#if your hatred or annoyance with someone is caused by I don’t know? them always chewing with their mouth open? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaizestar · 5 months

Text

toxic!fwb simon x f!reader; f!reader x johnny pt 2

fem!reader. use of pet names (darling, dove, lovie). toxic relationships. can be read as a stand-alone but pt 1 is here if you want to read it (18+, mdni.)

toxic!fwb simon tends to act a lot like your boyfriend, until someone reminds him that he isn’t—that someone being johnny.

you could see the hatred burning in simon’s brown eyes, every last bit of it directed to the man who had interrupted price’s teasing with a lazy smile and Scottish lilt to the drawl in his voice.

“‘ey, now i’m not wrong, am i, mate?” johnny chuckled. “all that talk about not wantin’ a relationship—was that all it was? talk?”

the thing with simon was that he had all sorts of sides to him, like one of those abstract paintings that changed face depending on where you were viewing it from. typically, simon was soft. a bit rough around the edges, sure, but good at heart.

that was your simon. the simon right now, though, was full of sharp, prickly edges and thorns—but it was still a simon. you could practically see the annoyance festering in his gut, and without intervention, it’d grow into something unpleasant.

“simon.” you touched his bicep before he managed to say something that would get the two men into a dogfight. “don’t.” you looked over at johnny. “is there a reason you’re here, johnny?”

johnny shrugged his shoulders easily, looking much more relaxed than the man besides you was. “jus’ checkin’ up on m’favorite girl.” he flashed you a smile, one a tad too flirtatious, prompting a low growl from simon.

Johnny’s eyes shifted over to the broader man and he is lip curled. “i don’t get it, darlin’. i really don’t. but i’ll wait for ya, lovie, ‘cause i know y’er worth it.”

simon stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed back. he didn’t say a word as he left the cabin, the clunk of his boots against the ground echoing through the halls.

“well.” price gave you an amused glance. “i s’ppose you’re gonna go after your little boyfriend, kiddo?”

you clenched your jaw. “not my boyfriend,” you muttered. oh, but how you wished he was.

“sure he ain’t.” price tapped the top of his pen against the desk, raising an eyebrow at you. “i’ve seen a lot of shit, but the lovebirds in denial always end in a shitshow.”

“i guess we’ll just have to stop being lovebirds, then.” your gaze shifted over to the doorway that simon had stalked off into. “not that it’ll be that hard at this point.”

johnny had been quiet this entire time, but he spoke up at that. “sorry ‘bout that, lovie. i don’t mean no harm.” he scratched the back of his neck. “well, i guess i do, but not like that. i jus’ wanna chance, since simon ain’t always treatin’ ya right. i know he ain’t the straightest in his speakin’, ‘specially when it comes t’you.”

your shoulders sagged. “…it’s alright, johnny,” you sighed. “i know you didn’t mean no harm. but i… i wanna see what i can do with simon and that moodiness of his first. is it okay if i come back to you?”

“jus’ want a chance, dove.” he smiled again. “go ahead. but if he messes ya up, i’ll be here f’er ya.”

“i appreciate it.” you stood up, hurrying away to find wherever simon had stormed off to, leaving johnny alone with his captain. there was a moment of silence between the two, a sort of shared calmness to both of them that smoothed over any remaining uneasiness.

“…i see we’ve got a new pair of lovebirds in town.” price shook his head, taking a lighter out to flick at the cigarette he had set down in his ashtray. “you gonna fight over her with simon? seems like a bad choice for an opponent, y’know. she’s already head over heels for him.”

johnny hummed. “i know. but i’m still gonna shoot my shot regardless.” he managed a grin. “i’ve still got my wits about me, cap’in, and i’ll have ‘em ‘til ghost decides to beat ‘em outta me.”

price brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag before his lips split into a wolfish grin that matched johnny’s. “so are ya doing this for him or her?”

“neither. i’m doin’ this for myself.” he laughed, and then leaned back in his seat with a cheeky smile. “i get t’be a bit greedy, don’t i? if simon gonna buy a cake and just let it sit there in the display window, don’t i get’ta pay ‘im some cash to take the cake off his hands?”

“your metaphors are as worse as ever.” though, price nodded in understanding. “if i were you, i’d be fighting tooth and nail for even a scrap of her attention. hell, i’d get on my fuckin’ knees and beg her not to leave.”

“that doesn’t sound healthy,” johnny remarked.

his captain snorted, waving his cigarette around. “clearly, i’m not a healthy man, now am i?”

“good point.” johnny snickered softly. “thanks, cap’in.“

“take care of yourself, johnny.” price nodded, watching as the youngest member of the taskforce stood up and left, following those that preceded him. “ah, young love,” he mumbled wistfully. “its as derogatory as i remember.”

“simon?” you tentatively made your way into his barracks, glancing around the room for any sign of the giant of a man. finally, your eyes landed on the bunk, where he was sitting, brown eyes sinking into the floorboards. the intensity in them didn’t fade as they shifted over to you; if anything, it grew.

but he didn’t speak a word. instead, he simply stared at you. and you stared back.

finally, his head lowered. “shouldn’t you be with johnny?”

the defeat in his voice made your knees buckle. “no?” you made your way over to him, taking a seat next to him. “no, i don’t think i should.” when that didn’t get any sort of response, you prodded him gently. “unless you want me to be?”

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, burning with an indiscriminate sort of fire, before it lowered into a simmer. “…you know what i want.” he looked away from you.

“simon, i can’t read your mind.” you sighed, touching his thigh comfortingly. “please talk to me.”

his hands balled up into fists; those hands you’ve kissed, those hands you’ve held, those hands you’ve felt. they were toughened with callouses over years of manual labor, and you knew he hated them. that’s what made you love them even more.

“i…” he tried to reply, licking his chapped lips nervously. for once, you thought that he really was about to do this; to finally say the words that had been weighing down on both of your chests for so long.

but then he clamped his mouth shut and gruffly turned away from you. “can’t. m’sorry.”

your shoulders slumped.

“i shouldn’t be surprised, should i?” you whispered. ghost’s eyes widened slightly, following after you as you turned on your heel and left.

“wait, i…” his voice died off when he realized he didn’t quite know what he could say in this moment that wouldn’t drive you to johnny’s arms.

all he knew was that without you, everything felt cold.

the tiredness consumed him, and the desire to sleep indefinitely tugs at his chest.

and maybe you’ll visit him in his dreams. because to him, that’s all you were.

a distant dream.

well well well, how the turn tables have turned. I wrote this on a whim so it’s not that good, but I’ll probably write a pt2 just to wrap all the loose ends up.

or maybe ghost just dies lol. that’d be an ending, after all.

188 notes · View notes

kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man.

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off.

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men.

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot.

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried.

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one.

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point.

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day.

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man.

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn.

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering.

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard.

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above.

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you.

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible.

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman.

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath.

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do.

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks.

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?”

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something.

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that.

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’.

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch.

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans.

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even.

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut.

What’s wrong with you today?

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again.

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person.

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark.

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair.

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins.

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close.

“When?” you question.

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement.

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine.

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself.

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half.

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones.

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response.

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings.

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused.

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike.

A man, as usual.

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory.

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will.

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time.

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand.

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually.

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment.

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change.

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all.

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot.

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank.

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again.

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all.

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately.

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth.

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something.

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last.

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed.

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away.

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him.

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around.

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly.

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly.

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes.

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time.

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him.

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl.

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally.

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it.

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding.

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject.

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food.

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat.

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question.

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond.

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought.

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible.

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump.

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one.

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense.

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend.

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe.

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt.

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded.

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help.

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder.

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes.

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips.

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly.

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it.

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building.

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

That night, it rains.

Thunder echoes, with ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands.

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes.

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning.

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it.

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual.

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think. Please protect me. Please do this for me.

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android.

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are.

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you.

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now.

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good.

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor.

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself.

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes.

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea.

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators.

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him.

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy.

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does.

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying.

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead.

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second.

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

1K notes · View notes

strangelysamantha · 3 years

Note

hi can i request a blurb or a whole imagine where jj rlly likes reader but she’s a kook and his friends don’t like her that much, 💗 thank u

hatred runs out ❀

jj maybank x kook!reader.

warnings: swearing, hateful feelings, that’s all.

words: 2,015.

summary: you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

request? yes!

a/n: my ask box is open, send away! i’m working on multiple imagines that should come later! like and comment if you enjoy this. thanks for the request! <3

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

“she’s a kook jj, i mean, you aren’t seriously crushing on her? are you?” john b looked up at jj, and frowned when he saw he wasn’t laughing. “john b, i don’t know what it is man, but she’s different. i just know it.” john b cackled, “she’s not different. she’s a kook, i mean come on… she hangs out with topper. that says enough.” jj rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. “you just don’t like her because she associates with sarah’s ex.” he shakes his head. “no, that’s not the reason jj. your mind is just fogged up, because you clearly aren’t thinking straight.” jjs anger was boiling up, and before he did something he would regret, he decided to just walk off.

jj stormed away. he continued walking despite john bs attempt of calling out to him to stop. he was trying to clear his mind, he genuinely liked you, so much that he felt the need to tell john b. jj wouldn’t usually be this upset, but when john b of all people disapproves because you are a kook, when the girl he is dating is sarah, it angers him. after ten minutes of air, and chilling out, he returns to john bs house.

once inside he sees you and kie. he was completely caught off guard. “oh? you’re here.” jj spoke to you, causing you to look up. “hey jj. yeah, i decided to stop by before my shift. do you want to join us? we’re playing uno.” your smile immediately lifts a smile to jj's face. “sure i’ll play some uno.” he approaches the table, and you deal him seven cards.

kie was the only one who semi liked you. obviously she wasn't ecstatic about you, but she was open to tolerating you. as time went on, she started to enjoy your company, she realized you weren’t that bad, and despite being a kook, the two of you related on many things.

“first card is a yellow two. jj can go first.” you stare at him, waiting patiently for his move. his heart was beating fast, as he tried to pick a card. as he placed a yellow seven, john b walked in. “why is she here?” you didn’t miss the sharp tone that lingered in john bs voice. “oh, i decided to stop by. i’m sorry, i should have asked.” you stand up, reaching for your jacket. “that’s right. you should have asked. you can’t just show up to someone’s house randomly. it’s weird.” you frown, not realizing until now that he didn’t trust you enough to even be considered an acquaintance.

“she’s welcomed here whenever she wants to be, john b.” jj spoke up for you. kie backing him up by softly saying yeah. “no. she’s not. it’s my house jj, and i don’t appreciate you inviting random kook strangers over. she’s not a pogue. she’s not like us. meaning; she’s not welcomed here.” you frown at his words. you quickly feel out of place and you rush to the door, pulling your shoes on. “i’m going to go.” you spoke up, grabbing your purse. “good. see you!” john b exclaimed, watching you walk out the front door and down the steps.

“what the fuck bro?” jj stared at john b waiting for an explanation. “what?” jjs eyes narrowed on his, he couldn’t be serious could he? “why do you always do that shit bro? i mean honestly. what makes her any different from sarah?” john b shakes his head. “don’t even compare them. they aren't similar.”

jj scoffs, “oh they’re not?” jj begins to expose the similarities but john b shuts it down immediately. “jj i’m not going to explain myself to you anymore. i don’t like her, and i don’t want her over here.” jj groans in frustration. “if only you got to know her man, then you’d know how amazing she is. i mean ask kie. kie thought she was annoying at first and now they can be in the same room without being in a yelling match.” kie nodded, listening in but staying mostly silent.

