#i am not entirely sure how i feel about drawing the kicking. but i attempted it for this one b/c i thought it would fit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hangmansgbaby · 4 months

Text

Gunpowder & Lead P R O L O G U E

Masterlist

Emory's POV is written by @mamachasesmayhem and Jake's POV is written by me.

Banners are POV changers.

"I can't do this anymore, Matt. I'm leaving." The words leave my mouth with only a slight tremble.

Matt barks out a laugh. "What was that, baby?"

I take a deep breath and steel my nerves. "I'm leaving."

"The fuck you are!"

Matt's statement is punctuated with a fierce blow to my cheek, knocking me sideways.

I thought that his recent lack of interest in me would have made this easier. I thought that maybe he was finally tired of me, that maybe he wouldn't care as much when I tried to leave. Clearly, I was wrong.

A kick lands on my ribs after I land on the floor, followed by a few more. I try to no avail to block them, only earning bruises and likely more fractures to my arms. He grips my hair to pull me up only to slam my head into the floor. My head spins as I feel blood pool beneath me. I'm barely conscious when he finally decides to stop, probably thinking I'm down for the count. I hear him grab hiskeys from their hook by the door but when I catch a glimpse of the hooks I realize it wasn't just his that he took, but mine too. Shit, that makes this more difficult. His stupid ass Camero revs in the driveway and the sound of his tires peeling fills the small house. I fight to stay conscious because I can do this.

I don't know how much time has passed when I pull every ounce of will and strength in my body and finally crawl onto my hands and knees.

I can do this.

It could have been minutes or hours since Matt left, so I don't waste a second.

I can do this.

I stumble out of the door and adrenaline floods my nervous system.

I can do this.

My bare feet carry me across the pavement and then through the woods across from the house. It'll hurt like hell later, but it's much shorter to cut through them to get to Birdie's house. This is a route I've memorized, having to sneak out to see my best friend when Matt eventually stopped allowing it. I can get there with my eyes closed, and it's entirely possible I do.

I eventually break through the tree line and push past the pain that's threatening to overwhelm my body. The light to the back porch is on, drawing me near like a lighthouse to the coast, and I stumble the last few steps to the door. I fall against the cool wood in a heap, frantically pounding my fist against it as darkness clouds my vision. The door opens underneath me and I let it take over, finally able to rest.

It's warm when I come to, a gentle voice rousing me. "Sweets, can you hear me? Shit, Jav! She's breathing and has a pulse but she's not responding to me."

I groan and try to peel my eyes open. That voice definitely does not belong to Birdie. It's not her husband Bob either, and that's what startled me enough to fully return my brain to my body. My eyes land on a face surely carved by Aphrodite herself.

"Am I dead?" I mutter out. With a chiseled jaw and concern swimming in mossy green eyes staring down at me, I must be. Especially if I'm not scrambling to get away from a man that isn't Bob Floyd. But a tiny voice in my head tells me that he's safe and that he won't hurt me, so I let myself listen to it.

A small smile pulls at the lips of the man above me. "No, sweets. You're alive, it looks like you fought real hard to be too. How'd you end up here?"

The realization I didn't make it to Birdie's makes me gasp and try to sit up. "I was trying to get to Birdie's house, where I am?!"

I notice I'm cradled in his lap when his arms tighten around me in an attempt to keep me from jostling the multiple injuries I'm sure I have. "Easy, I got you. Birdie Floyd? She's right next door, you almost made it. Just a hundred feet short."

A voice crackles through his phone, clearly on speaker given that I can hear it so clearly. "I'm about 3 minutes out, Jake. What's going on?"

"She's awake, Javy. I think I can manage until you get here, but I'll keep you on the phone just in case."

He turns to me and I can hear sirens in the background of the call. "I'm Officer Jake Seresin and on the phone is my best friend Javy Machado, he's a paramedic. He's working tonight and I called him the second I opened the door, he and his partner are on the way to come look at ya, ok?" My nod prompts him to continue. "I can go get Bob and Birdie if you want?"

"No!" I yelp. "Please don't leave me alone! H-he might show up..."

"It's ok, pretty girl. I got you, I won't leave you alone. You're safe with me." His voice is calm, soothing. "Even though I'm off duty, I called in some backup. I don't want ya worryin' when you hear the sirens and see the lights here shortly."

His thumb rubs small circles on my upper arm as red and blue fill the night sky.

Jake carries me outside to meet the paramedics and I can hear Birdie from across the yard.

“What’s going on?” Her eyes scan the scene and finally land on me and she immediately runs to me."Emory! Oh, honey! What did he do to you this time?" She starts sobbing as her hand gently traces my swollen cheek. "How'd you find her, Jake?"

"She found me. She knocked on my door thinking it was yours." His chin tips up in acknowledgment when Bob joins his wife. "Hey, Floyd. Javy just rolled up and called in some backup."

No sooner than the words leave his mouth, a tall man with a mocha complexion hops out of the ambulance and rushes over. Jake reluctantly lets me go and nods at me as Javy takes over and lays me on a stretcher. As he's taking inventory of my injuries and rolling me to the ambulance, I hear Jake talking to Bob.

"Where's the fucker that did this to her?"

"If he's not at home, he's at The Den." Bob replies, anger clear in his voice.

Jake climbs up the step into the ambulance, just beside Birdie and reaches out and gently squeezes my hand. "Javy's the best there is, you're in good hands. I'm gonna go get the sad excuse of a man that did this to you and he's gonna go rot in a cell."

Tears well in my eyes as relief washes over me. "Thank you, Jake."

Jake did as he promised, immediately arresting Matt and tossing him in jail. After confirming I did, in fact, end up with new fractures in my arm, a concussion, and severely bruised ribs I returned to work about a week after I may have been sporting a neon pink cast, fading bruises on my face, and stitches in my lip, but I'd never been happier.

The trial officially concluded and Jake was there by my side through the entire thing, volunteering to be my personal protection detail.

6 months later

Jake had walked through the door of Cora's, the bakery Birdie and I have been working at since we were undergraduates at UT Austin. Once the recognition hit me, I gasped. "It's you."

His smile was soft, almost shy, as he blushed. "It's me."

"You saved me, l-I don't have enough words for how thankful I am for you."

Thankfully, he dropped in during a slower time so my rambling isn't holding up other customers.

Jake reaches up and rubs the back of his neck as he looks down. "I'd like to think it's what anyone would do, having sworn an oath to protect and serve and all."

I take the time to finally observe what he's wearing, and he looks damn good in his uniform, before smiling up at him. "Well, take your pick officer. Anything you want is on the house. For as long as I work here."

After that day, he made it a habit to stop in at some point during his shift for coffee and a pastry if he was feeling particularly cheeky. "The coffee's always been free to the boys in blue, I can't take advantage of your kindness all the time, Sweets." He'd told me.

And eventually Jake asked me out. "I know you were in a terrible relationship before, so if this is too forward, stop me. But now that it's not a conflict of interest, how do you feel about dinner with me?"

"Dinner sounds amazing." I'd told him with a wide smile and his quickly matched my own.

From that day forward, we'd been nearly inseparable. With his support, I'd finally caught up with Birdie and finished my MBA. While in school, I met the little spitfire named Adalaide Blake. She had been in her final semester of law school and studying to pass the BAR exam. She quickly became close to Birdie and I and we've been thick as thieves since.

Honoring the promise she made to a couple of 19 year old kids, Cora, the owner of the bakery, turned it over into our capable hands and retired. Cora was the grandma I had always wanted. She took me in when I had nothing and loved Birdie and I as her own. Not long after we took over, Matt was released from prison. Jake had delivered the unfortunate news after plying me with ice cream and tequila a few days before our one year anniversary. He promised to keep me safe and asked me to move in with him. We'd discussed it more the next morning when I was sober and he assured me his reasoning was more than just keeping me safe, he wanted me as part of his every day routine.

Within a few months of my moving in, I helped Jake study for and pass his detective's test. He soon promoted and we celebrated by christening the new home for the bakery. The new location included a large, secure basement with the intention of housing abused women and children. Thanks to Jake, the rest of his squadron at the department, and connections they've made through the years, the changes weren't made public knowledge.

There was a caveat that Jake wasn't aware of: Birdie, Addie, and I had been planning something. While we were absolutely making the new construction a safe haven, we also wanted to find a way to make sure men like Matt didn't ruin any more lives. We realized we could make that happen thanks to the combined knowledge of my studying with Jake for the detective test, Birdie hearing all the stories from Bob about work, and Addie having spent a few years as a defense attorney, we could do it. Birdie had the idea to open a secret speakeasy that would be a way for us to meet with potential women who needed help. The brave souls who sought our help were instructed to ask for a pomegranate scone, which was not sold in the bakery. They were instead provided with a time to meet back here at the speakeasy that we named "The Underworld."

Over the next 2 years, we caught cheaters, helped mothers get sole custody of their children, returned money stolen by swindling slimeballs, and rescued women and children from abusive homes. Along the way, we'd made some new friends and became known as The Furies. The Furies consisted of a team of powerful, badass women who shared the same mindset as us. We also made some new enemies...one of them being the Austin PD. A task force was born to stop the ring of vigilantes, and the most ironic part of it all is that many of the Furies have a personal connection to a member of the task force. For me it was Jake. The man of my dreams and love of my life, had taken on the lead. He had risen through the ranks quickly, finding himself on many cases involving the work of the Furies. With his extensive knowledge, it was a no brainer for the department that he be the commanding officer. Even Birdie’s husband volunteered to be the CSI Specialist for the task force.

Jake and I were almost 4 years into our relationship when my ruse was finally up. I had successfully kept the two facets of my life separate until that fateful night.

We had been running a sting on a local biker gang known for human trafficking, Demeter and I had been at The Den while trying to sneak our way into the back by posing as "entertainment" for the club. Apparently, one of the guys there that night had known Matt and therefore knew who I was. That's when shit hit the fan. While I'd been training extensively with Jake in MMA classes and with our ex-military friend learning to evade capture, one me against five men was no match. I'd learned how to take a hit with minimal damage and that was my saving grace. With my ass thoroughly beaten, I once again found myself stumbling through the dense woods that lead to Bob and Birdie's house. Leaning against the doorframe, my knuckles rap against the wood for her to come usher me inside and help me get patched up.

If my right eye wasn't swollen shut, I might have noticed that the door was a deep blue I'd personally picked out instead of the dark maroon I was expecting. The door opens and I don't even look up before I start talking.

"I'm an idiot, I know. Might need to call someone though, I think one of those fuckers broke my nose," I whine.

"Emory? What the fuck?!" A deep voice bellows from the open door.

I look up and my eyes make contact with very angry looking green ones. "Aw shit, wrong door again."

"What the actual fuck, Em? Get inside." I try to usher her in but she takes a step back.

"No, I'm gonna pretend this didn't happen and walk over to Birdie's." Emory tried to walk away but I reached out and snatched her hand. "Jake what are you -? Ow ow, fine, I'll go, just let go of me."

I let go and she pulled on her hand to get rid of the feeling. I could see the war in her one good eye as she reluctantly followed me inside. I led her into the kitchen, lifting her up onto the island before moving to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. I silently began working on cleaning up the blood on her face before moving down to see if there are other wounds to treat.

"It's just my nose." She mutters and I release the breath I didn't know I was holding as I check on her nose. It wasn't broken thankfully and it didn't look like she was going to have a concussion either so I was able to relax a little.

"Well it doesn't look broken." I sigh as I move to grab an ice pack from the freezer. "Just need some ice and you'll keep your gorgeous face in perfect condition." She gives me an unimpressed glance as I hold out the ice pack to show her how serious I am about fixing her nose. She grabs it and gingerly presses it against the bridge of her nose.

The air around us was thick as we sat in silence. I took the time to really take her in: the way her hair is still messy and her eyes are still slightly swollen, the bridge of her nose was red and she was sure to have bruising around her eyes tomorrow. I could tell by the way she stared at the tiled floor of our kitchen that she was in her mind. She was supposed to be at the bakery all night, and now she's showing up at my door bloody, again. I'm just about to say something when she speaks up.

"So I guess I gotta explain why we're having a deja vu episode."

"That would be nice." I say with a deep sigh. "But I'd rather make sure you are okay."

"I'm fine. I'd like to explain it all now, rather than later." Her voice sounded strained and for someone who was usually so confident, that was saying something. "Okay, shoot."

She takes a deep breath before she starts. "I would like to state that if you never wanna see or speak to me again after you hear all this I completely understand, because it's a lot and you're probably gonna hate me afterwards and—"

"Em, please, stop." I cut her off, unable to deal with any more of her self deprecating rambling. "We're gonna have to get married before you continue so I can claim marital privilege."

"Wait, really?" She drops the ice pack to the counter as her eyes widen at my words. We've only just recently started talking about marriage being an option because I wanted to wait for her to be ready for it. "Seriously? You wanna marry me before I tell you all this?"

"Really, sweets." I smile, reaching out to cup her cheeks. "I love you and nothing could ever make me hate you! Shit, you could be the fucking leader of the Furies and I would still only see my Emory. I even have a ring upstairs."

"No you don't." She chuckles nervously.

"Oh, I do, trust me." I lean towards her and place a small kiss on her lips. They're chapped but warm. She leans forward as well, tilting her head slightly. We pull apart with a soft chuckle.

"So should we get you that ring and then go tell Bob and Birdie?" I smile.

"Yeah. Yeah I think we should." She nods before looking back at me. "You wanna help me clean up?" I laugh as I grab a washcloth to clean up the rest of the blood.

Once she was cleaned up and changed into some new clothes, we made our way across the shared yard to the Floyd household.

"I doubt they're even still up." Emory mutters as I knock on the door. "I mean seriously, it's 4 am. They wouldn't still be up, would they?"

"Not that I can tell." I frown and look back toward Em. "Let's see." We both peer inside the house through a window and we both see that the lights are still on, albeit dimly. Suddenly, the door opens to reveal Bob, his eyes already tired and his glasses fogged up from sleep. His hair was rumpled as if he had been running his hands through as his vision focused on us.

"Hey, what are you guys doing here so late?"

"We need to talk to you guys." I answer as Emory nods.

"About what?" The tone in his voice indicates that he isn't buying into anything. He's definitely suspicious of us.

"Nothing important." I lie and Emory quickly steps in.

"But you should go get Birdie."

"If it's enough for the both of you to interrupt mine and Birdie's sleep schedules, then it is important." Bob sighs, "Come on in." He gestures us in before locking the door and heading towards his bedroom where Birdie was surely sound asleep.

It's a few minutes before we hear the tell tale signs of Emory's best friend running down the hallway.

"Em! Are you okay?" The brunette girl drops beside her friend, checking her over for injuries. "Should I call…?"

"I'm fine Bird, everything is okay now." Em assures her and I could see Birdie's shoulders visibly relax before she reaches for a pillow.

"Then where the hell have you been?!" The brunette exclaims as she pulls away from her friend, hitting her with the decorative pillow. "I thought you were dead! There was always a chance you were in deep but what the hell?!"

"I'll explain everything later, but we need you to do something for us first." Emory smiles softly, pulling the pillow from Birdie's hands. Both Birdie and Bob look at us confused as I move to the seat next to Em.

"We're getting married tomorrow." I say.

"Oh." Bob answers shocked.

"Oh? Oh my god! Finally!" Birdie jumps up cheering. "Wait! Why tomorrow?"

"I might've fucked up on which door I knocked on again." Emory giggles. I laugh with her, Birdie just stares blankly at us before she speaks.

"So you're gonna...?"

"After the wedding, he wants marital privilege." Em answers.

"Oh well then by all means Mr. Seresin, dive in head first!" Birdie replies, laughing. "Break her heart after this, they won't find your body."

"I'm gonna kill you someday Birdie." Emory mumbles.

"No you won't." Birdie blows her a kiss. "Now you get the guest room." She says, pulling Emory from the couch and pushing her down the hall. "And you get to go home and sleep alone!" She says, looking at me.

"But..."

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Now get out of my house." Birdie ushers me towards the door.

"Ya know we could've done it in secret." I tell her.

"Then you'd be dead. Night Jake!" She smiles before closing her front door and locking it.

With that I turned, headed towards home. I felt slightly lightheaded and giddy; I couldn't believe it actually happened. I didn't feel scared or worried, but I guess I should have. I knew I loved Emory and nothing could change that, why would she even think that anything would? As I thought about these things walking through my front door, I glanced at the clock, noting the brightly shining 4:36 am. The courthouse opens at 8, sleeping now would only make us late so I walked to the living room and threw on the morning news.

Our wedding, although a simple one at the courthouse with only Bob and Birdie present was perfect. I never needed the fancy suit, the white gown, and the big wedding to prove that I loved her. Seeing her stand before me with the ring I've been holding onto for a year was more than enough. Bob and Birdie treated us to breakfast before heading back to their house. And then Emory tells me everything. And I mean everything.

I sit in shock on the loveseat as Em paces across the living room from me. Birdie's in the kitchen making drinks and Bob speaks up from his seat on the other couch.

"Well thank fuck someone else knows." He sighs, relaxing into his chair.

"I'm sorry, WHAT?!" I shouted, turning to who I thought was my best friend. "You knew they were doing this?"

"Why else do you think there was never any definite trail linking them to any of the crimes? I've been busting my ass around the clock out here!" Bob defends. "Nat and I can't take it anymore!" Bob immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. My eyes widen, if possible, more than they already were.

"Nat knows?!"

"BOB!" Both Emory and Birdie shout.

"Am I the only one who didn't know?" I question, my eyes trailing between the girls.

"Uhhh, Jake. Let's talk more tomorrow after we've consummated our marriage and can't have it annulled." Em chuckles softly and I already know the answer. Everyone, everyone knew before me.

"Did everyone know before me?"

"At least Cyclone doesn't know. Especially about—" Bob is cut off again by his wife who's abandoned the drinks.

"Robert!"

"The dam is broken, Birdie. There's no turning back now!"

"I knew we should've let Psyche make him sign the NDA." Emory sighs, groaning as she drops into a seat.

"Well I figured he feared his wife more." Birdie shrugs.

"And I do!" Bob jumps up, trying to defend himself. "I don't fear jail because I know what you bunch are capable of."

"Robert Floyd! Did you only marry me cause you thought I'd kill you?!" Birdie shouts, turning to glare at her husband.

"No! I love you! I do!" Bob panics, trying to dig out of the hole he got himself in. "But I definitely don't wanna be on the receiving end of one of Em's special recipes."

"BOB!!!" Em, Birdie, and hell even I shouted at him, knowing that was definitely something he was not supposed to tell me.

"I'm gonna go shower now." Bob mutters, walking towards the master bedroom.

"I swear I'm gonna—"

"Let us leave before you go all Hera on his ass." Em laughs as she pulls me to the front door. I'm still processing everything she told me as we enter our home.

My girlfriend—my wife— is THE Persephone, the leader of the Furies. The woman who has been avoiding capture at my hand for years now. The love of my life is who I've been chasing this entire time. Holy shit.

"You okay over there?" Her voice drags me from my thoughts. I look up to see her staring at me expectantly.

"I'm okay, I think?"

"Are you asking me if you are okay?" She laughs, stepping up to me. Her hazel eyes still sparkle the way they always have, but especially since she now has the diamond ring I got paired with her now. This is still my Emory, not the known vigilante that I've been hunting for years.

"No. I'm okay." I smile at her.

"So... the handcuffs are still for in the bedroom and not for arresting me right?" She asks, smiling as she slowly pulls me towards our room. It's only then that I realize how painfully hard I am.

"Please stop talking. My dick is hard and I'm so confused as to why." Emory laughs at my statement, stopping in her tracks as she snorts, doubling over from her laughter. "This isn't funny Em! I'm conflicted!"

As she calms down she looks up at me with lust filled eyes. "At least you know that I don't entirely hate you for all the times you shot at me." She shrugs casually and walks into the room leaving me standing there in shock, her hips swaying a little more.

Then it hits me. Some of the nights that we had the greatest sex— it was right after I had a shootout with the Furies. She would jump me the minute we were both home and my god—

"Don't you dare start without me, sweets!"

Taglist: (tagging those who might interested, join the taglist to keep being tagged or to be tagged next time) @mamachasesmayhem @eternalsams @sarahsmi13s @hookslove1592 @sailor-aviator @callsign-magnolia @goldenseresinretriever @callsigns-haze @some-lovely-day @buckysteveloki-me @bradleybeachbabe @lovinglyeternal @footprintsinthesxnd @ohtobeaspettyasleah @untoldshortsofthefandoms

Mama may's Everything tags: @aviatorobsessed @callsigncurse @teacupsandtopgun @trickphotography2 @thedroneranger @sweetwhispersofchaos @capoteera @hardballoonlove @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989 @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lynnevanss @jynxmirage @na-ta-sh-aa @whatislovevavy @dingochef @dempy @dckweed @just-in-case-iloveyou @tgmreader @djs8891 @marvelousnightjengale @soulmates8 @sorchathered

42 notes · View notes

s1nn0hh · 2 months

Text

'Intertwining Emanation'

a ficlet for @fujii-draws and her two pmd characters ribbons n' aimilios. basically i thought to myself "hey what if ribbons evolved into sylveon a tad earlier than aimilios and she also figured out how she feels about aimilios while figuring out how it happened". not my best, but enjoy!

T'was another calm afternoon on Sharpedo Bluff as Team Hailstone made their way back to home base after a day of work that felt like forever to the two kids.

