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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

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LIFE-SAVING SHARPIE

Summary: Despite being a muggle, Y/n's mother was an expert in divination. She tried to teach Y/n, who saw it as a mere muggle game. But, oh, what a powerful weapon a muggle game can become in the hands of the right witch.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst (w/ a good ending)

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, death(ish)

A/N: I'm not saying I'm incapable of writing an angsty ending for a Fred Weasley story, but I'd rather not do that, so here comes a stupid story that occurred to me this morning, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/l/n!" I sighed. "Is it true?"

"Your mom is into divination?" George question made me throw my head back in desperation as both twins made their way through the Great Hall to meet me.

I knew that day would be a bumpy one the moment we entered in the Divination classroom. The fact that a muggleborn aced a new subject since class one was strange.

I knew I would have to give some explanation to my friends after. Ron was particularly shocked by the fact that my muggle mother had taught me —against my will, may I say— lots of Divination-related things. I knew Ron, being Ron, would surely tell every soul that would listen about his discovery, but I had hoped for him to wait until the third period at least.

"Secrets spread like wildfire here." I said.

"Are you secretly a soothsayer?"

"Yes, Fred. You see, I have the Sight." I ironically stated, and, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to get closer to the boy I fancied, I added "Want me to read your palm?"

They shared an amused look, fully aware that I was joking. Even in the Wizarding World, divination wasn't something to believe in.

There were supposed to be people able to see the future, such as professor Trelawney, but no student had seen her predict a thing, so she wasn't the best example.

George was the first one to sit down. "Predict my future, oh, you who were gifted with the Sight." I snorted as he laid his palm before my eyes.

I picked his hand on mines, "Hmm..." Fred hovering over my form from behind wasn't ideal for me to concentrate. "Okay so..." I felt one of his hands toying with the clasp of my necklace, brushing my nape. "Will you stop touching my necklace and sit down?" I demanded.

"Yeah Fred, sit down." George reprimanded his brother. "She's trying to see my future." I heard Fred chuntering before he plopped down on my other side, leaning on a tad too close for my liking. "Alright, fortuneteller, is there a love line?"

Of course he would ask about that. "Let's see..." I traced said line, unable to remember to the T what my mom had tried to teach me. "So, the heart line is arched... Which means..."

"That you can't tell a thing?" I slapped Fred's arm.

"Which means he's balanced." I corrected him. "You're able to realize when you need to take care of yourself, and when you should let a someone in." George seemed invested. "You'll have just one serious partner, but they'll be the right one."

"Well, that doesn't sound half bad, huh?" He looked at me with a content smile.

"My turn." Fred spoke, smacking his brother's hand away and replacing it with his left one. "The line of life or whatever." He scooted a bit closer and I felt my heartbeat pick up. "What's my fate?"

"Are you left-handed, Fred?" I questioned with an eyebrow raised, already knowing the answer. "I need your dominant hand." Oh well, that came out wrong.

"Straightforward, are we?" George snorted at his brother's remark as he exchanged hands, turning to straddle the bench to be more comfortable. "Alright, what do you see?" He had leaned on to the point where he only needed to tilt his head down a couple of inches to rest it on my shoulder.

"A hand." I deadpanned, which earned a playful push from him. "Okay, okay— I see..." A puzzled frown took over my gaze. "Wait—" I turned to George. "gimme your hand."

"What?" Fred questioned, shifting his position ever so slightly.

"Uhm..." The frown grew bigger, and I had to remind myself what I was doing was a joke. "You... don't have a lifeline?" I dubiously informed. "I mean— it sorta... Starts? but then it fades away." I widened my eyes and froze, remembering what that meant.

I saw Fred tilting his head slightly. "Is it so bad that you won't tell me what it means?" He asked jokingly in order to lighten my distraught mood.

"It— well, it means that you'll die at a young age." My eyes met his and, despite the amused smile that always danced on his lips, fear slipped out of his orbs now, too.

"Wait what?" George propped himself on his forearms to see his brother's palm. "Can't be. Check mine?"

"I just did, you git." George wasn't even smiling. Maybe he did believe it. "Yours is fine."

The three of us stayed in silence for an instant. Even if none of us believed in divination, the fact that Fred had no lifeline was rather unsettling.

"It's fine." I cleared my throat, turning to my bag and leaving Fred's hand over the table on the process. "Apart from seeing the future, I can fix lifelines." They looked at each other when they saw me grab a sharpie. "Don't move." I demanded, holding down Fred's right hand before tracing a black line where the lifeline was supposed to be. "There. A long, healthy life."

When I looked back at the twins' faces, I saw them ready to laugh. Distress had already left them, and that helped my own evaporate.

"Merlin, Y/n!" Fred dramatically exclaimed. "You've just saved my life!"

"She sure did." George agreed, patting my back.

"Now go and tell Ron to shut up." I didn't want to imagine what would happen if people started to believe I could actually predict their future; the twins were sceptic and even they had somehow fallen for it.

I was so focused on George getting up that I didn't even notice Fred's hand flipping and wrapping around mine.

A soft kiss was placed on my cheek and I felt my face heating up even before meeting Fred's proud grin. "Figured I'd give my savior something in repay." His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips for a second; it's just my imagination, I thought, unaware of Fred's thumb caressing the back of my hand until he removed it in order to stand up.

Four Years Later

FRED'S P. O. V.

One second I was laughing at Percy's joke, and the next one everything was black; not only visually, everything was pitch black in every fucking sense.

I heard nothing, I couldn't touch anything, my voice was gone.

My mind was completely blank, until a thought slipped in my brain: 'you'll die at a young age'.

My head was spiralling now. I was dead. That's what death felt like? Nothing?

Y/n's words kept going on and on, frying my brain. How ironic it was that the voice I would have forever in my mind belonged to the girl I had been in love with since I was fourteen, and the words were what we thought to be her silly prediction.

I had no idea how long it had been, but suddenly I felt it; a tear running down my cheek. A flaming hot tear, burning its way off my face. Then I felt something else, some sort of rope wrapping tight around my right hand and wrist, so tight that it made my pulse speed up.

My pulse.

It dawned on me that my heart was beating fast against my chest. It was beating.

I needed to breathe.

"FRED!" Someone forced my eyes open; It was Percy. I couldn't see him right away because the lights were blinding to my eyes, but I recognised his voice. "FRED SAY SOMETHING!"

"Y/n..." I couldn't hear my own voice, but I felt her name going through my vocal cords.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Ron cried. "you're alive-" my sight was blurry but I could pick out my younger brother's crown in front of me as he sobbed over my chest.

"We gotta get him out of here right now!!" Of course it was Hermione who got everyone moving. As both my brothers managed to pick me up, I felt my eyes closing once more. Not even the fear of not waking up again stopped me from passing out.

READER'S P. O. V.

I had volunteered as Healer to help Madam Pomfrey during the Battle, that's why it was me who received two Weasleys practically dragging a third one into the improvised infirmary.

I recognised him from his jacket. "Fred..." At first I thought it was his corpse, that's how bad he looked.

"Y/N!!" It was only when Fred seemed to tilt his head up due to Ron's cry that I reacted, rushing to help them. "Keep him alive!" I only nodded, taking Ron's place as he took off.

With one of his arms over my shoulders and the other over his brother's, we managed to carry him to one of the stretchers; his painful weak groans went directly into my ear as we moved him, triggering the tears I was holding to fall.

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

FRED'S P. O. V.

"—alive, somehow." Y/n's voice, though it sounded far away, let me know she was close. "No, don't wake him up."

"Listen, you gotta get him to St. Mungo." It seemed George the one talking, but his voice was too shaky to tell. "in an hour this is gonna get really ugly, I want him out."

"George, we're besieged." Her tone was hopeless.

"Look at him, You said it— It's a bloody miracle he's still breathing." my brother's voice shattered; all I wanted was to get up, hug him and say I was okay, but I felt my brain spinning once more. "Bill and I will escort you out of the castle so..."

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

The next time I opened my eyes, terror inundated me; everything was dark again. I gasped for air and propped myself up, instantly regretting it. A stabbing pain attacked every part of my body, triggering a shocked cry out of me.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n whisper-shouted, before placing both her hands over my chest to push me back to the bed again. "Are you mental?" Her fingertips moved out of the way a bandage that covered my eyes. "Oi, listen," when she noticed my shaky hands desperately trying to reach my face, she took them in hers. "You're safe."

