dress down. You can hear the seams rip and tear at his display of strength, appalled he would so carelessly manhandle your clothing when you do need something to go home in, never mind the fact he had paid for this dress himself.

Once he is satisfied with how far he was torn your dress, that same hand goes to greedily cup a breast, squeezing none too gently in a way that shocks you with how wet it gets you. You feel as if your lungs cannot keep up with the pace of events, chest rising and falling so rapidly into his hand as you fight to breathe alongside the moans he pulls from you. “W-What do you mean,” you rasp as he pinches a nipple betwixt two fingers; rolling and tugging until you are quaking with need under his attentions.

“You know what I mean, don’t be so innocent now.” He chuckles darkly, a shiver running down your spine at his low tone. “I have excused your actions thus far, the cruelty you have shown me...don’t start doing it on purpose now.” He bites hard at your neck, sucking the skin hard enough you know a mark will be there.

“Emet, don’t,” you beg, but he does so anyway, and you hate that it feels too good to make him stop.

“Don’t what?” He snarls, pulling the two of you away from the wall. He urges you both to the bed and you let him lead you, too aroused and confused to do otherwise. The soft sheets cushion your fall as he practically shoves you down, climbing atop you before you have the chance to even move. He attacks your neck with a ferocity you’d never seen before, his hands holding you so tightly as if you might vanish if he lets go.

“Don’t show my love for you?” He questions and the query is like a stab in the heart. Your eyes jump to meet his molten ones, a sea of gold glittering with a pain you felt idiotic for never noticing. “Well?” He hisses, spreading your legs so that he may settle between them.

Your draw your bottom lip between your teeth, already knowing the answer but too afraid, too cowardly to vocalize it. The actual act of any visible marks had not come up in verbal conversation between the two of you; as if he had already known, had already been considerate of your own internal struggle.

So willing and ready to lie in wait while you chipped away at his heart.

“Emet, I,” You try to begin but he seems to have none of it, finding a nipple to pinch between his fingers once again that has you releasing your bottom lip to cry out.

“No excuses. Not tonight.” There is such finality in his voice it shakes you to you core and you tremble as you feel as though you have no choice but to obey. His other hand finally makes its way back between your legs to stroke at your core, your folds glistening with your own juices from how wet you are. Your hips practically leap into his touch, already so hypersensitive from his teasing. Your breath comes out in little pants, your eyes unable to leave his own as his fingers delicately swirl across your clit.

“Look at you...so beautiful…” he praises, leaning in close and you meet him halfway, kissing him deeply as your hands leap bury themselves in his hair, swallowing his groan as his fingers press harder for just a moment, but go back to their light teasing as he breaks the kiss. “My love...you must know how you’re hurting me, don’t you?”

You nod hesitantly, rewarded with him pushing your underwear to the side for your honesty. You moan long and low, thighs clenching around his hand as you try and press yourself into his touch. “I-I don’t mean to,” you whine but it falls on deaf ears as he continues his teasing.

“You still have, regardless.” His fingers on your skin are light, almost as if they are floating just above. You’re a right mess, you know you are, but feel helpless to do anything about it as you can already see where this is going. “So tell me, just how you’ve been hurting me.” He tilts his head thoughtfully as he runs his fingers along the planes of your stomach. “Or shall I have the honors?”

You swallow thickly, feeling like you’re hardly in control of your breathing. “Please don’t tease me,” you whine, trying to angle your hips to where his fingers will slip inside, but he keeps moving away.

His eyelids lower as he sighs, tongue swiping across his lips. “Very well. I will cut to the chase.” Leaning in close, he holds your gaze. “I have tired of this affair.”

Your heart drops immediately, tears already pin pricking behind your eyes as you try to process his words, but he continues, seeing he has upset you. “Not for the reasons you think, my love. I tire of it, because I no longer want to be the ‘other man’.” He sighs, and it is loaded with such hurt you feel as if salt had been added into the wound. “My feelings go far beyond just a little fling. I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you, and knew the risks by engaging in an affair with a woman who was already in an established relationship.”

You hang on his every word, your arousal drifting slowly to the back of your mind until he plays with your clit again, maintaining that pleasure but not driving it any higher. “I have been nothing but courteous to you...kind to you. As much as I have longed to have you for myself, I could see your reservations, despite how you had accepted my seduction.” He smirks at that. “Perhaps I had been too confident then.” He chuckles, the sound rich and velvety like dark chocolate.

The sun has long since set, his skin bathed in the low lighting of the lamps in the room. The city twinkles outside the window, his eyes like twin flames as they sparkle with any light caught within them. You find yourself as enchanted in this moment as you had been day one, at his ethereal beauty that seemed almost otherworldly. You find yourself arrested by his beauty despite everything, feeling your heart wrench all the more at his words.

“My own miscalculations notwithstanding, even I have my limits love.” He whispers, lips hovering just above your own, the scent of your earlier wine drifting across your face. “I hate to do this, but I must present you with an ultimatum this night. Either you become mine, completely, or tonight is the last we shall spend together.”

Nothing would ever lead you to think for a moment that he was bluffing, despite how your mind tried to deny it. Your mind, your foolish mind, wanted to play it off as a joke, a cruel joke, but your heart knew for a fact the severity of his statement.

“Hades…” Your lip trembles as you try to look at anywhere that isn’t him, now faced with the reality of your actions. You struggle to keep it together, even as he slides down your body, strong hands pulling your legs over his shoulders as his breath ghosts across your slit, so wet you can feel it through your panties.

“I can’t...we just...what would people say about you?” You try, the excuse already making your tongue feel like ash as he leans his head to your thigh, his hands ripping your tights further down your legs to expose more skin to his ravenous gaze.

“About me? Love, you are the one in a relationship, not I.” He laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh. “As far as anyone in my circle is concerned, we merely see each other, as adults are free to do. In fact, most assume already that we are involved. I would like to confirm their suspicions if it’s all the same to you.” He purrs, pressing his lips against your core, your thighs nearly clamping his head between them.

“H-How would we even see each other?” The excuse is terrible, but still you press forward. “Even now we can only meet each other on weekends, not to mention you live clear across town,” your query is stopped with a sharp bite to your thigh, the yelp you release less than dignified.

“It would be nothing to get the proper services to move you out of your shabby, little apartment and into my home. Really dear, you must come up with better excuses.” He reprimands, to which you furrow your brows in anger.

“They are not excuses!” You retort, pushing at his shoulders, but your arms are weak from his ministrations, to which he smirks. “Then are they truths?” He asks.

“No,” you say before you can stop yourself, biting down hard on your lip at your slip up. Any hope that Emet-Selch won’t notice is thrown out the window as you notice the intelligent glint in his eyes, the golden pools pinning you fiercely.

“Well? What is the truth?” He presses, his grip on your thighs increasing in strength unconsciously. “Do not think to lie; not when our arrangement is built around it. I deserve your honesty.” He rumbles, and you feel your lip tremble as you try to hold back your tears.

“I’m not nearly good enough for you.” You admit, eyes drooping as your hands move to wipe at the tears that have begun to fall.

“Don’t cry.” He coos, moving to climb up your body, arms snaking around to hold you close. “What could have ever put that notion in your head?” He questions, pressing kisses to your temple.

“Hades, look at us!” You cry, pushing him back to look at you. “You are an architect! A successful one at that, you are a businessman, a CEO, and you ask me how I think I couldn’t possibly measure up! Just one of your cars is probably worth more than a year’s salary for me!” You try so hard to keep from raising your voice, finding it hard to do so when you are caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. “You have shown me a life that I never would have known otherwise; of dining at restaurants whose food I can’t even begin to pronounce. Sleeping in four star hotels, riding in luxury cars…” you trail off, finally able to look him in the eye.

“What do I look like, driving around in my dingy little car, dating someone as amazing as you?” You whimper pitifully, your chest heaving as you finally reveal what had sat in your heart.

“I can always buy,”

“Do you really think that would make me feel better?” You cut him off, feeling a growl of your own rise in your throat. “I have enjoyed your gifts, truly I have, but these are not gifts someone like me is used to accepting! Dinners that are worth a weeks worth of groceries, Hades! Dresses that are worth the rent of my shabby, little apartment!” You huff, watching as he seems to process your words.

“Do you know how much it has hurt to care for you as deeply as I do, despite feeling so hilariously out of your league?” You ask, swiping more tears off your face. In little time do you feel his hands reaching to cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping to stop the tracks of your tears.

“Is this what you’ve been holding inside you for so long?” You hear him ask, your eyes fluttering to meet his own. The love and adoration you see there calms you, taking deep breaths as he continues to caress you. “If I knew these were your fears, I would have soothed them immediately. My love, you must know that I care for you as much, if not more so.”

The confession makes your heart do little flips, breath stolen away. “You could’ve been a barista at the shop where I met you, and still you would’ve enchanted me, even then.” He smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to each of your eyes. “Your social standing means nothing to me; I want you to stand by my side.”

The words themselves feel like enough to get you crying again, but you manage to keep it together. “You really mean it?” you ask, wanting to hear it again.

“I love you, my darling. Please, stay by my side.” He asks, almost begs, and you nod, giggling lightly as you see his smile broaden. Leaning forward he presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft and chaste until your bodies slide against each other just so, arousal rekindling as his tongue slips inside your mouth, taking over the kiss hungrily. Your legs start to curl around his hips again, but he won’t have it, hands caressing your thighs. “You’re mine.” He growls, and the sound of it sends shocks up your spine as he presses the head of his cock toward you entrance.

“D-Don’t tease me anymore,” you whimper, unsure if you really could take much more of it. He presses a kiss to your temple just as he slides his length inside you, smirking at your drawn out moan as he pushes himself inside inch by delicious inch.

“No, my love. You have earned your reward.” He purrs, finally fully hilted inside of you, his cock filling you ever so sweetly. It nearly knocks the wind out of you after being stimulated for so long, but feels even more delicious for it after being denied. He gives you a few moments to adjust to his girth, no matter how many times you have been together. You pull him down for another kiss, pouring all of your love and affection inside of it, sighing as he finally allows your legs to ensnare his hips.

He pulls out slowly, savoring the feel of you as much as he wants you to feel the length of him, his golden eyes focused on your face as you throw your head back in abandon. “H-Hades,” you gasp, breasts bouncing as he slams back inside, that earlier forcefulness rearing its head and your face flushes brightly as you find you like it. Your arms loop around his shoulders as he nips and kisses at your neck, further cementing the fact you are now his.

So caught up in your pleasure, you do not realize that your phone has started to ring.

You’re almost jolted back to reality somehow, your head turning to your forgotten clutch in a panic as you hear the chiming sounds of your ringtone. Your panic rises as you feel one of Emet-Selch’s hands leave your body to reach for it, opening the clutch with little effort and fetching your phone.

When he smirks, you feel your stomach drop.

“How...fortuitous.” He cackles, grinning at the screen before facing it towards you. Your eyes widen as your boyfriend’s name flashes on screen, the phone still vibrating in Emet-Selch’s hand. “You don’t even have to go home and end things tonight. You can cut to the chase, right here.”

“Hades! That’s so...so,” Exciting? Your mind supplies. “Shameless!” You blurt, feeling your cheeks sting from shame.

“Well you must forgive me later then, I find myself wanting a bit more assurance that you will end things.” Emet-Selch sighs, making a show of turning the phone back to finally pick up the call.

“Hello?” He answers, voice crystal clear and sharp, crisp and professional. The esteemed Emet-Selch. “Oh, you’re looking for her? I’m a colleague of hers, if you give me a moment, I can let you speak with her. I believe she had something of import to tell you.” His grin is devilish, arm outstretched as he hands the phone to you. With trembling hands you take it from him, heaving out a sigh before finally putting the phone to your ear.

“H-Hello?” You greet, swallowing thickly to try and have your voice sounds as normal as possible.

“Hello? Babe? You all right?” To hear him call you “babe” makes you visibly frown, but you say nothing about it as you force a smile into your voice. “I’m all right sweetie! Did you need something?” You ask in an attempt to distract him.

At that moment Emet-Selch resumes his movement inside you, stroking painfully slow that you would hit him were you not doing your best to quiet your noises. “The boys canceled on me tonight, and I noticed you weren’t home. Have you been going out on the weekends?” You try your best not to roll your eyes, despite knowing your boyfriend can’t see the action. Of course now he would notice your sudden absence at home.