“fine. the only reason i’m agreeing is because you hate kooks too, which means you might be right. about her.” john b sighs, giving up. “thank you. please, even if you decide you still don’t like her, please just consider getting to know her.” he pleads, “i already said i will.” john b rolled his eyes, jj smiles, “okay. we should invite her to hang out with us after pope gets off work.” they all nod in agreement, planning something so they could see if they wanted you to join their party.

the pogues had planned on inviting you to the wreck, and then to a mini trip on the hms pogue, for a boat ride. you were ecstatic, excited that they wanted to actually hang out with you. you think hard, trying to find a perfect outfit. you didn’t want to overdress, or underdress, and you didn’t want to look bad. after deciding on a simple outfit and swimsuit, you head to the wreck.

you see the group in the back corner. when you walk inside, jj is the first to spot you. a smile spreads to his lips, as he waves you over to join them. you sit down by john b, jj sitting on the other side of you. “hey.” you say shyly, not entirely sure if this whole thing was a set up. you were hopeful it wasn’t, but you could never be too sure.

“hey, thanks for coming.” pope said. you smile brightly at him, “thanks for inviting me.” pope nods. your stomach was hurting by how nervous you were. jj made small talk with you, as you guys were waiting for kiara. you weren’t entirely sure what they were planning, you were just glad to be a part of it.

“alright guys. here’s the scraps.” kiara walked to your table, setting down a bowl of fries, and then a plaster of burgers. you smile softly, jj and john b immediately grabbing the food. you wait, not entirely hungry since you ate before you left. jj offered you a bite of his burger, “oh thanks!” you laugh slightly as you bite from where he had bitten, enjoying the taste, “hey you actually have mustard right there.” you smiled as you spread mustard on jj’s face. you couldn’t help the giggles erupting from you, as jj’s mouth opened wide in shock. “oh really? well you seem to have some ketchup-” his finger rubbed ketchup on your cheek. “all over…” he gestured to your face. “hey! give me a napkin.” you ask for a napkin and jj laughs. “no.” you immediately look over to pope, giving him a smile. “may i have a napkin?” you ask. he smiles, “sorry jay.” he hands you a napkin and you wipe the ketchup off your face.

“thank you pope. i like you. unlike some people at this table…” you look at jj and he’s just smiling like a maniac. pope laughs. “glad that you think so highly of me just because i handed you a napkin.” you nod, eating a french fry before glancing at john b. he was awfully quiet. “john b?” you question. he looks up at you. “yes?” annoyance already rolling off his tongue. “are you okay?” he rolled his eyes. “yes. even if i wasn’t, i wouldn’t confide in you about it.” you frown.

you wait a second, trying to think of how to lighten the mood. “you know what we need to do?” you look from pope to jj, to finally john b, poking at his arm. “what?” john b looks up at you. you tap jj’s stomach, indicating to him to stand up. he stands up, making room for you to be able to move out of the booth. you poke john bs side. “we need to dance.” you grab john b's hand, doing anything possible to lighten his mood. his frown was still hung on his lips. he hesitated and followed you to the middle of the restaurant. jj and pope stay back at the booth.

you lean over the counter, asking kie to play a song she knows john b would enjoy. “john b. you just need to calm down, and relax. you just need to dance like nobody's watching.” he stares at you, shocked. “it’s okay. i’ll do it with you.” his favorite song started playing, and you began to awkwardly dance. he laughed at your ridiculous moves. he held back from joining in, he didn’t want you to win. you began to break out dancing, and he can’t help but laugh. you look up as someone enters the restaurant. a smile flies to your face. “sarah!!!” she runs up to you.

“hey!!! i didn’t know you guys would be here.” you smile, still swaying slightly to the music. “sarah i would have definitely invited you if i knew you were free.” she nodded at your words. “all good girly, we still good for monday?” you smile, “of course.” john b stared, confused by this whole interaction. not only did you know sarah, you were actually friends with her. you had plans to hang out with her. maybe he was wrong, maybe jj was the one who was right. maybe, you actually were similar to sarah.

“do you want to join us?” you ask, sarah grabbed your hand spinning you around before breaking out in a fit of laughter. “stay another minute here with you losers… i’ll pass.” you jokingly act offended, “hey!” she shakes her head. “only kidding. i definitely would, but my dad wants me home. he claims he has a fun night planned but it’ll probably just consist of watching a movie and eating from here.” you nod. “well have fun with that.” you spoke, she smiles, “you know i always do.” you roll your eyes at her joke, she walks away grabbing her to go food before she disappears from the restaurant. “hey i’m gonna go take a sip of water.” you move back to the booth, jj refusing to move so you end up sitting on his lap. you sip water as you catch your breath from dancing.

john b heads straight to kiara. “how long have they been friends?” he asked abruptly. “her and sarah?” kie questions, pointing at you. he nods, “yeah.” kiara laughs, “they’ve been buddies for years. they didn’t get super close until a month or two ago.” he nods at her words. he was still shocked. he looked back at the booth, seeing you sat on jjs lap, his hands held firmly around your waist. you were speaking to pope, and he actually looked interested in what you were saying.

john b had just realized that he had the wrong idea of who you were. whether sarah made him realize that or not, he definitely didn’t want to hold a grudge with you, especially if sarah was your friend. john b walked back to the table, his attention on you. kiara had followed swiftly behind him. “let’s raise a toast.” the group was confused but they lifted their cups of water anyway. “to the newest member of our club.” his glass pointed in your way, his cup clashing with yours. you smile. john b was the only one you were worried about, and now he was saying he welcomes you.

the group cheers as you smile brightly. “thank you guys! i’m so excited for our future adventures.” you drink from your glass. the group waited for kiara’s shift to end before taking the hms pogue for a ride. you were sat by jj, pope to your left. kiara and john b talking as they directed the boat.

“well, welcome. you made it.” pope smiles, laughing slightly. “i did, isn’t that crazy. john b hated me like 6 hours ago.” jj laughs, “classic john b for you.” you nod at his words. pope, jj, john b, kiara, and you, talked all night, watching the stars as you guys got closer. it was so much fun, and today’s events allowed you to become a permanent group member.

#jj x kook!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #fiction #writing #jj maybank obx #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader angst #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank story #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank short imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

437 notes · View notes

lupically · 3 years

Text

#F40B32 | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

genre | light fluff, light angst, very faint romance undertone

word count | 2616

warning | mention of death, mention of injury, mention of killing, decapitation

note | i just wanted to try my hand at writing for a villain that is obviously irredeemable in a semi-realistic way.

what happens when you are irredeemable? you will fall in love anyway.

but ryomen sukuna wasn't in love with you. after all, he had killed you one too few times to claim that he was in love with you.

the first time he killed you was out of instinct. you were an intruder touching his soul the way mahito did, except you barged in without any malicious intention. he had gazed over your fallen body with mild interest then; a mere mortal, yet you emerged from thin air into his locked tight domain without dying?

the second time he killed you was a choice. he gave you not a minute to explain yourself, even though you had wasted the minute asking questions about his identity and the skull-filled area instead of giving him any valuable information about yourself. he had been fed up, he was never a man of patience, so he killed you with a wave of his hand and returned to his dull life alone on his throne.

the third time he killed you—he did not kill you. there was no third time; people liked to say the third time's charm but sukuna believed no such superstition. he killed you twice already and each time, you came back unscathed, both your body and your memories. whether he liked it or not, killing you for the third time would do neither you nor him any benefit, so he kept you alive.

you were afraid of him. he could tell, and he meant for things to be that way until he realized it served as a misfortune on his part. in order to understand this mystery—your sudden appearance into his domain, as well as your inability to leave it and his inability to kick you out—he has to gain some piece of information about you, but you were too shaken up from being murdered to talk to him at all.

sukuna's patience was reaching a breaking point and he thought about torturing it out of you, but he understood that humans are fragile, way more fragile than your typical jujutsu sorcerer. he could accidentally kill you and you would return with no scars and more unwilling to converse with him than before. then it was the waiting game all over again.

he wasn't planning on going through such a dull ordeal again, so he left you be and waited for you to calm yourself down.

the first time you talked to him, you asked him a question.

"are you going to kill me?" you asked him.

sukuna peered down at you from his throne. small, frightened, curled into a ball with no desire to touch the skeletons at his feet, but you looked up at him out of politeness.

he scoffed, displeased. "no, but i always can."

the second time you talked to him, it was to exchange a brief introduction.

"ryomen sukuna," he hummed curtly then he nudged his chin toward you. "your turn."

you shuffled up to your knees and sat down on your heels. your fingers fidgetted at your lap as you timidly peered up at his tattooed, disinterested expression.

"[full name]," you said with a nod, unable to meet his eyes. "nice–nice to meet you, sukuna-san..."

the third time you talked to him, you flinched.

"ma–may i ask you two questions... if i can...?" you asked, for the first time standing up to face him directly.

sukuna leaned away from his propped-up arm. after taking a better look at you, accessing your figure analytically despite having seen you move around slowly for days already, he shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe and he suddenly jumped down from his throne to stand before you.

you pursed your lips nervously over his looming figure, face heating up with terrible anxiety while your eyes darted down to the watery ground. oh, his presence has been so overwhelmingly deadly that you forgot your white tennis shoes were stained red and your pastel ankle socks remained wet. you did not dare to complain, not even in your head.

"i'll allow it," he said.

"where am i?" you quickly asked.

"an innate domain," he replied.

you have questions, but you decided not to ask. you only nodded after breathing out a soft sigh to calm your nerves. this man constantly sounded condescending, he was kicking open your comfort zone without actively doing anything that would make you uncomfortable.

"okay..." you said, "thank you."

"aren't you going to ask me another question?" he stated with a raise of his brow. "you wanted to ask me two questions."

you gulped, blinking hopelessly at the air as a grimace appeared on your face. "the first question was if i can ask you two questions, and the second one is about where i am... so that makes two."

oh, a meticulously cautious one, and somewhat humorous too he would give you that. sukuna scoffed loudly, but it was less out of annoyance and more out of disbelief of your incredible dullness. however, as plain as you were, he has grown accustomed to your presence; the scent of fear that bounced off of you and the fact that he cannot kill you at will.

"you must be dying to know what this place is, are you not, you brat?" sukuna asked.

when he saw the flashes in your eyes, he knew he had you down through and through. all you were was but someone who was too afraid to say what they want, which was just as he expected from you. you wouldn't cause him trouble, you never could.

reaching his hand out of his sleeve, he stayed silent despite seeing the way you flinched with your eyes shut at his raised hand. his movement had been slow, but that was an involuntary response, an instinct that he didn't craft into you. he wondered what it was.

"you can ask me three more questions," he said as he pushed the heel of his palm against the curve of your head. he was gentle at first, then he clamped his hand down on your head as he bent his waist to meet your eyes. he laughed. "i'll allow it."

he could keep you here. he has no choice but to keep you here, and he would kill you once he realized he has the ability to. but for now, perhaps he could act a little civil, something like a human being but one that people would hate to the core.

except he was met with a little obstacle in the way, which was that you were no bad company.

the first time sukuna gained a liking toward you was when you asked him a peculiar question.