An entire day consisting of escort missions, item retrieval, finding missing persons, outlaw findings, and the ever-so-lovely Monster Houses interrupting in-between. As much as Ribbons and Aimilios would've admitted that they could take anything that a mystery dungeon could throw at them, there was just about enough that even the two of them had to nope out.

Entering the humble adobe of their home-base, the first thing they did was immediately crash on their beds out of exhaustion, letting out the pressures of workload melt away instantly as they did.

"Man, if I knew that we had to face all those Monster Houses floor after floor just on Mt. Travail alone, I would've made sure we stayed at home.."

Aimilios blurted out as he tried a comfortable position on the haystack bed, yet not managing to find that one perfect spot.

"Pssh, don't worry. Even if it were one Monster House or a hundred, we would've kicked em' all in the bum together! Besides, that's the whole thing with mystery dungeons. You never really know what's in there, can ya?"

Ribbons said as she turned to face Aimilios in her bed, a tired but nonetheless goofy smile plastered on her face as the two were about to head out for the night. Aimilios chuckled a bit at her words, letting out a weak 'yeah' as he did. Seeing Ribbons again just made him feel.. a whole lot better. As if the mere sight of her smile was enough to heal him from anything that ills him.

When she first disappeared after the quarrel with Primal Dialga, he felt as though his entire world simply shattered. She was everything to him, and when she was gone, he.. wasn't sure what to do with himself. As much as 'toughing it out and continuing to do the job in her honor' felt like the best solution; It was easier said than done. He was simply unable to. He couldn't stop grieving, no matter how much he wanted to.

But it seems as though that through whatever cosmic deity that heard his silent prayers, it managed to bring Ribbons back. He wasn't sure how, but he was more than happy. Aimilios wasn't even sure how to describe it, but it was probably his heart speaking.

Before the whole 'stop the flow of time from getting all screwy' and back when they were just two apprentices at Wigglytuff's Guild, Aimilios first knew how he felt about Ribbons back during the Fogbound Lake expedition. Just being there with her made him feel.. good, in a way.

Ever since, he's been trying to think of ways to tell her how he thinks, with all of them ending with all the attempts flying Ribbons' head. Not that she was stupid, far from it, but she just didn't look too far into it. And here he was, just gazing at her like a big ol' dork at with a big smile on his face. Ribbons saw this and giggled a bit at the look on his face, and seemingly asking him about it was enough to snap him out of the trance he was in and him getting a bit flustered.

"You okay there, Am? You're lookin' at me all funny!"

"H-huh? I-I am okay! Yeah, I'm fine!"

"C'mon, you had that big toothy smile on your face, you can tell me!"

"Okay, okay! It's just that.. uh.."

Aimilios scratched the back of his head as he thought about what to say next, all the while some redness was still present on his cheeks as he did.

".. I missed you, and.. seeing you here just kind of.. makes me more.. happy?"

Ribbons was silent for a moment. But only for one, singular moment as a big toothy grin filled her face while her tail was wagging up a storm.

"D'aww, I missed you too. To be honest, when I was first told that I will never see you again before we defeated Primal Dialga, I.. didn't know what to do. Like, you're the coolest person I know, and.. I just feel bad for not telling you earlier."

Ribbons said, some shame and regret hanging from her tone at that last part. Aimilios, for all he could, would never blame Ribbons over what happened at Temporal Tower. Sure, he was a tad mad that he wasn't told earlier, but that was it. He would never be mad at her over what happened, and seeing her shame herself for it made him a bit sad. But he was here to reassure her that he was still her friend, no matter what.

"It's okay, that.. that stuff was of the past. I'm just happy that you're here, you know? Now, what do you say we get some well earned rest after today?"

"Heh, already two steps ahead of you. G'night, Aimilios."

"Good night, Ribbons."

With a skip and a yawn, the two went off to bed, slumbering away as the moonlight bounced off from the bluff's maw, feeling the room with its presence.

Ribbons went out like a light, whereas it took Aimilios a few moment to fully sleep in. Just as he was about to close his eyes, a strange white light enveloped Ribbons, catching him off guard and causing him to trip off the bed.

"Woah!"

Looking back up and seeing that Ribbons was now awake and confused over the sound, she walked over to him to see if he was alright, but was left a bit confused when seeing that he was slightly flustered as he looked at her.

"Woah, what happened? You looked like you saw a Gastly or something!"

"Y-you might wanna look in the mirror, Ribbons..!"

"Eh? What of it?"

As she looked at the mirror, she no longer saw her regular brown-furred and beady eyed self. She looked all pink and cuddly while having four weird ribbons just kind of sticking out, with blue eyes staring back at her instead of the usual black. It almost reminded her Wigglytuff, in a way. She was shocked, but only for a moment. She slowly turned over to Aimilios, and spoke out as if she was about to burst with joy.

"I.. look.. adorable.."

".. What?"

"I LOOK SO FREAKIN' ADORABLE!!"

Ribbons excitedly jumped around all over the place, with Aimilios (who was just as excited as she was) holding onto her feelers as she joyfully skipped on and about in their home, before immediately coming to a halt and scratching her chin in confusion as she didn't know *what* she evolved into.

"Wait, what am I? I know that Eevees are known to evolve and all, but I didn't think it would even happen!"

Aimilios shared a moment of confusion with her, before an idea came to mind. He walked over to the book pile and pulled out a titular book titled 'Evolutions 101', a gift from Dusknoir during one of his visits.

Skimming through the many detail-heavy pages, he managed to find the page that discussed the Pokemon that Ribbons has just evolved into.

"Here! As far as appearance goes, the book says you've evolved into 'Sylveon'. Let's see.. strong feelers.. pastel colors.. long ears.."

"Yeah, but how did this even like, happen? I'm still confused over that.."

"Well, it says here that an Eevee is capable of evolving into Sylveon if it knows a fairy move while.. having a.. high affection for.. someone."

And now, the both of them were redder than a Red Gummi. Obviously, Ribbons liked Aimilios. But whereas Aimilios tried to find ways of conveying his emotions about how much he likes her and enjoys her company, Ribbons played her feelings as natural, thinking that he already got the memo ages ago. But to have all those feelings called out by an evolution? Yeesh, she did feel a bit awkward about it.

Aimilios cleared his throat, trying to break the rather uncomfortable silence with a question, all the while looking extremely flustered as he did.

"So, uh.. how're you feeling?"

"Oh, I am okay with it, but like.. are you okay with me looking like this?"

"Wh- yeah! Ribbons, look. You're my best friend. I won't care at all about how you'll look, because you'll still stay my friend. Whether if you'll have feelers, or psychic powers, or all that sorta stuff. And.. the pink kind of suits you. I like it."

"Awww, thanks! So.. you're totally cool with this? Like, even with the feelers and all?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it. Besides, it's good to finally be able to talk to you in the same eye-level, to be honest.."

"Heheh, yeah. I think that's enough for one night. Wanna go back to bed?"

Aimilios yawned at the question not missing a beat as she asked.

"Yeah.. all this evolution stuff is enough for one evening. Do you think I'll also evolve in my sleep the way you did?"

"Won't hurt to try, right?"

"Heh, you're right. Good night, Ribbons.."

"G'night, Aimilios."

#wow this kinda sucks #ill probably rewrite it in the future

12 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 9 months

Text

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 4

Prompt :: Off the Hook Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Esenaij Sagahl Word Count :: 1,084

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

“Stupid, stupid, stupid Esenaij!” Nomin cursed, and none too quietly either as she stormed off away from the Sagahl Iloh. She clutched her training bow in her hand, her knuckles pale with how tightly she gripped it in frustration. The intrusive thought that told her to throw the bow down on the ground won, and she did. The bow laid there in the grass a good few seconds before Nomin slumped to the ground herself.

She was frustrated. By night’s good graces, she was incredibly frustrated. It had been a good fortnight that she had been attempting to learn how to shoot a bow and hit her mark, but nothing seemed to have been coming out of it. Hitting the targets that Esenaij set up for her had been difficult, and it certainly did not help when Esenaij said little more than, ‘you need more practice.’

It just did not feel helpful in the slightest!

Nomin was taught to string her bow. She was taught to nock an arrow. She was taught a basic stance to keep herself grounded. She was taught to exhale before firing. All these things, and yet she could not well hit her targets! Was Esenaij not teaching her the proper forms of each? Was he intentionally showing her how to do things wrong?

Nomin took in a breath before angrily laying back onto the grass, her brow furrowed and her mouth in a tight frown.

No. Esenaij did the exact same things that he showed her and he was still able to hit his marks with ease.

That just made it even more frustrating!

“What am I doing wrong!?” Nomin yelled, kicking her heels into the dirt and punching one of her fists into the ground next to her. The anger within her coalesced into a lump in her throat, and a tightening of her chest.

Allowing a growl to fall from her lips, Nomin grit her teeth and laid an arm over her eyes. They had begun to sting with all that frustration that had built up over time.

She laid there for what felt like bells, the warmth of daylight slowly becoming the wash of dusk’s encroaching chill. Though she felt the ache of fatigue, she was still too upset to actually rest. Nomin had played over and over in her mind about the lessons shown to her; she was following his instructions! She knew she was!

Sitting up after a time, Nomin looked out toward the ocean from where she had stormed off to. She felt her frustration slowly fade as she took in the sight and colors. It was the first time she had ever gotten to really sit down and look out upon the ocean at sunset.

The sight was pretty. The oncoming night mingling with whatever remained of daylight created such beautiful colors. For a moment, Nomin wondered if she could create something like this with paint. She could draw plants well enough, she thought. A vast sky should have been simple enough.

Suddenly, the sound of rustling grass had caught Nomin’s attention. She quickly grabbed the bow next to her -- even if she had no arrows, it was some source of comfort. Turning, she looked up to see Esenaij as he approached. He still wore that unimpressed look upon his face, though something seemed a little different about him. Nomin was not entirely sure what.

Esenaij sat next to Nomin in silence. Together they sat there, Nomin’s attention going back out toward the ocean.

“Bayarmaa said you didn’t come back to the ger…” Esenaij finally said. “It’s been a bell or so. She was worried you’d miss out on getting something to eat.”

Nomin had not been feeling particularly hungry. Not until Esenaji said that, anyroad. Her stomach’s hunger was now felt within more noticeably. If anything, she was surprised it had yet to groan with how it felt.

However, instead of focusing on the hunger, Nomin frowned and looked down at the bow in her hands.

“... What am I doing wrong, Esenaij?” Nomin asked. “I’m really, really trying to do everything you do, but why can’t I hit anything?”

“You’re impatient and you’re only mimicking me, not taking my advice to heart,” Esenaij replied. His response was immediate, but his tone was actually soft and genuine. Softer than Nomin had so often been used to with him. He looked at Nomin, then looked at her bow before reaching for it and gently taking it. “Mimicry will only get you so far, Nomin… While it’s a good way to learn, you have to adjust for yourself. You’re smaller than me, you certainly cannot lift or pull as much as I can… You must keep yourself in mind instead of me. And you can’t keep getting upset after every miss -- that only serves to rattle your nerves and make you miss more.”

Nomin kept her eyes on the training bow that was now in Esenaij’s possession. Eventually, she lifted her gaze to him. His expression had softened only slightly, and now that her attention was pointed at him, he handed the bow back to her.

Mulling over all of the information that was given to her, it was hard not to feel the sting of Esenaij’s criticisms. Her mouth twisted into a frown before she pushed herself up and back onto her feet. Letting out a breath, Nomin did her best to keep herself calm. She would have rather not had Esenaij yell at her because she was angry. She had already left their archery lessons having snapped at him.

“What’s Bayarmaa cooking tonight?” Nomin asked, changing the subject. Her tone was terse, not that she particularly noticed herself. She would need time to think on the critique she had been given. Though for now, her mind resisted against the notion, her jaw set after she had spoken.

“Budaatai huurga.” Esenaij also stood himself back up, folding his arms over his chest once he was on his feet. He looked down at his foster sister, a more stern look on his face. “You’re not off the hook yet, though. If you really want to be a good archer, we have more to go over later. But please just do what you can to curb that impatience more than anything.”

Puffing her cheeks, Nomin furrowed her brow.

“Hmph!” Nomin could feel her anger bubbling back up, though she sharply turned her back on Esenaij and strode across the grassland back to the Sagahl Iloh.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl

8 notes · View notes

sonic-wildfire · 1 year

Text

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles "Tails" Prower

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Drowning, One Shot

Summary: Sonic has a particularly bad nightmare. Tails fears the worst.

Notes: Inspired by fanart from @sonicattos. Special thanks to @file-004-tw1xy and @deadnightguard for beta reading and providing feedback!

[Read on AO3]

Sinking.

The first thing Sonic felt was that he was sinking. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out or how he got here. His surroundings — the ones he could hear, anyway — gave him no clues either; aside from a droning, soft rumble, it was silent. The ambience was almost soothing in a weird way, like it was trying to lull Sonic back to sleep.

The blue hedgehog gradually collected himself. It was already clear to Sonic that he was completely out of his element. His limbs felt as though each weighed as much as a truck. An uneasy tightness in his chest stalked his conscience.

Sonic’s head was pounding, a dull ache encompassing it. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to deal with a sore noggin.

But an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach told him something was out of the ordinary. Something felt… out of place?

No. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Sonic eventually mustered the strength to slowly open his eyes. As he did so, his vision blurred and his eyes began to sting. The tightness in his chest slowly but steadily grew.

He tentatively looked around, as if expecting to see a friend beside him.

When Sonic looked up, the sky sported an oddly light blue appearance and no clouds or sun in sight.

The hedgehog gazed downward. An ultramarine abyss gazed back at him.

What he saw was no sky at all.

Sonic’s pupils suddenly dilated. The tightness in his chest evolved into a burning sensation of the lungs. It was only now he realized he had been holding his breath the entire time.

In a flash, his limbs came to life as he began violently convulsing, the hero kicking and clawing ferociously in a desperate attempt to push himself upward. Speedy as the blue hedgehog typically was, his movements were uncharacteristically sluggish. His thrashing did him no good, only pulling him farther down.

If only he knew how to swim.

The depths slowly crushed Sonic as he descended toward the void. The frigid water assaulted each and every one of his senses. The azure hero’s movements became even more erratic as he began to tire from his fruitless exertion. His lungs were on fire and his ears all but ruptured from the extreme pressure.

Even still, Sonic held his breath. There was no way now that Sonic would be able to reach the surface for precious air. His head was about to cave in, and the burning in his chest had become unbearable.

Sonic was determined to keep fighting towards the surface, whichever direction that was; in his panic, he had disoriented himself in the deep blue.

He knew he couldn’t give up now. Giving up was anathema to him. As far as he was concerned, it simply wasn’t an option.

But the hedgehog’s body finally betrayed him. Sonic unconsciously forced himself to draw a breath, only for water to begin flooding his airway. Precious air bubbles escaped his maw and rose to the shallows as the hero frantically made a last-ditch effort to rise, but to no avail.

For the first time in a long time, Sonic felt something he had stared down over and over again: fear.

Fear was nearly incomprehensible to the blue hedgehog. He’s flirted with death countless times. He’s fought gods and wretched beasts. He’s braved the vacuum of space and the bending of time.

And yet, it was water — the one thing necessary to sustain life — Sonic was truly afraid of.

“Some hero I am…” he thought to himself.

After a minute, a wave of calm suddenly overtook Sonic.

He stopped struggling. His muscles relaxed.

The blue blur — and all he was made of — came to a standstill.

As darkness slowly consumed his vision, Sonic’s life flashed before his eyes. Or, rather, it faded in and out with snapshots of the past.

Memories long gone. Moments forever frozen in time.

His greatest triumphs. His poignant failures.

“Sonic…”

A life full of unimaginable accomplishment, adversity, and aspiration.

Maybe… just maybe…

“Sonic!”

Was this where he belonged?

“Sonic! Wake up!”

Gasp!

The hedgehog bolted upright, hyperventilating. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he heaved for a precious breath of air.

Air.

Sonic, as it turned out, was back in his bedroom. Beside him, Tails – the hedgehog’s closest companion – lay on his stomach, tears streaming down his face.

“Sonic! Are you okay?!” Tails asked, his voice shaking.

Sonic replied between gulps of air, “Huh…? What happened?”

“You… you were crying…”

“I’m not…” Sonic began to answer.

“And then you… I don’t know what happened...” Tails fell forward and embraced Sonic, his head burrowed into his shoulder. “You just stopped breathing… I… I thought you were…”

Sonic’s expression softened as Tails stuttered.

Was he truly dying in his sleep the entire time? Was Tails only thinking so?

Tails choked out between sobs, “I didn’t know what to do… I was so scared…” His voice trailed off as the twin-tailed fox wept harder, his body shivering violently and his fur standing on end.

The hedgehog wasn’t sure how to react. He always had a tendency to put the well-being of others over himself. But seeing Tails so upset made him have second thoughts.

“I’m… I’m okay, Tails,” he lied. “I just… had a bad dream. That’s all.”

Sonic propped himself up gently so that his upper body laid upright, softly stroking Tails’ fur as he did so.

“How is all of that okay?!” Tails asked with a harsh whisper, as if he wasn’t sure whether to murmur or shout. “What was it, anyway?”

Sonic paused for a moment. The two had been through so much together and grown so close, but even then Sonic still kept his problems and insecurities to himself. It was one of the very few things Tails resented about him.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Sonic lied again. “It’s okay, Tails.”

A wordless stare met the hedgehog. Sonic averted his gaze momentarily.

“I’m here. I’m safe.”

Sonic softly wiped away Tails’ tears the best he could, giving him a faint and reassuring smile. He wrapped his arms around the fox and cradled him gently.

Sonic continued to slowly stroke Tails’ fur. “Just take some deep breaths…”

Tails did as he was told, still frightened by the hedgehog’s near-death experience.

“I don’t want you to leave, Sonic,” timidly whimpered Tails.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two remained silent after that. Tails eventually drifted off to sleep, still safe and sound in the blue hero’s arms.

Sonic simply stared out the bedside window, waiting for dawn.

He had enough sleep for one night.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic fanfiction #fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Text

As promised: let's talk Hades, and how acts of abuse can create toxic environments for everyone around them, and also how people react to those environments--and to them being disrupted.

(For reference, I have just kicked Theseus's ass for the first time, it was exactly as satisfying as it was intended to be, and then I got predictably slaughtered a couple of chambers into Styx. Spoilers for everything through that point, but please no spoilers in reblogs/comments for anything after that!) Also, TW for a whole lot of discussion of abuse, particularly verbal and emotional abuse, and abusive familyworkplace dynamics.

Okay, so. To start out with, Hades is an abusive parent. He engages in innumerable acts of verbal and emotional abuse towards his son, because yep, that's what you call it when a parent constantly berates and belittles their kid for every perceived failure, including the ones the parent themselves could have prevented. Sometimes especially the ones the parent could have prevented. Zagreus failed at his office clerk job because Hades refused to teach him how to do it and then blamed him for not already knowing how. Cerberus tore up the lounge because Hades, who was actually there, chose not to stop him. Hades created, possibly deliberately, and then took full advantage of every opportunity he saw to insult and demean his kid, and the clerk job flashback shows us that he was doing so even before the escape attempts started. I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page here, but: yep, that all constitutes abuse, even if they're gods. Even if Hades has reasons for Being Like That. Even if you think Zagreus seems okay and unharmed by it (which: repeatedly throwing yourself into a gauntlet of violence that inevitably ends in your own pain and death because you're so desperate to escape home, not actually an indicator of someone who's okay). We all good on that?

Cool. Because I'm not really here to talk about how Hades' abuse directly impacts Zagreus right now (although there's for sure an essay in that too). I'm thinking about how it impacts everybody else.

Hades isn't as obviously unreasonable with anybody else in his kingdom the way he is with his kid. When we see him lecture somebody else, it's usually for an actual failure to do their job: Hypnos for literally falling asleep on the job and not doing anything that was assigned to him, Megaera for letting us past her so many time, Orpheus for being a court bard who refuses to sing. His attitude is super confrontational and unpleasant, but on the surface it doesn't necessarily look as fucked-up. Thing is, though, whether any individual act of aggression towards an employee/family member is justified or not (I would generally argue 'not', because aggression towards employees/family members is, y'know, not justifiable)--it's not about the individual acts. It's about the entire cultivated atmosphere of toxicity and abuse.

One of the very first things Meg ever says to us is, "I'd rather be on your bad side than his." Up until that point, we've got no reason to believe Meg has any history whatsoever of fucking up at her job. In fact, we've got plenty of reason to believe she's good at it. She's fiercely proud of it, she's frequently Employee Of The [Time Period], and we've apparently never even met her sisters because she handles her shit herself. But she's still scared of Hades. Dusa, who is an anxious wreck at all times because oh god what if she gets fired what if she gets fired what if she gets fired, in spite of apparently being absolutely exemplary at her job, is scared of Hades. Every single shade in the Hall is clearly terrified of Hades, and it's not because of what he's done to each of them. It's what they've seen him do to other people.

Which is how toxic environments work, whether they're work environments or families. The Court of Hades is of course both, always, with the bonus hell layer of you can't quit even if you DIE. An abuser in authority doesn't have to target you in order to make you feel scared, cowed, and desperate to please them. Humans (and gods who are basically extra-powerful humans) are good at learning by example. The residents of the Court get the picture.

So this Court is a minefield--and everyone except Zagreus is very good at tiptoeing around mines. We see it in Meg, so desperate to do her job well. We see that Hypnos very clearly does not give a shit about anything, but he still makes sure to have a list of excuses ready if/when Hades ever confronts him about failure to do his job, just in case. We see it when Achilles tells us that my ability to help you is constrained by the authority your father gives me, or whatever the line was sixty runs ago when he couldn't let me into locked chambers. The system, such as it is, works, and if Nyx talks to Hades as little as possible, if Thanatos avoids the Court entirely, if Achilles treads very carefully and knows how to keep his head down--well that's just the system, right? That's just how things are.