“Yeah, I’m just...out with some colleagues! We had dinner and now we’re having drinks…!” Your pitch nearly skyrockets as Emet-Selch slams particularly hard into your core, shocks of pleasure racing to every nerve ending in your body. You toss him an angry look, to which he looks frustratingly unrepentant, continuing his slow measured strokes inside your body.

“Are you okay?” You can hardly hear your boyfriend’s words over your racing pulse, can hardly recall what he had even said as your body continuously draws attention to how wonderful Emet-Selch feels inside of you. “I-I’m fine,” you rasp, biting down hard on your lip as you try to arch your hips toward his. “T-Tell me about your day?” You prompt, desperate to push the weight of the conversation back on him.

“Yeah, sure. Today at work,” your boyfriend’s words slowly become background noise, your mind hardly even able to supply the necessary “mhms” to let him know you were listening as Emet-Selch continues to fuck you. The pleasure steadily builds, Emet’s thumb pressing insistently at your clit in an attempt to wreck your already ruined voice, his brows furrowing at how you are unfortunately too good at keeping your voice even despite the pleasure he gives you.

So he stops.

You flash him a pleading look, trying to hook your legs around his hips but he won’t budge. He won’t move at all, lips pressed in a straight line as he fixes you with a stare that says everything and nothing at once. A whole conversation passes between the two of you with just a look, nothing needing to be said with words.

Just as you begin to open your mouth to speak, he pulls out and plunges back in, tearing a moan from your throat before you can cover it. Your face heats in shame, but what surprises you more is how good it felt, finally able to let that moan go.

“Babe?”

Emet-Selch thrusts again, another moan torn from your throat, and this time you make no move to even bother to stop it. The grin on Emet-Selch’s face is absolutely devious, dark lips pulled into a smug smirk as he resumes his motions to coax more moans to the forefront.

“Babe?”

It takes you a moment to find the words to respond to your boyfriend, one of Emet’s hands trailing up your body, greedy fingers rewarding you with a squeeze to one mound. You can feel your grip on the phone slacken, hardly able to maintain a firm grip as he assaults your body with pleasure. Somewhere through the haze you can hear your boyfriend’s distressed calls of your name, unable to make yourself care that there’s no hiding just what it is you’re doing.

At the very least, you don’t have to hide anymore now.

You shed your inhibitions and moan for your lover, eyes fluttering shut as you arch your body into his waiting touch. His pleasure seems to double with your actions, allowing yourself the time to merely enjoy the sensations your bodies create together. In the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a little sorry for your boyfriend, to find out this way.

Only a little.

“What are you doing?!” You hear your boyfriend shout, obviously very angry now that he’s put two and two together. Lazily you place the call on speaker, dropping it next to your head so you can reach back for Emet-Selch.

“I’m leaving you.” You say simply, doing nothing to hold back the continuous whimpers and moans Emet pulls from you. He fucks harder, the sound of skin on skin surely being picked up by the phone and that in itself gets you wetter as he slams into you. “Faster,” you moan, your hands twining with his as he loses himself to the rhythm of his thrusts.

You grip his hands tighter, trying to find your right words to say between each moan Emet-Selch pulls past your sinful lips. “Maybe if you weren’t...constantly neglecting me…” Emet releases one of your hands long enough to press a thumb to your clit that has you squealing before you can finish the sentence. “I would...I wouldn’t be here, with another man…” It feels harsh to say, but you know it to be true.

Months ago, you would’ve never see yourself in the arms of another man, no matter how well he took care of you. You had loved your boyfriend until it felt like you couldn’t anymore. When he had started spending less time with you, it tore you apart, piece by piece.

It was his own fault, for being blind to the fact that someone else could come along and put you back together again.

“I’ve found someone who treats me like I’m his entire world. Someone who knows how to please me, who makes me feel loved...” You bite down hard on your lip, feeling your orgasm close. “H-Hades,”

He doesn’t need to hear how weak your voice is to tell how close you are to the edge, needing that final push into oblivion. With the ease of practice does he angle his hips just so, press down on your clit in a way that has you crying out in release as your orgasm washes over you. Your legs lock around his hips, holding him close as your walls constrict around him that forces a deep groan out of him, your vision feeling like it’s blurring around the edges as bliss laces itself through your veins.

Coming down from your high, you manage to weakly turn toward your phone as Emet-Selch continues to chase his own release. “Goodbye...I’m Emet’s good girl now.” You sigh, ending the call as you turn your gaze back to the man above you. His eyes are shut tight, mouth open slightly as he moans your name with abandon.

“I’m so close,” he rasps, hips slamming into your own. “Gods, I,”

“I love you, Hades.” You tell him, meaning every single word from the depth of your heart. “I’m yours now.”

With those words alone he falls over the edge, barely managing to pull out just as he comes, stroking himself as his seed lands on your chest. You gladly accept it, taking in his orgasm as it is a sight of which you will never tire. Head thrown back in ecstasy, throat bobbing as he gulps down air. His lips sighing your name so lovingly, so adoringly that it makes your heart swell just to hear it.

As he finishes, he bends over to claim your lips, the kiss all fire and passion as his tongue dances with your own, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. You can hear him growl “mine” underneath his breath, his hand on your hip giving a possessive squeeze when he does so. Parting for air, he peppers your jaw with kisses, showering you with affection, tickling your chin so that he can hear you laugh.

“Hades,”

“I love you too.” He purrs into your skin, not stopping his silly affections for you as he continues to sprinkle kisses across your face. “I’m so glad you’re mine.” The relief in his voice is evident, even past the smug air at having witnessed you breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend in front of him. When he looks at you, you swear not even your ex-boyfriend had looked at you with nearly as much ardor.

He reaches to hold you close, but you push him away, laughing all the while. “Hades! Let’s get clean first!” You smack him lightly on the chest, watching as he grabs your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips to pepper kisses along it as well. “Have you always been so affectionate?” You ask, watching as his eyes slide to yours, lips pulling into a genuine smile.

“I have. I was just waiting for you to be mine first.” He whispers against your skin, turning your hand so that he may place a kiss upon the back of it. “You do not know the joy I feel in knowing I get to take you home tonight.” Those words alone give you enough of an idea, relief at no longer having to hide your true love blossoming in your chest.

“I look forward to it.” You grin, sitting yourself up to caress his face. “In fact, I look forward to a lot of things.”

It takes very little time for you to be moved from your shared apartment with your ex, to the penthouse apartment of Emet-Selch. The change still takes some getting used to, having to park your cute and comfortable hatchback next to his line of luxury cars. There is a bit of back and forth between the two of you as far as redecorating goes, your main complaint being that his home does not feel like home; it is too empty, too minimalistic, as expected of someone who is rich. You find great joy in seeing him give a reserved sigh any time you bring any new knick knack or decoration into your home.

Due to your months of already being in an affair, adjusting to a life of leisure is a somewhat easy transition. At times you must remind Emet-Selch, Hades, your precious Hades, that while the silver and gold is nice, you still enjoy your comforts. He could easily purchase you clothes from designers from cities you had never even heard of, but you enjoyed the simplicity of finally being able to afford all the online dresses you’d been eyeing for months. He never saw fit to deny you, willing to do whatever it was to make you happy.

He had even offered for you to quit your job; he made more than enough to take care of the both of you. Another offer you had once again turned down, still wanting to be able to work and make your own money and feel independent. You had actually managed to snag a job as a personal secretary, something he was unhappy with at first, but you had eased his doubts and told him it would be fine.

You liked your boss enough, and the pay was even better than your previous job, seeing as the large office building you walked into felt like it reached into the very sky itself. The sound of your heels clicking against the immaculate floor makes you feel powerful as you stroll into your boss’s office, shutting the door softly behind you.

“Good afternoon.” You greet, shifting the stack of folders in your arms. Silence rings through the large office, your brows furrowing at his obvious rudeness. “I said,”

“I heard what you said.” He interrupts, sounding as bored as ever. “What is that you have?” He asks, as if he shouldn’t have to bother.

“The reports for--”

“Bring them here.”

You bite down hard on your lip before saying something you will regret, keeping your chin up as you calmly stroll over to the large, ornate desk near the far glass wall. Windows reach high to the ceiling, the city sprawling out behind him.

Coming to a stop, you gently place the folders on his desk. “These are the reports for,”

“Ah, ah.” He tuts, golden eyes flickering, waggling his finger. “Bring them over here.” He purrs, and the sound goes straight to your groin. Gingerly you pick up the files, doing your best to remain composed as you circle the desk to stand in front of your boss. “Now, sit them down on the desk.”

As you prepare to follow orders, his hand reaches out to catch yours, yanking you into his lap. “Hades!” You squeal, hardly able to keep yourself from colliding with him. His hands quickly grasp the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs so that you may straddle his lap. Chest to chest, you can feel your heart racing a mile a minute, eyes flicking to the door in a panic.

“You did lock the door behind you, didn’t you?” You hear him ask, trying to peel yourself off him, but his strength won’t let you budge. Really, where did he get it from…

“I think so?” You squeak out as he pulls you atop his bulge, your face heating instantly. Somehow you are not surprised by the fact he’s not at all bothered at the prospect of his door being potentially unlocked and anyone just strolling in.

“No matter. It’s not my fault if someone comes for an unexpected visit.” He purrs, hands sliding to grip your backside in his hands. Giving a firm squeeze he lifts his hips toward your own, your breath stolen away as pleasure zips through your body. “I will simply tell them I am punishing my secretary for getting no work done on the job.” He smirks, hiking your skirt up even higher, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.

“I can’t get any work done if my boss can’t keep his hands off of me,” You give him a smack, to which he happily gives you one on your ass in return. “You are just looking to get caught!” You hiss under your breath, hardly able to stifle your laugh at his innocent expression.

“There’s nothing to catch my dear. You are mine now.” He grins, bringing you down for a kiss. It takes you little time to return it, your bodies melding together as you loop his arms around his neck. Those reports on his desk lie abandoned and forgotten, but perhaps they could be worked on another day.

#Emet Selch #FFXIV #ff14 #solus zos galvus #Shadowbringers #ffxiv writing #writing commissions #ffxiv commissions #Comms

51 notes · View notes

mxrcayong · 4 years

Text

the avatar series: 01.11

masterlist.

previous | next

chapter eleven:

In everyday life, Tari normally walked on eggshells. She avoided talking about bending and where she goes once a month for a day. She especially avoided talking about her past. There wasn’t much to tell that wouldn’t reveal her identity.

Although the egg hell feeling is replaced as she now can speak freely - although she’s still reserved out of guilt, everyone else started feeling like they were walking on broken glass. Everyone creeped around the edges, avoiding getting slashed by the jagged glass. Sonan, Kilari, and Doyoung treaded especially carefully – watching every word that left their lips, especially when it related to Johnny or to Tari’s newfound identity.

Bak Mei Island was gorgeous. There was no doubt behind it. From the bright sun unveiling the clear blue sky to the vibrant sunsets, the mesmerizing ocean, the busting winds – it felt like a vacation. The setting definitely helped make the jagged glass feel lighter. However, they felt everything but relaxed as an invisible dark and thick thunder cloud seemed to be following their every move.

The world as they know it is changing, and for the worse. They have no clue what could happen, but they suspect it won’t be good. A sense of impending doom fell upon them, but they couldn’t do anything – at least, not yet. So not only could they sense the impending doom – the loss of culture and life as they know it, but they felt hopeless and useless. They felt it in the pits of their stomachs, in their heart feeling heavy, in their minds constantly racing. They constantly worried about what was happening back home. How were their friends and family? Their co-workers? Their acquaintances? How was Johnny?

To try and distract themselves while Sukiara insisteded on being the one to create a strategy due to “her seniority”, the group often found refuge in the training courtyard. Sonan would prop herself up on the rocks overlooking the ocean, often reading one of the books from the library or practicing fighting with fans. Today, she was not in the mood to practice her fighting and was flipping through the velvet feeling pages of an old diary. On the other hand, Kilari was learning fire bending techniques from Yuta while Doyoung and Jisung played games using their bending together. In particular, Doyoung levitated on the visible floating air ball and chased Jisung around as he tried to create obstacles to obstruct Doyoung’s path.