"sukuna-san," you called one time when there was only silence within the innate domain.

you sat on a bed of skulls, one that you tentatively asked the king of curses to make you so you wouldn't have to lean on the rib-cage structure and sit in water for slumber.

he denied it at first. calling you names and threatening you about ever requesting something from him—a bed in his domain? fucking atrocious. but your insomnia was killing you; you hated the blood water and your neck burned whenever you wake up having it arched at the worst angle possible.

he did not grow soft. he just made one so he didn't have to watch you sleep in his peripheral vision.

"hmm."

"why do you think curses exist?"

he raised a brow at you. "did i not teach you that before?"

"you did, sorry," you nodded, "then do you believe in god?"

"where the fuck is this coming from, you brat?"

"from where i came, god is good. but from what i am seeing, whether from where i came from or here, everything goes against that value," you muttered loudly as you pulled at your fingers. "cursed spirits harm people. if i can argue that way, i think cursed spirits are harmful within themselves."

"if god is good, and god is real, why would this happen," you said. "why should we feel negative emotions? why do we have the ability to create cursed spirits? why do curses like you exist?"

he furrowed his brows in irritation. have you reduced him to mere curses? have you reduced him to nothing but a brainless being that only takes joy in the suffering of others? no matter how he approached your words, he felt infuriated that you could minimize his importance to simply being a bad person.

he was much more than a bad person, much more than just a pain! he has ideals, he has goals and ambitions, he has wit and strength! he has anger and malevolence and power beyond which your soul could ever contain and endure! he was ryomen sukuna, the strongest curse in a thousand years and more!

he will fucking kill you.

"i'm really glad you're here, though," you finished off softly, an unknowing smile on your face as you rubbed your thumbs weakly together.

he will kill you.

"for a long time, i was told my anger and hatred aren't real. that they don't and should not exist, and i learned to bury them to the ground so they never appear on the surface again," you said, your innocent smile audible to his ears and making his chest twitch with guilt.

"cursed spirits' existence is proof that my negative emotions are real. they may be a problem, but i am not crazy for having them because they're here. they became something, they're here and alive."

he will... he will kill you.

"i just think it's unfair to put the blame on cursed spirits and cursed energy alone when the society's standard guarantees the manifestation of them," you said. "if my anger got out to the world in the form of a monster and it hurt someone, i'll forgive it. i will forgive myself."

he...

"you don't need to hear this, i wish i had your confidence, but i have to say it," you looked up and smiled at him, "i'm a little glad you're here, sukuna-san."

he will kill–he will ki–

the second time, he went stoic.

mahito was too smart for his own good. the first thing he noticed when he entered the soul within yuji's body was the way sukuna has the collar of your shirt clutched in his hand and your body pulled close to his side. it was a glance, he had one small glimpse of you both before he was kicked out of the domain.

your face was riddled with tears—crying, disappointed, and frustrated, but why? for the transfigured human whose name mahito almost forgot, or because sukuna just had one of the most sadistic outbursts you have ever witnessed.

and sukuna, the king, the lord, the almighty—didn't he look annoyed. well, not annoyed, per se. angry, mad, overwhelmed, knowing, protective. very, very, very protective; glowing eyes that glared at mahito's patched up face, fingers that gripped at your shirt so tightly he could rip the fabric apart, an aura that was ready to spit any moment if mahito so much as reach a finger toward your direction.

you meant something to ryomen sukuna. mahito realized that, so the second time he entered the innate domain, he killed you.

right before his eyes, with a cunning and triumphant smile, your neck cracked and your skin broke, and mahito tore your head off just before he was once again beat out of the domain.

sukuna tried to heal you. he tried to seal your head back to your lifeless body, time and time again pushing your decapitated head against your haphazardly cut neck. but his reverse curse technique wasn't healing you. your skin refused to piece itself back together, you refused to come back to him. time passed and he was getting mad, he was going batshit crazy trying to force himself out of this body.

bastard! bastard! bastard! he was supposed to kill you! he was supposed to be the one to kill you! he would murder that patch-faced piece of shit! he would kill mahito! and he would destroy the whole world, light it on fire and kill all that wasn't worthy of his time! he would jump universes, light-years, the bloodstream of the galaxy to find you and bring you back to him. he would—

"sukuna-san, i'm sorry i took a while! i thought you were fighting–holy shit, is that me?"

the third time, sukuna admitted to himself.

"what kind of flowers do you like, sukuna-san?" you asked, voice drowsy and your legs dangling after you climbed on one of the bones of the rib-cage structure.

"why does it matter?" he asked from his throne, eyeing you carefully.

your were a clumsy idiot. you could fall anytime.

"it doesn't, but it's flowers," you mumbled with your chin leaning against the bone, eyes threatening to close. "sukuna... sukuna..."

"what?" he snapped.

"i like lilies, the red ones," you said with a silly grin. "will you visit me when i die? sukuna... will you bring... mmm... bring red lilies..."

he looked ahead. your death; your grave, decorated with red lilies, protected and preserved with his curses. your death—he gritted his teeth. he refused to think about it. it was a waste of time.

or maybe he simply hated the idea of your death.

sukuna has not gone soft. he was irredeemable; a killer, a curse, a tragedy to descend upon mankind. he was not good and he never would be, nor did he ever have the intention to be good.

still, from you, there was proof that he could be more. what was left of his being; his anger and his torture, what was left within the gaps of his hell, the rare softness that once was there, belonged to you now.

you were the vessel that pocketed all that he could potentially become if he wasn't born to be ryomen sukuna, a version of him that you have witnessed. within you, there was proof that he did not only exist to hurt people, but also to validate madness and pain, to acknowledge passion in its murderous wakefulness. within you, there was proof that within himself, there are pieces of what it means to be human and alive.

hearing your soft breath, sukuna looked up to find you asleep with your head against the bone. your arms barely supported your weight and you were threatening to fall off as you dozed with faint snores. he stared at you, his fingers twitching, then he finally waved his hand so he could bring you away from the ribcage and to where he sat.

he paid no mind to subtlety when he set you on his lap. his hand supported your back while he kept your head pressed against his shoulder. his other arm went around your body, preventing you from falling off the throne made only for him to sit on. when he was done adjusting to the new sitting position, he relaxed.

brushing the hair away from your face, he stared down at you with disinterest, but his heart pumped and pumped for you to be warm and well, his arms tightened for you to sleep soundly.

"i will bring you all the red lilies you want," he whispered, the back of his finger gliding past your soft cheek. you did not smell like fear when you fall asleep, you did not smell like fear now even when you looked at him. "i will allow myself that."

after all, ryomen sukuna was only fond of you. very, very fond of you.

550 notes · View notes

glassartpeasants · 3 years

Note

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears.

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’ on my clothes. Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit.

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them.

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you. He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now.

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room.

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes.

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain.

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you!

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

#tomura shigaraki #mha #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #never threaten bob again anon :)

191 notes · View notes

tooruluv · 3 years

Text

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour.

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat.

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal.

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name.

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything.

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy.

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked.

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories.

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead.

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes.

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything.

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same.

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was.

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that).

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day.

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing.

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect.

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea.

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy.

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class.

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else.

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting.

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with.

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity.

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath.

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy.

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools.

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger.

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt.

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight.

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself.

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder.

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in.

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.”

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

393 notes · View notes

kookiessugababy · 3 years

Text

Another Reason To Hate You (Kim Namjoon) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- aggressive sex// no protection//edging//teasing//slut shaming kink

-> scenario: you have never gotten along with Namjoon, despite your close relationship with his band. With the boys apartment under refurbishment, you find them staying at your own place- where things become steamy between you and your foe in the shower room.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

The previous night was sleepless, the muggy and warm nights creeping upon your Seoul apartment. Despite the discomfort it caused, you had spent the restless night watching movies with the boys; who you could currently now hear blasting music in the next room. They were stammering along loudly to Min Yoongis rap lyrics, Hoseoks voice yelling above them in blatant confidence - the others mixing up all the words in a cacophony of mutters. The seven were crashing at your apartment for a unchartered days with theirs under refurbishment and under the decision of not seeing you for a while, they invited themselves to reside. Nothing in you had a problem with this- you thoroughly loved their lively company and after all they were your closest friends. However, it did mean spending more time with Namjoon than you could handle- the one member who you had a questionable relationship with. Something about him had always frustrated you, the pair of you never flourished in the way you had with the rest. It was different at first; both of you trying to make the effort to amend your obvious differences after Jin introduced you to the band- but now it was left to settle in disinterest. Avoidance was key for both parties; snappy unpleasantness arising every time you engaged…so to the point he was barely an acquaintance to you. With no full understanding why you loathed him with the power you did, you always found yourself paradoxically attracted to him. There was something about acknowledging a mutual abhorrence for someone that makes them more desirable- more hungry for their attention. Alongside this tearing self conflict, you had a constant profusion of work to complete for your boss, alacritous deadlines prolonging your daily shifts. Almost making the company unbearable, relentless hours meant the boys made you stay up most of the evening to reconcile with them- and with the summer months glowing, sleep was rare anyway.

Wrapping yourself in a cream towel, your damp hair fell to your shoulders as you scanned yourself in the face of the mirror. Water droplets cascaded lines on your cheeks, eyelashes catching those stray from your forehead. Your skin looked soft and touchable in the white glow of the light- accenting your expression. With the silence shattering, the door creaked under the sound of knocks from the other side- shuffling echoing from under the small gap of the hinges. “Jin? Is that you?” You assumed- the only member who had a tendency to bother you at such inconvenient time- but you were met with silence as the seconds passed. Before you could question the sound again, the door flung open; presenting a rather flustered tall figure with muscular arms and broad shoulders. His hair was pushed back and neat, a small t shirt revealing his collar bones and comfortable lounging shorts fitting his toned thighs perfectly. Despite a familiar sense of hatred wash over you, you found yourself startled at the sudden entrance of Namjoon- your slightly exposed body causing your nerves to fire.

He stared at you in the heat of the room, the steam rising between the two of you as it entangled with the strange tension. ”Namjoon… what are you doing” you asked nonchalantly. Remaining silent you huffed, slamming your hairbrush onto the bench. “Get out” you snapped- but his reply concluded unhelpful as he suddenly pushed you to the shower wall, pinning your arms roughly to the wet tiles as the towel fell from your grip. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of your bratty attitude.” Under his stare, you stood naked and exposed to him- your nipples hardening as he searched your curves in such an unexpected manner. You felt the need for obedience under his power- all sense of anger towards him washed with this new sense of frustration that mirrored lust you were sure you had felt for him before. “I hate you, y/n. You make me so fucking mad” he growled, his mouth close to yours. He tugs your lips with his teeth, nipping your bottom lip to cause a slight pain. Wincing at the sensation, you felt his hands grow tighter around your wrist- pushing his hips towards you to prove his hardened state. “Then get out if you hate me that much mm?” You teased- his anger obvious in his eyes. Intertwined with this, however, you sensed a blanket of lust wash over him- his intentions almost becoming obvious to you. “How do you not expect me to ruin you when I know your pretty ass is naked in the room next door? Mmm?” humming he pecks the sides of your neck, leading you to arch your back under the tingling marks he leaves behind. Snaking his arms down yours, which remain raised against the wall, his large palms make their way down to your breasts, fondling with them in a way nobody had before. He made you feel innocent with his dirty smirks, the frustration he felt towards you obviously preparing to be channelled in a way that would leave you breathless. You moaned slightly as he pinched your nipples, twisting them slightly in his fingers as he continued to kiss along your collarbones- teasing his tongue along them as he glanced up at you. You felt your heat grow wet as you gritted your teeth, avoiding contentment of knowing he was pleasuring you- but your desperation only grew with your confinement.