Even Zagreus seems to have had a role in that system as the court fuckup. He's the kid who didn't have a real job or purpose. He could take the focus of Hades' generalized, day-to-day ire off of everyone else, without triggering some of the more direct and violent ire because the work he was doing didn't really matter (a LOT of Hades' rage-triggers seem to be related to job performance, which means that the people with real jobs are of course the most at risk). And he could do so "safely" (big emphasis on the quotation marks there) because he alone of the court is Hades' actual kid, who's Prince of the Underworld no matter how much he fucks up. If one of Nyx's other kids gets something really really wrong, she might be able to protect them from some consequences, but Hades doesn't have any layer of supposed parental affection holding him back from getting violently furious about it. Zagreus gets a nice bedroom and the abuse is limited to words rather than divine power, and Hades is a dick to everyone but he only occasionally condemns people to eternities of torture, and only for good reasons like refusing to sing when your job is to be court bard, so it's fine, everybody's fine, everything's totally fine, right?

Except it's not fine when everybody is so clearly worried about anything going wrong. And it's especially not fine for Zagreus, who's the person to finally say no. He's leaving, for his own sake, because he deserves better and he's finally convinced he can have it. And that turns the whole system into disarray.

I am endlessly fascinated by the ways this game portrays different characters reacting to this upheaval in their carefully-mapped minefield. It's different for authority figures and peers and servants, different based on how people are positioned in the house under Hades' rule, and it's so spot-on and I love it.

Nyx, for instance, is absolutely calm about the whole thing, because Nyx has power. Hades can't hurt her. Hades can't even really do much against her children, not when Hypnos and Thanatos are gods in their own right. Yes, Hades rules the kingdom, but Nyx owns the land, and she gives no shits about his rages. And it's interesting, too, to see the lines she doesn't draw. The deal seems to be that Hades doesn't fuck with her, and doesn't outright threaten her kids (because Hypnos is bad at his job, demonstrably so, and Hades hasn't ruined him yet), and she doesn't interfere with the way he treats the people around him. She gives Zagreus advice and support and the mirror, but she also doesn't take a direct stand against Hades. He can't hurt her, but he could make life...difficult. She's protected, her position in the minefield is more of a safe viewing platform than slogging through the middle of it, but the mines are still there.

And then we have Achilles, who is one of my favorite characters in the whole game because of how he reacts to this whole situation. Achilles, like Nyx, is so supportive. Every single time you see him he has something encouraging to say. He gives us his Codex, secretly finds us weapons, trained us for years, clearly wants us to succeed. And still he's limited, not necessarily out of fear for himself (though he has to be scared for himself, he knows what Hades does to people who anger him), but out of concern that if he gives Zagreus too much help in one way, he won't be able to provide help at all later. He's still so careful.

Achilles and Nyx are so fucking important to this story because they're the only authority figures Zagreus really has in his life except for his father, and they are so supportive. They're what keep this story from being a nightmare of psychological horror and depression. They can't stop the pressure from Hades and this life in his house being miserable for Zag, but they can give us hope, remind us that Zagreus is still loved. And they have such an incredibly important role when it comes to guilt, which is one of the biggest ways toxic systems maintain themselves.

If Zagreus leaves, what happens to everybody else? Who takes Hades' wrath then? Who becomes court scapegoat if he's not there, and also, who gets punished for his escape? These questions matter, and we see him worry about it! He asks Nyx and Achilles both, is it going to be okay that you're helping me, are you going to be alright, will my father hurt you for this? And they are both so firm about telling him no. No, I will be fine. See, here's the list of reasons about why I'm going to be fine, why my position in this minefield is secure. They make a point of telling us that it's fine, that we do not need to hold ourself back from getting out of this abusive situation for their sake. That is instrumental in Zagreus's ability to keep making these escape attempts without feeling too guilty and worried and selfish to go on. (Another thing that's actually really important in setting up that dynamic--we see that Hades cares about Cerberus, even if he's using him as a pawn against us, and Cerberus seems to be the one figure in court who Hades doesn't get mad at. The dog isn't at risk, and that is really essential in keeping the story from getting too grim.) These people who we care about refuse to let themselves be held hostage to secure our good behavior.

It's also really useful for raising the stakes later in the story--we see Hades arguing with Nyx once or twice, and we see Zagreus feeling guilty about it, but it's also a sign that we're making enough progress to piss him off. After I finally made it out of Elysium on my last run, I came home to find him furious with Achilles in a way that actually makes me nervous, because Achilles does not have nearly as much security in his position as he says he does. (Achilles is such a good teacher/authority figure, because he knows goddamn well what Hades could do to him, and still refuses to let fear for his own situation stop him from helping the abused kid under his care escape his. And no, not everybody has the capacity to do that, but it matters so much coming from the guy who helped raise us. It matters so much. I do not even have the words for how much.)

It's also no mistake that many of the people we find supporting us along our journey are either the people with the most power in their immediate environment, or the least. Sisyphus helps us because what more could they do to me than this? Orpheus is a little wild around the eyes and somewhat disconnected from reality, and he wishes us the best because someone should get what they want and also he no longer gives a single fuck what happens to him. Eurydice has her own cozy little corner of Asphodel, as safe from Hades' rage as anybody anywhere in his realm because she's tucked in such an out-of-the-way middle place she's outside his notice. Dusa is so scared of everything anyway that, crush aside, she isn't any more threatened by us escaping than she is just by her everyday life here. Charon is unfathomable and unstoppable; Skelly literally exists to be a punching bag, and yet he also seems basically immune to pain, no matter what we do to him. There's no threat from Hades there.

So the people most at risk when I flip the world on its ear are the ones who have so much standing that they have something to lose, but not enough to protect them from losing it. Which of course brings us to Than and Meg--who are, of course, the two people who also seem by far the most upset by my attempts to leave.

As authority figures, Nyx and Achilles are constantly reinforcing the message that it's Hades' fault, not ours, if they or anybody else get caught in the crossfire of his wrath. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and it's not my guilt to bear. From Megaera and Thanatos, we get the opposite message--I am fucking with things, I am hurting people, and I need to stop. Zagreus isn't just abandoning them, as a friend or brother or lover or all of the above they're Greek gods who even knows. He's betraying them. They were in this together, as friends or lovers or whatever, but now Zagreus is sending earthquakes through the minefield they both still have to stand in. He is about to capsize this boat in the middle of a thunderstorm, he is fucking with the system, and they're the ones who are going to get most hurt.

I'm so curious how this is going to work for Than, who out of everyone we meet holds the closest role to Nyx's in terms of being sheltered from Hades' wrath. He's the guy who gets to leave, after all, even though he always has to come back. I've seen the least of him out of anybody so far because it took forever for me to get to Elysium, but two things really stand out and I'm so interested to see where they go. One, he really genuinely does care about Zagreus. He wants us safe, he wants us unhurt, the accessory he gives us only grants its bonus if we clear a room without taking injury, he keeps showing up to help. And two, he wants us to give up and go back and recognize how good we had it. Which is SO fucking interesting, considering how miserable Zagreus so clearly was, and how legitimate his reasons for being miserable were.

It makes me wonder so much about Than's standards for comparison. Does he know something we don't about what's waiting for us on the surface, something that might theoretically hurt Zagreus even more than staying down below? Has his life, which apparently allows him more freedom than anybody else in the Court, sucked horribly in ways we haven't seen, and that's why he spends so little time there in the first place? Either of those things is plausible, both of those things are plausible, and yet either one leads to this sense of patronizing, because he refuses to simply tell us. If something terrible is awaiting us, don't give us vague warnings, tell us what it is and let us decide for ourself! If you're fucking jealous because we might get out entirely and you're still stuck coming back here, say so. If you're worried about your mom--and he does bring her up, how could Zagreus turn his back on her like that, does seem to worry for her--then let's have an actual conversation about how many times she has insisted I do this and also how much I love her.

And, right, it's clear that a lot of Thanatos being upset is simply, you were going to leave me without even saying goodbye, you want to leave ME, which is understandable! But, like, he is demonstrably the one god who gets to visit the surface. He's the one person we actually COULD expect to see again. And he is absolutely also upset because there's an Order To Things, and we're fucking it up. We used to be his careless callow reckless friend who could talk back to Hades and get away with it, and now we're not, and everything is changing and we might leave him altogether, and we might leave him alone in that court without us, and he hates it.

Is it a short-sighted, selfish fear on his part? Yes, absolutely. Even if he's not scared of Hades on his own behalf, he is still frightened by what happens if we upset this system--and maybe it's the sanctity of a much bigger system than the Underworld that he's worried about! Maybe it's the whole divine and cosmic order. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect is enabling the abuse Zagreus has been dealing with for however-long he's been alive. Whatever system he wants so badly to protect OUGHT to be overturned, or at least shaken up. But this is what toxic systems DO. They convince the people within them that they have to be maintained, that a broken system that hurts the people within it is far better than no system at all, that changing the world is too scary and too dangerous. And Thanatos wants his whatever-Zagreus-is-to-him to be there, because he loves him and also because that's how the world works, and those things are all tangled up in one another, and that is how relationships are in a messed-up family like this so therefore I love it.

And Meg. Meg, the best for last, my dear, beautiful, furious, bitter, scared angry tired girl. I adore her. I am absolutely never going to date her, because the thing Zagreus needs most in his life hurts her, more directly than anybody else in the story, and that sucks, and it's not Zag's fault but they still shouldn't be together. Meg has taken more injury from this situation than anyone, quite literally as well as metaphorically, and it's not her fault any more than it's ours, but oh boy it has made her lash out and it's awful and it's perfect.

Meg's place in the Court of Hades is unique because she's not dead, not a mortal, not anything other than a god--but she's also not family. Nyx is not her mother. She's very much part of this system, she and her two sisters belong to Hades-the-realm and therefore also Hades-the-king, she can't leave, but she also doesn't have that protection of Nyx watching out for her in the same way. She's not royalty. She and her sisters (if you ask Hesiod instead of Virgil, which seems to be the interpretation the game's going with here) sprang from the blood of maimed Uranus at the same time as Aphrodite, but fuck knows Aphrodite isn't claiming them as siblings. And she can't be fired, exactly, but she sure can be demoted, and she sure can be made miserable in her job. Meg is vulnerable in a way very few people in Hades' employ are. She's a lot harder to do away with than any one random shade, but she's also a lot harder to miss blending in with a crowd.

What's more, she's the one person in this whole mess who is specifically tasked with stopping us from leaving. Hypnos isn't ordered to put us to sleep and keep us in our room. Thanatos can't be compelled or punished if he doesn't hunt us down. Achilles isn't told to lock us up and keep the keys. Meg is the one stationed at the doorway to Tartarus to keep us in. Meg is the one who gets in trouble when we leave. Meg (who Hades knows goddamn well Zagreus cares for, or cared for, who he absolutely knows we used to date) is the one who has to fight us again and again and again. And she's the one who keeps dying.

Again, it's this incredibly fucked-up guilt/hostage situation deliberately designed to keep people from fleeing abusive situations. Meg's insistence on fighting us now puts Zagreus in the position of having to hurt her himself again and again. Now suddenly we're the ones sticking a sword in our ex-girlfriend. Now suddenly someone can point to our desire to leave, to flee, to escape, and say, how selfish. How cruel. How terrible of us to want to go, when we're even willing to hurt the people we love to do it.

Except, right: Hades is the one who demands Meg stand there and stop us. Hades is the one who puts both of us in that position. Meg is also in an abusive situation, and she's willing to hurt us to protect herself. "I'd rather be on your bad side than your father's." It's easy to blame her at the start for being complicit, for being a tool of our father's abuse, for being on his side. It gets harder as the game goes on. I've killed her so many times. There's no way for her to beat me. She knows at this point that she can't beat me. She still fights, every single time, still throws herself upon that spike, not because she thinks she has any chance of stopping me but because she is so damn scared of what will happen if she doesn't try.

In fact, Meg's the one person we have actually seen face consequences for our actions so far, instead of just facing the threat of them. Her sisters are here. Her sisters, who she clearly does not want here, who are wild and violent and who she does not want in her life or anywhere near her, let alone near the job she takes so much pride in. She gets to deal with them now. (Hades doesn't have to deal with them. They're still not allowed in his court. But Meg does.) She gets stabbed, and bludgeoned, and shot, and lightning-struck, and poisoned, and every other thing we do to her. Thanatos doesn't. Nyx and Achilles and Hypnos don't. Bug Meg? Oh yes. Meg pays.

And yes, ok, she is complicit in this system. Everybody is complicit in this system. Zagreus who's trying to escape on his own behalf instead of overthrowing his father for the sake of everyone he'd otherwise be leaving behind is complicit in this system. Pointing fingers and pulling strings of who's more at fault? and who do we blame for this? is exactly how this sort of system perpetuates itself. Your sister always talked back at the dinner table and put everyone in an even worse and more violent mood. Your coworker refuses to work more than forty hours a week so now you have to take overtime to pick up their slack. You're enabling your dad by asking your sister to shut up, you're enabling your employer by working as hard as you do so you don't get fired, everyone's at fault, everyone's to blame, everyone is--

It's not everyone. It's Hades. It's Hades at the root of everything, and probably something big and institutional and fucked-up even beyond him. But even if everyone down in this Underworld does have to be trapped here forever, even if he's trapped here forever, Hades is neither challenging the system that put them here nor trying to make that fate better for anyone else stuck with him. He's just created an entire kingdom of backbiting and misery and people who can either go along with his whims or suffer the consequences.

At this point in the game, Meg is so fucking tired. Every time we run into her in the lounge, hunched over a table, the venom in her voice when she tells us "Do I look like I have anything to say to you?" is so bitter and so exhausted. There was a system, and she knew her place in the system, and it was a system divinely ordered by the gods themselves, and sure it was cruel but that's the literal will of the universe as far as she knows it. She had a role, and her role was vengeance and punishment and violence against those who'd committed the most egregious of sins in life, and there was a point to it, she was the divine deterrent to convince people not to do those things, and that was just, and that was right. The GODS THEMSELVES said so. How do you argue with that? You can't possibly argue with that!

And Zagreus is arguing with that. In trying to leave, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that nothing in the Underworld ever gets to leave it. In disobeying his father to do so, he's questioning the unbreakable rule that what the gods say is LAW. He's breaking everything.

And of course he's not trying to do any of that. He's not trying to destabilize the system at all. He's just trying to get himself out of it, to a place where he feels like he belongs and maybe a parent who's slightly nicer to him than this one. But toxic systems like this one break when the people within them have access to another option. When the kids find a way to actually leave, and not answer the phone, and not come home for holidays, and not deal with it any more. When the employees have the economic freedom to quit. When opportunities granted by education, money, social support, etc etc etc, show up and give people a choice. Even if the option is only ever for Zagreus--he's demonstrating that an option exists. Which is, of course, the one thing the system cannot ever allow.

I really like this game.

#hades game #hades spoilers #C plays stuff #driveby meta attack

908 notes · View notes

joansiefics · 3 years

Note

Hey!! I just saw your prompt post and I was wondering if I could request prompts 2 and 4 from the angst section with Steve Rogers? Fluffy ending? I'm just really in the Steve mood rn. Thanks❤️😘

No Bed Of Roses

STEVE ROGERS X READER

Prompt 2: "don't you hurt a single hair on her head"

Prompt 4: "I don't know where I am... please help"

SUMMARY: You get kidnapped on your way home from running errands and Steve comes to save you.

WARNINGS: Explicit Descriptions of Torturing (Cutting, Dislocations...), Kidnapping, Chloroform, Blood, Mentions of Death, Guns

A/N: The expression "no bed of roses" means not pleasant at all. And seeing that this fic is about an anniversary I accentuated and incorporated flowers in the fic. I'm sorry it took so long to write your request, but I hope you like the final product.

MARVEL MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are OPEN

Add yourself to my TAGLIST

~Flower #1: Peony - means Marriage~

You just finished decorating - roses strewn over the tablecloth accompanied by lit candles and fairy lights hanging by the entrance. It was your first marriage anniversary and you wanted it to be special. There were still three hours left before Steve would be home and you were almost done, you just needed to make your famous pumpkin pie. "Dang it!" you spoke aloud when you noticed your flour wasn't enough for the recipe. You rushed to the door and grabbed your keys on the way out.

------

You payed for the flour, thanked the cashier and rushed back to your car. A few meters away from your car, you searched your purse for your keys and unfortunately didn't notice the two men creeping up on you.

~Flower #2: Aconite - means Be Cautious~

A calloused hand enclosed around your mouth, muffling your cries for help, as the other arm snaked around your waist, preventing you from escaping. Another man's hand came into your peripheral vision, a torn rag in his hand. You struggled against the arm around your waist, screaming against his filthy, sour tasting hand and kicking your legs wildly. The rag was forced into your face, even though you twisted your head from left to right, holding your breath and doing everything in your power to escape the drowsiness. After about five minutes of useless struggling, black spots started to cloud your vision, the fight fully escaped from your body and you fell numb into your attacker's arms.

------

~Flower #3: White Rose - means Silence~

When you opened your eyes, the dark was exchanged for more darkness. You relied on your hearing to inform you of your surroundings - a dripping faucet, the roof's thermal expansion and contraction and silence. The sudden presence of a fluorescent light directed directly into your eyes had you squinting. "Sleeping Beauty finally awakes" a loud voice booms from somewhere in front of you. You try opening your eyes against the bright light to find the source of the goosebump-eliciting voice. "Who are you and what do you what from me?" you strenuously ask. A dry cough threatens to escape your parched throat and makes you gag, before you collect the most possible saliva to swallow. "We'll leave our identity a riddle for you to figure out while we wait for your Captain to show up"

'No, no, no, no...HYDRA...Steve fought so hard against them, he'll be devastated' you think "Well, then I'll have all the time in the world, he's not coming to save me" you say, hoping that it came across more convincing than it felt "We both know you're lying princess" "Don't call me princess" you seethe. "We need to do something about your snarky remarks, princess." he tuts as he walks to the corner of the room and for the first time you see the trolley decorated with tools. "With what do you want to start?" he asks fake politely. "You choose" you say with fake bravery masking your utter terror. "Let's see if we can shut your pretty mouth up first." He picks up a knife and slowly stalks towards you.

~Flower #4: Marigold - means Pain~

When he gets to you, he forces your mouth open - his long fingernails digging into your soft, rosy cheeks. He musters up all his saliva, stores it at the tip of his tongue and spits the ball of slime into the back of your throat. You choke on the warm liquid, traveling down your throat as he shakes your head to ensure that you swallowed all the given saliva. Once you swallowed everything you look your kidnapper in the eyes "thank you so much, I was so thirsty" "Let's see if you'll be so outspoken when I cut your tongue" he digs his nails deeper, drawing blood as you try to close your mouth. He forces the knife's blade into your mouth.

The cut is made at the tip of your tongue - not deep enough to cut the tip off, but just deep enough to let it bleed profusely. A scream escapes your lungs and the tears sting behind your eyes. "Not so brave now sweetheart, huh?" he mocks. He takes a phone out of his pocket and clicks on a number. The phone rings once and then the other person picks up "Hello?" the person, you recognize as Steve, unsurely greets. "Captain, we have your pretty little wife over here" "Don't you hurt a single hair on her head!!" Steve yells fumingly. "Oops, too late" "let me talk to her" Steve urgently orders, hands clenched into fists. "No, no, no captain...why don't I show you" your kidnapper switches the call over to video call and focuses the camera on you. He grabs your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open. Then he grabs a pair of pliers and pull at the tip of your tongue, to show Steve the damage that has been done.

You don't know when your tears started falling - maybe when you saw Steve or maybe when your tongue was cut into, but they were now flowing down your cheeks, stinging in the crescent shaped cuts of your kidnapper's nails. "Just hold on sweetheart, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" 'He is probably still at work... how long have I been here? Less than three hours?' You attempted to speak but you rather hissed at the pain when your tongue touched your upper palate. Steve's heart clenched at the sight of your fear stricken face, contorting in pain. "Here's the deal, we let your pretty princess go free when you hand yourself in" the kidnapper speaks up. "Deal, but I swear if you hurt her even more I won't hesitate to kill you" and with that Steve hangs up.

------

~Flower #5: Balsamine - means Impatient~

"I think he forgot about you princess" the kidnapper says, impatiently looking at his watch and walking the room up and down. When nearly twenty minutes have passed since the phone call, your kidnapper lost patience. He harshly yanked you up, by your hair, from the chair and pulled you after him - your feet sweeping the floor clean. At the other side of the room he let go of your hair and kicked you over onto your stomach. He gripped your tied up wrists and cut the rope loose, only to secure your wrists with a much stronger and longer rope. You could feel the sisal rubbing over your already lacerated wrists and feel the blood trickling down your fingers.

When your kidnapper was sure that you could not escape the bonds, he hauled you up by holding the other side of the rope. He lead you to a contraption where he made you climb the three stairs upwards. He positioned you that your back was to the pole-like-contraption and then tied the longer end of the rope (behind your back) to it. He quickly got off and pulled the handle which made the platform disappear from your under your feet and you fell with a big force to the ground, being pulled back by the rope just before your feet could touch the ground. You screamed as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket - the pain electrifying every cell in your body.