In the beginning of the three days, Tari was initially practicing with Kilari and Yuta – especially as out of all the elements, she couldn’t master earth and especially fire. Fire bending has always been the most difficult for her. It wasn’t uncommon for the opposite element as the one the Avatar was born in to be the most difficult for them to pick up, but in her head – Tari had a feeling she was doing worse at picking it up than all the other Avatars combined. But, everytime she practiced with them – she swore she could feel Kilari glaring holes into the back of her head. Out of everyone left on the island, Kilari seemed the most upset with her – barely speaking a word with her and avoiding eye contact with her as if Tari was Medusa herself. Trying to get out of the awkward atmosphere, Tari tend to sit next to Sonan.

Alternatively, she could practice with Jisung. But he was too adorable – with his wide smile, lanky frame, and eyes that smile just as wide as his lips. He was only 18 years old – a soon to be high school graduate – and he was roped in with her. His life could be in danger because of her. She wanted him to be happy. He deserved it.

“Whatcha reading?” Tari hummed, plopping down next to the rock Sonan was propped on. As soon as she found a comfortable spot on the blunt rock, she went to pat Ani – who curled herself in a ball at the base of the rock formation. Normally, Ani joined Jisung and Doyoung – Tari swears that Ani loved Jisung the quickest out of anyone else she had met. But she spent all day chasing them around, joining in with the games, and took a seat with Sonan.

Sonan held up an old leather diary that Tari remembered from her past life. “You know all about this, huh?” Sonan teased, making Tari nod and awkwardly chuckle. “Well, technically, you lived it.” Tari awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, still feeling guilty for not telling them sooner. And Sonan saw it; from Tari glancing away and fumbling in her pocket for her phone. “Babe, you know we love and care about you – Avatar or not. Yeah, we felt lied to… but we care about your comfort overall. I would hate to force you into something you didn’t want to do.”

“Why is Kilari not happy with me then?” Tari sighed, looking down at the floor. “And why did Johnny leave?” She knew that Sonan and Doyoung started treating her like normal again, making her heart feel full and her worries subside. Funnily enough, Doyoung has even been happier to be friends with her – saying ‘I finally have another air bender friend’ and begging her to do meditations with him as a daily ritual in their home.

The eldest friend in their friend group let out a small smile, her hand immediately going to Tari’s back to rub it in an attempt to comfort her. “You know Kilari…she’s hardheaded and hot tempered. And Johnny? He just need time.” Sonan let out a small smile, “We love you Tari. You are the Avatar, but that doesn’t change your personality. And them finding out…doesn’t change the fact both are quite quick-tempered”

Tari was never the best at receiving comforting or kind words. So, she swapped the topics. “He said he’s going back for journalism, right?” She pulled out her phone and started swiping, refreshing the Sooman Chronicles online newspaper for what felt like the thousandth time this day alone. “He hasn’t posted anything.” Johnny has yet to respond to any of their messages or calls. Their only update about him was the day he left, where Hendery messaged Tari if she was safe and then quickly transitioning to why she didn’t accompany her ‘boyfriend’ to the café. Sonan sighed, “At least we know for sure that he’s safe. If anything happens, it’d be posted.” But she noticed Tari’s face; from the way her leg is twitching, and her teeth nibbled on her bottom lip.

“But you’re not worried about only that, are you?”

“What if he tells people…you-know?”

“Tari!” Sonan lightly slapped Tari’s shoulder, making even Ani whine in response. “You know Johnny more than that. He loves you, babe. Potentially more ways than one,” Tari rolled her eyes. If he did, he definitely doesn’t anymore, she thought. Sonan and Kilari would always tease her about Johnny. It only started a year into their friendship; when Johnny first slept over at her and Doyoung’s place. As this was before they had their routine set up, Johnny fell asleep in Tari’s bed with her – his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Doyoung had snapped thousands of pictures and used it as blackmail for the longest time. “He would never do this to you.”

“But he’s a journal-“

“Tari, you know Johnny’s character arguably one of the best out of this group.” Sonan chastised, “And I even know he would never do that. He cares about you too much.”

The Avatar sighed, finally admitting Sonan was right. All whilst, she just kept judging herself for being dumb. I know him, right? She thought, I shouldn’t have thought of him like this. “I just wish he responded.” This, besides the time Tari disappeared in the Spirit World for a week, was the longest time she went without a word from Johnny and it’s driving her insane.

“Tari, bend with us!” Yuta called after laughing at Jisung’s reaction to another trick Doyoung pulled out. Jisung was quite literally the shocked emoji; his eyes the widest Tari has seen them, his jaw on the floor, and frozen in his spot. As air benders focused on peace, most bending techniques can be altered into smaller tricks; like making a mini tornado in their finger tips or flying. Of course, air benders can fight – it’s just they prefer not to. She hesitated; scanning Kilari’s face which automatically dropped from its smile to an annoyed look at the mention of her name. Despite Kilari’s obvious annoyance, Sonan kept patting Tari’s shoulder to encourage her to go there.

“I need to focus on this!” Sonan laughed, “I’ll write down questions to ask you later anyway.” She leaned in slightly. “Kilari will lighten up, maybe spending time with her with help.” She whispered harshly, continuing to push her.

Not worth the risk. Fire bending always scared Tari. One wrong move and someone can be scarred forever. In fact, Tari is still wondering about the burn mark around Johnny’s wrist. Is it still there? I hope it goes away. If Kilari is mad at her – and Tari knows she can be impulsive and hot headed, could she do anything against Tari? Maybe I deserve it though. She kept fighting herself in her own mind. She must’ve looked like a buffering game character, stuck between standing up from the rock or staying.

Time to get out of here. “I think I’ll go meditate.” She let out an awkward smile. Doyoung immediately volunteered to join her. He must be really missing Sooman City air temple.

Aang was the last air bender of his time, but when he had children – he did produce an air bender, Tenzin. Luckily enough, air bending is different from all the other bending types. Air bending is more spiritual – hence why there are air nomads. Air nomads, with time, could eventually become air benders. It’s unlikely, but it’s more likely that their children will be inclined to air bending due to their parents’ deep spiritual connection. Doyoung was an example of this. This is the reason to why he made sure to visit the Air Temple every day to do at least an hour of meditation with his friends like Mark and Renjun.

Sonan rolled her eyes at Tari avoiding conflict, making Tari roll her eyes back in a mocking manner. With a small wave, Tari jumped off the rock formation. Ani was quick to follow her, her four paws pattering on the ground as they walked towards Doyoung. Together, the three made their way into the main temple. However, on their way, a hand wrapped around Tari’s wrist.

“You okay?” Yuta asked, his eyes full of concern. Tari nodded and smiled – one that didn’t convince Yuta at all. “I’m here to talk.” Her gaze dropped to the ground. She was unaware of Yuta’s broad and expansive knowledge; one that includes reading people and body language.

“It’s fine.” She said behind gritted teeth, staring at how Yuta is barefoot and avoiding his eyes. “I just need to meditate.”

Sitting on the top floor of the main temple, Doyoung and Tari were greeted by the normal meditation room. It was a glorious one – something Doyoung could only imagine having if he was rich and famous. There were small stools for them to sit on, the wooden paneled walls contained black and red religious and historical paintings of how the Spirit World has been described. This would be the third day in a row Doyoung came up here, but he’s still enchanted by it.

Despite his enchantment, his priority was Tari.

“You’re not okay.” He said bluntly, as he took a seat on the stool – Ani finding a comfortable spot between the two stools the two benders decided to occupy. “I can read you like the back of my hand, what’s up?”

Tari sighed. Sonan, yes, was like her mother. But Doyoung? Doyoung was her best friend she could spill anything and everything to. She didn’t have to worry about concerning Doyoung like she would with Sonan. If she concerned Sonan, Sonan would treat her like a fragile glass doll. Yes, Doyoung does similar actions to take care of her – but he’s also brutally honest. His words were ones that come without safety bags. Doyoung and her were roommates – they told each other literally everything that happened throughout the day, even if it was finding a pebble on the ground. Funnily enough, they started a ‘strange pebble collection’ as a result of a conversation on that topic. Doyoung’s favorite? One that looks like a middle finger.

“Johnny.” Tari’s hand found its way nuzzled into Ani’s fur, patting her comfortably. Every Avatar has an animal guide – Aang’s was Appa, Roku’s was his dragon. Ani happened to be her’s. Unlike the other Avatar guides, Ani couldn’t really travel across seas. However, Ani was the best guidance Tari had. Just the feeling of her soft fur between her fingers could comfort her. She found a part of her felt missing when she didn’t take Ani with her to the city. The only reason Bak Mei even resembled home was because Ani was here. “I’m just worried he’s not okay and that I lost him forever.”

Doyoung shook his head. “Dude, Johnny is whipped for you. You wouldn’t lose him like that.” Tari rolled her eyes, ignoring the shock that rippled through her. Doyoung even thought that? “And he’s literally one of the most capable people we know, if not the most. He’s not a bender, but that makes him safer right now. And he’s strong as shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m being silly.”

“I guess.” Doyoung mocked. “Tari, you know I always got your back, okay?” He sighed. “It hurt me initially you couldn’t trust me with this, but you told us why and I understood…with time. It’s definitely too much power to get your head wrapped around as a four-year-old. Not to mention, you didn’t stay in a true home for more than a few years.” His hand went to Ani as well, both of them patting her in synchronization. “I understand, Sonan understands. But people like Kilari and Johnny, who both can be a bit stubborn, may take a bit to wrap around it.”

“Not going to lie,” Tari changed topics slightly, her laughing to cover up her sadness, “I feel bad for Jisung and Yuta meeting us now.”

Doyoung let out a laugh, “It definitely will be a story for them to tell.” He teased, rolling his eyes. “But I do have to say, I’m surprised Kilari isn’t flirting with him. She would talk such a big game about him in NCT.” A sadness filled the room when they thought of the theater that now is in ruins; a place they’d always go to now destroyed. All the future memories they were hoping to have there are ruined.

“Maybe she’s playing the long-haul game.” Tari teased back. “She has been crushing on him for a while, rather than her usual hook ups.”

Doyoung shrugged, “But I do have to say, you guys seem close.”

Tari let out a sound that symbolized her lack of opinion on this subject. “He’s just very sweet. I’m really grateful he’s here.”

“I bet you are.” Doyoung winked and wiggled his eyebrows, now turning to sit in his proper position to prepare to meditate. Tari’s jaw dropped as she laughed, playfully slapping him – making him recoil. “I swear, I’m always the one getting attacked in this group.”

“Now you sound like Johnny!”

“You both bully me!” Doyoung defended.

Tari’s eyes widened, laughing. “We both bully him!” Doyoung was about to argue back, but Tari stopped him. “Okay, we all bully each other. But it’s the beauty of friendship.”

Doyoung playfully rolled his eyes, however hummed in agreement. He couldn’t wait for life to get back to normal; to where he, Johnny, and Tari could just relax in their homes with no thoughts other than about what they could do next.

Dinners at Bak Mei Island often was more traditional food. Each cook has specialized in a certain nation’s menu and would alternate in being head chefs. The menu, however, would consist of mains from that nation and side dishes from other nations’ traditional cuisine.

As a result, today was focused on fire nation traditional food and glasses of milk were ready for Jisung, Doyoung, and Sonan. The main dishes were dry noodles, roast duck, and peanut noodle soup. All spicy. The side dishes included rice, cabbage, dumplings, seaweed, bean curd puffs, and sweet buns. The dessert options centered on Wagashi deserts and tart pies.

It worked like a regular canteen; the group of them would each grab a tray, wait in line, and choose one main with three sides. They also had the option for one dessert and as many drinks as they would like.

“By spicy, how spicy you mean?” Jisung was obviously frightened by the glass of milk practically forced upon him by the head chef of tonight. His eyes were widened, his mouth was slightly open, and his breathing was labored.

Yuta cackled, having been raised on this food. Kilari pulled her lips back, leaving an awkward look on her face. Tari, however, had no clue what to tell him. “Ji, it’s spicy. But I’ve seen you eat spicy food before.”

“So, I’d be fine?”

Yuta gave Tari a warning look, as if secretly telling her that Jisung cannot handle this. “Uhm, maybe keep the milk…” She tried to encourage Jisung without worrying him more while the head chef scooped a large portion of noodles into a bowl. “For safety.” Jisung practically went as white as a sheet.