Evidently picking up on your behaviour, his fingers now snakes to your clit- slapping it harshly as you bucked your hips in return. “What a little slut mmm? Getting wet for someone you can’t even bare a conversation with. You must be desperate”. Degrading you only soaked your core as his fingers ran circles around your clit- chasing the feeling of your pussy as he pushed sped up to a painful pace. Stifled groans spilled from you; still in an attempt to silence yourself. Seeing your struggling state gave him permission to dig his fingers deep inside of your hole with a sudden movement- your body jolting under his forceful fingering. Only two fingers made it into your tight hole, moving rapidly between your thighs as your breath hitched. His stare was familiar, the way he looked at you in near disgust was showing- making you feel exposed and submissive to his annoyance with you. “You deserve to have that little pussy of yours throbbing y/n. How dare you get me hard like this.” His breathe easy just as unsteady as your own as he paced his fingers in and out, your juices dripping down his digits with every pulse. You couldn’t mutter a reply as you found yourself riding his hand in desperation- feeling so small under his touch and power.

Closing your eyes you felt his fingers leave you- the warm steam hitting your hole as he edged you from your high. Whining quietly, just in earshot of him he uttered a small laugh of success as he undid his pants. “Turn around, y/n. I’ll teach you how to be good for me” he sounded strain as he spoke, his dick now spilling with precum- yup swollen and sensitive. Spinning around on your heels you faced the tiles- your chest pressing against them as he lined himself up with your pussy. Rubbing his warm cock on your heat, he separated your lips with his tip- running himself up and down where you needed him most. “Namjoon i- need you” you finally cried, pushing back your hips as he adjusted his grip to your waist- thrusting into you with one sudden movement. The pace was unimaginable- your breasts clapping against the wall as his balls hit you again and again- the harshness of each movement sending you into a moaning mess. You could barely think straight as you could only focus on the throbbing of his cock inside of your tight hole- hitting spots you didn’t know existed with his length. He filled you up so well as he pounded you, his head tilted back as your ass slapped against him. Your heat was soaked with the feelings of frustration being taken out upon your bent body- your stomach turning at the simple thought of the man behind you. As your walls clenched yet again, you let out a cry while your stomach flipped to its side. Unable to hold yourself for longer, tears streamed from your eyes as your mouth fell open at the repetition of his tip hitting your g spot.

“C-cum!” You cried- desperate for a release of some sort. Despite you feeling Namjoons dick twitch inside of you, his warmth already spilling- he parted the friction from your walls as he pulled himself out. The absence was unbearable as he came all over your back- holding his cock with one hand as your ass now dripped with his stain. Cursing to himself he inspected your arched back- your ass sticking out and coated in his mess and you whined and cried pathetically as he edged you yet again. Gently, his hands ran to your ass, cupping the cheeks as he leaned over you- kissing your cheek softly. “You poor thing. Stop pretending you hate me and I’ll let you cum next time.” His voice almost sounded sinister, chuckling in your ear as he placed a few more welcomed kisses on your cheeks. “God Namjoon you gave me another reason to hate you”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

155 notes · View notes

marvelyhp · 3 years

Text

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

_______________

My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

#bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fic #james barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky x oc #romance fanfiction #angst fanfic

194 notes · View notes

r1ntaros · 3 years

Text

Whipped

First Admission of KQ Academy Class '20-'21

Dear diary,

Which is more powerful, the ability to have authority or feelings that are long overdue?

-love, y/n. x

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of fights, mentions of sexual stuffs and malicious remarks, vulgar languages

“Good morning, Y/n!”

“Mhm.”

“Hi Y/n, have a nice day!”

“Mhm.”

The whispers, boys trying to woo her and girls looking at her in admiration and jealousy makes her scowl in annoyance as she walks through the academy’s hall. She is not one to get her ego fed up with the attention people are giving her. In fact, she hates the attention she always gets.

Kim y/n is known to be one of the smartest kids in the academy. Lots of people in her class tried befriending her for that very reason, even trying to give her the most expensive designer bags on special occasions only to reject it as it’s already in her collection. She, just like her twin brother Kim Hongjoong, is an enigma to everyone. Only knowing some important needed details about their life background and establishing an authority and dominance that can make everyone shake and follow the two siblings immediately. But unlike her brother who likes the attention and always agreeing into everything just to have fun, she’s one to say a hard no especially if she doesn’t like anything or just doesn’t like you in general.

Thinking of that name makes her sneer in annoyance as she makes her way to the student council’s lounge room to focus on her morning obligations before the classes start in an hour.

Ignoring the whole world with her earphones plugged in her ear, she made a sharp turn to where her destination is located only to stop midway as she sees the commotion happening right at the very door of the student council lounge room.

Most students stand in front of it with another group of boys who look larger and buffer in size compared to them but the aura of their dominance is nothing compared to the other seven boys who look at them with cold glinting eyes mixed with mischief and amusement.

Standing in the middle of it was her own brother, a smirk plastered on his face showing no signs of fear even if he’s stature is smaller to the person he’s head on.

Ah, so this is why her annoying brother decided to go to school earlier than he usually does.

A lot of students stood around them in a semi-circle, making sure to not block the door as they’re all dying to know what’s happening in the middle of it. Some of them noticed her presence, letting y/n set herself in a suitable spot to watch.

These kinds of things usually amazes her as some of them are used as a blackmail material to her brother but encountering this in the morning especially in the middle of the school year is not.. pleasing at all.

The door opening is another attention grabber and there, from the now open door, in his glory, is where Park Seonghwa stands.

His silver hair is messy as his eyeglasses are perked up in his nose like he’s been here all morning and doing some work and just decided to take a peek of what’s actually happening.

A smirk adorned his face when he seemed to realize what’s happening and stood up straighter, “Good morning, what seems to be the problem here and you all decided to camp in front of the student council’s office?”

“Ah, Seonghwa. We were just waiting for you.” Hongjoong said and gave his said friend a fist bump when he stood beside him, “These men are trying to cause havoc, asking for a fistfight. What do you say?”

“Why not grant their wishes?” Seonghwa said, earning gasps from people and some silent squeals, claiming that the way he said it turns them on. “We can head to the gym for a bigger show since that’s what they want.” He stopped on his tracks only to look at the group in front of them up and down, “Attention seekers.”

The guy from the other side sneered in annoyance and spoke up, “You’re talking too much, Park. Stop being a pussy and just fight us here. Your men had caused enough trouble.”

Seonghwa laughs and made an eye contact with y/n, “Well, since you couldn’t hold in your excitement, I think—”

“I think the fuck not.” Everyone gasped and looked at where y/n is as she shoots daggers with her eyes, alternating between Seonghwa and her brother who seemed shocked as she steps forward.

“Hey baby si—”

“Don’t you ‘baby sis’ me you fucker. You’ve caused enough trouble for the half of the school year and I’m so fucking tired of trying to think of an excuse so you wouldn’t get in trouble at home.” She told Hongjoong and her brother gaped at her like a fish trying to breathe on land. She then looked at Seonghwa and pointed a finger at him, “And you, Mr. Park, you have a lot of school festival proposals to read and attend to. A meeting in 10 minutes with the admins. Don’t waste my effort of making you an excuse note just because you want to get involved in a stupid fucking fist fight.”

“Wow she’s hotter when she’s mad.”

“Damn, look at the veins on her neck.”

“I didn’t know she could get any hotter.”

She was about to snap at the other students when one glare from Hongjoong was enough to shut them up.

She suddenly felt a hand slithering its way to her forearm as she was forced to face the other group’s “leader” who looked at her full of malice and he leaned down.

“Hey there Kim, looking hotter everyday, I see. How about you compromise for your own brother’s doing? Let me have a taste of you in one of the unused rooms.”

Y/n was frozen.

These kinds of things and languages makes her scared shitless, not knowing to defend herself, especially when the guy has a death grip on her arm. She tried to squirm away but he just pulled her closer and Seonghwa had enough.

He gripped her other arm and he spoke with dominance, “Let her go.”

“Why would I? Come on, Park. Isn’t it unfair that you only have her by yourself?” The man taunts, as he looked at him as if trying to get something out from him.

Seonghwa looked down on her, only for their eyes to meet as she looked at her in a pleading but shocked manner. Moving a bit closer, he removed the other man’s grip from her and pulled her in to the lounge room, uttering his last words that left everyone in shock:

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

—

Once the door behind them has finally shut itself, Seonghwa sat in his rightful seat in the middle of the lounge room and continued doing what he left on earlier, ignoring the seething y/n who’s looking at him like she wants to eat him alive.

It’s not the first time she’s ever looked at him like that, and to be honest? Seonghwa likes this better than not having her attention.

He would rather have her looking at him with eyes full of hatred because it helps him know that she knows he’s existing in the same orbit as her.

Call him whipped, call him a hopeless romantic, but Seonghwa knows himself that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I fucking want to obliterate you, Park.” She spoke every syllable with venom, making Seonghwa smirk as he switched his focus from his laptop to her.

“The pleasure will be mine, darling.”

Y/n scowled in disapproval, “You perverted motherfucker.” She said in disgust making Seonghwa laugh.

He stood up from his seat and started walking towards her direction, making her slowly back away, “Me? Perverted? Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I would rather get obliterated for you anytime because it’ll be amusing to see you try and fail every single damn time.”

He continues on walking towards her, making her back away more. Seonghwa stopped a meter away and laughed, “Look at you, threatening me not so early yet cowering under my power.”

Y/n fixed her posture, still keeping the same glare she had earlier and Seonghwa can see that she’s trying to match his own flame, “I am not your underling.” She said, emphasizing each word, “I will never be one of those who will be under you. Not going to praise you or kiss your feet as you sit on your throne.”

“No? That’s a first.” Seonghwa let out an amused laugh and walked closer until he successfully trapped her on the wall and placed an arm on the side of her head while the other wraps around her waist, “Do you know what happens to people who tells me no, sweetpea?”

“No and I don’t fucking care about it.”

They both held eye contact with each other, Seonghwa being drowned deep in her deep brown eyes, a similar feature she shares with her twin. She looks absolutely ravishing and wonderful at the same time and Seonghwa knows that he can spend his lifetime staring at those eyes. However, the thought of having someone stare at it that is not him makes him so annoyed. He wants to have her all to himself only and as he said earlier, he doesn’t like sharing what’s rightfully his.

Not knowing that his thoughts has an effect on his body language, his hand that’s on her waist turned into a fist, effectively crumbling her uniform which became noticeable to her.

“Hey—”

“Go on a date with me, y/n.”

“What?!”

“A date. With me.”

She looked at him like he had gone crazy as she pushed her away from him but she also couldn’t help but notice the heat that was spreading like wildfire in her face, “Have you gone crazy? Fuck no, I won’t go on a date with you.”

Y/n opened the door to the lounge room, losing the motivation to finish her own paperworks. But before she could leave, she uttered her last words, “I’ll never date you, Park. Fucking hell, you annoy me so much to the point that I don’t want to associate myself with you. I hate you.”

And with that, she left him all alone there, broken and sad. The feeling of rejection settling heavily on his heart.

—

It’s been a week and Hongjoong is beyond confused.

He just wants to know the answer as to why Seonghwa, his best friend who’s been so utterly whipped with his sister ever since he first laid his eyes on her, has been flirting and messing around with random girls at their academy.