------

~Flower #6: Iris - means Faith & Hope~

You have no idea how long you've been hanging from a rope - a shoulder dislocated, probably a broken rib, lacerated wrists and a slit tongue. The distant sound of gunshots alert your kidnapper, but you hang numbly and exhausted. 'Where's Steve? I know he'll come for me, it's just a matter of time' you try to talk some sense into yourself, before you completely think that Steve has abandoned you. "Don't let them get the girl, she's our only leverage!!" your kidnapper yells through his comms to the soldiers, but he is met with static. "Your captain has come to rescue you... and now we have him right where we want him. He'll pay for all the destruction he caused." he has a disgusting smirk on his face, eyes glowing with evilness. "Sir, we need you on the field, all our backup is dead!" a panicked voice makes its way through the static and over the comms. "Stay right here you filthy female and don't make a sound or I won't hesitate to cut out your entire tongue out when I get back" he snarls before running out to the battlefield.

'If I yell someone might hear me and save me, or that freak will come back and cut out my tongue. Maybe I'll die when he does that, then I won't have to suffer anymore... it's worth a try' and then you start yelling with every ounce of energy and air left in your lungs. "Heeeeelp!!!" you cry out. The sound of your cries echoes through the room and into the hallway just outside the room. "Y/N?!" it takes a moment before you realize that it's not your echo boomeranging but someone calling out to you. "I don't know where I am...please help me!!!" you yell.

Steve follows your voice as the other Avengers fight of more HYDRA agents. When he enters the room and sees your hanging figure his heart breaks into pieces, shattering on the floor. "Y/N?" he carefully asks, to make his presence known. He slowly walks closer to you, purposely making his steps louder for you to hear and not to startle you. You lift your head up a bit, seeing Steve, before your head falls back down, your chin touching your collar bone. Steve assesses the entire contraption as he takes a few more steps closer to you.

~Flower #7: Gladiolus - means Heroism~

When Steve is standing in front of you, he carefully lifts your chin to make you look him in the eyes. "Steve" you whisper, throat dry, lips sticking together and tongue aching. "I'm here sweetheart" he comforts you, because he knows you'll need it to pull the next part off. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me" "hmn" you acknowledge him. "I'm going to cut the rope from this contraption and I'm going to hold you so you don't fall, I just need you to trust me and work with me" "okay" your small voice, make tears burn at the back of Steve's eyes and he has to fight hard to suppress them. He snakes an arm around your waist and cuts the rope, making you fall over his broad shoulders (fireman style carrying). A disgruntled sound leaves your throat when your shoulder flops around limply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Steve apologizes.

He carries you to the middle of the room and lays you down. He takes of his jacket, folds it and put it under your head as a pillow. "Sweetheart?" he lightly shakes your uninjured shoulder to get your attention. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" you nod your head 'no' before closing your eyes again. "I know you're tired, but you gotta stay awake just a little while longer okay?" You open your eyes again and Steve asks the same question "can you tell me where it hurts, sweetheart?" "my tongue" Steve knows about your tongue, but he lets you finish. "my shoulder" he saw your shoulder was out out of place when he cut the rope loose. "my ribs and my wrists" "Is that all?" Steve asks, and you just give him a simple nod, too tired and sore to talk.

"I'm going to first take a look at your shoulder" Steve says. He quickly informs the team of your whereabouts and then focuses all his attention back to you. He lifts your arm up, supports your shoulder with his one hand and pulls as hard as he can towards him. A high pitched scream leaves you, once again. "It's done, it's done" Steve cooes as he rubs his hands over your arms.

Just them Bucky and Natasha arrives at the scene. "It's all clear" Bucky relays to Steve. "Thanks guys" Steve thanks, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the Quinjet.

------

At the compound you were professionally taken care of. And later that night, you woke up to the soft 40's music playing in the background, Steve holding your hand and flowers next to your bed, with a note attached to it - "I love you so much Y/N, and nothing will ever take you away from me" You lightly tugged at Steve's hands and he woke up, but before he could speak you put your finger over his lips. "Just lie with me, please"

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

TAGLIST: (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you)

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #hurt comfort #injured reader #husband!steve x wife!reader #anniversary #flowers #fiction #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes mention #torture

242 notes · View notes

raggaraddy · 3 years

Text

The Devil's Pet

4: When hell freezes over

Master Taehyung x reader. Submissive Jimin.

Summary: You're determined to fight him as much as possible. You meant it when you said you were going to make him regret ever meeting you. It's just, your plan doesn't seem to be going too well.

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, smut, restraints, ambiguous torture.

Chapter list

Previous chapter Next chapter- ASAP

On second thought, it seems you might not be as cold-resistant as you imagined. It turns out clothing plays a major part when trying to survive in cold conditions. And thinking back to those nights in your youth where you slept on the streets, you did have fairly thick clothes on, and strategically placed sheets of metal around as a windbreaker cubby. And that tin can fire you made was perfect for stopping your fingers and toes from turning numb, blue and then falling off.

But here, there's nothing. You're completely naked, completely isolated and exposed, and you're laying on tiles that are just getting colder and more fridgid by the second.

Through the windowed wall, the dim moonlight is giving you a view of an analog clock hanging by the bedroom door. One that is painstakingly keeping you informed of every single minute that passes.

It's 7:22 am. That is over 10 hours that you have been convulsing in harsh polar conditions.

Huge blusters of wind keep storming into the room. All the previous heat has been sucked out, and replaced by freezing air that is so sharp it's hurting to inhale. For a brief while you attempted to maintain a steady body temperature by doing push-ups, sit-ups and every other kind of exercise that you can manage with the limited space this chain is giving you. But after 45 minutes you were exhausted, and only making yourself sweat, which seemed to just make the biting gales even more vicious.

Through the night you have been so desperate to sleep. To close your eyes and open them on the other side of this. Each time you begin to drift though, the snapping icicle feeling is too severe and it wakes you up. The most you have gotten is about 18 minutes but you were woken up being drenched by a shower of rain that had been blown in.

You just want to sleep! You just want to be warm. This is torture!

You're sure this bastard is going to give you hypothermia! You don't know how long a person can spend in these sorts of temperatures without becoming a Popsicle. But you're sure you're approaching the limit.

The sound of the door opening draws your attention. Rolling to your side, the fresh tiles sting with their chilled bite. Your muscles staggering, you lift yourself into a sitting position, seeing Taehyung waltz in looking rested and warm.

"How did you sleep?" He asks sardonically.

"Fuck you! Get me out of these things!" You spit at him, glaring with heavy tired eyes.

He clicks his tongue, rounding on his heels. "Well. I can see that you're in no mood to talk. I'll come back later when you are in a more receptive mood." He leaves with an over the shoulder glance, amusement on his face.

"What!?" you scream after him. He isn't going to leave you here? He can't! "No! Come back!"

The collar kicks on. The sharp brutal pain ripping through you, leaving you groaning on your back as you wait overwrought for it to end.

******

"Jimin!" There is no response for the fourth time. "Jimin!" You're not sure why you're calling for him. You don't even know if he is in the house, let alone why he would help you. After 20 minutes or so you give in, slumping back into your pained shivering.

You had been trying to find something positive to cling to. For whatever reason you were under the illusion that come daytime this misery would get easier, the sun being your ally. But the sky is filled with a thick grey blanket of clouds and there hasn't been the slightest moment of sun the entire day, only hours upon hours of rain and wind.

Not only are you exhausted and sore from the continued tremors, but your head is still hammering from when this stupid collar was attached. Your entire body is in pain to the point where you might throw up. Then again, you've been feeling so violently sick due to everything for the past several hours already, that if it was going to happen, you're sure it would have already.

With a delicate mouse-like quietness Jimin opens the door, peering around it. Like he wants to come in but is not allowed to.

"Jimin! Man, I need to use the bathroom! Let me go so I can go pee. Please." You haven't eaten in over 24 hours and the only thing you drank you're sure you sweated out, but still, you're busting to use the bathroom. And assuming the Elite arrives home same time as yesterday you're still at least three hours from being released.

The tepid boy takes your pleas as a petition to enter, keeping his eyes down as he comes closer. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Look, I promise I will come and sit straight back down here. Just let me out and I'll come back." You don't know if you even believe your own words, but right now you'll say anything. You're in so much discomfort and all of the other elements on top of it, you're rabid to be let free. "Taehyung never needs to know. I won't tell him. You won't tell him. Please just let me go to the bathroom."

With sympathy flashing in his eyes he steps forward onto the lower platform. His forehead wrinkled, he begins chewing his thumbnail. "Miss please, I can't."

There is something off about the way he's walking. Not something from before, something new. He's limping, but obviously trying to hide it. His movements are unnatural and forced.

"Are- are you okay?"

He shakes his head, opening his mouth for a second, thinking of a beginning to a sentence he decides not to say. Then in the same monotonous tone he had used before he explains, "Master Kim punished me for displeasing him. This is no more than I deserve."

The image of Taehyung giving Jimin that uncomfortable look as you said his full name, springs into your mind.

There is no way he would have gotten punished because of that. But if he did, that means that it was your fault again.

Your spirit drops.

You're certain if you continue to argue with this guy, you could have him unlock you and you could be free from this cold and discomfort for a few hours, at least until Taehyung returns. But the Elite is an unjust bastard. And even if you get yourself locked back up before he returns, you're worried Jimin might tell him anyway.

I can't do that to him. You can't let him get hurt because of you.

"Oh, okay. Never mind then." you dismiss him abruptly, unable to think of a way to wrap up the topic. "I'll wait until he gets home. Do you know when that might be?" The pressing on your full bladder becoming a demanding issue, you can't help but ask but are determined not to push it further like you did with the name issue.

To your relief Jimin replies of his own volition, giving you the idea that this information is freely available. "Usually between 7:00 to 7:30 PM, Miss."

Okay, only 2 and a half to 3 hours. You just have to keep your mind off of this. You can do that.

******

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Any moment now. Any moment. It's 7:16 PM.

You're pretty certain that your bladder is going to explode. Although, if you were still trying relentlessly to stay positive, you could say that things are, for the moment, looking up. In the sense that your need to pee is so substantial that it's sufficiently distracting you from the intolerable cold. And your headache has faded considerably, down to only a dull thud, your ears no longer ringing. So, yeah. It's looking up.

But also, "Oh my fucking God, where is he!" you scream into the emptiness of the room, rocking back and forth, your legs extended out intertwined with each other, the pressure reaching the point where this is literally the only thing you can do to keep from imploding.

"Is something wrong, pet?" Taehyung caws, entering the frigid room.

Fuck you asshole are the first words that pop into your head, but you have to keep yourself in check or you're going to die.

"Can I please use the bathroom?" It's a strain to behave deferentially. But you maintain some composure, your tightly curled toes harbouring all of your irritation.

"Are you going to obey?" He leans into the wall, his smirking eyes staring down at you. Right now you couldn't care less about your nakedness though. With a stiff nod, you try intently to stop any aggressive expressions from showing on your face. "Good. Then do what I told you. Make yourself cum."

You can feel your eye twitch, but you reign it in, keeping a civil face and tongue.

"Okay, I will. But I am not going to be able to without first using the restroom. 2 minutes that's it, then I promise I will come straight back." you bargain.

With a slight nod, he signals his agreement. Pressing his hand to the lock on the chain, it falls away from the collar. In a minute you're going to have to obsess over how the fuck he removed that so easily after you've been fiddling with it for hours. But first,

Attempting to seem collected, you slowly stand rushing through the room, your limbs numb and rigid. Shutting the door of the bathroom you twist the lock, sealing yourself in for the moment. Knowing he is right outside you turn the shower on trying to make noise so you can comfortably pee.

And finally, you get some relief, "Oh thank god." you whisper to yourself. Never had you thought you would be so relieved to have such a basic need filled.

Sighing, you rest back on the toilet seat giving yourself a moment to enjoy this slightly warmer room, thawing your extremities. Steam is starting to cover the mirror, the shower warming the room significantly. Standing, you don't flush the toilet, hopefully giving the impression that you're still using it. Instead, you slink into the shower recess, the warmth on your frozen body creating a painful stabbing feeling throughout. But you press on, drifting further under the wash of warm water cascading down your body, wetting your hair and covering you head-to-toe in a painful yet soothing euphoric feeling.

The much-missed heat quickly bringing out the tiredness that you have been trying to refute for the day. Wanting to not drive yourself insane with the prospect of sleep from it being seemingly unobtainable with the elements raging around you. Sitting on the shower floor cross-legged enjoying the warm waterfall down your back, the stinging pain resides. Closing your eyes, your body relaxes, being able to feel a moment of contentment for the first time in 24 hours.

24 hours. You've only been here a day. One long ass day.

"Open the door." The Elite orders, a calm threat in his tone. Rudely interrupting your relaxation. You guess he figured out you weren't just peeing. Damn, and you were being so quiet too.

But... the door is locked. He isn't exactly getting in here. You keep your eyes closed revelling in the tiny victory, relishing the heat.

"Pet, you have three seconds to open the door." This time the threat is much closer to the surface. Still you remain silent.

I'm not allowed to say no, so there is nothing else to say. You smirk in thought.

It's not like he is going to break down his own door. And even if he does, you'll claim ignorance. It's hard to hear under the running water.

There is a mighty crack to the left of you, the door splitting in half. The top folded over, it hangs inside the room. Taehyung removes the rest of the door by grabbing the inside and one-handedly ripping it back, pulling it off the hinges and tossing it behind him like it was made of foam.

Okay, yeah. He is a hell of a lot stronger than you assumed.

He storms in, his poised and calm expression being conflicted by his aggressive actions. You don't move as he approaches. He just pulled a door off the wall like it was nothing, so there's not much you can do. With a solid grip, he grabs your wrist tearing you to your feet he drags you over the broken remains of the door back into the icy bedroom.

"What are you doing?!" you yelp at him.

"I warned you."

"Warned me of what? What are you talking about?" you play ignorant. But he doesn't play back, throwing you to the ground, fastening the chain to the collar once again. "Hey! What is your problem."

His blazer is wet from the splashback. He removes it throwing it on the bed. It's soaked through to his white collared button-up shirt and he removes that also.

Stalking forward he hovers over you, bare-chested, denim jeans sitting low on his hips, showing off his square frame and hard chest. Seeming a little more intimidating now that you know what he is capable of.

"You broke your promise." He clicks his tongue, kneeling down in front of you. For a moment you're tempted to kick your leg out and sweep his foot, breaking his balance and sending him splattering to the floor. It would certainly be an undignified look and some payback for the indignities you've had to suffer. But maybe while you're chained to the floor such an action would be poorly timed.

"I didn't." you bite back with the attitude of a schoolgirl.

"You promised to go the bathroom and come straight back. I never said you could shower."

Your eyes twinkle, the chance to taunt him is too easy.

"You never said I couldn't. What, do I have to ask your permission for every single thing I do? Oh, please Mr Elite, let me breathe, let me speak, let my heart beat." you scoff, flicking your hair to the side like punctuation on your words.

"Do you think you're amusing?" he smirks, "This is nothing more than the behaviour I would expect from a scrag of Menon." He insults you right back. The urge to kick him is growing. "Now continue with your task." He instructs, "And if you put on a pleasant enough display, I may rethink further punishment for your words and disobedient actions." you lean away, resting on your palms behind your back, feigning disinterest in his threat.

"Hm, I don't think so. I changed my mind." you mock him, with a smarmy facial expression. "But I do understand how being such a creep must stop you from getting any action, so if you want to see a girl get off, can I suggest paying for one. You probably don't want to touch her though, cause that'll dry her right up." you snap your fingers for emphasis and have to clench your mouth to stop from laughing.

His eyes drop low, the amused grin growing. "You must like the cold."

*****

Three. Days. It has been nearly three days, that you have been chained to this fucking floor!

You can't take it anymore. It feels like you are losing your fucking mind. Everything feels wrong. You're freezing, starving, you want nothing more than to sleep. And all of this has you feeling sick like at any moment you're going to vomit, but you have nothing in your stomach to throw up, cause as it was mentioned you haven't eaten in three days!

Yesterday there was a brief 2 hour period where the sun came out and while it wasn't as effective as you hoped it might be, it provided enough heat to allow you to sleep brokenly. But 10 minutes after it went away you were back to convulsing.

You've been trying to remain as still as possible, the tiles below your exact spot seeming to be warmer by a degree or two. With your fingers interlocked between your thighs, you're trying to use what minuscule body heat you have to keep your fingers from falling off. Your extremities are filled with the sensation of being stabbed by thousands and thousands of pins sticking the same spot over and over again. Your toes are feeling the same, but unable to cover them you've tried to angle your body in such a way that they receive the least wind but it's barely helping.

You may need to reassess how you plan to deal with the Elite. Because right at this moment, it doesn't seem like he is feeling the wrath of your rebellion as you wanted him to. You on the other hand are certain that you're going to be hospitalized after this. Or dead.

There has to be a way that you can resist his intentions without it leading to you spending the entire time suffering.

But right now your brain is frozen. And until you come up with something, it's going to be less arduous to compromise your pride for the time being. Because just three days into this whole thing and you're already worn down. Enough so that if you could merely get to sleep in a warm bed, have some food and get out of these chains, you might be able to tolerate being an obedient pet for a while.

So- The problem at the moment is that neither of them has been back to check on you for the last day. Not since you insulted Taehyung. You've screamed for their attention, but nothing. Not even a glance to make sure that you're okay or even alive. You can hear them out there. You know that they're around the house, they are just giving you no mind.

But you're done. You can't bear to sit here in the cold any longer.

Fine. If he wants you to make yourself come, you can do that. You've certainly done it before.

Laying on your back, the cold sting of the tiles shoot up your skin, making you pant. You bend your knees and spread your legs shoulder-width apart. Taking a deep breath you try to still your trembling and begin running your numb fingers between your thighs, running them over the only part of your body that has managed to stay warm this entire time. Dipping a little lower you can feel the heat radiating from your opening.

From what you can tell by sound and from the quick tour of the house, Taehyung's bedroom is just down the hall at the other end of the top floor. So it won't be impossible to get his attention, you'll just need to make enough noise.

Time to put on a show.

You begin rubbing your clit. Because of the many other things impeding you, it takes a few seconds before it starts feeling good,, bringing you to a slow takeoff. However, the faster stroke yourself the better it feels, it reaching the point where tingles are spreading down your legs. You gyrate your hips, giving you extra motion making it feel better.

The first moan comes from the back of your throat, it being almost silent, rumbling in your chest. As the pleasure builds though, your cries of excitement grow louder, the sensation filling you up.

You try to hold out for as long as you can, letting every moan and cry pour out of you, hoping to attract as much attention as possible, but after 5 minutes you can feel you are so close to exploding. Your loud moans becoming vehement and unbridled. Your fingers start to slip, you're getting wetter with each motion, feeling yourself dripping, pushing you closer to climax. At the apex of it all, you flow over and the pressure explodes.

Screaming out, high pitched and piercing you rock your hips up into your hand, throwing your head back, arching into your orgasm.

Keeping a steady pace of stimulation, you try to extend the feeling as long as possible, even as the orgasm fades.

Eventually, it dies down, your body resting heavily on the ground as you pant. The after feeling pulsing between your legs. Your body relaxed and blissfully content. A euphoric smile on your face, brought on by both cumming and the large amounts of oxygen you gulped down. It feels so good and you feel heated inside. Maybe you should have been doing this to stay warm this whole time.

In low riding sweat pants and nothing else, Taehyung walks in on your orgasmic aftermath. A small grin on his face. His arms crossed over his chest, obviously feeling the freezing cold that you're being forced to endure at 1:00 AM.

The way his arms are crossed it pops his biceps. And his hair is wild and messily in his face. You hate that you're thinking it, but he looks so damn good. Where the hell was that image 5 minutes ago? He walks past you silently closing the sliding door, the bitter winds being blocked out. Crossing you again, he adjusts the thermostat next to the bedroom door. The space swelling with an air of heat, the current streaming over every inch of the room. Your body lapping in the encroaching warmth.

With one hand he opens a cupboard and tosses a folded up blanket at you, which you catch and unfold in the same movement, covering yourself from chin to toes wrapping tightly in the fluffy material.

"Good girl." He praises genuinely, leaving you alone in your newfound comfort.

Okay, so having these chains removed, a bed and food would have also been preferable but right now, you have to savour the little victory.

So fucking warm.

192 notes · View notes

tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!reader word count: 2.7k (idk I’m sorry) tags/warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW, bondage, oral(f!receiving), MINORS please DNI with this post a/n: a big thank you to @forgetou and @neobakas for beta-reading this piece for me. ilysm <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were always incredibly considerate of Sakusa. It had been that way from the moment the two of you had met. You didn’t scoff at how he needed to be the first one in the locker rooms after practice, or laugh at his post-game rituals. You quietly adjusted to his odd habits, no fanfare or complaints. You never did so with any disdain nor treated his quirks as if they were a nuisance. You just accepted those parts of him without a second thought, considering it just as important to him as his limbs.

So yes, Sakusa fell for the kind girl that made him feel normal – the one that avoided taking him to crowded places, and stitched his jersey number onto a face mask. He thinks your jokes are hilarious, and he feels proud when he’s the one making you laugh. He likes it when you cook his favorite meals, and he appreciates the way you stay up to wait for him when he gets home a little late. He notices the effort you put into always looking pretty for him every day, always waiting for him to initiate contact for fear of invading his personal space.

But that’s just the thing.