The dining hall was humongous, designed for the cases where they would be visited by the government or by other important members of the bending communities. However, the number of people who live on this ginormous island was approximately fifteen. There were at least two hundred seats in this dining hall. Everyone would sit together or in small groups. Often, they sat with Tari – they were the family Tari knew. They’ve seen her grow up from this small child to a mature young lady. But since her friends were here, they avoided them like the plague and sat way back in the canteen.

As soon as they plopped down in the seats, Jisung wasn’t the only one as white as the milk he’d later need. Tari’s ringtone echoed throughout the hall and she quickly responded.

“Hey Roddie, what’s up?” Once those words left her lips – a perfect coincidence happened. Johnny popped through the door, however, went unnoticed as he lined up for his food.

“I saw your name on a list. Be wary please.” Roddie warned.

“What do you mean? What list?” Tari asked, her eyebrows furrowing. The slurping of noodles from everyone around her slowed down, everyone wondering what is causing the distressed look on Tari’s face.

As Roddie explained her news, Johnny had approached the table. Everyone jumped up – except for Tari who’s still trying to understand the news Roddie is telling her. She gave him a forced smile in greeting as everyone (other than Yuta and Jisung) tackled him in a hug – a smile that was responded to with a straight face, despite the concern radiating from his eyes.

Once the greetings were traded, Johnny let out an exasperated sigh and sat down. “I have some bad news, but Tari would need to hear this.”

“Alright, thank you Roddie. I’ll…I’ll talk to you later.” Tari put down the phone and stared at the wooden table they were eating on, still dumbfounded by what she heard. “I think I heard it.”

Johnny sighed but his tone was harsh, “Then you should already know that you are all in danger. Every Bender is. Tari is especially.”

Tari finally glanced up to Johnny, whose eyes were blood shot and exhausted – but worried and caring. Despite the slight coldness that came from it, they still felt like home. “How did you find out?”

“Roddie gave me a lead.” He shrugged. “I just investigated it. But we also need to tell Sukiara.”

Kilari groaned, “You just got here and we all just got food. Can we go after food?”

Tari sighed. As soon as the breath left her lips, Kilari sent daggers her way. “Sukiara should be coming down here soon.” She looked up at Johnny once more – his eyes showed betrayal, her heart felt penetrated by the daggers Kilari sent and killed by the betrayal in his eyes. “Johnny, you need to eat… An hour or two won’t hurt.”

Her priority was them. It’ll always be them.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

4 notes · View notes

huntertales · 4 years

Text

Part Four: Hard Pill To Swallow. (I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here S09E01)

Episode Summary: The Winchesters are left in a frantic state after the reader collapses, setting off a chain reaction of events with deadly consequences. Out of desperation, Dean sends out a prayer and meets an angel named Ezekiel, both of them make a unorthodox benefiting both parties while the reader fights for her life. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Episode Warning: Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression. Word Count: 4,331.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended up. It might have been your body walking out of the hospital, making it appear you were back to normal once again. However there was someone else hitching a ride. A mutual benefit for both if things went according to plan. The question lingering on the Winchesters mind was how you were going to handle the news the person healing up your inside was an angel. They were fixing up your damaged organs while you walked around doing everyday tasks, while you were on a hunt. It was more than just an invasion of privacy. This was something you had to deal with your entire life. You always had another passenger in your own body. And the first and only time you were an angel’s meat suit the experience left a bitter memory behind.

Back when the apocalypse was nipping at your heels, you promised Lucifer your own body to have instead of his original vessel, Sam. You thought you could somehow find a way to save the day before it was too late. Instead the situation veered into a direction worse than you imagined. Sam knew the feeling of being a passenger in your own skin, capable of nothing more than watching as your own hands kill the people you love. Maybe that’s why he was so against this.

Sam knew that Ezekiel wasn’t Lucifer. There was no angel like the devil himself. But they weren’t exactly kind to the three of you since you knew them. He couldn’t fully trust the angel like Dean had. Ezekiel wasn’t doing this at the kindness of his own heart. Possessing your body meant he could heal himself as well from the fall. It would be a mutual benefit for both parties. The younger man was left wondering what the angel said to you in order for you to have said yes. He most likely tricked you. A harmless way to take control. Ezekial told the boys that he wanted to help mankind.

"So?" Dean asked the angel after a few minutes of walking out of the hospital with not much trouble. Ezekial had been in your body for the past fifteen minutes after he left his old vessel lying in your bed. He was examining the damage inside of your body, figuring out the extent of what needed to be done. Dean didn't like the silence. This was his last shot at getting you better and on the mend. "How's it looking in there?"

"Not good." The boys knew that it was you speaking, but it was the angel who was in control. He gave them a brief overview of the things that he needed to fix. Sam noticed the angel used a calm, softlike tone when he spoke. It was nothing like you. "There is much work to be done."

"Yeah, but she's gonna wake up, right?" Sam asked the angel.

“She will.” The angel responded

"So, when she does—what, is she gonna feel you inside, triaging her spleen?" Dean tried to figure out what the whole deal was and how this was going to work. You were most likely going to have lots of questions. A lot of hostility and anger towards him for what he decided to do.

“She will not feel me, no.” Ezekial said. “There is no reason for Y/N to know I'm in here at all.”

“You’re joking. No, this is too big.” Sam protested the angel’s idea. “She has a right to know.”

“And what will she do if you tell her that she is possessed by an angel?” The angel asked him.

Dean stopped walking when he noticed that Ezekial did as well. The older man thought about the answer for a second, wondering what kind of excuse would be good enough for what he had done. Dean knew his choices that he made were going to lead to things he didn't want to think about. You were going to eat him alive and claw his eyes out for what he had done. But he didn't regret the choices he made. It was how it had to be. "Well, she'll have to understand."

“And if she does not?” Ezekial wondered. Dean fell silent from the lack of a concrete answer he could give the angel. The situation was more fragile than if one of the boys had gotten hurt and it was him who was healing them. There was more personal damage done to your body than Ezekial could heal. “Without her acceptance, Y/N can eject me at any time, especially with me being so weak. And if Y/N does eject me, she will die.”

Sam wasn't going to make any promises about keeping this a secret. He didn't want any of this to happen in the first place. But there was no turning back now. He looked over to his brother, wondering what was going to be his big plan. It was Dean's idea to do this, it was going to be his call. Dean was apprehensive about keeping you in the dark. He had done this once before with you when you were still a half demon and working for Crowley. It was a messy situation that ended with you in the hospital. He hated doing this to you. But it had to be. He shook his head in defeat.

“Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Y/N’s well enough that she doesn’t need an angelic pacemaker.” Dean decided to compromise with the situation. He let out a heavy sigh and wiped his face with his hands. “Or I find a way to tell her what happened. I…” He looked to the hospital and felt the familiar heaviness on his chest return. “As for her being in the hospital, I have to tell her the truth. I can’t lie to her. She deserves to know.”

“I can erase it all, if you like.” Ezekial suggested a plan to try and soften the blow. “She will not remember any of the past two days. And as for her pregnancy...I can block out the memories.”

“You can’t just erase six months worth of stuff. That’s not fair. We can’t act like she didn’t just lose a child.” Sam quickly jumped into the conversation before his brother could do something stupid. “She has a right to know.”

"If I may suggest, we can still tell her." Ezekial proposed a way to tell the truth, just not admitting all the details. The boys knew the guilt would eat you up inside for the things you had done, what kind of danger you put your baby through. You would take all the blame, think about it constantly until you droze yourself mad. Losing a child when you were so close to giving birth would break you. Instead of ripping off the bandaid and forcing you to face the truth, the angel suggested something to...soften the blow. "I can repress the memories from her mind. Make her believe she had no idea she was pregnant at all. If you understand what I mean."

The boys slowly nodded their heads. But it didn’t mean they agreed right away to the plan. Both of them were left wondering what the right thing to do was. They were making so many decisions for you. The least they could do was at least grieve for a life that once was. What could have been. Dean felt his jaw tighten at the last choice he was forced to make. He kept telling himself he really wasn’t lying to you. He was protecting you. He shut his eyes and slowly nodded his head, giving the angel permission one last time to do what needed to be done.

+ + +

The aftermath was going to be the hardest. Dean was warned about it when he got the news about his child’s passing from the doctor. Leaving the hospital without the little person you had been anticipating for nine months to make their arrival. Even if they came a little early, medicine had advanced so much that sometimes babies got fighting chances. Other times...they were taken away from their parents. For no reason at all other than genetics. Sometimes the body couldn’t handle carrying a baby to full term. Sometimes there was no reason at all. You were left with a pile of questions and no shovel to help. But that was life. Try to make sense of what it all means, why certain things happen. All you do is drive yourself mad. Dean learned to accept the tragedies in his life.

Sam didn’t say a single word to his brother after the three of them piled up into the Impala and drove off, acting as if nothing happened at all. Before they pulled out of the parking garage Dean looked into the rear view to see that you were passed out in the backseat after Ezekial announced he was going to work. You would eventually rise from a slumber, having not a single clue what happened. Most of the day slipped away into the night, and you still hadn’t woken up yet. The boys checked on you every so often to see that you were still breathing. And while you were each time, you still didn't give any sign that you were going to wake up.

Dean decided to stop for gas in the middle of Pennsylvania when he noticed the tank was starting to get dangerously low. It gave the boys a chance to stretch their legs and enjoy a bit of fresh air after being stuck inside a hospital for two days straight, forced to smell the chemicals they used to clean the place. Your eyelids began to slowly flutter open when you began to come back into consciousness, the real you. You laid against the backseat door with your head pressed against the glass, the angel you were familiar with from the countless times you fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

You slowly emerged from what like a deep slumber, the kind where you didn’t move for hours, leaving your muscles feeling tense. You managed to lift your head up from the window and wince from the cramp you got. Rubbing the muscle in some sort attempt to ease the pain, you looked around to see the Impala was parked in a gas station from the looks of it. You peeked out the back window to take a glance around when you noticed the boys were in the front seat. Sam was leaning against the hood with his back to you while Dean paid for gas with a stolen credit card. You saw their lips moving and hear their muffled voices, but you couldn’t make out a single word they were saying. From their expressions they seemed stressed out. Exhausted.

You reached a hand for the door and opened it up, swinging your legs out and pushing yourself up to your feet for the first time in what felt like forever. It felt good to stretch your body out from sitting in the car. Your body felt sore all over the place. You blamed it on from being stuck in the car. Slamming the car door shut, you found it odd when you noticed the boys jumped slightly at the unexpected noise. You greeted them with a smile from their reaction of seeing you and around for the first time

"Where are we?" You asked them, looking around at the gas station you were at. There was no soul around here except for the three of you. You had to move slowly from the stiff muscles and aches in your body from sitting in the same position for so long. You glanced down at your watch to see that it was a little past midnight.

"Y/N?" Dean spoke your name in what sounded like a slight nervous tone of voice. You glanced back up at him from how he was acting. You slowly nodded your head, wondering what was going on with him. "How are you feeling?"

“Tired.” You admitted to them. You had to lean against the side of the car when you felt the ache in your legs starting to grow worse. “Feels like I’ve been sleeping a week.”

“Try a day. The pills that the doctor gave you really wore you out.” Dean said. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion at the mention of something you had no recollection of. If you ended up in the hospital, you had a feeling you would remember. "I bet the past couple of days have been a bit of a blur."

“I guess. I mean,” You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort and shrugged your shoulders. You tried to wrap your head around the fact that you tried your hardest to remember the past two days, but you had no idea how you ended up here. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Sam asked you.

“The church. Feeling awful. Even when I stopped doing the trials...I got this abdominal pain. It felt like cramps. But ten times worse.” You managed to piece together just enough memories to figure out what happened. And yet not enough to fill in the missing gaps of time over the past forty-eight hours. All of it felt like a blur. “I remember the angels falling. That’s it. But...how—why were we at the hospital? And why does it look like you two were in a fight?”

You finally noticed the bruises on the boys’ face underneath the floresignt lights from above. You stepped forward to expect the busted lip Dean and bruised cheek along with Sam's black eye. Both of them looked like they had gotten into it with someone. You winced at how painful they must have been. The boys didn’t show any signs they were bothered by it.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Dean tried to ease your worried mind off of him. He grabbed ahold of your wrist when you tried to touch his bottom lip to inspect the damage. You looked over at him when he didn’t answer your question. However you noticed his expression shifted slightly, like he wasn’t telling you everything. He was afraid to.