It’s not like Hongjoong is supportive of him and his twin sister possibly dating, not to mention that it makes him gag knowing that Seonghwa is terribly crushing over his girl version, but he can’t do anything about it.

What Seonghwa wants, he gets.

So back to his current dilemma where he’s just shopping with his sister for gifts to be distributed on their family reunion, he saw Seonghwa enter a random lingerie store with a girl.

Well yes, they’re of age to be kinky since eighteen is the age of exploration but he knows his best friend is not the type to fuck around (haha) with anyone, claiming that he only wants his sister which always make Hongjoong gag at the thought of it.

He didn’t know that he'd been staring at the shop Seonghwa and the girl had entered upon until his sister spoke up, “Hey Joong, do you think I should wear this to the reunion?”

Getting no answer from his fashionista brother, Y/n curiously looked at him as she tore her gaze away from the dress she’s holding, only to see him looking far away.

Frowning she called, “Joong.”

Still no response.

“Hongjoong..” Still nothing.

“Kim Hongjoong!”

It made the man owning that name jump up in shock and looked at his sister, “Y-yes?”

“What are you looking at?” She asked, also staring at where Hongjoong was looking on earlier only to spot a.. lingerie store? She deadpanned at her brother and was about to speak but a person walking out on the other shop caught her attention.

It’s Seonghwa.. with her best friend Aera.

She felt something hurt in her chest, already knowing what it is as she’s been keeping it within her for a long time. She looked away from the scene, “I see you’ve spotted your best friend and are much more interested in joining him?”

Hongjoong looked at his sister in shock, “Goodness bubs, no. I was just curious as to why Seonghwa has been messing around with girls in the academy. Just trying to get a good look with the girl and..” He lost trail of his thoughts when he glanced at his sister and saw a pained expression on her face, “Y/n, you okay?”

With the question, she looked back at her brother with curious eyes, “I am, why did you ask?”

“You look.. pained.” His brother answered and grabbed her by her forearm gently, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing.”

Her sassy twin brother rolled his eyes, “Don’t you ‘nothing’ me, Ms. Kim. I know you’ve been out of yourself lately not to mention that you’ve been neglecting your student council duties lately.” She looked shocked at what her brother had said and was about to speak but Hongjoong cut her to it, “Don’t ask me how I knew but Seonghwa is nonfunctional as well without his secretary. He’s been passing every single one of his work to Yunho.”

Hongjoong lets out a sigh, “And not to mention he missed an important meeting the day the chaos nearly broke out in front of the student council’s lounge room.”

Silence engulfed the twins, making Hongjoong’s gears on his brain work more as he tried to remember what happened that day that could possibly be the root of Seonghwa’s… unusual behavior.

He tried to think more and it’s like a thunderbolt has striked unto his brain, “Ah! Didn’t Seonghwa declare that you’re his that day too? We were just talking about how he wants to ask you out for a date that same morning. He even asked me for permission.”

“H-He what?”

“He wants to ask you on a date?” Hongjoong’s eyes widen, “Wait didn’t he..?”

“N-No, the other one.”

“He asked me for permission to date you? That one?”

Feeling her knees giving up, Y/n sat down on the chair nearby, “Fuck, I thought he was just messing with me.”

“Messing with wha–” Hongjoong spluttered and gave his sister an expression looking as if she had done something scandalous, “Hwa is not someone who likes messing around. Though he likes to assert dominance, he means every single thing that comes out from his mouth. I thought you, of all people besides me, should know this.”

Y/n just sighed, “That was before, Joong.”

“Okay I don’t fucking care anymore but what made you think that he’s messing around with you?”

“You know what he did before, right? I still like him so fucking much and he just played around with my feelings. Saying that maybe I got it wrong or that I’m just desperate to date someone because most of my girl friends are dating too.”

Hongjoong face palmed as he recalled what happened that day. He was aware of what happened that night, especially since it was his parents who warned him that his favorite sibling (don’t tell his older brother) came inside her room crying. He also remembered how he carefully knocked at her door only for her to open it and throw herself in her twin brother’s arms. Y/n cried herself to exhaustion but of course, she was able to tell Hongjoong the reason why she was a wreck that very day.

He was ready to punch Seonghwa the next day only to be confused as to why the other man doesn’t know the reason why his best friend, Y/n, was ignoring him.

And that’s when Hongjoong realized that they’re both dumb.

“Scary how feelings and misunderstanding combined together can cause two people to drift apart.” Hongjoong mindlessly said making his sister look at him, “What did you say?”

He frowned more and looked at y/n dead in the eye, “Talk to him on the day of the festival.”

“Fuck no–”

“Talk to him, I swear to God. Clear the bad air between the two of you.” Hongjoong lets out a deep sigh. He’s getting even more stressed and this isn’t even his own lovelife yet, “Y/n, bub, you always rant to me how Seonghwa had changed, how he became arrogant blah blah blah but I’ve been meaning to say that between the two of you, it’s you who changed the most.”

“The Seonghwa you’ve known.. is still your Seonghwa. He never changed, y/n. He’s still the same kind hearted guy who you cuddle with on our couch at home while binge watching random cat videos on youtube.”

“You.. y/n, where’s my sweet considerate little twin who always looks at the two sides of the coin? Gone. Too carried away with her false bitterness and got too hot headed.”

Y/n looked away from her brother. This is Kim Hongjoong speaking. If there’s anyone else who knows Seonghwa well, it’s him.

She’s been in pain and swallowed herself in a sea of bitterness for four fucking years that she refused to listen to Seonghwa’s side even if he tried for to do so.

But there’s two questions that linger in her mind, “Joong, why did he stop trying to reach out for me?”

“It’s because you never let him to. He knows that you’ve become closed off and shut him out for good. He did everything, even going to the extent of self appointing you as his secretary just so he can look after you.”

Oh..

Now she feels bad and feels like crying but no, she won’t let herself break until her final question gets answered. Looking at his brother one more time who’s now typing away in his phone, she lets out her final question, “Does he really like me like I like him, Joong?”

Her brother glanced at her and shook his head no and she deflated..

She lost her chance.

“He loves you already, y/n.”

—

The day of the festival came and Seonghwa is sweating a lot.

He came about an hour ago to check on things last minute and after that, he spent the remaining time he had to look around the grounds only to be disappointed as he didn’t see the person he was looking for.

Deciding that he cannot take it anymore, he fished out his phone from his pocket and texted the person he wants to talk to.

To: Aera ☆

Where are you? The festival starts in 30 mins.

Sent 6:30pm

He lets out another anxious sigh as he fixes his clothes, deciding that it’s the most interesting thing to do in order to distract himself.

Yunho had planned the festival very well according to Seonghwa’s wishes. At first, the vice president was reluctant to accept the duties but when he found out his reasons (and not to mention the fact that his friend looks so heartbroken and lost) he decided to take everything in his own accord, but of course, he still has the guidance of Seonghwa even if the said president is busy with.. other things.

His phone buzzed in his pocket once again and he read the message as he fished it out.

From: Aera ☆

Calm down, I’m on my way.

Sent 6:35pm

To: Aera ☆

Did you bring it?

Sent 6:35pm

From: Aera ☆

Yep!!

Sent 6:37pm

To: Aera ☆

Okay good, see you!

Sent: 6:38pm

He waited for the female and it didn’t take him that long when he started to see a female figure towards him with a cage on her hand. Seonghwa met her half way to get the cage from her and shot her a thankful smile, “Thank you. I hope this one will work.”

Aera shot him a smile, “No problem, dude. I swear it should work. Y/n’s been giving me daggers lately and my boyfriend is just trying to steer her away from me so this one will successfully work.”

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, “Do you think she thought we’re dating or something? You know, since she doesn’t know about the whole Seojun thing.”

The female pretended to gag, “God fucking hell, we may have spent our years in Australia together but god fucking damn it that’s the most disgusting thought ever.”

This time, Seonghwa really did laugh loud at his friend’s antics, “Yep, disgusting.”

The both of them laughed and decided to part ways right after. He was trying to look for one person, only to see his friends near the fountain. Seonghwa approached them and San was the first person to notice him.

“Hey, Hwa. What’s that?” He asked pertaining to the cage he was holding.

“Oh this?” Seonghwa replied and dropped it on the glass then opened its gates and pulled out a white british shorthair, “This.”

San couldn’t help but squeal, “It’s so cute! Is this yours?”

“Uhm, no. It’s for someone.”

The whole time the exchange between San and Seonghwa’s been happening, Hongjoong has been staring at his other friend for a while now. Seonghwa seemed currently relaxed but anxious, always failing to hide what he feels.

But the question is, what made him so anxious?

“Wait. So hyung, you’re courting someone?”

Seonghwa scratched the back of his head, using the hand that’s not holding the cat, “Only if she lets me court her though.”

San made a noise of confusion and before Seonghwa could answer, Hongjoong called him.

“Yes, Joong?”

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The two oldest strutted far away from their friends and Hongjoong caressed the cat’s head as it nuzzles in his hand. When they found a good location on the grounds, he spoke once again, “Hwa, did you find someone already?”

The man in question just smiled sadly, “You, out of all people should know the answer to that.”

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong pats his friend at the back, “She’s at the garden.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile, he loves how he doesn’t have to elaborate things yet Hongjoong will still get what he meant, “Thanks, Joong.”

“You’re welcome, dude.”

They were about to part ways when Hongjoong called him once again. He looked back at his friend with a questioning gaze as the other had a genuine smile plastered on his face, “Make sure to tell her everything and end this night with a kiss okay?”

Seonghwa felt himself blush as he let out a light hearted chuckle, “Aye aye, captain.”

—

“Hwa, I like you. I’m sorry.”

“God fucking damn it, that’s not it.”

“I miss the old us, I like you.”

“What the fuck, that sounds like we broke up and I want to make up with him.”

Letting out a frustrated groan, y/n couldn’t help but shout at the silence of the garden, “Fucking hell, Park Seonghwa, I want to fucking kiss you because I like you– no, I love you! Why is it so hard to say?”

meow..

She was startled a bit by the cat noise, making her look at the direction from where it came from only to flush a deep shade of red as she saw the figure of man who now has a freshly dyed black hair and an eyeglasses sitting atop of his nose bridge, holding a white cat on his right arm with an astonished look on his face.

“H-Hey.” Y/n awkwardly said as she started playing with the hem of her skirt.

“H-Hi, did I hear that right?”

Y/n blushed even more (if that’s even possible) and she couldn’t look at the man before her but she nodded her head in confirmation.

Seonghwa no longer spoke and the only thing she could hear were the footsteps nearing and the strong scent of manly perfume that she loved so much.

“Kim y/n, look at me.”

She didn’t. She was too afraid to see the new reaction from the man’s handsome face. Her head remained hung low for a while until Seonghwa lifted her face up with a finger on her chin.

Her breath hitched when he saw nothing but full love and admiration in his eyes, much like the look her Seonghwa used to look at her before whenever she does something adorably stupid.

“Hi there, love. Were you scared to look at me that I have to raise your head up?”

Y/n felt her eyes tearing up, her lips wobbling but she nodded nonetheless, “I missed you, Hwa.”

Seonghwa just softly smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you too, angel. I’m glad that you didn’t let your ice queen attributes take over you.”

She let out a wet chuckle and looked at the cat he was holding, “It’s so cute, when did you get a cat then decided to flex it around the school?”