Sakusa doesn’t want any personal space from you. He loves the way you smell, and the way your skin feels beneath his fingers. He daydreams about holding you in his arms, and rubbing circles along your back as you relaxed against him. He gets butterflies in his stomach when you kiss his cheek without asking him first, and he revels in the timid look on your face when you apologize for doing so.

He doesn’t mind. Why would he? Despite any preconceived notions one might have of him, Sakusa enjoys affection – from the right person. He’s not going to give Bokuto a high five, nor is he going to shake Hinata’s hand. Sakusa never fails to get the odd look from Atsumu when he slides his hand into yours without a second thought, or when he ‘allows’ you to brush his hair away from his face.

Sakusa wants to scoff whenever he hears that phrase. He doesn’t allow you to touch him. He yearns for it like his lungs need air.

So of course he notices when you try to keep him at arm’s length.

You were never afraid to tell him how you felt, easily slipping I love yous and I’m missing you into daily texts and conversation. It made his heart flutter, but Sakusa wasn’t a man of many words. He’s not sure how to write a love letter, and he’s never even picked up a poetry book. When you ask him how much he loves you, he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “A lot?”

No, you won’t be receiving sonnets nor prose about his undying affection. He’d much rather just show you.

His every touch is filled with so much care, delicate but sure as they travel across the stretch of your skin. He places gentle kisses along your pressure points, feening for the feel of your pulse against his lips. He wants to taste every inch of you, and commit the sensation of you on his tongue to memory.

Yet whenever he tries to lower his head past your navel, you push him away. You try to distract your rejection with your kiss, rolling him over instead to take him entirely in your mouth.

It’s not that Sakusa is complaining; how could he when he’s pumping his dick into your silky throat, watching your saliva dribble past your chin as you choke on his length?

He forgets about your denial until his next attempt, when he’s nipping at the skin of your hips, moving his mouth to forge a wet trail that lead to the space between your legs, and yet again you pull him up from his spot, kissing him and grabbing him until he plunged himself inside of you instead.

As he collapses next to you in bed, wrapping his arms around you while you nuzzle your face into his chest, for the first time ever, he feels unsatisfied — as if he hadn’t done all that he could have.

He brings this issue up to you the next day, unabashedly asking why you wouldn’t let him kiss you.

“What do you mean, Omi?” You asked, confused. “We kiss all the time.”

“No, I mean,” he turns slightly red as he gestures to your crotch, “There.”

The flustered look on your face shouldn’t have made him hard, but it did. He liked the way you stuttered and widened your eyes, searching desperately for the right words to say.

“I dont know,” you answered finally, “I figured you thought that kind of stuff was gross.”

You cut the conversation off there, no longer wanting to speak on the subject, but it haunted Sakusa for the rest of the day.

Gross? Why would you think that of him? Don’t you know that he wants to claim ever single inch of your body, wants to dip his fingers into you and watch your eyes roll to the back of your head, wants you to sit on his face until he can’t breathe? Had he not been doing a good enough job showing you this?

Sakusa shakes his head, feeling disappointed in himself.

It’s alright. He’s got a plan.

Later that night, as he ran his hands along your waist, lightly dragging his nails across your stomach, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “I want to try something new tonight.”

You didn’t even think about it as you nodded your head eagerly like he knew you would, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes that screamed of lust.

He sits up, and you try to sit up with him but he just pushes you back down onto the mattress. You looked up at him curiously as he reaches down the side of the bed to where he placed a plastic bag with his earlier purchase.

Sakusa’s hand emerged holding a pair of silver handcuffs, and he smirks at the way your eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Hands up,” he commands, and you quickly obliged. He looped the handcuffs behind the bars of his headboard, cuffing one of your wrists on each side. He left it slightly loose so as not to injure your skin, but as you struggled against your bindings, Sakusa was pleased to find that it would be impossible for you to get out.

Your arms were outstretched above you, and Sakusa roves his hungry eyes over your dips and curves, so exposed and vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do.

But only one thing was on his mind.

He begins with a soft kiss placed in the crook of your neck, ghosting over your collarbones before leaving marks all across your chest. You fidgeted beneath him, and he placed two hands on your waist.

“Stay still,” he commanded, and you simply gulped.

Sakusa dips his head back down, supple lips enclosing around your hardened nipple, and you arched into his touch. You shiver when his teeth nips at you, while he brings his other hand to cup your other breast, fingers pinching and twisting the previously ignored bud until you were a whimpering mess.

He disconnects his mouth a loud pop, but it wasn’t long until he begins to drag his tongue across your stomach. His direction slowly moves further down, and he can feel you slightly tense up. He ignores the way you try to wiggle your body away from his ministrations; you have nowhere to go, and he has you right where he wants you.

Sakusa draws circles around your navel, his hands finally coming down to rest on your hips.

“Omi,” you say nervously, the handcuffs lightly clinking against the metal bars they were attached to, “I’m not sure if...”

Your words died on your tongue when Sakusa’s grip tightened on your hips, looking up at you through his lashes before darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“Relax,” he cooed, “Be a good girl for me.”

You nearly choked, your throat feeling dry watching Sakusa move his hands down to your thighs, kissing his way down to uncharted territory. You felt uneasy, and nervous, unable to keep your insecurities at bay when you felt Sakusa lick at the junction of your thigh and pelvis. He was so close to you – what if he thought it was dirty? Or didn’t like your scent? You could feel the warmth of his tongue trace up your pussy lips, and it was involuntary the way you tried to kick him away.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grip you tightly behind your knees, forcefully pushing your legs apart and up against your chest. You gasped in surprise, face turning red at your position. You squirmed against Sakusa’s grip, but his hold on you was strong, and the silver cuffs around your wrist were doing their job well.

“I thought I said be a good girl?” Sakusa questioned, his expression stern while he had your legs pinned down. “Or am I going to have to punish you for being such a disobedient little slut?”

The butterflies in your stomach manifested themselves as the slick wetness between your legs, and Sakusa smirked at the starstruck look on your face.

“I’m a good girl,” you whispered, though the position you found yourself was anything but.

Sakusa responded by pushing your legs even wider, looking down to admire the view. He could feel the tip of his dick struggling against his boxers, a large wet spot on the material indicating just how much he wanted to wreck you. But that could wait.

You start to feel shy under his intense stare, trying not to wiggle away and get another reprimanding.

“Omi, what are you – ahh!”

Sakusa licks one long stroke up your slit, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shivering. He could feel your legs tremble beneath his fingers, and who knew just one lick could already elicit such a reaction from you?

He moves one hand away from your leg, using two of his fingers to spread apart your folds. Like a man finding treasure, he plunges his tongue onto your swollen red clit, sucking and nipping at it gently before flattening his tongue, drawing patterns that made you feel like your entire body was on flames.

Your head was thrown back against the pillows, back arching as you struggled to catch your breath. Sakusa flicked his tongue against your pussy so expertly, alternating his speed and rhythm in a way that had your legs shaking violently.

“Ohh fuuuuckk,” you managed to groan out, gripping onto your bindings so tightly, your knuckles were turning white. The lewd sounds of him lapping at your clit could only be heard in between your gasping breaths.

Sakusa flicks his tongue up one last time before pulling away slightly, staring up to drink in your flushed expression. Your tongue was lolled out the side of your mouth, eyes rolled back and chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms hung limp from its tether, and Sakusa can’t think of a prettier picture.

He looks down at your shining cunt, glistening and swollen and Sakusa didn’t think twice about slipping two fingers into your slopping entrance.

He hooks your leg over his shoulder, smiling as you thrashed helplessly, body reacting fiercely to the way he hooked his fingers and found your gspot with ease.

You squeezed your eyes shut, screams and moans filling the room, unable to adjust to the pleasure of Sakusa rhythm.

You could feel the heat pool into your stomach, tightening in a knot so fraught with tension, it was only seconds before you snapped.

Sakusa could feel the way you pretty little cunt began to tighten around his fingers, quickly slipping in a third one and burying them in deeper.

“Ki...kiyoomi.. I’m .. I’m gonna —“

Sakusa latches back onto your clit, flattening his tongue and sucking in rhythm to the way he pumped into you.

Your legs tightened around his head, but Sakusa didn’t stop. He could feel every tremble, every shake of your thigh against his cheeks, blocking out the sounds of the way you called out his name.

You bucked your hips up into his mouth, and he could feel you gush on his tongue. Sakusa lapped up every single drop, and you felt your body twitch as he continued to lick your sensitive clit. Finally, he surfaces from his meal, looking up at you with your sex dribbling down his chin. It was sinful the way he withdrew his fingers from your cunt and reached up to shove them in your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, eliciting a smirk from the wavy haired man.

“You taste so fucking good, don’t you?”

Sakusa pulls away, standing up to get rid of his boxers before quickly returning to his spot on the bed.

Your arms were numb, and your legs felt weak, but Sakusa gave you no chance to recover from his previous performance, grabbing your ankles once more and pressing your legs down into a press.

“Such a good fucking little whore,” Sakusa murmurs in your ear, nearly crushing you in the process. “You just let me do whatever the fuck I want, don’t you?”

Without a warning, he slams into you in one hard thrust, the only retaliation coming from your mouth was a strangled groan.

“This pretty pussy is all mine,” Sakusa muttered, keeping your ankles steady by your ears, his cadence unforgiving, and unwavering.

“Omi.. I.. I can’t —!”

Sakusa responded by angling his hips to hit your sweet spot, reaching deeper than you thought possible.

“Yes, you fucking can.”

The crude sounds of his drive were only amplified by the way you gushed all over his dick, the mess you made staining the 400 thread count sheets he so carefully picked out for the both of you.

Sakusa wanted to hold out longer, he really did. But the way you looked under him right now, so fucked out and stupid, he couldn’t help but feel himself get closer and closer to his limit.

“Kiyoomi— please!! I can’t —“

In one swift movement, Sakusa pulls out, pumping his cock until he spilled hot white all over your stomach.

You hadn’t done anything but lay there — bound, at that — but you were desperately gasping for air, your heart beating so fast, you thought it would explode out of its cage.

Sakusa sits back on his heels, equally out of breath, his dick growing limp in his palm, though it still twitched at the sight of you covered all over his cum.

He leans over to give you a peck on the nose, leaving you to walk to his attached bathroom.

He returned a few seconds later with a warm towel, gently cleaning the mess he had made all over your stomach. You nearly fell asleep at his touch, only opening your eyes when he unlocked the cuffs around your wrists.

Your arms fell back down limp, and Sakusa chuckled, kissing the red marks left by the cold silver metal.

“I’m sorry for this,” he mumbled against your skin.

You smiled at him lazily, bringing a hand to tuck a loose strand of wavy hair behind his ear.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He smiled once more before planting a soft kiss on your lips. He settles into the empty space next to you, pulling you on to his lap. You laid your head on his shoulder, and your hand settled on top of his chest, sketching soft circles with the pad of our fingers. He rested his cheek on top of your head, while he supported your back and held your thigh.

“Did you… like that?” He asked quietly, his deep voice disturbing the calm that had nearly engulfed you.

You felt your face heat up, burying further into his chest. He chuckled lowly, holding you tightly and placing a kiss on your temple.

“I did… d-did you?”

Sakusa brings his hand up to your chin, tilting it upwards until you were facing him.

“I loved it.”

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss, filled with all the tender love and care he never gets to say.

Suddenly, He pulls away.

“Hey, what are you—“

He slid his hands beneath the back of your knees, picking you up bridal style in one easy movement. He turned around and made his way back to the bathroom.

“Come on, let’s take a bath first.”

854 notes · View notes

arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Siblings (6)

Class revenge. And mention of suicide.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 5)

------

Normal class day and most of the class was still together. This is set after the class’s trip to Gotham.

Alix and Chloe had transferred to another class or a different school. There were a few new students but they transferred out within a week, when they all had tried to point out Lila’s lies and the class picked on them on Lila’s behalf.

Class is still taught by Mme. Bustier.

She rolled-calls and somehow Marinette’s name was on there and she just absentmindedly read it.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng”

“Present.” A cheery voice said.

Goes to the next name before everyone froze and looked at the source of the voice which was where they exiled Marinette to before her ‘suicide’.

There she was. An older-looking Marinette who would look the same age as them as if she was still alive, her longer hair was in a high ponytail and her clothes were switched out from her usual pink to red and black and had a more mature look that was stylish instead of cute.

She wore her signature bright grin but the sight of it brought chills down everyone’s spines.

Lila thought that it was her curse kicking in and since she hadn't seen Marinette until then, fainted on the spot, thinking she was finally going to be killed.

“M-ma-marinette. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” Older Marinette said with a confused face. “Oh. You mean why am I not late? First time for everything, I guess. I am not late today so Yay for me.” She giggles but everyone else thinks that it sounds terrifying.

“But this is impossible. You simply can’t be here.” Max said, “Odds of you still alive are zero.”

“Can’t I? I mean I woke up early and got here on time. What is impossible about me being early? I would normally be a zombie during the morning, Max but nice one.”

Some students checked their phones for akumas. Hawkmoth had mysteriously disappeared around Marinette’s death making a few rumours about Marinette being Hawkmoth floating around. (Lila was the first to suggest that as a theory.)

Mme Bustier cleared her throat, terrified out of her mind and scared that if she provoked the ‘ghost’ of her former star student, there would be consequences like the horror movies. But she was not going to let it hurt any of her students.

“Marinette, there must have been a misunderstanding. You should be home.”

“Why?’

“Because um...you are... you are sick and you don’t want to infect your fellow classmates, right?”

“Hm..I feel fine but now that you mention it, I feel a little dizzy. I think I am going to take the day off.”

The rest of the class murmured in agreement, scared not to offend the ‘ghost’. A few of the girls like Mylene had tears running down their cheeks. Horror movies logic dictates that you should not remind the ghost that they are dead or make them angry.

Juleka was half-scared out of her mind for Rose who was also crying and herself and also half-excited, even though Marinette might be a vengeful ghost, there is still a ghost in their classroom.

Mme Bustier started muttering prayers under her breath.

Marinette packed up her things and was out of her seat when Adrien came into the class.

He was held up because he started sneezing non-stop this morning. Turns out Natalie had some black feathers on her.

He sees Marinette in the back row.

“Ma-Marinette! How are you here?!” to which everyone in the class sans Lila who was still passed out, shushed at him.

Ignoring them, he blurted out, “You are dead.”

The word echoed through the classroom. It was silent for a moment and you could hear a pin drop.

“Dead? What do you mean dead?” Marinette took a step down the stairs, the perfect picture of confusion but her eyes seemed a little crazed and Adrien took a step back, the word ‘Traitor’ carved into his back started burning.

Everyone in their seats shifted slightly away from her. Some considered making a run for the door but they didn’t want to draw attention and face the ghost’s wrath. They all mimed at Adrien to stop.

He ignored them again. “Don’t pretend you are innocent. You did this to me. YOU MADE ME LOSE EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD. I DON’T REGRET KILLING YOU FOR THE HORRIBLE PERSON YOU ARE, LADYBUG. YOU DESERVED TO DIE FOR WHAT YOU DID.”

Realizing what he said, he covered his mouth, hoping it would somehow fix the damage he had done.

Marinette smirked. The picture of innocence gone.

It took a moment for what Adrien’s outburst meant to register in their heads.

Adrien, in an attempt to get back into their good graces, had once claimed to be Chat Noir, the ‘hero’ of Paris. They had brushed him off. If what he had said was correct then that meant that they drove Marinette who was Ladybug to kill herself. Horrible realization sets in as it meant that Hawkmoth won.

Lila chose that moment to came back to the land of the living to scream bloody murder once she saw Marinette again.

The scream brought everyone out of their trance from their shock and started screaming or yelling.

The windows slammed open and the wind whipped. The doors of the classroom closed shut with a loud bang. The clouds were dark outside and there were some flashes of lighting and thunder. (Thank you Longg.)

Marinette’s hair was undone and whipped around her. Her eyes were glowing blue. As she started laughing at the chaos she had unleashed, the class and Mme Bustier ducked for cover and hid under their desks. Except for Adrien and Lila.

Lila, fueled by anger, pounced at the ravenette but was thrown against the classroom wall before she even had a chance to lay a hand. Fell down and appeared to be knocked out. Alya made a move to check up on her.

Adrien was thrown back against the floor when the strong winds started. The scars on his back were burning with a lot of intensity now and it was a miracle that he still hasn’t passed out from the pain.

Unknown to him, the words were glowing red and seen through his shirt. Mme Bustier, Nino, Sabrina and Nathaniel were the few that saw the bright red letters spelling out ‘TRAITOR’ on Adrien’s back as he got back up.

“Marinette, this isn’t you. Milady, please.”

“Shut up.” She flicked her wrist, sending Adrien against the teacher’s desk. He hit it hard and was knocked out like Lila.

Alya after making sure that Lila was fine. “Marinette, stop this. I know that you are probably mad at Adrien for killing you but we never did anything to you.”

“Never did anything?! Never did anything? Hah. What about the time that you slapped me in the face in front of the entire school and said our friendship was over? You called me names. You said that I deserve every bruise you gave me. The rest of you weren’t any better.” She turned around and with the flick of her wrist, the heavy desks were in the air, robbing anyone of a hiding place.

“You stood by and allowed it to happen. You destroyed my stuff, claiming I deserve it. My sketchbook, filled with commissions, torn and stepped on like trash. You all crossed a line that Chloe didn’t even dare and you call it the right thing to do. Hypocrites all of you. Some of you have known me since l'école primaire. What was it about me that you believed her over me?! ”

What happened next was all a blur to everyone, there was a lot of screaming involved, some blood, lightning and thunder everywhere and then, black.

Nino opened his eyes to see Alya peacefully sleeping on her desk. What happened?...Oh Crap I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was….MARINETTE!

Nino snapped his head up. And saw the rest of the class and Mme. Bustier asleep in their respective places.

But there was a sense of wrongness. Something was off... and he can’t pinpoint on what.

The bell rang, startling everyone awake. Nino checked the time. And crap did they all sleep through the first period?! Turning towards his now-awake girlfriend, “Hey Alya, Alya, what do you remember?”

He was surprised to see red eyes like she had been crying. “I- I- I had the weirdest dream. Marinette was there, like she never died and she… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Don’t freak out but I don’t think it was a dream.”

On the rooftop, above the classroom, a red clad figure lounged at the edge with her airpods in and chuckling to herself.

-----

Marinette didn’t torture them. Scared the hell out of them, sure but it was harmless. Mostly. She left carved words on everyone’s wrists which no one else but the class can see. (This one is more mental than anything.)

The scars are unique depending on how close they were to Marinette before she died. Most of the class had the word ‘friend’ crossed out. FRIEND

Nino and Kim had Childhood friends. It serves as a painful reminder of how long they had known the girl.

Alya was a special case with BEST FRIEND and ‘A good reporter always checks her sources’ underneath it. She remembers saying those words to Marinette a long time ago, back when she thought she knew Marinette.

Mme Busitier had Best Teacher and when she was in the comfort of her own home, saw ‘Bully Enabler’ on her other wrist.

Adrien and Lila were questioned as they weren’t the only ones with scars on their wrists. (Although Lila had LIAR written in big letters across her forehead with a sharpie and a drawn-on-moustache of a cartoon villain.)

Nino managed to get the class to back off on Adrien and later to pull him aside to explain about the scars on his back and why did Ladybug (who was apparently Marinette this whole time and she was dead... he thinks.) called him ‘Traitor’?

Adrien told Nino everything. The curse didn’t interfere so for the first time in months, Adrien was able to say the truth.

-----

That was also the day that Lila’s reign finally ended.

The class had suspected for a while about her lies and false promises. There were a few inconsistencies in the beginning that were overlooked and brushed off as Lila’s memory problems.

They all had for the first two years had defended Lila against anyone (mainly Marinette) who thought she was a liar. Lila herself made sure that her lies were believable, actually putting in research for once in her life and planting evidence here and there about her achievements with a few faked articles. They staunchly believed her lies until Marinette’s death.

With her main enemy finally down and everyone else who opposed her, lost their morale along with their ally, Lila stopped putting in the efforts to make her lies seem real and then the cracks of her kingdom began forming.

At first, the students of Mme Bustier class believed them but the stories soon seemed like bragging but they were too polite to point it out to their ‘nice’ and ‘shy’ classmates.

Lila began making mistakes from her lack of research and a few of them later pointed out the few inconsistencies but they were brushed off as memory lapses.

More and more of these ‘memory lapses’ happened more often and soon, most of the class had their suspicion of Lila.

They were just in denial of Lila lying to them.

A few like Max, Nathaniel, Juleka and Sabrina who finally find out that Lila was lying and confront her about it were threatened and they were too afraid to do anything.

After all, Marinette had tried to disprove them and look where she is now. Six feet under.

And the ‘ghost attack’ from Marinette was the final straw.

The class tried to help Lila get rid of the sharpie, especially the one on her forehead and Alya made a comment how it was so typical of Marinette despite being dead and some half-heartedly agreeing.

Max, frustrated that his friends still can’t see it that Lila is a liar and they were the ones who drove Marinette to death that she is now haunting them and it was all their fault, took out his detailed research to disprove Lila’s lies. Nathaniel, Sabrina and Juleka spoke up and brought out their own research. The seeds of doubts which had been planted the past years were finally sprouting

A while later, the entire class was in chaos, everyone was shouting at Lila, some of them were shouting at Adrien, Alya being in complete denial and Mme. Bustier trying to maintain the peace.

Unknown to them, the camera in the classroom was being live streamed to a screen in a room in Le Grand Paris, complete with audio as a group of teenagers watched the chaos unfold.

“You know.” Chloe said, “I thought it was hilarious when you went all bloody mary on them but this shit is way more entertaining.”