I tried to say something —anything—, but my throat was sore, and the only thing that was able to leave it was her name.

"Shhh." She hushed me, letting one of her hands travel to my face. "You have to rest." I would have sworn she was crying, but I couldn't tell. "Everything'll get better." Her thumb stroking my cheek was the most soothing thing I had ever felt, so it wasn't difficult for me to close my eyes, this time willingly, though I was equally scared. "I'll stay by your side." The reassuring squeeze her hand gave me, made me aware that she had noticed my fear.

Before drifting off, I felt Y/n's lips placing a chaste kiss on my forehead, making my heart hammer against my chest.

I was still alive.

A Month Later

READER'S P. O. V.

It was Ron who sent me an owl the moment Fred finally got out of the hospital. He informed me that, instead of going to the Burrow to rest a few days—as planned—, ha had gone straight to the shop.

That's how I found myself the next morning inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was not-so-surprisingly full of people again.

Due to the huge amount of customers, it was relatively difficult for me to spot the twins.

Apparently, I turned out to be easy to spot.

"Y/n!" I turned in the stairs' direction to be met with a very enthusiastic George who, before I could even greet him, engulfed me in a hug.

"I see you can't catch a break." I observed, pulling away with a big smile on my face. That place really made the trick to bring joy to everyone.

"You can't imagine." He replied, his gaze wandering around before pulling my hand. "Oi, Fred! Look who dropped by!" He shouted over the hubbub, leading me to the till counter, behind which I saw the reason why I had come in the first place.

Just as Fred's eyes noticed me, he attempted to rush out of the till. I left George's side as soon as I realized that he, in fact, couldn't really rush out.

"Merlin's beard!" Despite he had just had to grip the counter in order not to fall, he tried again. "Take it easy, will you?" I scolded him, steadying him by his forearms and helping him step back to rest against the till. "Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"If you're the one taking care of me, I wouldn't complain." The first time his eyes fell on my lips, I missed it because I was still securing him. The second time it was impossible to miss. "You know? Your sharpie saved my life."

I snorted at his nonsensical words. "You're delirious, Weasley." My hands finally left his forearms, just to be picked up on his. "Still suffering from the concussion?" I joked, trying to deviate my own attention from my fast heartbeat.

Another glance at my lips.

"I should get going." George spoke behind me.

"I was going to visit you tomorrow." Fred stated, his gaze now focused on my eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you, love," I pointed out, motioning at him with our hands still held. "But you can barely walk."

"Yeah, but I needed to see you." He looked somehow sheepish; I doubted I had ever seen him like that before. "I'm gonna be as clear and concise as possible—" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at me. "I'm pretty much in love with you." I didn't know my eye could go as wide as they went. "Thing's I've known for a good couple of years now." He shrugged. "Telling you scared me, but then this happened." He gestured at himself. "And now not being able to tell you scares me even more." His eyes scanned me before looking around. "This wasn't the ideal place to tell you, but I didn't want to wait any longer."

I gulped, trying to process it as fast as possible.

"For Godric's sake, Y/n," he gently tugged my hand. "Say something, please." Fear started to take over him, even if he tried to keep it at bay. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, we can still be friends, I promise—"

"How do I kiss you without hurting you?" I questioned, already feeling the heat on my cheeks.

I could tell by his face that, out of everything I could have said, he was not expecting the answer I had given him. "Ever the caring one." He let go of my hands to cup my cheeks. "Just kiss me," he sounded so happy, it was contagious. "I'll deal with the pain later."

I listened to him and, holding onto his blazer, stood on my tiptoes and crashed my lips against his— only because I had been wanting to kiss him for too fucking long.

I got lost in the kiss and my brain completely dismissed that an entire wall had collapsed over the boy before me just a month ago; my hands went up to his neck, pulling him closer and, consequently, earning a painful groan from him.

"Shit! sorry." I was quick to let go, suddenly very aware of our surroundings, too.

He just shook his head and pulled my back to him, this time by my hips. "I said I'll deal with it later." He spoke against my lips before going in for a second kiss.

I was more gentle now, careful not to cause him too much pain.

To our dismay, we were interrupted.

"You said love confession!" George snapped us out of it; this time the groan Fred let out was from annoyance. "not snogging session in front of our customers! Get to work!"

He huffed, unwillingly separating from me. "If you stick around until lunch time, we can resume this."

I pretended to think about it. "I guess I can find something to do until then." My smile was as wide as his, and it grew wider when he pulled my into a hug, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. "I love you too, by the way."

His laugh reverberated on his chest. "Good to know."

"Freddie! Now!" This time it was me who groaned at George's demands.

"Help me out, love." Fred requested, pulling away from me so I could help him move behind the till counter. "See you in a couple of hours?" I nodded, pecking his cheeks and walking away from the shop.

It was when I started to walk down the Diagon Alley that it clicked.

His lifeline.

The sharpie.

"OH MY FUCK—"

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred x y/n #fred lives au #fred weasly x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #battle of hogwarts

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kpoppwriter · 3 years

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You’re the Sun - 10s And

❧ Genre: fluff and angst

❧ Words: 650

❧ Warnings: its a little sad

❧ Synopsis: In your heart you knew you still loved Yuto but you just couldn’t handle being his second- or even third priority. After an argument over your feelings, you left your shared apartment in a rage. Now was the make or break moment in your relationship.

❧ Tag list: @wooya1224

❧ A/N: sorry to start out with a sad one lmao the next one won’t be as angsty. Also I highly recommend listening to Fool by Winner while reading this

~※ Love or Take Masterlist ※~

“I can’t keep doing this, Yuto!”

The room was silent. Your words bounced through the room and echoed in your head. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes threatening to spill down your face. Yuto stared at you, his eyes widened due to your outburst. Yes, it came out a bit harsher than you intended but you were trying to get him to see- to understand you were hurting.

You’d spent weeks going to bed alone and waking up alone without a sign of your boyfriend. You understood how demanding his career was and how dedicated he was but you were starting to feel like his second or third priority. You felt like an accessory. It was infuriating and you were at your breaking point.

“Y/N please-”

“What am I to you?” you snapped, “Am I just a trophy? Some kind of prize? Because I certainly don’t feel like your partner!”

Yuto was speechless. He wanted so desperately to say something but your words stunned him. You could feel so many emotions bubbling up in you- mostly anger.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You turned away and made your way to the door. You grabbed your jacket and left. You finally let the tears flow freely down your face as you headed down the street. You didn’t know where you were going to go but you just needed to get away.

Yuto stayed frozen in the middle of the living room trying to process everything. None of this felt real. He was sure he was in the middle of a dream right now. He just couldn’t believe the person he loved so much and held so close to his heart just walked out on him. Seeing you so hurt, because of him no less, absolutely broke his heart. His mind finally kicked into overdrive and he ran out of the house. He ran after you.

You walked all the way to a park about a half mile down the road. You don’t quite know how you ended up here but this is where your feet brought you. Memories of all the times you spent in this little neighborhood park with Yuto flooded your head. Memories of the time you played on the swings, the picnic you had on your anniversary, the night you stayed out until it was dark so you could watch the stars. The tears spilled down your face faster.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t even have to turn your head to hear Yuto running towards you. His footsteps coming closer and closer echoed in your ears. He grabbed your wrist before you had a chance to leave.

“Y/N,” he panted

“What do you want?” you sneered as you turned to face him

“You’re the sun.”

“What?”

“You’re the sun,” he breathed heavily, “You’re the sun and the stars. You’re the light in my life. You’re what keeps me grounded. You’re my forever.”

You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat by his sudden confession. You could see Yuto’s eyes glistening like he was about to cry himself. Your expression softened.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I don’t want this to be our end, please.”

You were silent. Your heart ached seeing him in such distress. You looked down at the hand wrapped around your wrist. You pulled your arm out of his grasp. His face visibly fell at your actions. You looked back up at him.

“If you could take me back-”

Your arms wrapped around his torso tightly interrupting him. You buried your face in his chest letting your fresh tears soak his shirt. Yuto immediately enveloped you with his arms as if he was shielding you from the world. He held you tightly against him, his head resting on the top of your head. He rubbed your back soothingly letting you cry it out. No words needed to be exchanged. You both knew you’d be alright.