“Ma’am, this cat is yours,” Seonghwa said as he gently placed the cat in her arms, “I named her Aeongi. I adopted this one a week ago since this is my last resort on how to woo you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “A week ago? Weren’t you too busy snooping girls left and right during those times? I even saw you enter a fucking lingerie store with Aera at some point!”

Seonghwa let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Aera is my childhood friend and she asked me for company because she wants to buy lingerie for herself to surprise her boyfriend on their anniversary.”

“What?” It took y/n a while to process everything before she spoke again, “Aera has a boyfriend?”

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and she asked once again, “But why did she ask for your company? She could've asked me?”

“Well it’s because we were planning to pick up Aeongi at the shelter that time. And you know her family owns every single existing animal shelter around our area, right?”

Y/n face palmed herself before letting herself fall in Seonghwa’s chest, careful not to squish the cat, “Damn it, I got mad and jealous at her for nothing”

Seonghwa pats her head, “It’s okay, lovebug, let it out.”

She snorted and pulled herself away from her (future) lover and smacked him in the chest, “What’s your answer to my accidental confession, though?

The male pointed at Aeongi and she scoffed, “What–”

“She’s our precious child. Since I still can’t physically put a baby in you since we still both want to be a licensed doctor, I’m giving you that cat as a sign that you’re stuck with me forever as long as Aeongi exists in our heart.” He fidgets with his back pockets and successfully retrieves a neat envelope, “And if you're looking for a full blast emotion, here you go. It’s a letter of confession with every single feeling poured out on it.”

Y/n was about to open the envelope but Seonghwa held her hand to stop, “Read it at home but for now let me kiss you.”

She couldn’t help but giggled and immediately pulled him by the collar of his sweater, successfully colliding their lips in a kiss until it turned a little heated, moving in an equal rhythm and Seonghwa decided to stop making her whine.

“Baby, I really want us to reach college before doing the even more heated stuff. But for now, let me ask you. Will you be my girlfr–”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa was dumbfounded but y/n was already leaning in for another kiss but he spoke, “Too excited?”

“Waited for too long.” She murmured and connected their lips once again, sharing the sweetness underneath the moonlight illuminating over them.

Y/n,

Hey, it’s me, Seonghwa. I wrote this one without any knowledge of what will happen tonight but whatever it is, I’m happy that it happened. But yeah, I just want to say that I really love you so much. Yes, love. I started to fall for you by the time I went back from Australia, having to enroll late to the academy because I just got home that time. You, aside from Hongjoong, are the one who approached me first, having to greet me like the sun is shining up on me.

Starting that time, we became closer especially when we found out that we live in neighboring homes. I always come over to your place, watching cartoons, playing switch, reading, doing homeworks together and even napping. Everything continued on and by that time, I was already fully aware of what I feel for you.

When we were in 9th grade, I wasn’t expecting for you to confess to me but I thought you were just joking because the girls around you started to date and maybe you want what they have so you decided to fool around me since I’m your friend so I told you that I don’t like you the same and maybe I could’ve just shut up during that time.

The next day, I was so excited to tell you about our upcoming trip to Switzerland for the winter only for you to avoid me and not talk to me. I was so confused and got even more confused when Hongjoong punched me in the face and told me that you’ve been crying. I only had one question on my mind, why were you crying? Who made you cry?

Turns out, it was me. Lol.

But yeah, right after that you changed. The very patient and sweet person I know became hot headed. You stopped looking at my direction so I decided to change too. You, the ever so gorgeous person I’ve known, are the talk of the town. A lot of people, specifically boys, have been wanting to date you.

At one point, I heard some of them talk maliciously about you and I couldn’t help but punch them in the face and that’s where I experienced my first detention. I sacrificed a lot for you. I nearly got kicked out of school for initiating fights and it’s all because I want to protect you without letting you know. I was given the chance to run for presidency and luckily, I won. With a few strings I pulled, I was able to appoint you as my secretary but I told the coordinator to say that they appointed you instead because of your good class performance.

So yeah, I started loving you from afar until that thing in front of the student council lounge broke out. I didn’t like how he held you, how he gripped your arm and I just wanted to punch him dead in the face right there but I didn’t want to freak you out so I decided to claim you as mine.

If that made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.

But yeah, I’m actually really not sorry too because it feels good to claim you as mine.

Hopefully, by the time you were reading this letter, you, Ms. Kim Y/n, are officially mine and will be working side by side with me on the student council lounge again. Strictly right beside me or on my lap.

No joke.

But if you’re not mine right after this, then please take care of Aeongi well (at least I’m certain you’ve kept her. You can’t say no to cats) and I hope you find your true happiness soon.

I love you so much, Kim Y/n.

With love,

Your Hwa

taglist: @masterninjacow @little-precious-baby @treasure-hwa @yunhobabygurl

252 notes · View notes

cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Note

Hello!

I love all your work so much and I saw that you were going to be taking a break from your Bachelor universe so I wanted to throw some prompts your way to maybe help get some other creative juices flowing *waggles eyebrows*

1) switched at birth AU

2) Everyone already knows their dating AU

3) Law and Order (SVU AU)

4) you’ve got mail AU

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like my writing!

Now that I've finished my Bach fic, I've been at a bit of a loss what I want to do next. Maybe it's because I'm all out of new ideas, maybe it's because work has been absolutely hectic, but my creative brain is completely empty. So I figured, why not try to do one of these prompts?

Here's the thing: I have never seen SVU or You've Got Mail. And I'm pretty sure Switched at Birth is also a TV show I have never seen? When I saw "everyone already knows" my immediate thought was "oh! like in Friends!" but then I remembered I have absolutely read that fic somewhere?? Like someone already wrote that for Jonsa. (I tried to find it again but have had no luck.)

So I chose switched at birth as a concept - I'm not sure if you meant the TV show or not, but I just wrote whatever popped into my brain.

A warning: this turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and isn't necessarily Jonsa? It is if you squint. A few other notes, Alayne is a completely separate person from Sansa, Lysa is not related to Catelyn, and Baelish never knew Catelyn either. Sorry if it's confusing and/or not at all what you were looking for!

Sansa feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath her.

They all sit in the drawing room of what she can only describe as a mansion (and she knows that next to her, Father is likely seething. This is the kind of money he aspires to, but will never be able to reach. He will never have a name. Father is a Baelish, he could never be a Stark.)

She stares at the family sitting opposite and her heart sticks in her throat at the sight of them – the mother, the three sons, they all have the same copper hair that she does and she swallows against the rising tears.

This is what she could have had, she thinks as she averts her eyes, but she only manages to catch sight of the family portrait above the mantel. A father, a mother, siblings. She could have had all of this, if not for the slip-up of an overworked, underpaid nurse sixteen years ago. She could have been Alayne Stark. Instead she is Sansa Baelish.

Switched at birth.

Alayne sits with her family (that should be Sansa's family), and she doesn't look as out of place as she should. Her dark hair matches Mr. Stark's – matches the other daughter, Arya. Alayne fits right in.

Sansa sits with Father (no, not her father; the man who raised her) on the opposite couch and wonders if her Mother (no, not her mother) had known, somehow. Is that why Mother had always been so cruel to her? Why she always seemed to hate Sansa for reasons she could never figure out? Perhaps Mother had known, somehow, that Sansa wasn't hers. Sansa remembers reading fairy stories of Changelings – how the mother would know, insist the child wasn't hers, how no one ever believed her. Is that why Mother threw herself off the roof all those years ago?

“Well this is fucking awkward,” the girl, Arya, mutters, and it breaks the silence as Mr. Stark sighs and presses a hand over his face and Mrs. Stark begins to scold her for her language and impropriety. Sansa watches Alayne laugh, and she feels more than ever like an intruder. She may share the Stark blood, but it seems as if Alayne and Arya are more alike than not. And by the way the brothers are trying to hide their own laughter, it seems Alayne fits in with all of them.

Perhaps it wasn't a mistake to switch them, Sansa thinks bitterly. Perhaps the Starks are better for having Alayne.

….

She is forced to get to know the Stark family, though she does not think she wants to. She doesn't want to look at their life and wish it could have been hers – wish that Ned Stark with his kind eyes and calm voice could have been her father. Wish that Catelyn Stark with her smiles and her freshly baked cookies could have been her mother. Wish that she could have been surrounded by siblings and dogs and even two strange psuedo-adopted-but-not-really brothers that she meets later on named Jon and Theon. The Stark household is chaotic and confusing and Sansa tells herself she would have hated growing up here.

….

She isn't surprised to find that she's not sad Father isn't her real father. In fact, there's a sort of joy inside her that when she turns eighteen, she can be free of him. He is still her legal guardian, the courts have decided, but she has less than two years before she is free and they aren't actually related and so she doesn't have to feel guilty about her dreams of leaving him.

It grows inside her as the weeks and months go by – a hatred she has never truly let herself feel before. She hates him, despises him. She always has.

Catelyn Stark is insistent on getting to know her because Sansa is her daughter, but Sansa can tell that Father has no real desire to get to know his own real daughter. He does not care about Alayne – no, what he cares about is ingratiating himself into the Stark family. She wonders if the Starks can see it like she can. She hopes not – she doesn't want them to think she's only coming to these weekly meetings for their money and their name.

In all honestly, she's not actually sure why she keeps coming to these meetings. All they do is remind her that the Starks will never truly be her family. All they do is highlight how much Father cares about social climbing. These meetings are painful and every week when she finally gets home and takes a shower and gets into her pajamas and climbs into bed, she sobs into her pillow for what could have been.

…

“You know the party's inside, right?”

Sansa startles out of her reverie and whirls around, heart pounding, to find Jon Snow standing behind her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

It's Christmas and the snow is thick on the ground and she's shivering in the thin wrap that she came outside with, her coat in a closet where Mrs. Stark had taken it hours earlier.

“Are you allowed to be smoking?” she asks instead of answering and he laughs, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between his lips.

“I'm eighteen,” he shrugs, speaking around the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His hands come up and he lights it, with one cupped around the end against the cold winter wind.

“I can't imagine Mrs. Stark approves of smoking,” she sniffs, then shakes her head no when Jon holds the pack out to her in offering. She watches his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment, like he knew she wouldn't take one, before putting the pack back in his coat pocket.

“Seems you don't approve, either.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” She says it and means it to be a joke, but the words come out soft and it wavers at the end.

Jon watches her for a moment, then unzips his coat and shrugs it off and holds it out to her and she stares at it blankly, her mind not processing the gesture. He shakes the coat, like he's insisting she take it and she finally does, slipping it on and then closing her eyes at the immediate warmth of it.

“I get it,” Jon says after a while, when he's halfway down to the filter, clouds of smoke drifting up into the night sky. “I mean, not exactly, I'm not sure there's anyone who can understand... you know-” he gestures at her. “But I get what's it's like - to be a Stark, but not. They practically raised me, but I'm not... I'll never actually be one of them.”

“I used to read fairytales,” she admits, turning her face from him because it's easier to talk into the dark, snow-covered landscape than him. “About secret princesses, and the king and queen were always so happy to have their daughter back. In the stories, there was never another princess who already took her place. Who fit in better.”

Alayne is a perfect Stark, she thinks. Over the months, she's seen it – how Alayne plays football and hockey with her brothers and sisters, makes jokes that Sansa would never. She's nothing like Sansa, who always preferred reading poetry to playing outside, with perfect manners and perfect posture. Cold and reserved. She wishes she were more like Alayne – more like a Stark.