“We need to tell you something.” Sam suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. You turned your head to look in his direction when you heard the urgency in his voice. He opened up his mouth to tell you what had been rattling in his brain over the past couple of days. Before the man could get a single word out, Dean talked over him, stopping him from doing that he would regret.

"Maybe something like this should be discussed later." Dean suggested to his brother in a hardening tone of voice. He thought the setting all of you were in was a little too inappropriate and out in the open like this to discuss such things.

Sam tossed his brother a dirty glare, the mind that showed more than what he was saying. “She has a right to know.”

“Know what?” You asked them. You looked back and forth between the boys to find some sort of clue to the news Sam wanted to break to you. You felt your stomach beginning to clench in nervousness from how they were acting all of a sudden. Both of them wanted to tell you, but neither one of them could say the words. Even the younger Winchester found himself growing mute. “Seriously. Did something happen to me? Whatever it is, just tell me.”

Dean let out a sigh from the corner he was put into without much of a choice. You stared at him with that face of yours that was filled with concern at the damage you had done. He knew at some point he was going to have to have this discussion. He hoped by the time he got to the bunker he would have figured out a perfect way to break the news to you. But there would be no perfect way to do it. What he was going to tell you was like ripping off a bandaid. It was going to hurt in the moment. After a while the pain would subside and turn into a dull ache.

"After...After you stopped doing the trials, you collapsed." Dean decided to take small steps to the version of the situation they had agreed on. Leading with the truth seemed like a good direction to go in. And while every part of him wanted to continue, Dean pressed his lips together to keep that from happening. He couldn't break your heart. But even given you the fabricated truth, the kind where it was supposed to soften the blow, still hurt like it did when he was told himself. "You kept complaining that you were in a lot of pain."

You stared at the man intently from what he was saying, from the look on your face, you vaguely remembered the situation. However what was foggy was the reason why you ended up in the hospital. And what caused the pain. "The doctor might have thought you had..." Dean suddenly found himself unable to say the word. He felt his stomach tense up, almost like he was going to be sick to his stomach. He'd been saying it for the past forty-eight hours like it was nothing. But when it came to telling the one person who deserved to know, he clammed up. You raised your brow and gave him a slightly impatient look, wondering what he was trying to say. You expected just about anything to come out his mouth. But what you heard wasn't something you came up on your own. "He said that you had a miscarriage, Y/N.”

"What?" You felt your lips stretch into a smile at the words that you heard come from Dean's mouth. For a few seconds nothing made sense to you. The word felt so strange to you and yet so heavy. You slowly moved your gaze away from him and to a spot in the near darkness of the empty road ahead. That wasn't possible. You began to frantically think about more to what you were told.

Miscarriage meant you were pregnant. And pregnancy meant you were carrying a baby. A baby that was no longer. You thought back to what you remembered from being at the church. How you felt after you stopped doing the trials. For a moment you felt perfectly fine..and the next you had the worst abdominal pains. It felt like menstrual cramps, but ten times worse. And the blood. You remembered the spot of red blood just below the zipper of your jeans. After that...nothing but a blank memory you couldn't reach.

"How..." You gnawed on the flesh inside of your cheek with your teeth. You looked at the boys for a second before you quickly turned away, suddenly feeling like you couldn't look them in the eye. You felt ashamed. Guilty. Your breathing began to turn deeper, more shallow and rapid as the reality began sinking in. "How...how?”

How did you not know? How did you let this happen? They were just a few questions you asked yourself. Your voice dropped to a whisper as your eyes fell back to the concrete. Your mind wracked itself with trying to figure out how you didn't figure out the symptoms sooner. Your body had been going through changes for the three months that it took to complete them. It was hard to tell what was normal and what wasn't. Did you ignore the warning signs? Maybe there was none at all. You had so many questions. So much emotions you could feel bubbling to the surface. You quickly wiped away the tears from your eyes when you felt them accidentally slip out. Now was not the time to cry.

"You didn't know, sweetheart. None of us could have." Dean finally spoke up after seeing you take the news. Somehow the lie slipped right off his tongue without a problem. A small part of him knew telling you this was wrong. You deserved to know the whole truth. But if you did, then more would come out. And everything he had done would slowly unravel. "The doctor said you were a little over six weeks."

"How is that possible?" You knew better than anyone the trials took a lot out of you. Mentally and psychically. You body was going through changes, most likely that was why you missed a few important symptoms. What had you baffled was how you found the time. It had been a while since you and Dean had an intimate moment together. You awkwardly looked over at Sam from what you were discussing. The conception of your unborn baby. "We haven't exactly...you know. And I would've known if I was late."

"My guess it was after you came back from Purgatory. Remember?" Dean managed to make up an excuse that wasn't a complete and total lie. The both of you did share a night together that was more than just cuddling. Sort of like a victory for what you managed to do. Either way, the memory didn't bring up a warm and tingly feeling to you. You shake your head in anger. "Look whatever happened...whatever the reason, this wasn't your fault. These things just happen."

"I know. I know. It's just..." You were pregnant. For six weeks your body had been preparing and growing a new life. And for whatever reason, if it was because of the trials, maybe a medical reason, they were gone. You lost a lot of people in your life. But losing a life that was part yours...it hurts worse. Because it was someone that could have been. And it was gone. "I know it was only a month. But it still hurts. I don't know why."

"It will for a while. But it wasn't your fault, Y/N. You need to remember that." Dean told you. You forced yourself to look at the man directly in the eye. You had been carrying his unborn child. Until you weren't. You tried to find any trace of sadness in his eyes. Maybe a sense of anger for what you had done. But he seemed strangely calm. Or he was giving you the best poker face of all. "I meant what I said at the church. Nothing will ever change Sammy's or my mind about you. You're capable of anything, Y/N."

The church. You vividly remembered how you gotten over the eight hours while you pumped Crowley full of your blood. You had gone delirious to the point of saying things that didn't make sense Telling deep dark fears about yourself that you thought were long gone. You took on the burden of doing the trials to prove Dean that life didn't have to end in death...and for another reason. You tried to think of what it was, but your mind was drawing a blank. Through the months and changes, you ended up feeling like the trials was the only way to purify yourself from the demon blood you thought was still in your body. You went on about how you hurt the people you love. You kept telling yourself this was the right thing to do. You felt your jaw tighten at the irony.

In all honesty you couldn't have known you were pregnant. You inhaled a deep breath and told yourself something your mother might have heard often. These things happen. It could have been worse. Women go full term and they lose their child. A routine check up to see their little fetus and there's no heartbeat. You lost your child when they were nothing more than a bunch of cells with a heartbeat. Hell, maybe this was the universe of telling you that getting pregnant was a bad idea. You admitted to Dean last year that you weren't opposed to the chance of having a family of your own. It was like your desire to have a barely normal life. For people like you it wasn't possible. You could never raise a child.

Not when the sky was raining angels and hell's doors were still open. Your life was constantly on the line. Women who weren't like you deserve to feel grief. You wanted kids. You wanted a lot of things. But you weren't like most. Nobody deserved to have you as a parent.

"Are you gonna be okay, Y/N?" Sam's voice broke your concentration away from your thoughts. You glanced up at the man to see he was giving you a sympathy expression, the ends of his lips stretched into a small smile. Even if you could see the sadness in his eyes. The man wanted a normal life more than anything. You felt the knife in your heart twist more and more. You slowly nodded your head. "It's gonna be alright. We'll get through this."

"I know, Sammy. It's just...It's a lot to take in." You mumbled. You knew the loss was a shock to both of the boys. Much as you wanted to talk more about this, you didn't have the luxury right now to deal with your emotions. You do what you always did; shove them down and pretend like they didn't exist. "Last thing I remember was the angels falling out of the sky. What's the deal with that?"

"We know much as you. It started right after we left the church." Sam said. He let out a heavy sigh from the trouble all of you had to deal with. Thousands of angels wandering the earth. One of them crawling around in his best friend’s skin. And you had no clue. "Which means we've got that crap on our hands."

“You know what that means.”

“We’ve got work to do.”

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings

Message me if you would like to be added!

18 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

Orphan - 5

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Good intentions, awkwardness, feels. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

5. Tea and Fate

There’s a fuzziness enveloping your mind that makes everything appear to happen at a slower pace than usual, voices distant and warped. You have to force every movement before your body begrudgingly accepts to carry it out, clumsily too, so it’s a miracle you don’t break anything before breakfast is over. At least the two big kids seem to be similarly slow this morning. Why’s he so hyper? Glancing at the little Nathaniel over your cup of coffee, it strikes you as unnatural how he can be so cheerful, constantly babbling about the things he is planning to do during the day as he bounces on the chair.

“– and then can we go down t’the creek and catch tadpol’th? You wanna come, [Y/N]?”

Huge, pleading eyes are staring at you and suddenly it makes sense when people talk about puppy eyes because not even a golden retriever would be able to reach the levels of cuteness the sticky, noisy kid just achieved. Scrambling for words (preferably a nice way to turn him down), you find yourself stuttering and mumbling before Laura saves you.

“There won’t be any tadpoles now, sweetie. It’s fall, and they’ve all grown up into toads and frogs.” She glances at you with an apologetic smile. “And I think, perhaps, [Y/N] needs a bit of time to get used to being here.”

What I need is a nap. Instead of saying it, you just nod with an attempt at a noncommitting smile that might not have amounted to anything more than a grimace of questionable characteristic. A nap and a plan.

… Morgan …

Uncle Rhodes and mommy have gone into the kitchen and shut the door, leaving Happy as the only entertainment.

“I’m booooooored!” Morgan mutters, mainly to herself because the first attempts at getting the gummy-bear of a man to play with her have failed already. “Can I go play on my own?”

It takes a moment for him to react. “Huh? What, yeah…just stay in the house, ‘kay bug?”

She answers with a cheer and a wave, already bouncing up the stairs to fetch her favourite teddy bear and the space stone from aunt Nebula – you never know what you’re going to need when going on an adventure (even if it’s indoors).

…

Someway or other, Morgan doesn’t quite know how, the exploration has brought her to daddy’s work room where the broad table hums invitingly. He never keeps any of his tools in the house, they’ve all been banished to the shed except this one and all the boring books and papers. Sure enough. Resting the chin on the edge of the humming piece of furniture, she can see a stack of folders on one side and a few scraps with scribbles and lines looking like a robot…or a dog.

Daddy’s things aren’t toys. Crawling up into the soft swivel chair, she enjoys a few rounds before allowing the two treasures to take part in the joy of the secret carousel…now and then stealing a glance between the messy strands of hair at the table. Not toys.

He has used it so many times even with Morgan around. A pat in that corner. A wave of the hand. Blue light fills the room in the middle of the day, making the girl think of the swimming pool at grandma’s and grandpa’s.

“Hello, Morgan.”

The voice is so nice and sweet even if the little girl just did something she isn’t supposed to. “Hi, Fwiday.” Morgan doesn’t blush. Almost never.

“What can I help you with, sweetheart?”

The answering question pops out all on its own. “Where’s dad? Mom keeps cwying ‘cause he’s gone.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

… Reader …

You had never quite imagined that you’d be doing a conference call with a handful of heroes while sitting on the hood of an old John Deere in a barn. There’s a shit ton of things I’ve never imagined. Looking over at Clint, sprawled in the seat and with the feet up on the steering wheel, you could almost be lulled into a sense of calm. That things aren’t completely deranged.

Time and again, you’ve felt like an amateur ice dancer trying to keep your life in balance despite the odds so you shouldn’t be feeling as lost as you do. And still…this time you have no counterweight, no place to call home and no person to guide you through the fog. The voices are familiar, in some twisted kind of way, talking gently as if that magically will calm your nerves…but they don’t know how it does exactly the opposite because they sound condescending just like the overbearing social workers and potential adoptive parents that turned you down for no other reason than being too old. For not looking enough like them that you could pass as their “real” kid on a photograph.

“She’s gotten a copy of the files,” Rhodes is explaining, “to go over with her attorney.”

To see if I’m good enough, if she really has to be stuck with me? “Why?” The question leaves the line silent. “I’m not asking for inheritance…or to be part of her life! I just...”

The sympathetic look Clint gives you is almost worse than the unanswered questions and you close your eyes to it. Deep breaths. Pictures of Tony Stark dance in your mind together with memories of your mother, each of them sporting features that you would be able to point out when looking in a mirror. Like when I was a kid.