#kpop #kpop blog #kpop writing blog #pentagon #pentagon reactions #pentagon reaction #pentagon headcanon #pentagon headcanons #pentagon scenarios #pentagon scenario #pentagon x reader #pentagon x you #pentagon fluff #pentagon angst #pentagon yuto #adachi yuto #yuto x reader #yuto fluff #yuto angst

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zodiyack · 3 years

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

Requested by Anon: I know we do happy Elizabeth Shelby but, could you imagine teen Elizabeth figuring out that Bonnie was never her real dad? And it was a dead beat bastard? I’m feeling kinda angsty????

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Female!Shelby!Reader, Mentioned Male!Character x Female!Shelby!Reader, Bonnie & Reader + Elizabeth Shelby (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mention of teen pregnancy

Words: 1,898

Summary: (See Request)

Note: I like- I had an idea, altered it a little halfway through, and then went with it. I hope you like it, anon!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @fandom-puff, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @darling-i-read-it, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @i-love-superhero

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Elizabeth L. Shelby Masterlist

She had never meant to invade another’s privacy in her life...but one little detail pulled the small bit of string sticking from the yarn ball, unraveling into one big mess. That was how she’d ended up in the situation never meant to happen. But it did.

It was a slow morning, Bonnie out to help with the Peaky Blinders and Y/n helping Ada and Polly with the boys. Elizabeth had a free day from her schooling and her ever growing mind was still as inquisitive as it was when she were just a babe.

The study, in which her parents did most of their work, was not off limits to her, just a place where she hadn’t been as often. Because of that, she decided she’d spend her time taking care of her boredom by snooping around.

All was going pleasantly until she found a letter, hidden in the bottom drawer of her mother’s wooden desk. Elizabeth frowned to herself, knowing better than to stick her nose into things that were not hers to know of, and began to move the items in the drawer to return the letter to its original place. However, the glimpse she caught of her name, or what looked like her name, sprawled in messy handwriting, caught her like a fish on a hook and reeled her in.

The word had been seen slightly between the folded end and the middle. She wasn’t completely sure it had been her name, so she debated leaving it alone and moving on with her day or giving into the pull of the hook of intrigue.

Biting her lip, she looked around. Then she breathed slowly and carefully unfolded the paper.

When Bonnie and Y/n returned to their home, they had expected a few things. Perhaps the house would be spotless and Elizabeth would act as if it were nothing, or the house would be a mess and she would have a boy over- that idea caused Bonnie to almost crash the car. Thinking of many things they’d find, Elizabeth with her arms crossed, a paper in her hand and a conflicted look upon her face was not one of them.

It was like they were the teens caught out and about in the middle of night by returning after curfew and she was the angry parent. Her expression caused her parents to stop in place and give her a questioning look. Ellie unfolded her arms and held up the paper. Right at that moment, Y/n’s heart stopped and dropped into her stomach. She squeezed Bonnie’s hand tightly.

“Who wrote this?” The two exchanged a knowing glance. “Mother. Who wrote this?”

Y/n hesitated getting the answer out of her mouth. The letter was something she hadn’t thought about, something she yearned to forget. “Your father.”

“My father? But I thought he was my father.” Elizabeth gestured to Bonnie, who sighed and moved to take a seat opposite to Elizabeth. “Have a seat, mum, I think we have something to talk about.”

“Indeed we do, Elizabeth.” Bonnie avoided his daughter’s- step-daughter’s eyes as he spoke, staring at his hands.

Y/n did as her daughter requested, more so demanded, and sat beside Bonnie. She too held a sheepish manner.

“Please, tell me, why am I just now learning of my father? Why not when I was a little girl? Why is he not a part of my life?”

The final question led Bonnie to surge upward from his seat, finally making eye contact with a now startled Elizabeth. “That man will have nothing to do with you if I have any say in this whatsoever!” His face was as red as a tomato, but calmed a few shades as Y/n put a soft hand on his arm.

“You don’t have a say in it. This is between my mother and I.” She looked at him apologetically, “You will always be my dad, but I want to know my real father.”

“He’s right...ya know? I never really wanted you around him...but-” Was it worth it? Ruining his image before Elizabeth had the chance to even meet him? He lived right there in Birmingham, she could meet him and see for herself, but, as Y/n thought more about it, he was a cruel man, one who neglected to even care for his child or his lover who was carrying said child.

“But what? Is he dead or something?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing!” Moments prior, Bonnie had scared Elizabeth with an outburst of his own, but it was the adults this time who nearly fell out of their chairs in surprise. “Either let me meet him or leave me to find him on my own.” She whipped around, her shoes clacking against the floors as she paced quickly to her room, leaving her parents to discuss her ultimatum.

Each meal went by with an awkward tension hanging over the three, the room filled with silence if you didn’t count the scraping of spoons against bowls or forks against plates. The simple sound only worsened the strained feeling in the air.

No answer came to Elizabeth, so she took matters into her own hands, following out her second offer and sought to find the man who gave her life. Each day she’d ask the name of which had been signed on the letter, going as far as to put his name in the newsprint. As a Shelby, she didn’t have to pay a single thing to have the people put anything in the news, but the goodness of her heart got the best of her and the people themselves. They offered to call the place she had been staying when they had a lead, but sadly, no calls had been made.

But one day, while she sat with the same hopefulness by the telephone with a cup of coffee in hand, the ringing filled her ears and a smile struck her face instantaneously. She almost dropped the coffee onto the carpeted hotel flooring as she jumped to set it down and grab the phone. “Hello?!” Her voice beaned with joy.

“Miss! There’s a call from the newsprint office,” the woman from the front desk said, voice ringing with a sense of rush, “they’re on hold- they say it’s urgent!”

The smile on Elizabeth’s face widened, “Please, put them on the line!”

“Miss Shelby, we have him!”

He waited for her in the lobby of the hotel, confusion obvious on his features. Elizabeth slowly walked down the stairs and the second her eyes met his, she felt sure that it was him. “Father!” She grinned and raced to him. Ellie threw her arms around him the second she reached him.

A small feeling of uncertainty picked at Elizabeth when he didn’t hug her back right away. She noticed his hesitation almost instantly but brushed it off when he finally wrapped his arms around her small frame. “You must be...”

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Luludja Shelby.” She paused, furrowing her brows a little when he scoffed at her middle name, but continued nevertheless. “I’m um...your daughter.”

“Did your mother tell you about me?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, sucking in a breath bitterly. “No.”

“Oh...It’s fine with me. Never liked the whore that much anyways.”

Another pang of guilt struck Elizabeth, but again, she ignored it. “Yeah...” She laughed nervously, the unsure feeling growing deeper, twisting into a big sign that told her in capital letters to RUN. But she didn’t.

The two spent the day together, bonding and discussing what he would’ve done with her had he been given the opportunity to be her father. Of course, he never wasted the chance to call Y/n slurs and ghastly words. All seemed fine, Ellie wondered why on earth her parents thought he was a bad man, until he did yet another thing to make Elizabeth’s fight or flight mode prepare itself despite her not exactly wanting to.

He offered to hold her bag whilst she used the toiletries, then when he handed it back, took her to a shop. There, when paying, she found that a large amount of funds she’d been saving up since childhood had been missing. She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head. But still, she refused to give up on him just yet.

They walked the streets, making small talk as they went by. “You got a lover yet?”

“Not quite. Mother said I should be sure before giving my heart to someone.”

“Yeah, well, your mother got herself knocked up before she was even of age so. Best think about who you’re getting advice from, Eirene.” He butchered her name off the bat, but she’d ignored that too, only correcting him each time- just not this one. “Date and fuck whoever you want, don’t let that bitch boss you around.”

He leaned closer to her, allowing her to smell the alcohol under his breath, the tobacco and surely, without a doubt, plenty of drugs. She cringed, scrunching her face and looking away from him in hope to get fresh air, but something about that smell stuck with her. What had he used her money on? Did his breath smell like that before? Was he intoxicated at the hotel?

“Listen, I think it’s best I get going...” She tried to pull away from him, but he caught a grip on her arm, tighter than he should’ve.

“No. You’re staying with me and that’s final. Come on Eliza, lets go meet my friends. You ever try snow before?”