Maria smiled, satisfaction on her face as she snatched some popcorn from Alix. “Oh, I had fun. Took years but Lila is finally getting what is coming to her. In about an hour, Signora Rossi is going to come through the door with the police.”

“What did you do, M?”

“Let’s just say the Italian Embassy and the French Police got an anonymous tip this morning about Lila Rossi and the incidents following her around the schools she had attended in the past couple of years.”

“No..” Alix gasped.

Maria just smirked.

-----

Gabriel was freaking out when Adrien came home and told him about what happened to his class.

He did not need another ghost attack on top of everything else.

First, Afterlife had managed to steal some (read: a lot) of Gabriel’s investors and Gabriel’s shares were plummeting.

Secondly, there were a few important documents leaked onto the internet, showing a few suspicious purchases which had the brand and himself under scrutiny.

Third, Natalie told him about her recent condition which occurs during the night and raised a few suspicious glances from Emilie when there was a raven in the house while Gabriel wanted to see proof of this transformation.

Lastly, Emilie had been poking around about the years she was in her coma and it was sheer luck that she hadn't found out about Hawkmoth and connected the dots.

He called up John again to complain that it didn’t work and asked for a refund or face a lawsuit. John pointed out that the spell only worked in the house and kept ghosts out of it and other places were free game.

Needless to say, Gabriel pulled Adrien out of school to be homeschooled again and made sure Emilie stayed inside, no matter what.

The longer Natalie stayed as a raven, the whiter Gabriel’s head of hair became and he was beginning to lose hair at a very fast rate.

----

(Part 7)

I swear I didn't mean to forget tagging you guys.

Taglist: @local-witch-of-mn, @ladyqnoirr, @lolieg, @istoleyourcookies

#maribat #ml class salt #adrien salt #lila bashing #lila salt #gabriel is slowly losing his sanity and I am enjoying this too much #tw suicice #suicide mention #graveyard siblings

357 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

To Love Someone

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Love doesn’t always work out how you’d like it to, and sometimes it does.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: angst, jealousy, heartache, fluff, kissing, requited love

Shock. That was the very first thing you felt upon hearing what was supposed to be delightful news. What was supposed to be a celebration of the next chapter of someone’s life. But that feeling quickly subsided, for you hadn’t expected your very best friend to hold the same feelings for you as he did him. You never did, though a small part of you had hoped this was some fabricated nightmare that you would eventually wake up from. But much to your dismay, it was not.

Now, you were in attendance of yet another dinner at the Bridgerton home. There had been an extravagant event held in celebration of the engagement one week prior of course, but everything after that, even just a simple dinner seemed to be just as celebratory all the same.

Benedict and Eloise, as a matter of fact even Anthony, knew of your long-standing feelings for their brother. Feelings that now seemed absolutely ridiculous as you sat before the happy couple, feelings that made your heart crack pitifully within your chest. They knew, and they were rather surprised to hear the announcement as well because they were sure you were the perfect match. They were certain with the way they always caught him staring when you weren’t looking.

“This cake is rather delightful, is it not, Y/n/n?” Eloise murmurs to you once she catches your painfully longing gaze lingering on her brother.

You break away from him with furrowed brows after she kicks you under the table, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to suppress the lump forming within it. You look at her for a moment, scrambling to remember the words you only half-heard her say. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

You pick at said cake with your fancy fork clutched in your shaky hand, hearing her soft sigh in defeat beside you. She knew her attempts at distraction were futile, valiant yes, but futile. It was hard to watch you sit there and sulk; she did not quite know what it felt like to be heartbroken, but she couldn’t imagine it to be easy. So, she knew she must at least try and call in reinforcements, her brother.

“Y/n,” Benedict starts on your other side, nudging you with his elbow to further gain your attention. “The garden seems to be in full bloom, you don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk with Eloise and I after dinner, would you?”

You laugh softly at their more than obvious efforts, but you nod in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, Benedict, that would be lovely.”

When things moved from the dining room to the drawing room, Violet Bridgerton had talked the three of you into staying in their company for just a bit more before you could run off. Maybe not talked into, more like told the three of you in a hushed matronly scolding. You had no choice but to oblige to her wishes.

You sat between the two on the couch, breathing out a sigh as you wring your hands in a half hearted attempt to do something. Not even talk of Lady Whistledown could capture your attention for more than a mere moment or two. Not even Benedict’s teasing jokes to draw a portrait of you and the frown seemingly permanently on your face could get you to smile for more than just a few seconds at a time. For just about everyone seemed to be enamored with Miss Andrews.

It wasn’t hard to be you will admit, she was beautiful with many talents; she has even traveled quite a bit with her family. You knew that was of interest to him. You couldn’t blame her for being so captivating, but you couldn’t bear it either. Not with the way she linked her arm around Colin’s, or the way her parents spoke so highly of her that it made your head spin.

It was when you found yourself looking at Colin that it became far too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away just yet, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much you needed to. It was when he looked at you that had done it. The conversation and laughter seemed to fade in swirls of commotion around you, the shared gaze fleeting and agonizingly slowed all the same. For it was the first time all night that he had directly looked at you and you couldn’t take it. You could not stay.

Politely, you excused yourself, making your way to the door in a rush that left Benedict and Eloise to frown at each other. The room felt all too crowded no matter the fact that it wasn’t, the uninterrupted chatter and music still continuing in your absence.

The tears became harder to ignore with your newfound time to yourself, your chest heaving in your overwhelmed state. You had made it nearly to the end of the lavish hall before you were stopped.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath as you closed your eyes briefly, willing the tears to dissipate before turning around with a soft smile, your best friend closer than you had thought. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? I know Hyacinth is still rather new to the piano, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He jests, laughing softly.

You bring yourself to laugh quietly despite your pressing desire to be anything but jovial in that moment. “I am quite alright, Colin.”

His brows furrow at your obvious distress, he could tell from the very moment you arrived at his family home in the early half of the evening. He was far too oblivious to see the cause of your behavior, but not so much to not notice you’d been acting differently. He knew you were lying to him.

“What is the matter, Y/n?” He asks again as he sees you rapidly begin to grow more upset, and he reaches out for your hand.

You pull away from his grasp, averting your teary gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him would be perfectly suitable. “Nothing is the matter, Colin.”

You were certain your words couldn’t possibly be believable, not with the way your chest had begun to rise and fall at a much more noticeable pace, and not with the way your cheeks had flushed and obvious crimson. One must be a fool to not see the clear turmoil and upset painted all over you, weaving around your every word. Each passing second had only worsened such a feeling, and the more you allowed yourself to look at him, the more trouble you had found yourself falling into. You simply could not bear it anymore.

The crease between his brows only deepens upon your dismissive behavior, his hand falling back to his side as he takes a deep breath. “Well it would appear that something is bothering you. I know you far better than to believe that, Y/n.”

You laugh humorlessly, looking down at your feet as you all but crumble in front of him. Your chest tightened and your heart felt as though it could burst. He knew it may not have been appropriate of him to do so, but he reached out to grab your hands once more and you did not fight it, for this would likely be the last time. The look on his face was a silent plea for you to tell him of your troubles, ones he hadn’t known were caused by himself. His grip was gentle and warm as he waited for you, and the feeling fluttering in your stomach was unable to be ignored.

“I know it is not proper of me to say this,” You start, and his brows remain knit together. No matter how heavily your heart had been pounding, your words spilled out before you could stop them. “But I love you. I am in love with you, and you are in love with someone else. You are to marry. That, Colin Bridgerton, is what is the matter.”

He swallows thickly, his gaze on you far too intense to hold as you clear your throat and bring yourself to pull from his grasp, fervently willing the lump within it to disappear. His mouth opens, then closes almost immediately as he tries desperately to figure out his wording though his attempts prove to be futile.

“I—I do not know what to say.”

The hurt had crashed down on you in waves, immense and unrelenting as you stood before him. The tears pressing just behind your eyes rapidly became too hard to ignore. Yet despite the anguish pulling harshly at your heart, you take a deep breath and compose yourself once more.

“There is no need to say anything at all. I just—I am sorry. I needed to tell you,” you state, straightening your posture as you lift your eyes to meet his once more. Your lip began to quiver the more you held his gaze, and with a soft and faltering smile, you offered a simple nod. “I should be leaving now.”

You turn on your heel and walk away from him, desperate for a change of scenery and desperate for a breath of fresh air. Though impossible, it felt like the lavishly decorated walls were closing in on you in that very moment.

“Y/n, wait!”

It had crossed your mind that maybe you should stop, maybe you should turn around and listen. Maybe he’d have something to say that could be just what you are hoping to hear. But you couldn’t find it in you to look at him for another moment, so you part from him and continue down the nearly vacant corridor. It was only when he was distant enough that you let your tears fall, quickly wiped away by the satin glove on your hand.

—

Dealing with the aftermath of your lovestruck confession was not an easy feat, in fact, you felt as though you never wanted to show your face to the ton again. You were perfectly content staying in the confines of your bedroom for the rest of your life. Fortunately for you, your blunder hadn’t made it into Lady Whistledown’s story of the day, but what had been the talk of the ton was the ever spectacular planning of the wedding of Mr. Colin Bridgerton and Miss Hazel Andrews. There had been an excerpt on the very event every day for an entire week, possibly more but eventually you’d stopped looking to save yourself the heartache already striking down on you.

You had stopped visiting the Bridgerton family home because you had known you would run into him, and the very thought had made your stomach churn and twist in knots as you remember that very night but a handful of weeks ago. You feel as though you might never forget that, much to your dismay. For heartbreak does not leave someone completely, there will always be fragments of its torment left behind in everything you choose to do.

Eloise has come to see you frequently, always with a box of the very sweets she insists she does not share with anyone. She always has a message to pass on from her siblings, even Colin, especially Colin, but she always finds herself feeling unsure of if she should bring him up. So instead, she tells you her latest findings on the unmasking of Lady Whistledown; she could never run out of things to tell you of that. She tells you of how Benedict might just drive her crazy if he asks about you but one more time. She tells you of the ball you are invited to.

In the current moment, you had been seated at your vanity, sifting through all the letters Colin had written to you over the last three weeks. They had since tapered down when he hadn’t been getting responses in return, and you had been too afraid to read any more than just a few. Too afraid to see in writing that your love is unrequited, too afraid to read the possibility that he hadn’t wanted to see you anymore. You were perfectly content with the undesirable hurt you had now, you did not want to add to it.

A knock on your door had startled you from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you,” your mother announces, a soft smile on her lips as you look at her reflection in your mirror.

Your heart nearly flipped in your chest as you sat there, turning to face her directly. Your mind had been racing with a flurry of thoughts; you missed him, but insecurity wore away at you and told you his visit would not be of anything good. Could not be. He had visited several times and the outcome was always the same, so surely he does not believe your excuses, surely he is fed up. “Tell him I am not here, mother.”

She nods at the expected answer, closing the door behind her quietly and leaving you be as you rushed to your window. In a matter of a few moments you saw him, and it felt as though your heart had stilled. You watched as he drug his hand down his face, watched as he turned to look up at your family home and you took a step back from your window, even though he would not be able to see you. You watched as he turned away, got in his carriage, and disappeared down the street.

You turn on your heel and release a shaky breath, your gaze falling to the gown dangling neatly from its hanger.

—

You fought to conceal your frown and your obvious discontent to be at such an event. However, your mother had made you attend and Eloise just might go crazy if you leave her to fend for herself one for one more ball. And as if on cue, her arm links with yours after you’ve taken all but three steps into the boisterous ballroom.

“Hello stranger, how nice of you to join me on this wonderfully dreadful evening,” she greets in faux annoyance, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“Hello, Eloise,” you sigh, leaning your head against hers for just a moment. “It is rather dreadful, isn’t it? I’m certain I’d much rather—”

“Stay in your room?”

You raise your brow at her and she does the same, a knowing smirk gracing her lips and you shake your head with a soft smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. If you keep it up Eloise, I just might leave.”

“That is absolutely not happening.”

“I have to concur!” Benedict chimes in, appearing at your other side with a smile on his lips. You huff out another sigh as you look up at him, something akin to annoyance in your gaze.

“I do not believe there is anything you have to do.”

He pretends to ponder your words for a brief moment before offering you his arm much to his sister’s dismay. “I believe I have to offer you this dance.”

You squint up at him skeptically, your lips pursed as he returned your stare with a grin, head tilted as his arm remains offered to you. You bite the inside of your cheek and huff out a sigh through your nose, a groan sounding from dear Eloise as you reluctantly allow yourself to be escorted to the dancefloor.

“I am not thrilled about this, I hope you know that,” you state, falling into rhythm with the cheerful music regardless.

“I very well do. Much like I am not thrilled that this is the first time I am in your presence in nearly a month,” he jests, and you frown at him and his counter.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just what kind of dance you had been talked into, and the laughter coming from the one to blame was more that indication that he was very much aware of that fact from the start.

“Benedict, don’t you dare spin me off to your brother,” you warn firmly, looking up at him with a threatening glare.

“Do you really think so little of me, Y/n/n?” He asks in a scoff, feigning hurt as he nearly pouts at you and your very logical assumptions.

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” you say, softening your stare as you exhale a sigh.

“I will not do such a thing, but I cannot guarantee he would be as gracious as I am,” he says with a grin, passing you off to the arms of the eldest Bridgerton brother before you could get another word in edgewise.

You breathe out an exasperated huff as you fall into your rhythm, pursing your lips.

“Please, do not act too excited to see me, Miss Y/l/n,” Anthony jests, offering you a lopsided smirk to counter your lingering frown. “What ever is the matter, my dear friend?”

You roll your eyes at the playful insincerity held in his words, for he knew exactly what was the matter long before you had even confessed your feelings for his brother. In fact, he may have been the first to realize them.

“Do not call me that, Anthony. You know perfectly well what is the matter.” Despite the bite in your tone, you couldn’t suppress the smile that had tugged at the very corner of your mouth as you stepped around the dancefloor.

“You do know that my brother is not engaged, do you not?” He asks, raising his brow at you curiously. You furrow your own, eyes narrowing up at him in disbelief.

“Anthony, now is not the time for your humor,” you scold, looking away from him. As much as you would like his words to be true, you cannot imagine that they would be.

“It is nothing of the sort,” he defends, “You don’t believe me? Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

You found yourself tightening your hold on his hand in a pitiful attempt to stay put, but before you can get another word in you are passed into the very arms you had been trying so desperately to avoid, his hand slipping in yours in a fit too perfect to ignore. Your breath caught in your throat upon looking in his eyes, upon being so close and you quickly found yourself averting your gaze. You were quite sure your cheeks were a deep scarlet with the way they’d burned. This had reminded you of the exact reason you hadn’t wanted to attend this very ball in the first place, it was a nightmare and you were now living it.

“How lovely it is to see you,” Colin greets and you’re unsure of his sincerity with the edge behind his words, falling into the pace of the jovial dance with a practiced ease. “I was beginning to think you just might go the entire evening without speaking to me.”

“It is merely a coincidence, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“You do not have to be so formal, Y/n,” he sighs, and you continue to move about the dance floor as you keep quiet. “And am I to assume that it is also merely a coincidence that you are not home each time I have paid you a visit?”

“Do you not have a fiancée to dance with? She is rather popular in Lady Whistledown’s stories, as are you,” you inquire, desperate to take the focus off of you and his question.

You try to keep your racing heart steady, and you hope your shaky hands aren’t too terribly noticeable. Your attempt to keep him from asking any further questions about the matter seemed to have worked in your favorite just this once.

“Then you should have seen that Miss Andrews and I are no longer to be wed.”

It feels as though your heart stills in your chest as you swallow thickly, meeting his gaze once more. A crimson blush stains your cheeks as you look at him, not a trace of a lie expressed on his features. Your heart had beat impossibly faster, and the realization of just how close you had been became increasingly apparent. Not to mention, it felt as though the very walls of the ballroom just might collapse on you if you spend a moment longer in there.

Anthony had not been lying to you, that much was obvious. The thoughts began to swim in your head in a whirlpool now. What the reasons could have been for his numerous visits to your home. What the words written in each of those unopened letters could have said. It engulfed you and rushed over you all at once.

You clear your throat, releasing his hand from your grip and stepping away from him. “I shall need a moment.”

You left him to stand there as you weave your way through the jovial crowd, your obvious distress drawing more than a few stares as you lift the skirt of your dress to keep yourself from tripping as you rush out of the room.

It was a rather chilly evening to be wandering about the gardens by yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about such trivial things. It was much preferred to the stuffy ballroom that was not nearly big enough to house you and the Bridgerton boy you had fought so hard to avoid. The commotion of the jovial event was rapidly fading the farther you immersed yourself amongst the finely manicured shrubbery and blossoming trees. Though it’s outstanding beauty could not fully be appreciated with such a sour mood, it would have to wait for another time.

Your chest heaved and your eyes watered, the sight of him after having kept your distance for weeks on end proving to affect you just as greatly as it always had and always will be. How ever were you to move on and find another suitor when you were still hung up on him?

You suppose you should be happy at the news, but right now that was not the case.

Perhaps you would simply never marry, it seemed like a viable option in this point in time. To put your heart out on the line for another just did not seem of interest to you nor will it ever. To love someone hadn’t felt as rewarding as Mrs. Bridgerton had once told you and Daphne, it felt as though it had been just the opposite.

A breeze swept over you, promptly causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you paced about the lush grass in hopes to ease your mind a bit. As refreshing as the night air had initially been, you were beginning to feel no better than you had when you were confined within that room.

Any and all attempts to ease your mind became futile when a voice had cut you short.

“Y/n?”

You startled at his presence, refusing to turn around if only for a moment more as you let your eyes fall closed with a sigh. “I believe I asked for a moment alone.”

It’s quiet briefly before he speaks up once more. “It is not safe for a lady to be out at this hour by herself. I don’t think my mother would be very happy with me should something happen to you on my account.”

“I am perfectly fine on my own,” you state, walking farther from him into the heart of the large garden.

“That may be true, but I am not leaving.”

You exhale a frustrated sigh, spinning on your heel to face him with a narrowed gaze. “Just why have you followed me out here? I do not wish for your pity, Colin.”

His brows furrowed as he takes a step closer, looking down at you with a look you cannot place. “My actions are not out of pity, Y/n,” he starts, his tongue swiping over his lips as he thinks over his next words.

The tears pressing behind your eyes threaten to spill as you stand there before him.

“Then what are they of?” You ask, lowering your voice before you draw any attention to yourselves should anyone be wandering. “What are they of?”

He inhales a deep breath at your upset tone before huffing it out through his nose, looking away only briefly before his gaze returns to you. His mouth opens and closes once, and again as the words nearly remain caught in his throat. For feeling so strongly, it was difficult to voice them. “I came out here because I miss you.”

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with a gesture of his hand.

“You have hidden yourself from me for the last three weeks. I have written you letters, I have come to see you, and I have been unsuccessful with every attempt I have made. I believe it is fair to say that I do.”

You stand there, frustrated and overwhelmed with his words.

“It is not easy being in the presence of someone who both makes your heart flutter and ache all the same,” you state defensively, a tear spilling over your flushed cheek. “I sincerely apologize for not returning your letters and distancing myself from you, but I believe it was in my best interest.”

“I believe it was not.”

You frown as your brows furrow, frustration building within your chest as it heaved under your distress. “Why is that?”

He stares at you, tears lining his eyes as the crease between his brows deepens. “You are my best friend, you are—”

“Why have you called off your engagement, Colin?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looked down at you, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face as he fought to find the words to say under your expectant stare. Words that played so easily in his mind yet so painfully difficult to speak.

“I realized I did not love her.”

You scoff, willing the bout of hope in your chest to go away.

“That cannot be so. I’ve seen the way you look at her, I’ve heard the way you talk about her. I simply—”

“I didn’t marry her because it is you that I love,” he declares, standing a bit straighter. He finds himself speechless for a moment now that your full attention is on him, now that the quiet of the night is obvious. But as he looks at you, he knows. “I am in love with you, with all that I am. I’m afraid it took your absence for me to realize it, but it has. It was always you, it will always be you.”

You stand there, seemingly frozen in your spot as you look at him in disbelief. “But I—you love me? You…”

Before you could find the words you hadn’t even been sure of yet, his lips had pressed to yours in a soft kiss. One of hesitancy to solidify his words, yet feather-light in fear of ruining the remains of your friendship. One that only intensified once you had gotten over the utter shock you’d been hit with, your hand reaching up to settle on his cheek. His arms envelope you in an embrace, so tight it had only proved his earlier words of missing you. Even in your absence you had entranced him all the same.

In that very moment, it felt as though sparks had danced across every inch of your skin, a feeling you had only ever thought of but never imagined to be true, to be quite so blissful. But what did remain to be true was the very fact that you had been kissing the love of your life in the secret confines of a garden.

Your fingers had begun to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck briefly, smoothing over his cheeks and down to rest on his chest when you part.

“Marry me,” he breathed against your lips, his forehead against yours. Not a drop of hesitancy could be found in the proposal, nor was there any humor.

You found it hard to catch your breath in that moment as you pull away only slightly, allowing yourself to look in his eyes. They sparkled with sincerity, with the promise that he loved you entirely. His kiss swollen lips quirked up in a smile, his gaze hopeful. It was then that you smiled, bright and beaming as you kissed him once more, murmured your acceptance a thousand times over.

To love someone was a risk in and of itself, but to love someone could be just as beautiful.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @elennox03

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton #bridgerton fic

705 notes · View notes

kkusuka · 3 years

Note

Hi! Congrats on 2k!! I absolutely love your writing!!