She hears Jon sigh and take one last drag of the cigarette before he puts it out in the snow. “You're a lot like Cat, you know,” he says finally, and she feels something twist painfully in her chest. “And Bran. I mean, I don't know you that well, I guess, but...”

She shakes her head because he's wrong. She's nothing like any of the Starks (though she's not a Baelish, either). Jon sighs again, louder this time, with more annoyance.

“You are,” he insists, and she finally turns to face him again and opens her mouth to argue, but he gets there first. “You'd see it if you let yourself. If you actually tried. Cat's... Cat is trying so hard. You should see how she gets before you come over. Everyone is freaking out about it but you won't even try to get to know them. And I might not get how you feel, but Alayne? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

That painful twist in her chest tightens, it swoops down into her belly and up into her throat. “I am-”

“Like I said, I can't imagine how it feels, you know? And I'm sure it's a lot, and you're allowed to feel how you feel, but the Starks are... they want you here, I promise. But if you don't want to be, if you don't want them in your life, maybe this should all stop, cause it's hurting them and I think it's hurting you. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to force it if it's not what you want.”

Her mind is blank, she can't think of a single argument, though she wants to argue. She wants to say that Alayne hasn't tried talking to her, either. She wants to insist that she is trying, but... but she's not. Not really. She's holding herself at a distance, she's already decided she doesn't belong.

“What if they don't like me?” The words slip out of her, unbidden, her voice barely a whisper. It wavers in the dark. (Her deepest fear – that if she lets them get close to her, they'll decide she isn't worth it, that they don't want her.)

She's not sure what response she was expecting, but it's not for Jon to smile – he does, gives her a little half smile and raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know you that well yet, but so far I like you just fine. And I'm not even a Stark.”

“You seem like a Stark,” she tells him, and watches something flicker across his face and she doesn't know him well enough yet to tell what it is.

“I'm not actually related,” he says, though she already knows this. “Not by blood or anything.” For a moment he brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and he suddenly won't look at her and she wonders if she said something wrong. “We should go back inside,” he seems to change the subject and she hesitates, but then he holds out his hand. After a moment, she takes it, and follows him back inside, out of the freezing night air and into the warmth of the house. In the distance, she can hear voices and laughter, she can smell the cinnamon and pine in the air.

She could get lost here, if she let herself.

“There you are,” Mrs. Stark looks up as they enter the kitchen, and Jon lets go of her hand. Mrs. Stark narrows her eyes at Jon, then looks at the back door, like she guesses what he was doing out there and doesn't approve.

“I'm uh...” Jon starts, looking between Mrs. Stark and her, “I should get back to the party.” Before he goes, he turns back to her and she remembers she's still in his coat and she hurriedly takes it off, feeling heat high up on her cheeks as she does. “Try,” he says, voice too low for Mrs. Stark to hear. Then he takes his coat and leaves the kitchen – leaves her in the kitchen. Alone. With Mrs. Stark.

“Are you having fun?” Mrs. Stark's voice is light, but there's something underneath, a hesitance.

“I am,” she says back, wondering if she should make some excuse and leave. Wondering if Mrs. Stark doesn't want to be here talking to her.

(Try.)

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me,” she blurts out, and Mrs. Stark looks at her sharply. “I had some of the pumpkin pie, it was really good.”

It's such a stupid, nonsense thing to say, but Mrs. Stark looks pleased.

“It's a family recipe,” Mrs. Stark says, and then – a bit of hesitation - “I could teach it to you, if you'd like.”

Sansa's breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to say, “I like baking.”

“So do I. I could never get Alayne or Arya into it.” Mrs. Stark says it with a fond smile and Sansa feels something break open inside of her and she realizes, she knows, that she wants this. She wants to know this family, she wants to be a part of it. She doesn't want to take Alayne's place, she never could, but she...

“You could teach me,” she whispers. “Sometime. I'd like that.”

“So would I,” Mrs St- her mother, says with a smile that lights up the room.

#ask #anon #prompt fic #jonsa #sort of #modern au #again #also sort of angsty #and i'm sorry

62 notes · View notes

samwisethewitch · 4 years

Text

Curses and Hexes

Cursing is one of the most ancient forms of magic — and one of the most controversial. Whereas most magic is constructive (used to manifest or attract things), cursing is destructive (used to cause misfortune or harm).

Technically speaking, curses and hexes are similar but different types of spells. A curse consists of written or spoken words, sometimes combined with gestures. A hex is a ritual involving material items. However, most modern witches use the terms interchangeably, as I do in this post.

The fastest way to start a debate in any witchy community is to bring up the topic of cursing. It seems like everyone has strong opinions on the subject, either for or against. For your practice, all that matters is what you believe.

So, When Is It Okay to Curse Someone?

This is a tricky question, and the answer depends on the witch.

There are some witches who believe that intentionally causing harm or misfortune to another person is always wrong, and will never cast curses for this reason. This is an entirely valid position! If you fall into this camp, know that you’re in good company.

Other witches believe that cursing is acceptable when it’s truly warranted by the situation, such as when your life or livelihood is in danger. Others believe that cursing is simply a means to an end, and can be done with good intention (cursing your friend’s unfaithful partner to get them to stop cheating, for example).

The one thing that most witches seem to agree on is that curses are serious stuff, and should not be taken lightly. Unlike other types of magic, curses are fueled by negative emotions like hate, anger, and heartbreak. This makes them very powerful, but also very draining for the witch casting them. Cursing someone means reliving any trauma you suffered at their hands in order to use those memories as fuel for the fire. Some people aren’t willing to put themselves through such an ordeal, which again, is entirely fair.

Because curses are fueled by such strong emotions, they’re powerful and volatile. They’re like the nitro fuel of witchcraft — if you don’t know what you’re doing and aren’t careful, someone could get seriously hurt. That someone could be you.

My personal view on cursing is essentially the same as my view on physical violence. It’s not the answer to all, or even most, problems, and it sometimes makes the situation worse instead of better. It should never be your first option, but it might very well be your last resort. If someone is holding you at gunpoint, you’re entitled to use violence to protect yourself. Likewise, if someone is putting you or a loved-one in life-threatening danger, you’re entitled to use whatever magical means necessary for protection.

Before You Curse

If you think there’s someone in your life who deserves to be cursed, go through the following criteria to decide if cursing is really the most appropriate action.

Sleep on it. When we’re in the heat of the moment, we sometimes say or do things we don’t mean. If you think you’re angry enough with someone to curse them, give it a couple of days before you reach for the vinegar and chili peppers. Give yourself time to cool off and clear your head. If, after a week, you still feel like a curse is warranted, move on to the next step.

Think about your own motives. Why do you want to curse this person? What did they do to make you angry enough that you’re willing to use magic to harm them in some way? If it’s a minor annoyance, like cutting you off in traffic, a curse probably isn’t appropriate. Likewise, if your motivations are petty or catty in nature — like cursing someone because they beat you out for a promotion — I highly encourage you to stop and do some self-reflection. For one thing, you may not be able to conjure enough genuine hatred and anger for an effective curse. For another, in these situations you may find it more helpful to do some work on yourself (working on anger issues, learning to gracefully accept failure, etc.) rather than lashing out at someone else.

Ask yourself if this situation matters in the long run. It may feel incredibly important now, but try to take a step back and look at the big picture. Will this person matter in a year? Five years? Ten? Are they important enough to warrant allowing yourself to channel enough negative energy for a curse? (If this person is putting your life, livelihood, or safety at risk, the answer to all of these questions is YES!)

Make sure your anger is directed at the right person. Who is really responsible for the pain you’re feeling? For example, if your significant other cheats on you, your first reaction may be to curse the person who “stole” them from you. But you aren’t really upset with this person — you’re hurt because your partner betrayed your trust. I’m not convinced that a cheating partner is a serious enough reason to cast a curse (again, will it really matter in ten years?) but if you decide to do so, at least make sure it’s directed at the person who is truly responsible for your pain.

Consider doing a banishing instead. In situations where a person is a danger to you or your loved ones, sometimes the best option is to give them a magical push out of your life. A banishing does what the name implies — it banishes a person or thing from your life. Unlike a curse, a banishing does not cause harm or misfortune to the person being targeted. It simply removes them from your life.

You can perform a simple yet effective banishing with a piece of paper, a pen, cayenne pepper, and dried lavender. Write the name of the person or thing you want to banish on the paper. Look down at the name and say, out loud, “[Name], you are no longer welcome in my life.” Sprinkle a bit of cayenne on the paper and instruct it to burn this person out of your life. Sprinkle a bit of lavender on the paper and instruct it to bring you peace and healing. Fold the paper up to create a little packet around the herbs, then take it outside and burn it to ash. (Be careful — cayenne smoke burns!) As the paper burns say, “I banish [name] from my life, never to return.” Scatter the leftover ashes on a busy road.

Consider doing a binding instead. Maybe you don’t necessarily need someone out of your life, but you do need to take away their power to cause harm. In this case, a binding is your best bet. A binding is a spell that “binds up” someone’s power, preventing them from taking certain actions. This can be useful for dealing with people who are toxic or abusive. Like a banishing, binding does not cause harm or misfortune to the target.

You can perform a simple binding charm with a photograph of your target, a pen, and red or black thread. Write your target’s full name (or as much of it as you know) across the bottom of the photo. Look down at the photo. Say, out loud, “[Name], I bind you. I bind up your power, so that you can no longer ______.” Fold the paper up as small as possible. Then, begin to wrap the thread around the folded paper. As you do, say, “[Name], I bind you.” Continue wrapping until the thread completely covers the paper — there should be no paper visible.

For whatever reason, some people seem to have a natural resistance to banishing and binding. You may find that your spell works for a while, but the person you tried to banish/bind eventually returns to their old ways. There’s some debate about why this happens — some say it’s because these people are narcissists or energy vampires, while others think it has something to do with their force of will. Personally, I think it’s because some people are so nasty and hateful that it takes nasty, hateful magic to get rid of them for good. If you find yourself dealing with one of these people, and your banishings and bindings aren’t sticking, you may want to move on to a full-fledged curse.

Creating an Effective Curse

Okay, you’ve done your self-reflection, you’ve considered or attempted a banishing and/or binding, and you still feel like cursing is your best/only option. In that case, here are some general guidelines for making sure that your curse is appropriate, effective, and ethical.

Be VERY specific. Don’t just lob a ball of negative energy at someone and expect it to do what you want. Be very, very clear about your intent for this curse. Use precise and specific language. Make it painfully obvious what you want to happen and how you want it to unfold.

For example, when writing a petition or incantation, don’t just say, “[Name] is cursed.” Instead use something like, “Should [Name] ever contact or harass me again, he/she/they is cursed. Let him/her/them feel what I have felt and suffer as I have suffered.” You could get even more specific and detailed if you wanted to, but the important thing is to establish some basic parameters for the powerful dark energy you’re unleashing.

Make sure the punishment fits the crime. A curse to cause sexual impotence probably isn’t appropriate for an abusive boss… unless that boss is sexually harassing their employees. In that case, sticking a few pins in a rotting cucumber may be just what the situation calls for. (Yes, that’s a real curse. Yes, the cucumber represents what you think it represents.)

Making sure the punishment fits the crime also means being honest about how serious of a curse is deserved. Do you really need to ruin this person’s life to get them out of your hair, or will a mild inconvenience do? As strange as the idea of a curse being fair sounds, avoiding overkill will not only maintain balance but will keep you from expending more energy than you have to.