Time and again, before the aliens attacked New York, you had conjured up an imaginary world where you had both a mom and a dad – the latter being none other than Tony Stark. In that world, you all lived together, and your mom would say that you had her looks and your dad’s smarts which would make him laugh and pull both of you into a hug. In that fairy-tale –

A hand brushes your arm gingerly, waking you with a start from the reveries – lost long ago in the smouldering rubble of a tiny apartment – to find Clint’s face a foot from yours. Keen eyes study every twitch of the brow, maybe even counting the blackheads on your nose, and you pull back in annoyance.

“Y’okay there?” he asks low enough that people listening in won’t hear.

What do you care? “Sure.” Clearing you voice, it’s all you can do to return the attention to the phone. “As I said…I just needed to know if it was true.”

“If need be, would you be willing to do a DNA-test?” You already recognize the voice as the Hulk’s.

A non-committal shrug before you realize they can’t see it. “Sure.”

…

From your spot on the bed on the second floor, you can look out over the field stretching towards the forest. Everything is drenched, covered by sheer greyness that makes the grasses bow and the fallen leaves stick to each other as if hoping the wind won’t be able to move them. The sun is setting somewhere beyond this drab world, but no colours of rose gold and purple reach this far to warm your body now the layers of borrowed clothes and a musty blanket don’t cut it.

You can hear the bubbling giggle that erupts sporadically from Nathaniel. This time you hear Cooper too, a boyish version of his mother…when he can drag himself out of the teenage moods, at least. He’s not that bad, according to your limited experience of kids in full families, just kind of sullen with a tendency to walk away when bothered. Like whenever I enter the room. He’d barely stayed in the seat to finish breakfast. At lunch he’d walked in, seen you, and declared not to be hungry before leaving.

Some people might think it was a relief that Lila sat through the meal, but the glaring was tough to ignore. What’ve I done to them? Your eyes prickle dangerously, and your nose is close to dripping too, callously ignoring the deep breaths and stubborn, unspoken promises that you don’t care. I don’t. It’s not like you haven’t gone through these things before back when you were their age, finding kids scowling at you for no apparent reasons. It’s better than pity. There’s plenty of that to go around and –

*knock knock*

Startled by the sound, body trying to crawl in on itself to feel small and inconspicuous, you hold your breath in the hopes that you heard wrong, but it happens again. Slow but resolute knocking.

“[Y/N]?” Even though she’s rarely spoken to you, the voice of Lila is easily recognizable. “Can I…is’t okay if I c’m’in?”

I’m an adult. I gotta act like one. Any wetness by the eyes is hastily rubbed away. “Sure.” Clear and steady.

The door creaks after ears of disuse, allowing the appearance of the back of Lila’s shoulder as she slides the elbow off the handle. Huh? The moment there’s room, she turns to reveal a little tray with two enormous cups of something steaming and a little tray of cookies. A shy smile, shoulders carefully rising before being lowered with a newfound confidence as you return the silent greeting by making room on the bed for the girl.

Outside, the rain fights to break the grey haze obscuring the world but in reality adding to it. The flaming colours that had managed to maintain a desperate hold on the twigs so far are disappearing in an early dusk. A moment ago that misery had your attention, resonating within, now it’s chased away by an awkward, lanky girl sitting cross-legged before you while apologizing for the lack of milk.

“Hey! It’s okay,” you manage to interrupt her at a break for air, “I’ll drink it any which way, so thanks…”

“Good, good…”

Drops pummel the window. Tea scent heats your faces causing a new flush to be added to Lila’s cheeks. Good tea, as if that’s the reason you feel guilt gnawing for the negativity against the girl…a negativity that evaporates like the steam curling above the hot liquid.

“I’m sorry,” Lila admits, and you’re not sure why even though you have an idea, “I…Cooper and me…” For a moment all her attention seems to be on the cookie she steeps in the mug. Seems. “I’ve been a jerk, haven’t I?”

Alright! Up front now! “Maybe. I guess I’ve been too...” Sharing a glance you recognize some of Clint in the way she takes in every detail. “So this is like…a truce? Ceasefire?”

“Hoped so.”

You can’t hug it out with her. There’s been too many fake hugs in your life from people who claimed they’d be there for you. Lila doesn’t promise anything except to try to be decent and that’s something you can mirror. Good thing too. You’ve got nothing else to offer.

“– they say I need to start school Monday.” Clearly, you’ve missed the start of whatever the middle Barton kid’s saying, but you can fill it out. “I’m gonna be like the only senior from my year left! Can you imagine?”

“A little, maybe. People did stare a shitlo–…sorry…a lot at uni. But hey! At least the sophomore was only surprised when I appeared on his lap. At first.”

“Nooo!” Wide eyes followed by a crinkle of amusement. “Was he hot?”

What?! That line of thought had never occurred to you. “Uhm…I don’t actually remember, I’m just glad he didn’t push me onto the floor.”

There’s a tiny snort of giggles, “Hey, welcome back! Yeet!” Her tea almost spills as she imitates the student forcibly tossing you aside.

32 notes · View notes

snakerps · 4 years

Text

@gxldhearts

TC didn’t get an awful lot of free time to himself, what time he did take away from work was often spent at his brother’s place watching his kids while him and his wife took some much needed time together. Together away from their current three youngsters full of energy and itching to get into trouble. Which was where good ol’ uncle TC came in. It was a system that worked, and had been working for them for years now--years. Years and years really as he’d been stationary in the city for over fifty years now and the oldest two of his brother’s pups (twins of course) were just shy of twelve years and TC had been volunteering his free time to the happy family since day one.

If he had been around for their other kids he might have claimed to do the same, maybe this was his attempt at making up for lost time. For the life of him, as he rolled around in the dirt with his nephew, he couldn’t understand why he’d wanted to get away from his family so damn much. You ought to be thinking about settling down proper now, huh? His brother’s voice chimes from the back of his mind, a bitter reminder.

His nephew lets out an oof as he lands flat on his back, dark hair mussed in the dirt and staring up at the sky with a look of distinct childlike frustration “Come on little man,” TC says with a wry smile, hands resting on his thighs as he half leans over “You’re getting there, don’t take it personally yeah? You’re still--”

A scream rips through the air, a white hot bolt of fear rips through him and he whips around in place as he watches in horror; his niece as she falls out of the tree with a sickening crunch. Heedless of the thin line every supernatural has to walk, he uses Alpha speed to close the space and crouches down by her while “Elise! Elise baby what happened?” she rolls around on the ground, her arm held close and the stench of blood hits him like a slap to the face, fat tears roll down her face as he tears his flannel off to tie makeshift sling, and scoops her up just as her sister’s shoes hit the ground.

She was too young for the entirety of her werewolf genes to have kicked in, her healing factor wasn’t enough to combat a break this brutal. Coupled with her omega status...which her sister is quick to blame “If she wasn’t such a cry baby she wouldn’t have fell!”

“She pushed me!”

“Did not!”

“I didn’t...I didn’t wanna play the game she wah--wanted and she got mad and--” “Shut up! You stupid crybaby ome--”

“Hey!” his strong voice cuts through as Carver shuffles closer with wide eyes “None of that bullsh--” he closes his eyes as he starts towards the gate leading out of the backyard, his free hand reaching out to sntach Abigail’s wrist to pull her along (She tries to dig her heels in, saying she doesn’t want to go) and what a picture he must paint for the neighbours, at least he’s in his civvies as he herds the three into the family van (he’d lent his brother his car for the trip, muscle cars were ten times sexier than the family minivan that forever smelled of mother’s milk even if the pups had been off such for years).

Abigail huffs and puffs in the back seat, arms crossed and pouting as she slouches in place. Carver’s lower lip wobbles as he holds Elise’s uninjured hand. She’s still crying. Reeking of blood and pain and sadness and worst of all: guilt. Too damn young to be letting her sister’s damn cruel words be affecting her like that. He tears out of the driveway yearning absently for his siren as he weaves through traffic, try and let one of his boys in blue stop him, just let them try.

Like any wolf he’s ever met, TC hates hospitals. He’s done his time on countless battlefields and the stench of blood, death, and rot was the kind of thing that stuck with you. The heavy perfume of gunsmoke and mud could never hope to drown out. Abigail is arguing again from the backseat, an alpha--both her siblings omegas and she used it to lord over them constantly. It was a known issue that both parents (alpha and beta) were trying desperately to work on. But it extended to her own mother.

Worries. Things to stress over when he wasn’t breaking the speed limit to get to the only hospital in Athame. He screeches to a stop just outside the emergency entrance and all but ejects himself from the driver’s seat, the door slams shut with the sound of shattered glass--emotions getting the better of him and Gods is he ever grateful his brother is in another country right now.

He takes Elise into the ER and has to argue with them for a hot minute, two other children trailing behind him one on the brink of tears and the other on the brink of mutiny. All of them are directed to a stretcher and the curtain pulled to give them some privacy, there’s a part of him that feels a lick of guilt over being fast tracked ahead of the busy waiting room due largely in part to his occupation, his status. Elise sits sniffling on the stretcher, Carver next to her pressing himself against her uninjured side while Abigail continues to give all of them the silent treatment. Their regular doctor is blissfully on rotation today, he stands with his arms folded over his chest doing his damndest to ignore the little Alpha’s roiling stench of emotions--not a lick of remorse.

TC’s stomach churns at the implications of this. He’s an Alpha sure but he’s not THE Alpha. That’s his Mother’s role. And he’s not Abigail’s Alpha either, that’s his brother’s role. But he’s got age. He’s got a whole novel’s worth of experience and as he glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes flash red and a low growl rumbles from his throat. A spark of fear so pugnant in her emotional aura sounds and she slouches, chin pressed to her chest and he looks away reverting back to normal.

He doesn’t want to be here, but at least none of their senses have developed over much to really been overwhelmed by the stench of this place. He’s tense, feeling like a wire pulled taught.

And then he catches the scent of another wolf.

Male.

Omega.

He cocks his head to the side and breathes deep, an adult. Here? Willingly? Visiting a friend maybe? Wolves and humans mingled easy enough, like the ever laughable man’s best friend, saying that rang true. But the wolf is approaching them, he wonders if he smells them; knows them. And it immediately puts him on guard but ducking out of the curtain to get in his face in such a public place is a bad one. The responsibility to his blood, his pack, is a strong one to fight against. Blunt nails turned to claws as they dig into the meat of his arms and he finds he’s re-positioned himself in front of his niece facing outwards towards the curtain’s direction the Omega is approaching. The growl sounding from his throat is low, dangerous and if he were to look in a mirror...well it didn’t take much for him to know his eyes were red.

He chokes it back, coughing as his throat chokes off the warning sound just as the curtain parts and he gets an eyeful of the other wolf, the omega, the doctor.

Oh.

That makes sense.

He stands straighter then, to his full height which...wasn’t much different than his “...You’re their doctor?” he says and it sounds rough, like his mouth had started to shift and his teeth felt too sharp--Elise’s hand touches his leg with a sniffle and he reels himself back in “Yeah makes sense I just…” he works his jaw as he steps out of the way with great reluctance “She’s my niece. I’m...she…her healing hasn’t kicked in yet, too young I…”

“I pushed her!” Abigail says and he hates that he hears the pride, hates that this child is already proud of it, already on the bandwagon for putting an omega in its place and he’s only grateful that her senses haven’t evolved enough to sense that their doctor was one of the very wolves she already decided herself to be better than “She was being a baby.”

He shoots the doctor a pleading look as Carver finally caves and starts to bawl at his sister’s side which in turns makes Elise cry more and Abigail rolls her eyes at this display as if she was somehow above all this and not the cause of it in the least “We’re working on it.”

With clear hesitation he moves away from Elise and over to Abigail who he grips by the arm to haul out of the seat “It’s a clean break doc’,” he says as Abigail whines “But I haven’t done anything medical for another soul in decades I just...please help her.”

#p;wells #c;tc reyes #;tc and wells

6 notes · View notes

joon-bugs · 5 years

Text

Erupt

“So you’re done talking. I point you out on your bullshit and you decide you don’t want to talk anymore!” You yell down the hallway after him. This is ridiculous. All of it was bullshit. When you two first started dating your arguments consisted of what flavor Doritos to buy or if you were going to watch Dragon Ball Z or Naruto. After spending so much time apart it was hard to relate to each other’s ways. He’d grown so much as a person and as an idol and you stayed your college student self, going with the flow but now you felt like you were in a constant battle to see who was more mature than the other.”

word count: 3333

pairing: Namjoon/ fem reader

genre: angst and smut

warnings: profanity, dom!fem reader, face sitting, fem riding, sex (lol), alcohol

“Namjoon get the fuck out of my face.”