Could I get fluff prompts 22 and 25 together for kuroo, and then (I hope I’m reading the instructions right ;^;) smut prompt 25 for Atsumu! Thank you and congrats again!!

thank you for reading<3

(specifics are under their names)

!!both have gn! pronouns

Kuroo Tetsuro

(you have fem! anatomy)

“Mm…your kid before five in the morning."

"I think we should have another."

genre: fluff

words: 500

Children are a blessing. You need to remind yourself of that every 4 am crying session where you're sure your son is waking the entire building up. Rolling back onto your side, you heard Tetsuro waking up. His breath sped up slightly and his arm began to reach out for your body. Oh no, you were not letting him force the blame on you, his turn was his turn, no wailing out of it. A hand touches your shoulder, attempting to choke you awake and expertly dodging your kick from under the sheets. “Babe, c’mon, let's go together” he whispers into the darkness, just to humor him, you raise your head to the alarm clock, 4:07 am. Reaching for the beside appliance, you turn towards your husband with an outstretched arm. “Mm…your kid before five in the morning," you speak as you feel him rise from the bed. Thinking he had relinquished and was on his way to quell your son’s cries, you turn back onto your stomach snuggling into your pillow after placing the clock back into its rightful spot. Just when you were beginning to doze off the blanket was thrown off your body and two arms pulled you into a strong chest. “No! Tetsurou! It was your turn, let me sleep!” you whine as he made his way out of the room, arranging you to snuggle into his chest with whatever sleepiness you may have less. “What happened to being a team? Plus the little guy likes you better than me, little shit.” that earned him a smack on the chest, it’s not your fault he mocks his son too much, so much so that he liked you more. Putting you down in front of the door, he lets you open it up, and all the tiredness and false-anger flying out of your system as immediate baby talk leave your lips. Poor thing’s been crying for five minutes, he’ll make himself sick. “Oh, my poor baby! Come here! Hog the love of my life forever! Steal their boobs and wake us up at night!” Kuroo’s voice mocked coming up behind you as you snuggled the crying baby to your chest. “Really?” you questioned, feeling him press against you running his hands along your sides, peeking at his son from your shoulder, “at least we know he has your dramatic tendencies! He’s fine, just needed some attention!” you laughed. Spinning you around, baby now asleep in your arms, Kuroo connects his lips with yours. Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, he can see the two lobes of his life all in one shot. "I think we should have another," he whispered, taking the baby into his hands, lifting it towards his face. “I think we should learn how to handle this one before we try for another.”

“I’m not hearing a no Kitten!”

“Not a no babe, not a no.” --

Atsumu Miya

(fem. anatomy)

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.”

genre: smut

words: 500

You had some nerves.

You really did. Why else would you be prancing around the kitchen in an apron? An apron with nothing but panties under it nonetheless. All because he texted you about wanting a specific dinner when he’d gotten home.

But what he did not expect to get hit in the face with two things; the small of his favorite curry and the view of your barely covered ass and the slightest of side-boob. Omi-Kun would be so disappointed to know that he didn't even shower, he sat on one of the highchairs and watched you swiftly move across the floor.

Your nerves came in during the unnecessary bending and the porn-worthy moans when you tasted your cooking. The reaching for the ‘special’ bowls at the top of the cabinet, and the constant tugs of your panties, revealing more and more skin.

Watching you fill the bowls, then walking to where he sat placing your portion opposite his. Picking up his spoon to dig in you stop him with a shout of how you need a picture. Turning around bending to grab your phone flashing the wet spot growing on the fabric.

“So is there a reason for the outfit?” he inquired watching you swallow and place your napkin back onto your lap.

“Outfit? Everyone wears aprons in the kitchen ‘Tsumu!” you smiled, returning to your food as if he hadn’t said anything at all. The innocent act was not helping the boner in his shorts.

“Ya know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout” he deadpanned, watching as you leaned towards him to ‘grab more napkins’ allowing your tits to spill from your flimsy top.

“Really Tsum-tsum, I’m not doing anything” staying leaned over, you rubbed a circle onto his cheek, making a move to lean back spotted by him grabbing your wrist, pulling you over the table.

Standing to lean over you, his hand flying under your panties, palming your ass, squeezing the plush skin under his fingers. Bringing his mouth to your ear he continued his adventure down to your folds.

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck,” he growled, completely pulling away from your body, releasing you from his hold. Sitting back he ignores your desperate whimpers for attention.

He ignored you until his dish was empty and you were leaking into your chair, deciding to give Atsumu a taste of his own medicine, you expressed disdain for a stain on the apron. Slowly untying the fabric, you rid it completely from your body relishing in the feeling of his eyes on you.

Turning away from him, you moved into the living room hearing him follow immediately after. Waiting for him to sit down, legs spread, motioning for you to draw closer to him. Already know what to do, you knelt between his knees, staring up at his smirk.

“Now, teasing isn't very nice is it, so you're going to have to clean the mess you made now, won’t you? Go on baby, fuck my dick with your mouth.”

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader

513 notes · View notes

melo-yello · 3 years

Text

💤Can’t Sleep💤 w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku🪨💥 HeadCanons

Pairing(s): KiriBaku X black!reader, Eijirou Kirishima X Katsuki Bakugou X black!reader

A/N: fluff and ANGST. Like lots of ANGST. I had a rough week and honestly not very much sleep. What can I say. Sue me, I wanna hug and somebody to watch a movie with.

💤💥🪨 Lay on your stomach opening and closing your eyes as you try and convince yourself to sleep. Kirishima snores softly with an arm around Bakugou’s waist. He’s been pretty stressed lately so he gets to be middle spoon. Baku in turn has an arm draped over your shoulders.

💤💥🪨 The soft and peaceful looks on the boys’ faces are nothing but safe and warm and reassuring . Yet here you are unavailable to close your eyes long enough to drift off to sleep. Each time you close your eyes your heart attempts to tear a whole through your chest. The dim red light of the clock reads 2:56 as you slip out of Baku’s embrace for a glass of water

💤💥🪨 You settle on Jasmine tea instead. Quietly pulling a the kettle from the cabinet and turning on the tap just before placing it on the stove. You busy yourself in your phone in order to banish any form of thought from your head. Soon just blankly browsing through TikToks as you wait for the water to boil

💤💥🪨 The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention as you hear heavy footsteps and the creaking of the bedroom door. Short angry grumbles are traded with deep groggy grunts as the footsteps close in on your position. You glance up to see the time is now 3:22 and you hear the kettle whistling for the first. Mostly likely what woke your boyfriends to begin with. You scowl at the kettle.

💤💥🪨 “fuck you.” you curse under your breath snatching up the kettle to quiet it’s shouting as the two set of red eyes fix on you in the dim light of kitchen. Kiri’s long red hair pulled back into a messy plat, and Baku’s fluffy ash blonde sticking out in all directions except for the right side flatten to the side of his skull

💤💥🪨 “Oí, Chuchu Soul, do you have any idea what time it is?!!” Baku squints tiredly placing a hand on his hip. “That’s actually a good one.” You giggle surprised by his creativity. “I know right?! And they used to call him uncreative.” Kirishima smirks between a yawn. “ Well?” Bakugou’s features don’t change. More likely mad that he’s awake at this ungodly hour than anything else. “Was it another panic attack, Pebble?” Kiri questions walking to rest his hand on your lower back. You don’t acknowledge his soft gesture and busy yourself with pouring the newly hot water into your large mug with it’s awaiting tea bag.

💤💥🪨 “Run that shit back, Eiji?!? When was this?” Bakugou’s foggy apathetic sleepiness raises to concerned confusion . You curse under your breath for the third time tonight. Kiri racks his tired brain for an explanations as he trades tired glances between the temperamental blonde and the vaguely suspicious one blowing at tea. “Pebble you didn’t tell him about Friday Night?” He frowns looking down at you. “...i forgot...” you whisper sipping the overly hot tea and burning your tongue. Hell you wouldn’t have told him either, but he was right beside you when it happened.

💤💥🪨 That Friday night. You couldn’t speak. You stood in a dark room. Small and cramped. No windows. No doors. Just glowing ink on one wall in barely legiable font. Prove It. As soon as you touched the lettering it went blood red and the water began to pool at your feet. You begin to lose your composure trying to find an exit. In seconds the water is at your waist. Then your neck. Then the ceiling. Like that you’re choking and sputtering trying to find. The walls go translucent. Larger than life figures with unmistakable silhouettes and Pro hero customs hold your box in each hand. You bang tight fists to gain their attention. Your blood mixes with the water and you could barely breath. You thrashed across the sheets desperately trying to snatch yourself from your current nightmare. Suddenly Kiri shaking you awake and he’s coaching you into breathing again.

💤💥🪨 The memory of utter helplessness washes over you all over again. You sigh in frustration as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. “Come here, Pebs.”

💤💥🪨 Without another word, Kiri scoops you up bridal style and takes a seat on the couch placing you in his lap. Baku takes the seat next to him gently taking the hot tea from your trembling hands. You hadn’t even realized they were shaking until you touched his steady ones. “Babes, we hafta talk about this. Including Friday, this makes 3 days of shitty sleep. That’s not good or sustainable, Knucklehead.” Bakugou sighs placing the mug on the coffee table before wiping away a tear rolling down your cheek.

💤💥🪨 “It’s not like I don’t wanna do better, Kats. Eiji. I’m just...” you trail off mid explanation. You clasp fingers over your soft lips. Opening twice to speak, but only croaks come out. You try very hard to find a tangible reason for your reluctance to sleep, but there were none. Kiri squeezes your shoulders reassuringly and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your bonnet.

💤💥🪨 “We know you’re trying, love. It’s ok to be scared sometimes. Even the resident hardass, Katsuki still gets nightmares.” Kiri offers doing his best to let you ride these feelings out while comforting you as well. “Yea.”Baku’s grip tightens at the mention of his own nightmares before leaning his head on your legs

💤💥🪨 “I just can’t trust it ok! It’s scary. I’m panicking in sleep now?!! I’m only getting worse and now I crying about. FUCK! I’m just a scared bitchy crybaby who can’t sleep.” You sigh overwhelmed by all the physical closeness and their consistent and unwavering support. You mentally kick yourself for the not realizing sooner that you trusted them enough to hurt like this in front of them. There’s something that unnerves you about that. Tears streaming at full force at this piont

💤💥🪨Kiri holds you firmly to chest tucking your shaking form under his chin. Baku moves to wrap an embrace overlapping Kiri’s arms. “Just let it all out, Babygirl.” He hums leaning his head on your shoulder. Your chest tightens and your fingers curl into angry fists. Suddenly your frighteningly fierce temper rears it’s ugly head.

💤💥🪨 “No no no NO! Stop It! STOP ACTING SO NICE! STOP ACTING LIKE I DESRVE THIS! BE DISAPPOINTED! BE UPSET!! TELL ME TO TRY HARDER! TELL ME TO TAKE BETTER CARE OF MYSELF! TELL ME IT’S EASY! REALLY EASY! BE ANGRY I’M FUCKING IT ALL UP! BLAME ME! I BLAME ME! I blame me... I blame me for not being...better.” You fume trying to push them away. You do your best to squirm out of their gentle comfort and tender embrace your lovers have you wrapped in. Neither one of your boys moves. “No way, Pebs.” Kirishima says resolutely. “Not a fucking chance, Teddy.” Bakugou nods with the same unchanging confidence. The rage in your chest melts as fat tears and roll down your brown cheeks.

💤💥🪨 A heaving and broken sob racks your entire body as you fall apart in their arms. Anger subsides into terrified uncertainty and overwhelming futility settles in its place. Tears and mucus flood down your face and soak Kiri’s t-shirt. Sniffles from above draws you out of the dark thoughts swarming around you. Surely enough tears drip slowly down Kiri’s cheeks. Instinctively you cup his face with trembling hands. “...Sorry.. I’ll be strong...just gimme a sec” he mutters as his broad shoulders slump and he moves to bat away the falling droplets. Bakugou grabs his hand and kisses it while wiping the red head’s face. “Eijirou, you don’t have to. Not right now” You sputter between choppy breaths.

💤💥🪨 His usually unwavering features muddy with insecurity. A fairly uncommon expression for someone so death defyingly optimistic and confident. “But it’s what I’m good at. If I can’t be strong for the people I love most then what good am I?” He retorts apathetically tightening his grip as the tears still trickle. You slink an arm around his hips, and place your face to his chest. “Bullshit. You’re plenty strong enough for us, Eijirou. Stop being so hard headed!” Bakugou raves putting a hand behind his neck and his forehead against his for emphasis before continuing, “You’re allowed to feel more than one thing. You are complex and unique and fearless and fearful all in one. You’re human, Eiji. It’s ok.”

💤💥🪨 “Katsuki, you’re so compassionate and kind.” You hum softly and absentmindedly almost. You don’t know why this observation came but it just feels right. Eiji smiles leaning in the blonde’s embrace. “Honestly Kats, you love remarkably deep and painfully unselfishly. Thank you.” Kiri hums kissing his cheek and you do the same. Hot little tears rest at the corners of his dark red eyes. Most of the public thinks he’s some kind of angry asshole devoid of any softer emotions. Comments on your relationship often criticized Katsuki for snagging partners ‘much nicer than he deserved’. And just like that you are scooting over to make room for Bakugou in Kiri’s lap.

💤💥🪨 “Such a shitty little week.” Baku sighs with misty eyes. There’s a small comfort in the collective collapse washing over the three of you. All of you holding the hurt from the others in hopes it would just fizzle away like a bad dream. It didn’t. You sob, Kiri sniffles, and Baku lets two hot tear slip from his glassy eyes. None of you break contact with each other. Your fingers linked with Kiri and Baku’s in the opposite hand. A head glued affectionately onto the red head’s broad shoulder. After what seems like a lifetime and you can’t cry anymore and feeling a surprising amount of relief sinks onto you, you clear your throat.

💤💥🪨 “Wanna watch How to Train a Dragon?” You rasp with tired and strained vocal chords. “I’ll get the popcorn.” Kiri sighs kissing each of you on the cheek as he ushers you both out of his lap. He sashays into the kitchen to find a bowl and the popcorn. Baku stands handing you your cool tea as he grabs the remote. Flipping decisively through Amazon Prime, he queues up the movie as he settles onto the far side of the couch to lay out fully. You sip contently tucking your knees to your chest so you can press the soles of your feet into his. “That tickles.” Bakugou deadpans wiggling his own toes. Soft giggles flutter out of your chest.

💤💥🪨 Kiri strolls back in the room with two large bowls of popcorn and a blanket on each arm. He bows presenting them to their proper owners. Movie theater butter for Baku and kettle corn for you two to share. You sit your now empty mug on the coffee table as Kiri retakes his original spot and you settle comfortably into his lap cocooning you both in a cozy weighted blanket. Baku draped in a light throw typically the first to complain about being hot. The DreamWorks title sequence floats across the screen, and wave of peacefulness falls over the tired trio. Less then five minutes in, you and Bakugou snore quietly as Kiri’s heavy eyelids fight to watch the next couple scenes

495 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Note

2. 3 words, 8 letters - I "hate" you

❆ title: i hate you

❆ member: enhypen sunghoon

❆ wc: 1.4k

❆ warnings: idk just alot of angst

❆ synopsis: “If I had told you that I'd never hurt you, would you believe?”

❆ send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it [closed]

autumn. the entire afternoon, he didn’t even look at you. he may have been in your bed, playing with his phone and aggressively tapping away at the screen like he normally would, but he didn’t say a single word. not to you, not at the screen or at the automated characters in the game.

“are you alright?” a gentle crease strains your brows. “you’ve been... very quiet since you came over.”

“i’m fine,” he brushes it off, doesn’t even bother looking away from his phone. “i’m just... thinking about stuff.”

your thumb locks your phone, eyes drifting from the screen to him. “thinking about what? tell me about it.”

“i don’t want to.”

cold.

“why not? was it something i did earlier that pissed you off or did something happen at home?”

silence.

“oi,” gently wrapping your fingers around his hands that were holding his phone, you pull the device out from between his hands. “talk to me. what’s wrong?”

he rolls his eyes in exasperation, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue as he sits up in your bed. his back creaks against the cushioned head board, the back of his head resting on the blue wall.

the royal blue shade flushes kind memories through your mind - sunghoon had helped you paint your walls just a year ago.

“do you remember when you kicked the can of paint over? my god, it was so expensive and i was so mad-”

“stop.”

a sudden chill runs down your spine. there are a few moments of silence; heavy tension in the air, before you finally sit up and look to him.

“hey, i didn’t mean to bring that up if you didn’t like it. i just thought-”

“no, i’m saying we should stop.”

a gentle frown draws across your forehead.

“did i do something wrong? i-”

“no, i just-” sunghoon pushes himself off the bed, running his hand through his hair and picking up his phone. “i don’t think this is it. you and me. us.”

“i don’t get it. if i didn’t do anything wrong, then what is wrong?”

“what’s wrong is that i don’t love you, okay?” he grabs his hoodie and pulls it over his head.

“wha...?”

“in fact,” he licks his slightly-chapped lips, thick brows almost pasted to one another, and his eyes had seemed to lost the light you once thought were for you. how could he say that so easily? “i hate you.”

pent up frustration yanks his chin away from you. watch him pick up his bag, full of your memories with him, full of laughter and cries and smiles that you had shared with him, that you had fallen in love with him over.

“sunghoon, what-”

“don’t,” he swings his bag over his shoulder and turns, just enough to show you his side profile. “don’t call me ever again. delete my number. i’ll be blocking you from all our social medias.”

so, the door swings shut behind him, and there are soft whispers from outside as he bids your family goodbye.

the room still smells like him. your fucking bed probably smells like him. the walls have been painted by him. the pictures of your phone either have him or were taken by him.

the downfall of falling in love is that the same person who can give you anything, can take away everything.

you find yourself zoning out as you sit at the edge of your bed, tears silently streaming down your face and soaking the ends of your sleeves. your mucus has long stained the lines of your lips and your cheeks are bloated from the quiet crying.

no reason. no explanation.

now all you know is that he hates you.

knock knock knock

winter. snow. snow angels. snow flakes. ice.

“i know you’re in there! please open the door and come out!” jake’s voice is muffled through the door. the shadows stretched from under the door shifts restlessly, but you’re stuck to your bed like gum to hair.

“please. if you don’t see him off at the airport, you’ll never see him for the next few years. what if he stays? what if he doesn’t want to come back? you can still make it in time and you can still come to some kind of agreement.”

the sour in your nose starts to spread through your nasal cavities again, and you can feel the lump of sobs stuck in the back of your throat. it feels like someone had just punched you in the gut so hard that your stomach was going to tumble out from your mouth.

“you can’t possibly believe that he’s leaving because he meant what he said! this is... his dream. he was absolutely torn just by thinking about this, god! none of us knew he was going to pull this stunt!”

a soft thunk. the shadows stop shifting, but he’s standing directly against the door. he probably has his forehead shoved against the wood.

“y/n, please. we can’t stand by and watch this go to waste like that. we all knew sunghoon had nothing but eyes for you and he still does, i swear to god. he only said that because he didn’t want you to commit to a long-distance relationship and possibly neglect you but... you’ll get through it, won’t you?”

“is she not coming out?”

“no. she’s not responding.”

“move over. y/n, it’s jungwon.”

you sit up slowly, starting to wonder if sunghoon’s entire friend group is standing right outside your door.

“sunghoon told me not to tell you this... or anybody in fact, but he said he’d be too greedy if he wanted both you and skating. he said... that he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, and that no matter how hard he tried, there would still come a time that he might hurt you. he said that skating is technical and can be improved and the only person getting hurt from it is him, but he can’t bear to hurt you ever. not now, not in the future.”

“since when did he say that?”

riki.

“shut up- you ask the worst questions at the worst timings ever.”

sunoo.

“y/n, are you listening? sunghoon still loves you and he never meant it when he said he hates you. he said it as... as an attempt to hurt you one last time, so you’ll stay and he’ll go live his dreams while thinking he’s protecting you.”

“we all know that’s bullshit, by the way.”

jay.

“jay!”

heeseung.

“what?! it’s true!”

by now, you’re standing with your hand on the door handle. the only thing between you and his friends was the door, and a broken heart that might just be too far for redemption.

the jostle outside continues, and the shadows start shifting all over again as the boys squabble to get the door open.

but it stops abruptly, and you see the light under the door shine through before it’s shadowed again.

“y/n.”

sunghoon.

he tries the door, but you’re too frightened to open it. why would you open your heart to someone who has broken it before?

“please... open up. i... i thought that this would be the easiest and the best way to make sure you were safe from all the things i wanted to do... but i am far from right and i can’t... i’m- i’m sorry... that i chose to go down this route. i just... i never want to see you like this. i’m sorry.”

your trembling fingers kiss the cold metal of the door knob lock, and you twist it with a click.

the winter coat is snug around his shoulder, and he has a scarf around his neck with a passport boarding pass sticking out from one of his coat pockets. the cracks in his heart when he sees your face shows in his eyes as glistening tears, arms opening wide as he takes a step forward.

a sharp exhale, followed by sudden, almost-violent sobs into his coat as he sinks to the ground with your head in his shoulder. he rests his cheek against your head, hands stroking your hair.

“i can never hate you, i promise.”