That was the final time the red lights flashed. In what felt like a split second slowed dramatically, Elizabeth socked her father in the nose, hearing a cracking sound before he let go of her arm and she stumbled backwards a little.

“You bitch!” His grumble was muffled from behind his hand. He covered his nose and mouth, blood on his hand from either places but Ellie didn’t know which. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

She was ready to apologize, but for once, it felt good to do something un-ladylike. “I seldom act as barbarous as that, but I know one thing. I feel not guilt for my actions, but justice. You call my mother horrid names that she would never be defined by, you can’t even stay clean for a visit with your own daughter nor keep your thieving hands out of anything that is not your own! Let alone remember my name!”

“And?!”

“And-” She hesitated, but rolled her eyes and let it out. “And fuck you. I believe there is good in everyone, but you have shown me otherwise. I thought mother and...and my father were wrong, that my birth father was a good man, but the day started with joy and ended in disappointment. I’m ashamed to even be from your blood. May you rot in the deepest depths of hell, you dishonorable bastard.”

Gasps came the people around them, making Elizabeth look around and glare at the bystanders, “Fuck off before the Peaky Blinders have you all...”

She turned to the man, still on the ground clutching his face, and thought about how she’d spent just a little less than a month searching for him; news traveled fast in Birmingham. “In fact, you’re lucky all you got was me. Because, if you have any brain whatsoever, you’ll leave Birmingham before you get the Peaky Blinders too.”

190 notes · View notes

ac3id · 4 years

Text

Impius

pairings: yandere!demon!namjoon x student!reader

summary: you are a rebel in your school. your teachers, parents, and even friends are fed up of you tactics. but your mysterious English teacher has taken an unusual interest you and promises to you show you a new world. a world better than the one you live in. how can you say no?

warnings: gender neutral reader, oral sex(m receiving),reader is also a virgin, age-gap kinda cus like namjoon is a demon whos 83756834758 years old n reader is a senior in highschool lmaooo

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

Like any other demon, Kim Namjoon needed to feed on human souls to exist. He hit the jackpot when he started as a teacher in Borealis Convent private boarding school. An endless supply of pure, untainted souls awaited him.

In a school that taught faith and hope, a demon lurked and controlled it from its shadow. He charmed everyone he met, his attractiveness added to his strengths, he was invincible. He had everyone in the school bent to his will, he was the ruler and no one questioned him.

Students often went missing which caused worries among school but as the principal magnificently covered up the disappearance, no one ever asked. The principal was a greedy pig. He had formed a contract with Namjoon- money exchange of his soul--How ironic.

They all blindly followed him not knowing he is the vicious monster they feared so much.

He lived peacefully- everything he needed was presented to him, he had no fear of losing anything. Everything fit perfectly under his fist and honestly, it bored him. But just then, you came along.

You were different from the others and, you knew it. Even though you knew that your parents and peers despised you for you being yourself, living life the way you wanted, you never gave into their greedy demands. You chose to stay true to yourself, fighting for your way, refusing to turn into another mindless robot who lived to satisfy the monstrous society. You felt bad for the others who could not see the world in your perspective- you, really did but the others didn't even try to give sympathy to you, they labeled you as a disgrace, a disappointment, anything vile so it could break your spirit and turn you into a follower whose only purpose is to serve money-hungry demons.

That was the reason he took a liking you. You shined like a diamond. No matter how hard they pushed you into the ground you never broke. You always got right back up, walking past the others- you were amazing. He couldn't wait to devour your soul.

Your soul was pure, unstained with the hunger of ambition he thought you would be his best meal but soon that hunger grew into something darker. Soon, he found himself obsessed with you- he wanted you all to himself, away from the rest of the world where no one could hurt you.

You and Namjoon grew close, he understood you like no one else. He was kind, gentle, caring, and oh so hot. You often found yourself thinking about him before you drifted off to sleep and it didn't take long for you to realize you were harboring a crush on your English teacher.The thought of Namjoon dominating you tantalizing and appealing in all the ways it made your insides twist with pleasure.

The thought that he would never be yours often sent you into a frenzy, some so many people suited him better than you did and it drove you mad. You wanted to be with him but you knew it would never be possible. So, you concealed your feelings deep in your heart for no one else other than yourself to bear with the pain of one-sided love.

You sat on the concrete floor skipping through the pages of your novel humming to yourself. Absorbed in the world of fiction, you did not hear the swift angry clicking of heels behind you until you felt your book being grabbed out of your hands by force.

You turned around to see who had interrupted you from your peaceful endeavor. Turning around, you immediately regretted it. Looking down at you was Mrs.Lee, her face scrunched as radiated murderous rage. She pulled you up from your elbow steadying you straight as she glared at you,

"What are you doing here, L/N?" she snarled at you her teeth clenched and arms crossed. You internally rolled your eyes, "I was reading a book." sarcasm settled heavily on your tongue as you mocked her and it drove even madder.

"During my class?"

"Yes."

There was silence followed by Mrs.Lee skimming through the pages if your novel. "This book is banned from the campus, how did you get it?" she asked with repressed anger in her voice, you shrugged your shoulders and answered, " I don't know" Mrs.Lee pulled your hand and started dragging you towards the exit, she murmured how it was 'over for you' but as both of you were about to exit a familiar face appeared in front of you.

"Mrs.Lee," Namjoon greeted, you sighed internally feeling relieved since you knew he would save you from three months of detention.

"Mr.Kim! How nice to see you and would you look at this, L/N is skipping classes again." She pushed you in front of him, you looked down at the floor avoiding eye contact with the tall man as you tried not to burst in a fit of laughter. Namjoon smirked at the down at you as he saw you struggle. He sighed and turned back to Mrs.Lee, with faux disappointment in his eyes he spoke, "I see, L/N is troubling you again. They are indeed the problem child aren't they?"

"They are always skipping class and causing trouble and look at what they were reading here!" She handed the scandalous novel to him. He looked over the hard copy, immediately recognizing the genre.

"Erotica on school grounds? Seriously L/N?" He questioned, his voice sent shivers down your spine as he spoke with a grimace in his tone.

You don't look up from the floor as you feel his gaze linger on you. The urge to laugh which floated your mind minutes ago dies down when you recognize his disappointment in you.

"Mrs.Lee, please don't waste your time on them. You head back to your class, I'll deal with L/N."

Mrs.Lee hesitates for a second but obliges when she feels Namjoon's demonic stare burn her soul. She leaves you alone with Namjoon and takes her exit.

You still look down on the floor, unable to look up at the dark-haired man in front of you.

"Y/N," he starts. A hand comes down on your shoulder and you finally look up at. He's smirking down at you, the book next to his face, "Do you, actually understand this book?" He asks. You feel your face flush at his implications as you stare off into the distance, "Yes, I do." you answer sheepishly.

You hear him laugh, his finger falls beneath your chin as he pulls your face up forcing you to look at him. "Are you a virgin, Y/N?" He asks his eyes staring deep into your soul, searching for something. You flush harder, your mouth agape, you blurt out a response, "That's inappropriate!!" Namjoon's smirk returns slowly casting into a sinister grin.

"What's inappropriate, Y/N? I simply asked you a question."

The longer you stared into his beautiful brown eyes, the more you felt yourself get riled up.

"So will you answer my question?" He asks- no demands.

"Yes." You meekly whisper. "Follow me."

You feel your heart hammer against your chest as he leads you to his office. He sits you down on the sofa while taking a seat opposite to you.

"Where did you find this book, Y/N," He begins, he sits with his leg spread as he leans forward moving closer to you his elbows rests on his knees. The book was placed on the small coffee table between the two sofas.

"My senior lend it to me," you look down at the book to avoid meeting at Namjoon's gaze. The way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine, it was dangerous and alluring.

"I see. Tell me, Y/N, when you read this book who do you think of?"

"W-What?" you shutter, you feel the room get hotter as it became harder to breathe, Namjoon sat in front of you his brow quirked he repeated the question. "When you read this book, who do you think of? There must be someone you want to do these things with?" His voice is like silk, you could just listen to him speak for hours on end.

"I don't- why are you asking me this!?" You squeal your face flushed red you recall all the nights you had spent awake thinking about the contexts of the book but instead of the main characters- it was you and him.