The bass of the speakers consumed your anger, making you that much closer to erupting.

“I just don’t understand why you’re mad at me.”

“Will you ever Namjoon? If you want to talk we aren’t doing it in here.” You turned around taking another drag of your four loko, but before you could walk away he yanked your wrist turning you to face him.

“We’re talking now come on.”

“Kim fucking Namjoon I didn't come here to kiss and makeup. If you want to make an appointment with me later you’re more than welcome. Now if you can get in that's a different conversation but you know where to find me Joonie.” You whisper-yelled at him, gently smacking his cheek and leaving the potent trail of sour green apple in your place as you walked away.

You finished off your drink, letting the negativity soak away and the music come back to your senses and take over your body. You grabbed the neck of some random suitor, grinding into his pelvis. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your body as you danced but who gives a damn because drunk you sure didn’t. Three dancing partners later the lights in the apartment were turned on and sweaty bodies filed out the apartment. You pulled out your phone and pulled a successful drunken attempt to dial your little brother's number.

“Jeong-in can you pleaseeeeeee come get me?”

“What happened to Namjoon?”

“Ugh fuck that dude can you come get me please?” Before he could answer your phone was snatched out your hand.

“It’s cool Jeongin I got her. A sober and pissed off Namjoon hung up your phone and led you outside the humid apartment.

“Namjoon WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Calm down.”

“You’re taking me to my house.”

“Not like this, I’m not. Your parents don’t care if you’re 23 they’ll still be pissed if you come home like this.”

“Like what exactly?”

“Y/N you look and smell like a hot ass mess.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time.”

“Come on the Lyft is here.” It wasn’t long before you were stuffed into the back seat of a musty Hyundai Sonata. The long ride opted you to fall asleep.

You woke up in a familiar bed in your routine pajamas: a t-shirt and boxers. Of course, you’d end up at Namjoon’s after telling yourself you were done with his bullshit. To hide in his bed or to face the bitch. That was the question. You threw the duvet off of your body in anger and placed your bare feet on the cold hardwood. You stretched and shook out your disheveled hair and walked out to the kitchen where Namjoon sat at the counter, working on his laptop while sipping on his coffee. His honey blonde hair fell flat on his forehead nearly dangling in front of his eyes.

“You ready to act like the adults we are?” He asked, most likely noticing your footsteps coming down the hallway. His annoying attitude caused you to throw a silent fit behind him. All you wanted was to have a free weekend but now the cheapness of the four loko god’s got the best of you once again. You answered him with the sound of the suction releasing from the fridge and grabbed the unfinished gallon apple juice you left there and chugged it, relieving you of the cottonmouth you woke up with.

“Oh so you want to treat me like an adult now?” you finally responded after wiping your mouth clean of apple juice.

“If you act like a kid I’m going to treat you as such.” Namjoon was still irritatingly deep into his laptop.

“See that’s where you’re wrong, I’m not childish you’re just a control freak trying to hang on to any last bit you can.” You rummaged through his cabinets on the hunt for good hangover snacks. He must have moved them since last week what an ass. You thought sourly.

“I haven’t been grocery shopping since Monday so I ordered our breakfast.”

“Ugh, my savior what would I do without you?” Every bit of sarcasm was laced in your response as you fake fainted against his broad back.

The constant arguing had just happened last month when he came back home for a break. Your free-spirited personality wasn’t as much of a turn on for him anymore and something changed as he felt like he needed to be more controlling. At first, you understood the fact that he didn’t have control of much in his life being that he’s a kpop idol, but as soon as it became a constant routine for him to father you around (and not in a good way), the more you grew irritated. Age wasn’t even an excuse for him you were a normal twenty-three-year-old adult with somewhat of a nine to five job and grad school to take care of. So what if you still thrived within the college night-life, you were a grown woman.

“You’re so fucking irritating.” Namjoon murmured under his breath.

“Then why’d you bring me here? Jeong-in could’ve driven me to my apartment and I would’ve been fine.”

“Because we need to talk Y/N, ignoring me for a week doesn’t solve anything.”

“I know it doesn’t but I needed space and last time I checked I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t need a helicopter parent.”

“A helicopter parent? So you think me making sure you don’t make stupid mistakes because I love you is me being a helicopter parent.”

“Namjoon it’s not just that it’s you telling me to take off “all that makeup”, I’m a business marketing major I work in the makeup industry everyone looks like this at work. Or when you wake me up an hour before my alarm because you don’t want me to be late to work which I never am. Or is it when you try and to take my drinks from me the one night I let loose because you think I’ve had too much when I know my limits. I’ve known my fucking limits since I was 17 Namjoon. OR WAIT is it when you-” Your rant got cut off by a buzz at the door.

“Food’s here.” Namjoon calmly said before getting up from his almost monumented position. After a quick exchange with the delivery guy, he placed a giant brown bag and drink holder on the kitchen counter and started sorting things out.

“Sweet and creamy iced coffee and two cinnamon bagels with extra cream cheese… your favorite.” He gently slid your breakfast across the granite countertop. A ping of guilt drifted across your body.

“Thanks, Joon.” You two ate in silence kept company by the sounds of knives against bagels and spoons against bowls.

“You know I act like this because I care about you right?”

“I know Joon, but I don’t need a manager”

“Oh and I do?”

“Namjoon you’re a fucking kpop idol of course you do. There’s a difference between your fame and my normal lifestyle.”

“I just don’t understand how I’m controlling.”

“There’s a fine line between being a caring boyfriend and a controlling boyfriend and you’ve been wearing the fuck out of it. Joon I’m an adult I can take care of myself. Half of these responsibilities you think you have in our relationship you took on yourself because you’re so used to being a leader that you don’t even rest when you get home. There’s two of us in this relationship you don’t need to do everything.”

“So in order for you to get this off of your chest, you had to get drunk at a house party and dance on four random guys?”

“Jesus, Namjoon you are impossible. Dancing doesn’t mean anything if you were paying attention which I know you were, I didn’t even let them touch me. It was just dancing. I’m sorry it wasn’t the most mature way to react.”

“Whatever.” He quickly collected the trash off of the counter and walked away to his bedroom.

“Namjoon we aren’t done talking.” You pushed open the bedroom door to find him at the edge of the bed with his face in the palms of his hands.

“Namjoon come on. I know we both have stuff to work on. We need to talk about it.” The bed sank under as you sat next to him.

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“I am too. I hate fighting with you.”

“Than stop being so petty.”

“You stop being so damn controlling and we got a deal.”

“See Y/N its shit like that. The way you respond is childish.”

You could feel the anger in you start to rise, it wasn’t long before you erupted into a profanity-filled rant. He knew more than anyone else how to piss you off. He was like a constantly nagging mom that you could never make happy anymore.

“What part of we both have things to work on did you not get?” You threw your anguish filled body on the bed.

“So guys aren’t the only thing you throw yourself on. I’ll take note.”

With those words that left his mouth the last straw was placed on the camel's back. The yell that was about to burst out of your body was a new level of pissed off he had never seen. After being together for two years. Two years of teaching each other how to not only love yourselves but each other. Two years of learning how he likes certain things, things not even the craziest of fans would know. Two years of what must have been the honeymoon stage were about to break into a madhouse. The boy you loved had your blood boiling deep within. And finally, you snapped.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I’M THE CHILDISH ONE BUT YOU WANT TO BRING UP OLD SHIT I APOLOGIZED FOR. HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME OR DID YOU TUNE ME OUT BECAUSE IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?!” You reached back and grabbed the dense decorative pillow from behind you and threw it at the back of his head.

“HUH NAMJOON? HAVE YOU?!”

As soon as the pillow made contact with his skin, he had you pinned underneath him. You could feel the temperature of his wrath radiating off of him, his face centimeters from yours. The sweet scent of his coffee breath flowed into your nostrils.

“Throw something one more time and see what happens.” He nearly growled at you. Your contracted pupils met his, neither of you had ever been this angry with each other before.

“Get off of me.” Your once angry and emotion-filled voice was calm and still.

“You know what?” Namjoon said as he flipped himself off of your body

“Leave.”

“LEAVE? If you want me to leave, tell me you don’t want me anymore and I’ll go.”

Silence filled the room as his body was angled away from you, he was staring blankly at the wall before him. You sat up and waited for his response still in his shirt and boxers. You could hear the occupants of the apartment above you rummaged around. The silence turned into a countdown and it went off once again.

“Great answer Namjoon, I’ll leave!” You grabbed your dress and heels off the nightstand and stormed through the bedroom door.

“I didn’t even say anything!” He said chasing after you. “Well, you didn't answer either. Communicate.” You turned around to face him and argued back, poking him in the chest with every syllable. “Y/N…. stop.” You continued antagonizing him. “You want me to stop because you want two years to go in the trash right? You want me to leave right?” “STOP.” He finally gave in and raised his voice, shocking you when he firmly grasped your upper arms.

“Just fucking stop. Stop jumping to conclusions.” “You were thinking it.” His hands slid up to your face and he brought his forehead to yours.

It felt like the sound of birds chirping after a storm. Emotions didn't subside and evidence of the storm was still there. A new blanket of calm fell in the room.

“No, I wasn’t... I’m sorry I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to change. I don’t want to throw us in the trash. I’ll stop.” His lips grazed yours and as he pulled you into a passionate kiss you could feel him towering over you, power still in his stance. You broke away from the kiss.

“You don’t get to be in charge anymore.” You pulled his hands off your face and pushed him against the door returning your lips to his.

“Pick me up.” You managed to get out in between breaths. He groaned into the kiss picking you up. Now it was you that towered over him. Using his neck as support you ground your body onto his abs before giving him more directions. Trying to get any sense of affection he could, he placed sloppy kisses on your neck, causing you to throw your head back as your body was taken over by lust.

“I didn’t- say- you could do that.” You grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck pulling him away and bringing yourself back.

“Walk to the couch.”

Namjoon walked over to the couch with you still in his arms. He stopped in front of the furniture, waiting for his instructions. You slowly moved your mouth along his collarbone up to his ear, trailing your hot breath along the way.

“You’re so good, baby… now sit.” Your bodies fell against the black suede couch. You pulled the giant shirt off of your body and went back to kissing any of his exposed skin you could. Large hands began to dance across the waistband of your borrowed boxers. Coming to a harsh stop your dark eyes met Namjoon’s as you yanked his hands off your body.

“Shirt off. Now.” You watched in awe as his long torso was exposed. You slid off of his lap and began kissing along his waistband, his legs opening in response. Teasing him you moved up his chest, leaving the area that needed your attention the most. You could feel his hard-on against your exposed breast as you left hickeys on his chest. Noticing that, you stood up and bent over so your face was back in front of his.

“Odd of you to assume that you would get some before I got mine. Oh, my sweet boy.” You clutched his jaw in your hand bringing him nose to nose.

“Namjoon baby? Lay down.”

He shifted his body on the couch barely fitting but it was good enough. You began to strip yourself of the boxers, realizing that you didn’t even have your own underwear on.

“Look at Joon doing my work for me.” You taunted, before randomly tossing the boxers somewhere in the living room. The cool air hit your core making you notice how aroused you actually were.

“Mmm Namjoon baby I need you to show me how fast your mouth can actually move. Can you do that for me?”

Not even giving you a chance to say the last word he answered in an instant.

“Of course baby.”

“Good.” You crawled on top of his face planting each knee on the sides of his head lowering yourself onto his mouth. The relief of tension was instant as he moved his mouth harmoniously against your heat, his tongue painting stripes across your folds and his lips sucking on your sweet spot.

“Hold me.” You commanded and his hands gripped your thick thighs bringing you down further on to his mouth. His face was completely buried inside you as you rocked on top of him begging for more. You grabbed onto his honey locks, as the pleasure was so intense you knew it wouldn't be long before you’d try and run from it.

“How do I taste baby? Am I good?” You asked tauntingly. His response was lost, muffling against you, causing vibrations to push you further.

Closer and closer to the edge you were pushed as he showed off his talented mouth.