#multifandomnet #enhypennetwork #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #sunghoon fanfic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen sunghoon fanfic #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon x reader #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen

271 notes · View notes

tfwlawyers · 3 years

Note

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth��s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

#bluefaewren #replies #parent trap au #attempting to write tag

138 notes · View notes

masterofmunson · 3 years

Text

look after you (3)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: sexual themes, language, typical marvel violence, blood, death, murder, just to be sure that i cover all the basis this is 18+. minors dni

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: Hello!!!! I am really sorry that this part took me forever to post. The last month has kicked my ass but now everything’s a little calmer. As always, enjoy and tell me what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are encouraged and greatly appreciated.

When you return to Latvia nearly a day later, you’re more than eager to get back on your feet. Despite the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion running through your body, you’re glad to be back at it with Bucky and Sam. You’re somewhat rested, and you take the opportunity to visit one of the refugee camps to see if you could find any information on Donya Madani.

When you enter the camp, you try your best to keep a low profile. You don’t draw attention to yourselves and try not to ruffle any feathers.

“We should split up, cover more ground,” Zemo stated.

Bucky glares at him, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’ll just take off.”

You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He looks over at you and you smile gently at him. “I’ll go with him,” you said.

His blue eyes stare into yours. It makes your heart race and your knees weak. Warmth spreads across your entire body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and keeping a watchful eye on Zemo. It’s why he doesn’t argue.

The four of you split in two and you and Zemo begin walking in the opposite direction. You’re on high alert, watching the refugees carefully. They don’t seem too concerned with your presence and avoid you entirely when you speak and attempt to approach them about Donya Madani. Although you tried connecting with them in the native language, no one wanted to talk.

You’re silent for the most part, taking in your surroundings. You walk past a makeshift classroom and the teacher and his students hurry away from you. This wasn’t what you hoped and wasn't successful. It started to piss you off.

“Have you and Sergeant Barnes been together for long?” Zemo asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brows pinch together and you stop in your tracks. Zemo turns to look at you expectantly. You take a careful breath. The last thing you need is for Zemo to get under your skin in a place where no one trusted you and away from Sam and Bucky. You begin walking again and Zemo falls into step beside you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you justified with a calm tone to your voice, “but we’re not together.”

You feel Zemo’s smirk beside you as he looks over at you. You grit your teeth and squeeze the inside of your palms harshly. You can’t react. You have to lay low. Do not cause a scene. Don’t bring unwarranted attention. Do not stand out.

“But you care deeply for one another, correct?”

That much was obvious. You’ve always cared for each other. At the beginning it was because of Steve. Anyone Steve loved and cared for, by extension, you did too. It was also how you felt towards Sam when you were introduced to one another.

But something changed along the way. You sought each other out. You relied on him as he did with you. You’d grown incredibly close prior to the blip, and if it hadn’t happened, maybe things would be different. Bucky would always be there to help Sam, regardless of the indifference he shows towards him. You’re tired of fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t do it anymore.

Bucky feels the need to repent and right his wrongs even though he was tortured and brainwashed to commit such heinous acts. He won’t stop fighting. He needs to help, to protect, to be good for the world. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it had been taken from him for so long.

You nod in reply. You say nothing else. You weren’t about to spill your secrets to the man that brought Bucky incredible pain. He is not your friend and you don’t owe him anything.

Thankfully, Zemo says nothing and you eventually regroup in the courtyard of the camp. You’d come up with nothing valuable and neither had Sam and Bucky. You would be leaving empty handed.

You watch Zemo approach a young girl as you stand beside Bucky. You feel his gaze against the side of your face. You don’t say anything. You’re still reeling from your conversation with Zemo.

Your heart beat picks up and the stress you feel gathers on your shoulders. Bucky whispers your name and this time you turn to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No, you wanted to say. He made your mind a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think clearly with him so close to you. He makes your body tingle with want and desire. You wanted James Buchanan Barnes to ruin you completely, if only for a night, consequences be damned.

You swallow the lump in your throat and push down the desire in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a soft smile. You nod, looking back over as Zemo rejoins the group.

“I’m fine,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster and take a step away from him.

Lie, you hissed to yourself. You’ve never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. It made your chest ache painfully.

What could you say? You make me feel like a fool. No one’s made me feel like a fool, not even Steve. But you didn’t want Steve. You didn’t desire him the way you do Bucky, dare you say loved him in the way you think you love Bucky.

Your mind races with imagination. The feeling of his hands on your waist. His lips pressed against the junction of your neck and shoulder. The contrast between his warm, calloused right hand and the coolness of his metal arm trailing along your body and pulling your clothes off.

You needed to get away from him, and fast. You can barely breathe with him beside you.

You’re the first to leave the camp and Sam, Bucky, and Zemo trail after you as they bicker at one another. Yet again, Zemo was one step ahead and holding the information hostage.

As you make your way back to the townhouse, you freeze in the middle of the street. The uniform is unmistakable. You’d seen it on posters, on television, and even on public buses. John Walker, the man you had no desire to meet, was approaching you with his buddy right beside him.

His voice thunders in the street, causing locals to stop what they’re doing to look at the new Captain America. He stops in front of you and looks you up and down. Just as you were sizing him up, he was doing the same to you.

“Is this the reason why you won’t return any of my messages? You’re too busy slumming it with Wilson and Barnes, as well as a known terrorist? I thought you knew better.” Walker asked.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m on vacation,” you said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just so happens that Sam and Bucky are in town at the same time I am. Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Watch your mouth, Walker,” Bucky growled at the man.

John’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, ignoring Bucky completely. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. Walker is an asshole. His eyes challenge yours, but you square your shoulders and stare him down. He doesn’t scare you. You don’t answer to him.

“We’ll take it from here. Zemo is coming with us.”

“No, he’s not,” Sam said. “We have somewhere to be and Zemo is the only one who can take us there. This is the only time that we may be able to reason with Karli, she lost the person closest to her.”

You resume your trek up the street and the boys fall close behind you. Bucky’s quick to join your side and Walker runs ahead to stop you from moving any further. His gaze flickers between you, Sam, and Bucky. You roll your eyes and let out a scoff.

“You’re really going to let your partner do this, Bucky?” Walker asked him, looking between the two men.

Bucky and Walker bicker back and forth and you and Zemo slip between them when you notice the same girl he had spoken to earlier. You follow her quietly through a back door and slip inside the building. You watch Sam disappear around the corner and you lean against a metal beam in the boiler room. You pick at your nails and ignore Walker pacing the length of the room, looking over at Bucky every now and then as he guards the door.

Walker huffs impatiently and takes a step towards the door. You stand up and Bucky shoves Walker back. You swallow the lump in your throat as the two men stare at one another. At the mention of the serum in Bucky’s veins, rage runs through you. He didn’t ask to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t ask for the serum. The serum had taken so much from him. It’s not something that he’s proud of.

“Don’t you dare say that,” you hissed at him, shoving him away from Bucky. You were so close to clocking him in the jaw. “You have no idea how much he has lost because of the serum.”

There’s a glint in his eyes and he looks between you and Bucky. “What are you, his guard dog?”

“I can say the same thing about Lemar.”

“We’ve waited around long enough. It’s time to go.”

He shoves himself past Bucky and Lemar does the same. You and Bucky run after them into the main room where Karli and Sam are. Her brown eyes widen in panic and betrayal as she looks from Sam back to John. Sam attempts to reason with her again and you run straight between them in an attempt to block John’s attack.

Karli’s super strength sends you and Sam flying into the nearby table and she takes off. Bucky runs after her and you scramble to your feet. You split off from Sam and back track into the boiler room. The handcuffs are empty and you curse loudly before racing down a flight of stairs. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest and the adrenaline rushes through you. The ache in your shoulder is the least of your concerns as you creep up to the basement door.

With a gun in one hand, you reach for the handle and twist the knob. It doesn’t budge under the pressure of your hand as you attempt to jiggle it open. The sound of gunfire rings through your ears on the other side of the door. You point the gun on the lock and fire until there’s a hole in the door. You shove your body against the door and it caves under your weight.

With your gun raised, you climb down the steps before relenting at the sight of Zemo unconscious on the floor with John looming over him. You tuck your gun in the back of your jeans and look over the room. Shattered glass vials are all over the floor and you glance at Walker suspiciously.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Zemo shot Karli and destroyed the vials that contained the serum,” he answered before turning his back on you and climbing up the stairs.

Sam and Bucky join you several minutes later. You stare up at them against a cold metal crate beside the unconscious Baron. Bucky crouches in front of you and looks at you carefully.

“You okay? What happened?” he asked.

You nod your head and tell them what supposedly happened while you were attempting to get to Zemo and John Walker before anything worse happened. It made you feel uneasy and you have a gut feeling that Walker was lying to you.

“Do you believe him?” Sam questioned, looking over at Zemo.

You shook your head. You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. I don’t trust him. Something about the way he looked at the broken vials makes me nervous. I don’t think he was telling me the whole truth.”

Silence falls between the three of you before Sam speaks again. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll regroup back at the house.”

You nod and get back on your feet. Sam and Bucky pull Zemo from the floor and drag him out of the basement out of the camp to the main street. You return to the house and Zemo is placed on the nearest couch. Bucky disappears out the door once more and you join Sam at the kitchen counter. You fish around the liquor cabinet and pour two glasses of whiskey for you and Sam.

You take the time to shake off the stress and anxiety in your shoulders and enjoy the brief silence covering the room.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Zemo begins to stir back into consciousness. He groans loudly and grasps at his head. Sam wordlessly grabs an ice pack from the fridge and hands both the pack and the glass of whiskey over to him.

You sit down in one of the loveseats and kick your feet up on the coffee table. Within seconds, Zemo starts spewing his self righteous bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” you snapped, downing the rest of your whiskey.

Sam smiles and a low chuckle from Zemo fills the room. You sigh softly and ignore him once more. Bucky returns several minutes later and practically rips off his leather jacket. It makes your cheeks flush and you watch him pour himself his own drink into a glass.

“There’s something wrong about Walker,” he said with a huff.

“You don’t say,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one, because I am crazy.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.

You bark out a laugh and Sam does the same. “Can’t argue with that.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls over the room and Bucky sighs deeply. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You jump to your feet and step between the two men. Your hand presses against his chest. “You know he didn’t give the shield to him, Bucky.”

A flash of hurt and anger appears across his face. You had never been on the receiving end of his hurt and anger before. It makes your chest ache as you look at him. He takes a step away from you and glares. Your heart leaps inside your throat and you attempt to reach for him again. He pushes your hand away. He had never rejected you so blatantly before.

“How can you say that? After all that Steve’s done for you and you’re so casual and flippant about the shield! How dare you!” he yelled at you, his voice thundering off the walls and into your ears. It makes you wince and you’re fighting back tears.

“He’s gone!” you shouted back. “Why should I care about something that was left behind by someone who abandoned me!”

His eyes darken as he stares at you. He shakes his head in disbelief and a bitter laugh leaves his throat. “Sam should have never asked you to come.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I won’t abandon Sam the way that Steve abandoned me. I’m willing to sacrifice what needs to be done, even if it makes me unhappy. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to be here more than you do,” you hissed, your body filling with rage. “I’m more than happy to leave.”

“Good! Then go!”

“Fine!”

Just as you’re about to gather your things and storm out of the house, the doors burst open and John and Lemar storm inside. He points to Zemo and says, “He’s coming with us. Hand him over.”

Sam and John argue with one another and you step away from Bucky. You’re pissed and hurt and you have no energy to join their bitching contest. You cross your arms over your chest and just seconds pass before the Dora Milaje walk through the doors.

You watch with a smug smirk as Walker reaches a hand out to Ayo. You hold your breath as he places a hand on her shoulder. A split second passes and John and Lemar are both getting their asses kicked. You stand out of the way and gleam as they struggle against the Dora Milaje. One of the spears slices through the air and pins the shield against the kitchen table.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky exclaimed.

If you weren’t pissed at him, you would’ve laughed. Sam says his name disapprovingly and Bucky rolls his eyes as he attempts to stop Ayo from doing anymore damage. Sam soon follows suit and you sigh before joining them.

You had spent several long months training alongside the Dora Milaje when you were on the run after the Accords. They had helped you perfect your technique and made you an ever better fighter. You block the jabs of the spear with the outside of your forearms and quickly side step out of the way as one of the women aims at your gut.

With all things considered, you were fairing far better than both Sam and Bucky combined, and you hadn’t been keeping up with your training regiment.

Another spear nearly sideswipes your face and your reflexes take over as you spin out of the way. You’re growing tired and out of breath, and they still haven't been able to get you to yield.

Soon you were overpowered and you fell on your back with a loud crash. The wind is knocked out of you and you see stars at the corners of your eyes. Your head turns towards the bathroom doors and you can see an outline of a sewage drain. Zemo had escaped in the middle of the fight.

John and Lemar are the first to leave, followed by the Dora Milaje. Bucky lends a hand down to you and you slap it away. You could be petty and angry too. You pretend not to notice the flash of hurt and surprise on his face as he adjusts to his metal arm again with a roll of his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

You grunt in response. “Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

You leave the house and trail behind Sam and Bucky as you walk down a number of streets with no particular destination. You’re silent and fuming as you listen to Sam talk on the phone. He stops up ahead and glances down at his phone.

“That was Sarah. Karli threatened my nephews. She wants to meet and said for me to come alone,” Sam said, staring at the coordinates on the screen.

“We’re coming with you,” Bucky said. There was no room for discussion and Sam didn’t argue.

You’re nearly out of breath when you arrive at the correct coordinates. You attempt to control your breathing as you creep up the stairs with Sam in front and Bucky behind. Sam yells for Karli and she steps in front of one of the white pillars. You stand beside Bucky just far enough that it doesn’t make it seem like you’re a threat. Her eyes flicker over to the two of you before returning to look back at Sam.

You shift nervously on your feet and the sound of Sharon’s voice rings through your ears. She had found John. Karli takes off and it takes a split second for Bucky to run after her. You cling to Sam and he takes off in the air.

“Brace yourself!” Sam shouted at you.

You cling to his back and use his shoulder for cover as he breaks through the glass ceiling. You shake off your legs and Sam squeezes your arm reassuringly.

Suddenly a body flies through the closest door and hits the wall with a crack. To your own horror, John walks up to the man, a man that has super soldier strength, like it’s nothing. It scares the shit out of you as you watch with wide eyes as Walker bends a steel pipe in half before sending the Flag Smasher to the ground once more.

You glance over at Sam and he’s just staring at John. “What did you do?”

You both know that you didn’t need him to answer to come to the right conclusion. Somehow John had managed to snag a vial of the serum. You were right back at the memorial. Something was wrong and it had been John all along. He had knocked out Zemo and stole the last vial before it could be destroyed.

You feel a sense of responsibility for it. If you had reacted quicker than you did down in the basement, maybe then Walker wouldn’t actually have the serum running through him. You could’ve stopped him and you didn’t, and it was all because of a locked door. You could hold your own against John without the serum, but now that he has it and he’s always so full of rage, you don’t know if you would be able to. He had the strength to kill you.

You follow the two men in a daze in an attempt to find Lemar. Everything was quiet and still. It sends you on edge. You step into an empty workshop. Tables are flipped on their sides, chairs everywhere, and scraps of paper and wood litter the floor.

Sam pushes you out of the way as a Flag Smasher jumps from the overhead balcony straight towards you. You stumble slightly before regaining your bearings and joining the fight. Your body screams in protest but you push through it. With every kick and punch finding its intended target, you’ve lived to see another second.

One of them kicks you in the backside, cornering you with another partner. The force of the kick nearly knocks the breath out of you. You shake it off and dodge a stab to the face. You quickly disarm the knife from your opponent and use their surprise to your advantage.

You may not have super serum in your blood, but you put up one hell of a fight. You easily avoided and stepped away as your attacker spins in the air. You wait for an opening and kick your leg up high, sending them backwards. You throw the knife down just inches from their head as a warning.

As you turn on your back, you quickly stumble as another opponent reaches to stab you. Bucky comes barreling in with an iron fist and the man goes flying and crashes into a nearby table. You have a split second to react as Bucky drags you back on your feet.

You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to fight, especially defensively. If any of the Flag Smashers noticed that you were favoring your left side more than your right, they would use it to their advantage and kill you. Your right shoulder throbs and you taste blood and sweat on your tongue.

You spin on your heels as you watch Karli barrel towards you, nearly taking your head off. You were tired, but you were still fast on your feet.

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Lemar miraculously appears and throws Karli off balance. For a brief moment, he was holding his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Karli punches him with so much force that the sound of the pillar cracking underneath his weight vibrates through your ears. Everything stops, even Karli and her followers stare at the man pinned against the pillar. A number of sounds and voices fill your ears as you watch John crouch beside his partner to try and find a pulse. He shakes his head but nothing happens. There’s no response.

Lemar’s gone. Lemar is dead.

Sam nearly drags you with him as John jumps out of the building at the closest window. Your legs burn, screaming for rest as you run alongside Bucky and Sam through the building towards the growing sounds of screaming in the courtyard.

Bucky stops you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. There was nothing you could do but watch as John publicly executed someone with the shield. A shield that used to mean so much to the world was now and forever tainted. It’s legacy is gone.

The civilians that had gathered starred in complete awe with their phones out as they witnessed Captain America slaughter a man that wasn’t responsible for Lemar’s death.

He just stares off into the crowd, breathing hard and heavy as the blood from his victim stains the shield. He takes off, running away from the crowd, presumably to get away from Sam and Bucky.

You take a step, intending to run after him, but Sam stops you. “We’ll get him later. Right now we need to talk to the police and paramedics. If the countless videos aren’t enough proof of what John did was wrong, our statements will.”

You nod but don’t say anything as exhaustion takes over. Your knees buckle and Bucky nearly carries you to the nearest ambulance. A blanket is wrapped around you and you’re given a bottle of water. Bucky leans against the ambulance door and your eyes watch another team of paramedics take care of the body underneath the statue.

He’s placed on to a stretcher and a cloth is draped over his body to give the illusion of privacy, even in death, despite the number of people that watch.

A police officer approaches the ambulance you’re sitting in and asks if you’re ready to give a statement. You nod as you gulp down your water. You tell the officer everything that happened that led to the tragic event that followed just several minutes earlier. You leave out any mentions of the serum. The US government would find out soon enough.

The officer thanks you for your time as another one approaches to take Bucky’s official statement. His is nearly identical to yours, apart from the times that you had split up and separated over the last two hours. He’s gruff and fuming and his arms are crossed over his chest. If you weren’t still angry at him, you would tease him, but now wasn’t the time. The officer thanks him again before scurrying off.

Sam reappears and adjusts the gear on his arms before shaking his arms. “There’s a ping on Walker’s location. He’s at some abandoned warehouse in a wooded area in the outskirts of the city.”

You nod and slip the blanket off your back. Your exhaustion could wait. You jump from the ambulance and Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder. You quickly brush it off.

“You better think long and hard before you open your mouth, Barnes. If it’s anything other than “you’re coming with us,” keep it to yourself,” you snapped at him.

He stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and does exactly as you asked. He says nothing.

You walk in silence towards the outskirts of the city to John’s location. Your muscles burn with each step and you’re struggling to breathe, but you push through it. You have to for Sam and Bucky’s sake.

You hold your breath as you enter the warehouse. John’s back faces you and Sam throws an arm out in front of you to stop you from getting any closer. He turns to look at the three of you and you rock back on your heels.

“You don’t want to do this,” John said. His voice is casual and condescending.

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, we do.”

The shield flies through the air just inches from your head. You double back as Bucky and Sam tag team against Walker.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight and sound of Bucky crashing into one of the electrical beams. He remains still and it sends you into a panic. You’d never seen him like that before.

You run straight towards Walker. You use your weight and momentum to leap up and choke him with your thighs, a move Natasha had taught you all those years ago. His fingers dig into the tops of your thighs with all his strength. Your own hands are too busy scratching and squeezing at his throat.

Walker throws his back into a steel pole and it makes you lose your grip on him. The force of the impact sends you crumbling to the ground. Now it hurts to breathe.

You land with a loud crash. You’re in a daze and can barely see straight. Black specks and stars cover the corners of your eyes as you fight off unconsciousness.

John stands above you, his arm pulled back with the shield in hand. He was going to kill you, just like he did to the Flag Smasher, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him.

You’re too weak and injured to fight. You’re on the brink of physical exhaustion. You can’t mask the pain any longer. You’re going to die before you have the chance to tell Bucky how you feel.

You throw your hands up, a futile attempt to stop the shield from blowing your brains out.

Sam knocks John off balance just as the shield moves towards your head. Sam uses the strength of his wings and jet pack to kick John in the stomach while Bucky knocks him from behind. For the first time, John’s on the floor.

Sam and Bucky use all their combined strength to rip the shield from Walker’s grasp. There’s a loud crack that fills your ears and he howls in pain as his hand loosens around the shield.

He swings at Bucky with his uninjured arm and Bucky punches him right in the face. This time John doesn’t get up and Bucky grabs the shield and tosses it beside Sam’s head as he lays on the floor near you. Several silent seconds pass as the three of you catch your breath and attempt to regain your bearings.

Bucky crouches in front of you and gingerly threads his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. You’re not bleeding anywhere on the top of your head.

Although you couldn’t see straight, you know his deep blue eyes find yours. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to puke.

“The shield,” you slurred, “did you get it?”

His soft laughter fills your ears. He wipes away the blood collecting under his nose. “Yes.”

You hum in approval and your vision begins to clear up. You blink rapidly and Bucky carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to your feet.

Yes, you were still mad at him, but the way he held you against his side as you walked out of the warehouse made your stomach flip. It nearly makes you forget about your argument just hours earlier.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #look after you #my writing

196 notes · View notes