"Hey c'mon, why are you getting so angsty? If you tell me you want, I'll tell you who I want." Namjoon shifts in his seat, he leans back on the sofa his arms crossed over his chest. The smirk still played on his lips and the look in his eyes was coy. You clear your throat and answer,

"Jimin, I like him." You lie.

You did like Jimin but, it was nowhere close to how you felt about Namjoon.

your hands fidget , and He observes with a raised eyebrow.

"Jimin?" He questions, he is aware that you're lying but he decides to play along.

His eyebrows knit together and he sighs, "Well that's a shame. You want to know who I want?" you nod.

"You."

His lips curl as he looks down at you. Your eyes are wide open as you try to process his words. You try to come ready with a response but he beats you to it. "You know you're a bad liar? I know you want me too. Come here."

"Sir,- We're not supposed to," you being but he simply smirks, arms crossed on his chest. "Well, who's going to stop us?"

holding your hips down to keep you positioned securely on his lap

your body jolts against his, a pleased smile spreads across his face, his breath fanned across your neck as he pulled you closer.

"Sir, I-.." you begin, but your voice betraying you and leaving you speechless as his lips continue to trail over your neck, kissing along your jawline and to your chest and collarbones, placing wet kisses on every inch. Your head automatically tilt backs, your body reacting to his sinful touch and allowing him better access. His lips were so warm, You melted into his touch and felt your heart start to beat faster. A soft moan escapes your lips, his ministrations making you slightly dizzy and lightheaded.

"Tell me Y/N, what do you want?" the words almost tickle against your skin, a mix of fear and excitement dances in your eyes, your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. He can't help the small dimpled smile tugging on the corners of his lips. His lips move to the crook of your neck, the eagerness growing as his lips suck and nibble on your skin to leave a mark behind, letting his tongue lick the sore areas afterward.

You let your hands run along his chest, a thin layer of sweat had formed on his chest. His shirt clings to his skin, grabbing around it, and while pulling his shirt over his head, your palms pressed against his broad pectorals, completely lost in the curves of his body.

You felt dirty, but you'd be lying if you didn't crave more.

His hot breaths blew across your neck, making him shiver, his presence clouding your senses. Your lips hovering over his.

"Sir, please kiss me," you whine. He looks down at you which his hand strokes your thigh. "Sir? It's Namjoon baby. Ask again." His hot breath falls on your lips and you beg again.

"Please, Namjoon, kiss me."

He complies and crashes his lips onto yours when you feel his warm lips on yours, your entire mind fogs up. Everything's a blur as you move your lips against each other, his hand slides slowly along your thigh and tracing the patterns of your leggings with his fingers.

The kiss is intimate and rough, filled with passion. Your lips parted as his tongue slipped into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Your body melting against him as his tongue tempted and teased yours, dominating your mouth. Your hands move to his hair, tugging at his hair making him moan into your mouth.

His hands rest on either side of your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles on them, you could feel him growing hard under you, the feeling of his hardening bulge poking you was overwhelming. You held onto his shoulders and ground yourself against him, your hips moving against his. He was grinding with you at the same pace, lips still on yours as he let out low groans of satisfaction

he pulls away from you, your lips chasing after his.

"I want you on your knees, baby." He demands. Smirking down at you as you get down on your knees. He runs his tongue over his teeth, unzipping his pants and pushing them down to free his cock.

his dick lays against his stomach. He strokes himself, eyes boring into you as you crouch below him, eyes fixated on his length marveling at the sight

"I'll show you a new world, Y/N. Come here" he orders, motioning toward his bulge. "(c’mon baby, shoe me wat doze handz do lmao )"

Riding on the confidence from before, you reached out and gently gripped him at the base, pressing your thumb along the vein on the underside and relishing in the noises it draws out. You angle your wrist slightly so you can continue stroking the spot, while mentally making a note to yourself to remember it for future reference. You feet his hand in your hair, stroking, gripping ever so carefully.

His hand moved to cover yours, and he assists you in stroking your hand steadily pumping along his length.

"Like this, start slow." Your eyes widen in fascination, finding it impossible to form proper words, mouth watering the sight in front of you. Eyes trailing at the pre-cum leaking from the tip and licking it eagerly. Namjoon's strangled moan was all the encouragement you needed. You run your mouth around his dick while gazing up at his face-

"Fuck," swears escapes his plum lips, sending shivers down your spine. Gently letting go of your wrists as his eyes flutter close.

Namjoon's chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you as your tongue darts out of your mouth, licking up from the base towards the tip getting his dick wet. You take him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks around him, tongue lapping around whatever it could reach. He starts thrusting forward, right down your throat, You immediately start to gag and place your hands on thighs to keep you steady. A thin glistening layer of sweat forms against his forehead. His breath was heavy and ragged, his chest huffing

you moaned around his cock, jaw aching, knees in agonizing pain, his hand gripping harder at your hair. "Fuck yeah baby, your mouth feels so fucking good," he pants.

You take him further and further into your mouth, his groans get louder and more frequent. Your grip tightens around his strong thigh, nails digging into his muscle enjoying watching the pleasure wash over his face.

"Fuck," Namjoon growls through gritted teeth, and rolls his hips up into your throat, thrusting his hips with horny, reckless abandon.— which makes his thigh muscles tense.

Namjoon pulls out deliberately. His heavy pants accompanied a silent cry as he cums hard onto your face, stifled breaths cut short with a deep moan calling out your name. Gripping your jaw still in one strong hand his cock twitching before thick strings of cum spurting out and splashing across your face. Dripping over your swollen lips and dribbling down your neck, decorating the blossoming bruises painted on the expanse of your chest.

"you look so fucking sexy with my cum on your face, baby,"

"Such a dirty little rebel," He says in a breathy voice that sent shivers down your spine.

you fell back on your heels, feeling exhausted. You went to wipe your face, but he stopped you. Namjoon dragged his thumb through the mess on your cheek, collecting his release and bringing it to your lips, you eagerly sucked and swallowed at the cum-slicked fingers, moaning for more.

"You want more? Such a greedy little thing," He teases,

your quivering hand reaches out to gently push a strand of damp hair away from his forehead. His half-lidded eyes study your entire face before slowly dipping down to connect his lips with yours in a kiss.

Namjoon kisses your lips a little softer this time. You sighed into the kiss, relaxing a bit. His thumb drew small circles against your cheek as a way of comforting you and telling you that you've done a good job.

bonus-

[a/n: listening to blood,sweat and tears and house of cards while writig do be hittin different]

let us know if u want more bangtan content here

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

Here's an angsty prompt idea. After their latest battle with Eggman his latest invention inadvertently gets Amy sick which is quickly becoming fatal (not necessarily what IDW is doing but like same vibe you know). Sonic demands Eggman do something to fix this and save her. And we all know Sonic isn't the most emotionally vulnerable but when it gets touch and go he really fears it might be the end. But Amy gets healed and all's well that ends well. Appreciate it ^_^

Only if you’re okay with me going SUPER angsty lol.

-----------------*TRIGGER WARNING*--------: This will be dealing with disabilities/seizure like symptoms, if you are sensitive to this material, please read any of my other fanfictions! (As someone with Asbergers and ADHD, I hope you’ll understand that I know the severity of the context, but I’m in no way trying to make fun of or portray disability in any negative way. If my writing appears as such please note it was unintentional.)

I have put a ‘Keep Reading’ for those of you who wish not to read it.

(Image found from this location: (x), if you have art you’d like to showcase, I still need Preview Images! I’d love to have some helpful artist allow me permission to use their art with their links as credit to advertise their works and also for a preview image to my prompts, thank you so much and support the original creator of this image!)

Prompt:

After all was said and done... no one thought it would turn out like this.

Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Silver all piled around as Sonic sat beneath a shaded tree and held a sleeping Amy next to him.

“This doesn’t look too good...” Tails had taken a sample of Eggman’s third party experimental toxin, meant for Sonic but the enemy ended up targeting Amy as a test-run.

Needless to say, Eggman ended his alliance with the third party after he got ‘experimental crazy’ and decided he didn’t want to work with someone so trigger-happy.

The toxin seemed to place Amy in an endless sleep cycle, but she would twitch or sound off painful whimpers and groans and toss in the sleep at times.