Make sure your curse is only affecting your target and not anyone around them. When it comes to curses, family, friends, and coworkers can sometimes get caught in the crossfire. To avoid this, make sure your spell is targeted to a specific person by personalizing it as much as possible. Include photos of your target, their full legal name (or as much of their full name as you know), and a taglock if you can get it. You may even want to include a line in your petition or incantation specifying that this curse will only affect the desired target and not their friends and associates.

Set clear conditions/parameters. The most effective curses are situational. Think of it as laying an energetic trap in or around a certain situation — this is more efficient and uses up less of your energy than if you were to just cast a blanket curse that affects every area of the target’s life. Curse parameters take the form of, “If [name] does x, they will be met with y.”

Setting parameters also makes sure your curse is truly deserved. For example, maybe your friend has an abusive ex-spouse, and you want to use a curse to keep your friend safe. If the ex-spouse is already leaving your friend alone, there’s no reason for a curse. But if they aren’t leaving your friend alone, they deserve to be met with vicious, magical resistance. For this situation, you may want to use an incantation like, “Should [ex-spouse] ever approach or contact [your friend], they are cursed with discomfort, unrest, and legal trouble. Let them be hunted and put down like a rabid dog.” This ensures that if, at any point in the future, the ex-spouse starts harassing your friend again, the curse will immediately go into action.

Don’t attach yourself to the curse. Perhaps the most important part of cursing is making sure you keep the energy of the curse separate from your own energy. Revenge is a double-edged sword, so you need to take precautions to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

Any time you cast a curse, you want to limit its connection to you as much as possible. Don’t include any of your own personal effects in the spell. You may also want to avoid using tools that hold a special place in your practice. For example, you may not want to use your altar as a place to craft curses. You may want to use materials that can be disposed of easily. Make sure to dispose of curse remains somewhere outside your home, such as at a busy road.

After casting a curse, it’s important to set aside some time for self-care. Start with a thorough cleansing. This can be as simple as taking a bath in salt water (or dumping a bucket of salt water over your head in the shower, if you don’t have a tub), but if you would rather do a full-fledged cleansing ritual, even better! It’s important to do something to remove any lingering negativity from your energy field, and to make sure the curse doesn’t attach to you in any way.

Cursing is intense, emotional, draining work. After casting a curse, take at least a few hours to rest and be kind to yourself. Eat your favorite foods. Take a nap. Read a book or watch a movie. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel good.

You may want to do some inner work after cursing to help process the intense emotions involved in this kind of magic. This can be journaling, meditation, energy work, or some other healing modality. If you’ve experienced serious trauma, you may want to consider speaking to a therapist or counselor in addition to doing work on your own.

Resources:

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

New World Witchery podcast, “Episode 102 — Evil”

658 notes · View notes

swqns · 3 years

Text

“ If it meant mending your broken heart, anything.” — 🐋

synopsis ;;

You and Childe were enemies since the moment he arrived in Liyue. You held a silent vow to protect Liyue Harbor from the Fatui after they took your home and family away from you. They were all apathetic monsters anyway... right?

— childe x gn reader

— cw ;; mentions of death, fighting, you tell Childe about your traumatic past lol

— note ;; the ending of this is awful I ran out of ideas 😭😭

You weren’t exactly favored by the Millelith or the Liyue Qixing, to say the least.

You still remembered the first time you fought. In the dark of the night down by the harbor, where the moon reflected off the deep blue waters and cast the entire port in a white glow. It had started as a report of some treasure hoarders up to steal any unguarded goods that had traveled by word of mouth but ended up being the Fatui instead. You drew your weapon, the energy inside of your [element] vision swirling. That small squabble on the underside of the dock had ended with you fighting the harbinger, and you both backing off at the end. You can still hear his voice ringing inside of your head from that night. Gosh, how he annoyed you.

“ My my, you sure do put up a fight. Is your ignorance giving you strength, or are you that confident in your abilities that you continue to fight against a harbinger? “

His hydro blades clanged against your weapon, using the hooked end of the dual blades to try and pry your weapon from your grasp.

“ Harbinger or no, it matters little. Your title does not prove anything to me. “

Your retort had him chuckling, breaking away from the contact of your weapons as he twirled them in his hands.

“ Haha! [name], I had not expected you to be so snappy when you’re moments away from dying. Normally, I wouldn’t go through the trouble, but I deserve to get back at you for killing half my faction. “

“ A punishment deserving of fatui scum. Maybe you should be saving your poetry for your gravestone. “

Your arguments tend to run through the entire battle, his stubbornness, and immaturity not allowing himself to just shut up for once. Yours wouldn’t allow you either.

You shook your head, clearing your mind of the harbinger as you focused. Sitting atop of a roof, you looked out for trouble. This was how you spent your nights since you arrived in Liyue. The Millelith had not been fond of your meddlings with the Fatui, and thus, you were also wanted by the nation. However, your constant state of alert allowed you to continue your work long before the Millelith ever arrived in a scene.

Save, for one incident.

You’d been keeping your eyes on a Fatui agent as he strolled through the now empty streets of Liyue. When the agent suddenly slinked into an alleyway, it piqued your interest. Following him from the rooftops, noticing the glint of his blade as he drew it... you sighed. No rest for the wicked, they always say. Before he could leave the alleyway he had snuck into, you dropped from the roof in front of him.

“ You have no use for your blade here. Sheath it, or die. “

“ I do not take orders from you. “

“ You should’ve. “

Your fight with the agent led you both out of the alleyway and into the Main Street. Thankfully, the hour of the night meant no one was around, all in their homes and asleep as they regained energy for the next day.

During the day, where you sparsely slept in between watching out for your ‘nemesis’.

Your weapon of choice was easy to fight with against the agent’s close-range blades, and you were able to get him to retreat with a minor injury to yourself. It was hard to say the same for him. As you heard a soft, slow clapping behind you, you sighed and slouched forward in annoyance.

“ What a mighty display, [name] ! I was beginning to wonder where my favorite sparring partner had gone until I heard the commotion. “

You sighed again, turning to face him.

“ Childe! Who else would I expect to run into during this hour of the night? How lovely to see you. “ you replied, malice and sarcasm dripping from your voice.

“ Come now, you can be a little more kind to your friend. Do you remember the first night we fought? The moon was just as bright, in the same position it is now. Oh, how time flies. “

“ You bore me. If you came here to call a draw again, then get on with it. “

Boring? No no, he wouldn’t have that, now. A chuckle left the harbinger's throat as he drew his blades, the swirling hydro energy in his hands and his vision emitting a gentle blue glow. He’d never back down from a fight, you knew, and he wasn’t just bark. His bite was just as bad.

You were wanted by the millelith not for meddling with treasure hoarders or thieves throughout the night, but for fighting with Childe and his men. It greatly interferes with the Liyue Qixing’s dealings with the Fatui.

Your fight with Childe went like all the others. You fought on and on for hours until the sun was rising early in the morning. The millelith had finally seen the situation and started closing in on the two of you. Within the mess of elemental reactions, no one wanted to get close. Except for one bold soldier, who was able to cuff one of your wrists before being knocked backward. You grabbed the loose side of it, snapping it around Childe’s wrist as he went in to try and attack you with his blades. He inhaled through his teeth, and you gave him a sly grin. Finally, you had won. And also, you had finally looked at the situation around you.

You were pulled out of your shock by Childe’s grip on your wrist, tugging you to begin running. You thought it was odd, but you hadn’t noticed the Millelith reaching for him also. Were they trying to arrest him, too? You shook your head. Run now, questions later. The harbinger had ended up leading you to the top of Mt. Tianheng. Chests heaving and breaths heavy, you both collapse onto the grass.

Your first reaction was to fight him. To kick, to punch, he was so close and couldn’t just slip right out of your grasp this time. You screamed a string of curses at him, the frustration of everything coming forth when he just couldn’t get away. Childe grabs your wrists, moving them to your chest and away from him as he gives you a chance to calm down.

“ [name], calm down. Did you think this through?” The harbinger sighs, holding up your connected wrists. You huffed, calming down slightly. You hadn’t.. how were you going to get this off??

You couldn’t just go back to Liyue harbor and ask the millelith to remove it. No, they’d try to arrest you. You sat in thought, thinking, as Childe summoned one of his hydro blades. Seeing the blue glow through your swirling thoughts put them at a still, as you hastily reached for your weapon. You ended up pulling your wrist close to you, which yanked Childe forward. He sat back up, using his sleeve to rub the dirt off his face.

“ Hey! Now that was uncalled for, buddy. “ He called, the hydro blade dissipating into the ground after he dropped it. “ I wasn’t going to try anything, you know. “

“ The only time I ever see those blades is when they’re trying to cut my throat. You can’t blame me for that being my reaction. “ You hiss, malice once again dripping from your words.

“ You need to relax. Let's find a way to get these cuffs off, then we can go back to trying to kill ea- “

Childe doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you cut him off. You can’t help it after all the anger and sadness bubbling in your throat are so close to spilling out. You’re angry. You’re livid. But under all that angst is a heartbreak. The fatui had shown no mercy for your family. They were all slaughtered in cold blood and left to rot until you returned home. God, how the sight pained you. It iron casted itself into your memories and you remembered it every time you saw one of those damn uniforms.

“ Are you insane?! You’re finally right here, you finally can’t slip away from me like you always do, and you expect me to just let you go? Have you lost what little sanity you had left?! “ you scream. You’re so angry, you can’t help it. Childe hadn’t directly been the one to take everything from you, but the association was enough for you to hate him. You can feel the hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes before you harshly wipe them away. Archons, this entire situation is stupid, you think.

“ What caused all this? No one can be this... angry without some prompting. “ He finally speaks, way calmer than you are right now. What caused his sudden change in attitude? How could this bloodthirsty monster have any ounce of empathy for you, someone he’s been trying to kill?

You laugh. You probably sound more crazed than Childe at this point, but you had no control of your emotions. Your insane lack of sleep and bottling of heavy emotions was starting to wear you down.

“ Ohhh, right! Not like the slaughter of an innocent family is enough for me to seethe with hatred at the sight of your damned insignia. “ You hiss. Memories from the day come flooding into your mind, as well as all the bottled emotions that come with them. The anger, the guilt. Oh, if you had just been there. If you had come home earlier. If you didn’t decide to stop on the way home, you could’ve saved them. Childe doesn’t say anything for a moment. All he does is pull his legs closer to him to sit crisscross next to you.

“ Was it your family? “ He asks. He may be a harbinger, nothing more than the Tsarista’s dog, but he knows the importance of family. He knows he’d protect his with his life.

You don’t answer, but your silence speaks volumes. Childe speaks instead. Soft laughter, followed by his words.

“ You know. I started caring about you around the fourth time we fought. The first three.. you were just a new challenge. Never before have I had someone that equaled me on the field. I haven’t been trying to kill you since. Maybe.. just maybe... one day you won’t think of me as an enemy as I saw you. So for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. No one deserves to have their family taken from them like that. If I lost my family... I don’t know what I’d do. “

You stay silent. Not out of anger or guilt this time, but shock. Your gaze shifts to his, sitting in stunned silence for what felt like hours.

“ If there’s even the slimmest chance something I could do would mend your broken heart back into one piece, I’d do it all. In exchange for a good spar, of course. “

...

Maybe the fatui weren’t so bad.

Thank you for reading!

— with love, vellichor

#childe genshin impact #genshin impact #velli.fics #childe x you #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #ajax genshin impact #ajax x reader #tartagalia x reader #pls don’t let this flop I worked hard on it

71 notes · View notes