“Keep going baby I’m so close.” You whimpered, praising his talents. His fingers dug into your thighs as he quickened his pace. A shock was delivered throughout your body suddenly, sending you to an enamored release.

You slid off of him your legs shaking as you stood.

“Baby you’re so hard. Want to take these off?” You pulled at the waistband off his sweatpants, knowing they were the only thing he had on. He nodded, a look of intense need in his eyes.

“Okay. Strip.” His body slithered as he shimmied off his pants not getting off of the couch. His dick sprang free as he rid himself of the pants, precum already dripping down the head.

“You got that turned on from me riding your face baby? Oh, c’mere.” You sat on his lap ignoring his hard-on, but bringing him into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, not caring if he touched you with or without permission at this point. Lost in the moment you forgot that you never even relieved him. Not that you cared. Dry humping his pelvis you felt his dick brush against your ass reminding you that he was still hard.

“Stop.” You commanded sternly before getting off of him.

You held on to his broad shoulder as you climbed on top of him once again hovering above his dick. Digging your nails into his shoulder you stabilized yourself controlling your speed as you slid onto him agonizingly slow.

“Mmm you feel so good inside of me Joon.” You rotated your hips on him even slower than before, offering him the slightest amount of pleasure.

“Faster, please.” He groaned into your neck.

“Anything for you baby.” Picking up your pace your thighs began to burn, knowing you were going to cum again. How could you not? His hands slid from your thighs up to your back pulling your body closer to his, pressing you chest to chest. The close proximity caused your bouncing to slow down to a grind, pushing you both higher than before. You felt the absence of one of his hands from your back but soon felt it in between your thighs, his thumb massaging your clit causing you to lose focus. He took over and flipped you on to your back, switching positions to pound into you from behind.

“Make me cum again Namjoon.” You cried out, gripping the suede under you in tight fists. He quickened his pace, going at a much better rhythm than you were at. It wasn’t long before you were a moaning mess underneath him, quickly falling apart with him following suit seconds after you releasing into you. He released a long drawn out groan before twitching inside of you. His body weight fell on top of you as he collapsed, his sweaty skin flush with yours. Your hands moved up to his hair combing through it.

“See what happens when you let go and let me take charge Namjoon?”

Written by Jo

168 notes · View notes

dholwrites · 5 years

Note

I hope this is okay to ask, but how would each of the undateable NPCs handle the WoL's demise (as they know it barring Echo shenanigans)

Aymeric

Aymeric was still recovering when they went to find you. There was a sinking feeling in his gut. You’d taken his place. He didn’t know how or when you offered yourself up to take his place, but one moment he was locked in a windowless cell, bruised and bleeding. Another he was face down on the biting cold alleyway. Lucia said that he was just a walk away from his office. The healer told him that he was lucky; most people with his injuries would have died in just a bell toll.

Aymeric had no concerns for his health, he was more worried about yours. Lucia refused to allow any news to pass through the door until a healer confirmed his health. It was when he finally had the strength to push himself out of bed that the results reached his ears. The mission was a failure. The Knights of the Round had been merciless.

He blames himself for your death. Aymeric wished he could go back and take all the pain for himself. The survivor’s guilt gnaws at his consciousness, things he should have done and things he never got to say. He swamps himself with paperwork, writing paper after paper until he passes out from exhaustion or Lucia kicks him out of the office. The cycle repeats over and over as long as the guilt settles on his shoulders. His steps are heavier, his resolve falters. Aymeric will still press on, for the people. For you. For what you represent.

Estinien

He was still conscious when Nidhogg took over. Stuck in his head, he’s forced as his nemesis puts his body and weapon to the test over and over against his allies, against friends, against you. Estinien had a semblance of hope that you would be able to end him, to end the pain of seeing the many faces of his allies meet an end at his spear. Maybe if he’s lucky it will be swift and painless. He should have known better. Luck is not at his side, she was never by his side.

You were soft, so fragile and innocent. Even in your final moments, you would still smile at him with your eyes. A face that he wants to cradle in his hands and keep in his arms forever. Your body stumbles back, keeping a firm grip on his arm. A blinding red pain fills his mind, like something tearing off pieces of his own skin. The next time he opened his eyes was to the ceiling of the infirmary with a teary eyed Alphinaud looming over him.

Estinien left as soon as he could move, he took up his old spear and the bare necessities then simply slipped off to the nearest forest. He needed a quiet place where he can piece back together his mind, and vent out the frustration he had for being so weak. He disappeared for months without a word. Everyone else had small rumors of a white haired lancer traveling across the land easily felling giant beasts to indicate that he was alive. By the time he returned to Ishgard... it was difficult to tell if he’d changed. He had piled the guilt onto his shoulders, using it as the fuel for his actions. Your life may have died in his hands, he’ll be damned if your legacy dies too.

Thancred

He faintly remembered reaching out and trying to grasp your hand. There were just a few ilms stretched out between his fingers and yours, yet it felt like you were on the other side of the world. His entire body aches at even the slightest movement, jolts of pain running through his body like electricity. Still he reaches out. Believing if he just managed to take your hand, everything might just fall into place. You look so serene, simply laying there with your hand presented to him.

A dark figure loomed over the both of you. Thancred knew who it is. The Ascian carelessly pulled you from the ground by your collar and threw you over his shoulder. His mind too tired to even comprehend what was happening. A cold shiver fills his body, like it understood that you were no longer there. All he could do was lay face first in the ground and watch as they drag your unconscious body through the black portal. He was alone again.

Thancred put all his efforts into helping the search for you. At least as much as he was allowed. After the incident, Minfilia has him under close watch to make sure that he doesn’t start overworking himself again. He can tell when people look at him, when their gazes turn into pity. He needs time as much as he needs support. Parts of him start to fall back on self destructive ways: drinking and flirting with the nearest lady to forget his troubles. The quick and easy pleasures allowing him to forget root of all his stress, only for him to feel it double down on him the following day. It’ll take time for him to recover, to snap out of the daze he’s put himself in. He wonders how many times Y’shtola has to rescue him from a bar fight before he finally learns his lesson.

G’raha Tia

The second you defeated the Darkness, everyone was booking it to the portal. You, Nero, and G’raha were on a crunch to make it to the light. He could see the light get smaller and smaller as you all approached the end of the walkway. You’re just trailing behind the both of them, clearly exhausted from the grand battle you just had. Yet he’s sure that you’ll make it.

G’raha patted himself down, making sure that everything was in the right place. Hands, check. Tail, check. Ears, double check. Nero was even here, likely cursing out the fact that he owes Cid now. G’raha turns to you, or at least he thought where you would be. It occurred to him something was wrong when he looked around the people lingering in the throne room. You were missing. You didn’t make it through.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. You were gone. You were actually gone. Then a thought occurred to him. He could open the portal again. With the Allagan eye, he had full control of the tower. There was nothing stopping him from reopening again. His red eyes were drawn back to Cid and Nero. Along with a few others, the both of them start to head out and leave the tower one by one. As if they’d forgotten the same person that walked their path. He clutched his hand over his chest and cast his eyes to the large throne. Tomorrow, he’ll take full control. He’ll bring you back by his own hands. Even if that means shutting everyone out.

Cid

He knew Omega was trouble from the start. The blasted thing was only toying with him, you, and Alpha. All in the name of experiments with ‘flawed logic’ and constantly changing rules. It was just a matter of time before Omega decided to take it seriously and finish off the test for good. Cid didn’t know how quickly he would turn.

Caught by surprise, you quickly became encased in a bubble which hovered just a fulm above the ground. He rushed over to smash it with his fist, sending only small ripples across the surface. There was nothing he could do. This wasn’t a problem that would wait for him to find a solution. Cid pressed his hand against the surface, barely scraping at the surface. All he could do is watch and wish. He begged to the gods he never worshipped before for something, anything, to stop all the pain you feel.

The workshop had been quiet, with the only thing filling it being the sound of Cid tinkering away again. He’s slowly becoming a shell of himself. Cid loses almost all sense of time after locking himself in a deep dark room, focused solely on the problem before his eyes. He nudges himself towards to breaking point. Eating only when his stomach sends hunger pains through his body or sleeping when his eyes couldn’t blink awake anymore. Jessie makes small comments about it. Talking about how the clothes he usually wears seem too loose and baggy, or that his complexion is starting to match his hair. He knows that she means well, but he can’t bring himself to get better.

Alphinaud

It was just another battle, another war for you to head into and clean up. A way of life that he’s gotten used to. Alphinaud almost has everything planned down to the breath. After your triumph over their foes, he’ll find you later in the day to invite you out for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but just private enough where patrons would leave you alone. The boy was daydreaming about all the moments he’d share with you, all the sweet, suave things he would say to sweep you off your feet.

The notice of your death fell on deaf ears. His mind's gone blank for the first time in ages. Alphinaud remained sitting by the entrance of the headquarters, waiting for you to pass through the doors. His head jerked every time someone opened the door, sending him out of his seat to see if you were just a few steps behind. The rest of the Scions couldn’t find the heart to remind him.

It’s like he lost a part of himself. You were his confidant, his friend, his lover. Other than his own sister, no one else has seen every side of him. He’s never felt so insync with someone before. Alphinaud tries to move on, he really does. Yet over and over again, he caught himself waiting for you. He find gaps in the conversations, just a breath where he would expect you to speak up and fill the space with your comments. Every meal, every battle, and every trip feels like something is missing. The space you once occupied is heavy. He didn’t realize how heavy until he broke down crying at the thought of emptying your room.

Haurchefant

He didn’t reach you in time. The crack of lightning flying far past him, piercing the center of your back. A small spark of hope in him grew as it hit something that seemed to encircle you, a translucent shield rippling with the sheer force of spear. It wasn’t enough. With a blink, the spear enters the center of your back, forcing you into the cold ground. The breath was knocked out of him as if he was the one sent to the ground. He whips around, searching for the source. Almost expecting, he would say almost wishing, another spear pointed at him this time. To join you in your last moments.

Haurchefant tosses off his shield and scoops you up into his arms. Everyone gathered around him, yet they couldn’t offer a word of comfort. It was too late. Too late to save you, to catch up to Thordan, for him to tell you his feelings. He desperately grasps at your hands, as if he could prevent you from leaving with just a touch. It was too late for you. The smile you graced him only made his efforts more desperate. “Come back, please come back. I’ll do anything. Come back to me, I’ll protect you. I swear on my life.”

Haurchefant still welcomes new adventurers in to stay, but there’s a hint of melancholy in his voice. Each and every one of them reminds him of you. Their weapons, mannerisms, even hair colors. The camp can see the pauses he takes throughout his days. His lingering gaze upon the dark towers of Ishgard during patrols. the barely muffled sobbing in the dead of night. The kisses he presses to the wedding band that hung around his neck. The effects of your death run deeper than blades and fangs, and there are days he wished for them more than anything.

Hien

He didn’t realize he hated it until long after he escaped. You didn’t give him much of a decision before you sent him and Alphinaud on their way so you could deal with the new primal before them. The feeling didn’t settle well with him. Alphinaud tried to assure him this wasn’t anything new to you. You’ve faced primals thousands of times before, surely this new one wouldn’t scratch the surface of your experience.

They came back to bodies. Three to be exact. Hien allows Gotetsu space to mourn over the loss of his adoptive daughter while everyone gathers around you. No one dared step forward to touch you. There were feathers scattered around you like fallen petals. It softened the blow to his heart. You were like an angel, a fallen angel. Hien falls to his knees beside you, and presses a delicate kiss on your forehead. Fingers brush against curve of your jaw. He fears if his hands turn too rough, it would wake you up from your slumber. Even in death, you looked serene and beautiful.

Hien gives you an honorable funeral, joining the rest of his nation to mourn the loss of a hero. His mourning lasted longer than everyone else. You’ve sacrificed so much, offering a helping hand to drive away the Garlean invaders. Yet at your weakest moment, he couldn’t offer you anything in return. Hien pushes forward. With the help of Yugiri and your many friends, he continues to take the steps you would have wanted him to take. When you died, you took his heart with you. He could never find someone else like you. So he waits, for time to take him to your embrace.

#Anon-chan #ffxiv #ffxiv headcanon #ffxiv fanfic #haurchefant #aymeric de borel #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #estinien #lord hien #ffxiv hien #thancred #g'raha tia #cid nan garlond #fanfic #hi I'm not dead

263 notes · View notes