“The data suggests it’s attacking her brain, working it’s way up from the injection point it was shot from all the way up the spinal chord, so it’s striking the main hub for communication signals to the rest of the body.” Tails was watching the gunky chemical inside her progressing at a sluggish pace as it infected up the spinal chord, but not quite at the brain yet.

The image made it look like it was hugging her spine and oozing its way up, but still had a ways to go.

Sonic blinked his eyes, not sure what this could all mean but looked down at Amy. She started her twitches and sounds of pain, so he took his hand and moved it up off of where she was leaning, looping it around to rub the opposite shoulder and looked back to Tails. Her struggles ended with struggling pants, before going back into a deep sleep.

Silver shook his head, folding his arms. He was clearly distressed, him and Amy had joined up early in the adventure, he felt this was somehow his fault, even though he did nothing wrong.

“That madman just kept shooting those shots with that drug everywhere! Whatever it is, it’s got to be a threat to the future as well.” He was so focused on the task at hand, that he hadn’t looked back until he heard Amy cry out and bent to a knee, seeing she had taken a hit for him.

Eggman hollered about waiting for Sonic to be the first hit, but the third party seemed to have their own agenda, and almost shot Eggman too.

Everyone escaped getting hit and defeated both him and Eggman before they parted ways, taking Amy’s limp form somewhere safe.

Before she was fully under the chemical’s effects, she had flinched and stiffened on the ground, trying to keep her pain silent before dropping into the blacked-out state...

“We have to find Eggman, he’s the one who knows the most about this experimental chemical.” Tails motioned his hands, then showed the gunk’s path upwards by pointing to Amy and traveling his hand up from where her spin would be. “We’ve still got time, a couple hours, just going off an estimate.”

Sonic looked back to Amy, “I can’t leave her like this, Tails. She’s unsafe, and that guy still hasn’t shown up yet.”

It was true that they lost sight of the mad scientist, but they were unaware Eggman had separated himself from their ‘unethical services’ but mostly because they wouldn’t follow orders.

Silver shook his head, getting a grip on his emotions. “I’ll do it.”

Knuckles, remaining silently crushed by the lack of help he could offer, turned in surprise to Silver.

“I’m partly the reason this happened... if I just had looked back and paid more attention to her...” he closed his eyes, clearly distraught as Knuckles turned his head away, also thinking that since Silver was with her, he should have been more attentive.

“It’s not your fault, Silver.” Showing some compassion, Tails moved over to him and placed a reassuring hand on Silver’s arm. “Honest, I’m sure if Amy could, she’d say the same thing too.”

Silver looked to Tails and sighed, nodding. During his brief moments of meeting her, he could tell she was a very kind girl.

“I know that, but... I still feel awful!” He kicked the ground and turned away, but looked back over his shoulder to Sonic. “Sonic,... I promise you, I’ll do what I can to keep her safe... but you have to go and confront Eggman about all this.” He swiped out his hand, showing his strong sense of justice as his eyebrows narrowed in his anger.

Sonic waited a moment, as though weighing his options and looked down at Amy.

He gently picked her up, and carried her over to Silver.

In a few short gestures with his eyes, he showed that he was passing the responsibility over to Silver, however short the time would be from him facing Eggman and then coming back to her.

They held a stare for a long time... as though both hedgehogs were making a silent contract, and Silver finally bowed slightly as he took Amy.

Sonic’s hand gripped her arm that was about to flop off her stomach and dangle to her side but his fast reflexes had caught it. He held it a moment, as though transferring the responsibility was a difficult decision. But... if there was hope, he was going to go for it, and Amy would have to be okay...

He had to make sure of it.

He slowly placed it back on her stomach, rubbing her hand discreetly as though promising her he wouldn’t be too long.

He then looked back up to Silver and nodded, the transaction was made and the message was loud and clear.

Don’t Fail.

As Sonic gestured for Tails and Knuckles to follow with a pivot to the new route and a nod, Tails spun his tails and lifted off the ground, taking one final look to Amy and Silver. He smiled weakly, as though also showing his agreement to this, and then went to follow Sonic.

Knuckles... just walked by, glaring Silver down... but finally he unfolded his arms and groaned towards the ground, taking off in a running start.

Looks like he felt too uneasy about this... but didn’t voice his concerns.

He was trusting that it was Sonic’s decision, and apparently would go with it. As he went though, he caught up to Sonic’s leisurely pace in waiting for him, and gave him the same uncertain glare he had given to Silver.

Another message between men: I don’t like this.

Sonic looked away from it, but his expression held no joy, only a serious focus towards the next, on-coming step and fight: I know. Neither do I.

Tails’s eyebrows bent, seeing the mute exchange between the two, his hands bundled up and held in as his usual go-to position for flying, but he turned his body around as he flew forward to look back at Silver holding Amy, his head slackening with his shoulders falling... Helpless.

Tails swallowed hard, “Be safe... Amy...” And didn’t look back...

When Silver finally took a deep, calming but determined breath in, he looked over to see Sonic and his friends had disappeared into the next zone.

“I won’t be naive this time.” He told himself, and headed towards the X-Tornado, stationed just beside the tree. “This time... I won’t make anyone worry.”

It was several hours later as Silver sat down after collecting water and watched Amy on the ground. He fiddled with his gloves, growing a bit restless, wanting to help protect the future but knowing his place was to protect Amy for now.

He looked up and used his telekinesis to fiddle with a blade of grass, making it move left or right and tugging on it but not enough to pull it from the ground.

The world was so beautiful to him... he didn’t want even one blade to die in it.

That thought... led him to look over at Amy.

His eyes bent and it was clear he was remembering her finding him, and how sweet and bubbly she was... she had persisted in joining him for his search for Sonic, carrying a warning that he never knew would have benefited her to know... why did he feel the need to keep it a secret for only Sonic to know?

It wasn’t like he disregarded her, but maybe he didn’t value her company as much as he should.

Now, seeing her so still upon the ground... the wind not even reaching her... It was all a bit much to bear.

He tucked his head down between the gap of his raised knee and bent arm, trying to hide his emotional state as his eyes squinted and mouth trembled.

He wasn’t crying, but he was also trying to fight the sensation of being about to cry.

Then it happened.

She started another twitching and jerking, making odd sounds that spooked him.

“N-no, you’re okay. You’re okay..!” he rolled to his knees and held his hands out as though once again... feeling helpless.

Even his words were desperate to sound comforting, but his panic was so relevant in them.

He used his powers to get a blob of the fresh water he had collected up into the air, moving it towards her mouth.

“Please Amy... just endure it a little longer...” He pleaded, before he heard a large crash and turned around.

The water fell to her side, as the twitching and flinching became minor, but still happening.

He saw a fallen tree, and narrowed his eyes at it before gasping as a robot from the third party, clearly stolen from Eggman’s designs, began to approach.

Then more and more of Eggman’s stolen property, with new logos that were just slapped on over Eggman’s logo sticker started approaching him.

“Not again...” Silver’s fists shifted into a rage-filled jerk, as though in one swift moment, he was ready to destroy and protect. “I won’t let you hurt anyone ever again!”

As the robots all raised their machine-gun arms, having detected them, it was clear they weren’t shooting bullets... but darts.

“Ur-rah!” Silver lifted up the X-Tornado with his power and held it up as cover to the shots fired. The darts stabbed into the X-Tornado, and the black substance was evident in a small cylinder attached to the dart’s tip.

It leaked into the X-Tornado,... but at least it wasn’t into anyone’s body.

He rose to a knee, shoving the X-Tornado forward to push the robots down. Amazingly, the X-Tornado didn’t even dent in, but was still perfectly intact.

However, some of the darts did bend like a nail having been jammed in the wrong way.

He shoved the X-Tornado to the side and skidded the robots hide off of it, shoving them back into the forest where they came from.

He stopped only to look down at Amy, her twitching much less now, but it was clear something was happening.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes still glossy from his despair before at her condition. “Hang on, Amy... They aren’t getting you. You’re no one’s experiment!” he moved one arm away from lifting the X-Tornado, but his balanced faltered now that one arm was using his psychic power to lift the huge plane up.

He strained, sweat falling from his brow as he jammed his teeth together even more and tried lifting Amy up from the ground too... then himself.

It was a huge escape effort, two hands carrying one large plane’s weight in one hand, and the other with him and Amy.

Knowing his power was faltering at handling too many objects at once, and one being massive, he kept feeling himself dropping and having to catch himself.

When Amy jerked, his mental concentration was momentarily lost and he almost dropped her.

That was the last straw.

“I can’t out run them.” He looked around, knowing he needed a better solution. “I’ll have to hide you and distract them.”

Seeing in the distance a mountain, he pulled up his legs, gathering the rest of his courage and strength, and shot himself towards it.

There was a cave!

His expression turned to joy at the realization, and he quickly flew down to it. “That looks safe!” he exclaimed, gliding down and putting the X-Tornado in the cave first, in and off to the back left where another tunnel formed from the main one.

Out of sight.

“Okay, Amy... Please forgive me...” He caught her into his arms, and held her tightly, dipping his head down in shame at having to leave her side. “Sonic... I said I’d do my best... this is my best option... please believe me...” He flew up to the plane’s passenger cockpit, thinking that if anyone did discover the plane, they would see there’s no pilot and perhaps not search it further but abandon it.

He lifted the clear shielding and placed her in the seat, strapping her in.

She had stopped twitching, and worried, he put two fingers to her nose and mouth.

Shallow breathing...

He frowned, but leaned forward and hugged her head one last time.

When he heard more logs crashing and snapping from being trampled by robot bodies forcing their way through the landscape, his head swung up to check the cave and hurriedly dropped the shielding down again.

“I’ll come back, and hopefully, I’ll bring Sonic and some good news too.” both hands were against the shield, he moved his face closer to look in and still saw her asleep.

“...I’m sorry.” He turned his head away, flying off from the plane’s exterior slowly... danging himself in the air before looking back to the entrance of the cave, having flown into the center tunnel way again and looked as though he was prepared to battle.

He shot out of the cave and began hitting the robots with his power, ramming them into each other and denting their hides till they sparked. “This way!” he cried out, and led the assault of robots after him.

More hours passed...

Shadow was running off with a stolen formula blueprint, trying to evade flying robots that were even greater rip-offs of Eggmans.

As he turned into a cave to hide, he walked down it stealthily, still holding the container with the data chip inside it.

“Rouge, I’ve got it.” he spoke out, touching a device by his ear as he examined the cylinder container further.

“Does it have it?” her voice rang urgently through the mic.

“No... but my scanners say it should be... what?” He walked towards the hidden tunnel path and his eyes widened.

“Shadow? What’s wrong? What are you getting?”

“It’s...” His eyes traveled down the darkness from the plane’s tip, seeing it littered on the side with darts. “The X-Torn-... AH!” his shock couldn’t have been more real as he hurriedly jumped from the cave’s side to the plane’s hide and pulled an intact dart out.

He tilted the chemical inside it... watching it slosh around.

“It wasn’t an error... they’re here!” He exclaimed, but hearing the robots outside, he moved down the plane’s top and kept stealthily pulling out more darts.

“Incredible! Way to go, Shadow! Who knew this abandoned G.U.N base would come so much in handy..! Oh, that’s right. I did. Is it some sort of secret lab..?”

He ignored Rouge’s gloating when his foot hit something in the dark, another cockpit. He looked back to adjust his foot and get around it,... when a darkened silhouette that didn’t match the angles of machinery caught his attention.

Then the shaded figure began to violently twitch and cause a ruckus, almost like a seizure episode.

The thrashes completely threw Shadow off guard, and he stumbled back, his expression showing his horror at whatever beast was trapped inside.

“Rouge, there’s something else here.” He didn’t have time to explain, but pulled out a Chaos Emerald, “Chaos Control!” he illuminated the cave and his entire demeanor fell into a grave look of confusion.

“It can’t be...” His eyes darted left and right, examining her condition as he couldn’t understand what he was witnessing. “It’s-!”

But before he could continue to explain to Rouge, who was blind as a bat from only being able to listen in and not see what was going on, robot steps started echoing in the cave. He turned around, a look of serious emergency on his face.

“Shadow!? What did you find!? Don’t leave me in the dark here! What’s all that thumping sound!? Shadow! Shadow, respond!”

“Not now, Rouge!” he killed the mic, tossing it to the ground as he ripped it off his ear and used Chaos Spears to jam into the shield and break the material.

He unstrapped her from the seat, feeling her flopping onto him and helped her over his shoulder. “Darn, I was hoping for more samples, but this is too important.” He turned back to the see the robots’ lights now come on, searching like a beacon out at sea in all sorts of directions... it was as though they were hurrying to find him too...

He jumped down and consequently crushed the G.U.N earpiece on his decent down, hurrying to the back of the cave.

When the robots fired on their jets, he knew he was heard.

“Chaos-!” he held up the Chaos Emerald. “Control!” and teleported through time and space.

Back with Rouge, she was complaining how the old computers couldn’t diagnose Amy and scan the chemical at the same time.

“What’s more important?” Shadow folded his arms, looking to Amy, “A life or a future life?” then glared to Rouge as though it wasn’t an option to contradict him.

She looked to Amy, not shaking anymore and sighed, knowing the answer as she cut off the research side of the computer and turned on it’s scanners.

“This is bad...” Rouge saw the screen... “The chemical has spread up her spinal chord and has it’s greasy little tethers at the base of her brain.”

“That’s impossible.” Seeing the image, Shadow’s arms dropped and he lurched forward, as though he wasn’t expecting the results to be this severe. “The chemical compound would need an extraordinary amount of time before reaching that far! Where was the injection location?”

When he turned back to Rouge... her hands were trembling, hovering over the keyboard.

He looked up to see her eyes mortified at these readings of Amy’s current state, and Shadow had to approach her and pull her away from the computer, quickly typing in to see more data.

It took all of Rouge’s strength to look away, turning back to Amy and covering her mouth, reaching for her hand.

“How... How could this happen?” Her voice was choking up, “Sonic... Sonic would never allow this to happen! How could they just abandon her like that!” she hit her hand holding Amy’s into the table she was laid out on.

“Keep it together, Rouge.” Shadow’s voice sounded controlled, as though a solider, keeping the trauma at bay and back away from his work. “We need a cure.” He continued, “Or the rest of us are going to end up this way.”

“Who says they haven’t already!?” Rouge’s back bent forward as she coughed into her hand, unable to keep her emotions under control with a sight like this. “She’s slipping away and they just left her there to-!”

Shadow flung around and gripped her hand, pulling her back to him.

His glare said it all.

Don’t assume anything.

She felt her knees get weak and slowly lowered herself to sit on the ground, her wings drooping in stages as they lowered down and dragged against the floor.

Shadow just watched her and removed his aggressive grip on her wrist as it slipped through his grasp. He didn’t mean to be so hostile, but now wasn’t the time to judge others’ actions.

It was the time to act and save.

“I will find Sonic.” He declared, moving back over to the panel of controls and typing in more directives. “I’ve seen enough to know her state... she still has some time before it completely eats away at her mind.” the entire computer shifted over to what looked like research on the chemicals being scanned. “The amount we found should be plenty, I’ve set the computer to reverse engineer. It will take some time... but keep her alive till I can bring Sonic and his friends here... to answer for what they’ve done.” With that last sentence, Rouge looked up to see the pain in his eyes... to show he had a heart after all.

Did he have doubts that Sonic wasn’t as kind and admirable as he had seemed to be? The answer was a resounding yes. He wasn’t denying Rouge’s accusations, but wasn’t going to give in to them until he had the truth.

Nothing was being ruled out, and Rouge nodded as she wiped her wetted eyes and stood back up, being brave.

“Make sure you give them what they deserve for me... Shadow.” she moved back to Amy’s side, and Shadow closed his eyes as though silently accepting that he would.

“If all looks lost...” He began, turning his back to her and talking over his shoulder.

She shook her head, raising her head up as though to catch any remaining wetness from becoming tears.

He looked back towards the exit, not finishing the thoughts, per her body language’s request... and took off.

More hours passed...

“This is ridiculous!” Rouge was surrounded by Eggman’s robots, but stood in front of them and held her arms out to keep them from approaching Amy. “You expect me to believe you came all this way for her!? And not to get your greedy hands on the chemical!?”

“My machines are already leagues ahead of your outdated G.U.N technology!” Eggman’s voice billowed through one of the robots, holding guns made of lazer-power towards her. “As you can see, I’m not equipped with that awful drug. I had thought it would make controlling mindless robots easier to get rid of the human mind entirely, I had no idea what they were really working on...” he confessed, pausing Rouge a moment as she listened to what he was saying. “Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d rather have something to barter with when Sonic realizes I’ve parted ways with the mad professor...”

“So she’s your bait and switch!?” Her leg swung as though threatening to drill into his robots.

“W-woah, woah, calm down, Mama Rouge. I have a nutralizer I created for myself in case this might happen... It would benefit both me and Amy’s current state to test it out, don’t you agree?” His voice sounded as though he was trying to negotiate. “Yes, I want Sonic’s fury to be redirected, but that doesn’t mean I have no intention to present a perfectly healthy Rose to him... Savvy?”

She... slowly lowered her foot down, still ticked off as the robots surrounded Amy and began to move her into a floating transport pod.

“There, now we see eye to eye...”

“If anything happens to her Eggman...” She flew to sit on the end of the pod, showing she was coming too. “You’re screwed.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that... come along then.” he groaned, showing his own ‘calm distress’ as the robot he was speaking through turned and the rest marched out with the transport pod in the middle.

Getting to Eggman’s base, his computer screens were massive compared to the old G.U.N base... but as Rouge stayed by Amy’s side... Eggman’s face grew more and more like stone...

The results... were not in his favor.

As though whimsical at first, he was now showing signs of racing against the clock. Treating Rouge like a nurse all of a sudden, he spoke quickly out without a shred of emotion, only hurry. “That extraction gun. Over there.”

Rouge was being to panic at his odd shift in behavior, but quickly used her wings to push herself to move faster, rapidly grabbing the object he barely gestured to and rushing back to him with dust flying up in her wake.

“She better make it Doc.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Hold her down, she’s not going to like this.” He jammed the gun’s barrel to her side.

“DOCTOR!” Rouge shoved it off her body, “Have you lost your mind!?”

“Rouge, if you interfere, I’ll be sure to blame the consequences on you.” His threat was nothing like she had seen from him before... and complying, she did as she was told.

She pushed Amy’s arms down to the her sides, over her head as Eggman swung the gun back into position.

“What will it do to her?”

He said nothing, only working fast, moving some parts on the gun as it lit up, and then cocked it.

“Eggman...” her plea revealed her fear...

He shot into Amy’s side.

Amy’s body lurched forward and from her, a painful cry.

“Keep her down.” Eggman seemed to be grabbing a stick with movable features and cocked it back again.

An odd substance started draining into the gun.

“You’re not gonna do it again!” Rouge cried out, but Eggman just lowered the gun and let the substance spill into it.

“Could you not talk and let me work, woman!?” Eggman rudely spat out as he watched the substance mingle with some blood... before unhooking it from her side and grabbing some medical supplies to stop the bleeding. “There... if anyone asks...” He kept one hand on the bandage... ��I did what I could.”

Rouge saw the grim look on his face and her’s finally broke.

She looked back to Amy, who was slowly coming too, but something was off with her.

Eggman looked away, “I stopped the process.”

“You what?” Rouge saw him turn his face away from her, as though he was hiding something.

“...It’s damage could be recovered... but that’s up to Amy now...” he was speaking too sorrowfully, as though trying to distance himself from the situation.

Rouge wouldn’t allow it.

“EGGMAN!” she grabbed his padded shoulder and yanked him down, he let her, though it was clearly uncomfortable for a man of his height to slump so far to the side like this. She hollered frantically in his ear, “You tell me what you don’t want me to know!”

He grimaced, as though not wanting to but then Amy stirred again.

Her body did some more twitches... as though her muscles were aching, before she slightly... opened her eyes.

Rouge released Eggman and appeared right by her side in seconds, “Amy..? Sweetie, tell me you’re okay.” she placed a hand to her cheek.

“...Rrrrouge...” she breathed out.

Rouge sighed in relief and dropped her head, “Thank Chaos.”

But... when she looked to see Eggman’s face.

Stone.

Why wasn’t he relieved too?

Rouge, worried again now, looked back to Amy.

She was making odd hums, as though waking up, but something was off with them. She looked to Eggman, “Egg...” she said, but began to create weird forms with her mouth, and Rouge’s hand twitched off her cheek as she continued to move as though unused to her limps.

Rouge’s chest rose and fell... “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded, feeling her heart tighten as though not wanting to beat anymore. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?!” she turned to Eggman but that was when Sonic, Silver, Tails, Knuckles, and Shadow busted through the door as it feel like cold steel to the empty entrance.

“Rouge!” Shadow cried out, and it was clear Silver was beaten down and bruised... what had happened?

Knuckles darted by the two, followed by a speedy blue blur and Tails... was frozen in fear.

Amy’s eyes wouldn’t concentrate on anything, and her expression didn’t match the situation at all.

Sonic’s blur paused in front of her... stone.

Knuckles halted his franic steps... before looking to the screen, then back to her... his footsteps slowed... and then he fell to his knees.

He bashed his fist into the ground, and then lowered his back as though unable to look further.

Silver’s eyes shook, “Is she..?”

Shadow turned his head away, and Tails finished everyone’s trail of thought...

“She’s... gone.” He gripped his head.

“B-but she’s alive!” Silver gestured to her, grabbing Tails’s shoulder, “She’s still moving!”

“She’s not there!” Tails jerked himself away from Silver, “Her mind’s gone! The Amy we knew is gone!” he cried out, crying and cringing as he fell to the ground, sobbing. “It’s been too much time... We traveled to the cave and she wasn’t there. That took time!” He gripped his chest as Silver’s world began to crash down on him. “Shadow took time to find us!” He seemed to curl up on the ground, as Amy gestured a hand in the air, as though trying to grab something flying around her, as though in her mind... things were different. “We were stopped by that man and had to fight for our lives! We finally got him taken care of and unable to stop us further, but then Shadow got the G.U.N results remotely and my miles-electric had to download the signal, that meant we waited!” he gripped his head again, panting and wheezing as though also going through a mental breakdown. He started shouting as the room fell motionless... still... except for Amy. “When we discovered that the chemical probably had destroyed half of her already, we rushed to find Rouge!”

The situation looked like they were hung up on a wild goose chase, trying to scramble around and find Amy.

“BUT WHEN WE GOT THERE SHE WAS GONE!”

Rouge collapsed to the ground, covering her face with one hand, but through the slits in her fingers, her eyes shrunk and trembled.

“WE COULDN’T SAVE HER!”

-Many days later...-

Cream was out with Amy, supervised by Vanilla as she sat on a bench and walked the two. Cream was bending down to pick flowers, but Amy was staring up at the sky, as though transfixed on something, before Cream held up a flower and she took it, wobbling it in front of her face.

Cream gave a forced smile, just glad that it amused her.

Then... beside Vanilla... Sonic appeared.

“..How is she?” he asked, but his usual cheer and charisma was gone.

Vanilla smiled and looked down to her hands laying gracefully on her lap. “... Her appetites good... she only says one syllable words though... and not many for several days now.” She looked back up with a mother’s care at the two girls, seeing Cream and Cheese try to engage Amy but Amy was still shaking the flower profusely in front of her eye.

Sonic also stared... then folded his arms and adjusted his balance, looking on the ground as though uncomfortable.

“...Does she recognize anyone?”

“She recognizes Cream, but doesn’t seem to notice me. She’ll speak to Cream, but not engage me.” There was some pain being held back in her words... “I hand feed her... But sometimes she bats my face or shoves my hand away.”

Sonic turned abruptly away from her, “I don’t need to hear that!”

“... You asked...” she lowered her head, as though she’s been answering politely for too long, and so she told him the truth to see if that would satisfy him. “She may never get any better, Sonic... You come by and ask but I always tell you the same, kind things... today, you must face the possibly that Amy may be mentally disabled for life now.”

Sonic whole being tensed up, but not wanting to lash out at her, he held it in, struggling.

“... You should see her. Talk with her.” Vanilla finally said, looking to him, “She’d like that.”

“...I don’t think I can handle if-” he cut himself off, hearing the shift in his voice cracking and not liking his emotions being so real in front of others. He cleared his throat and looked to the sky... just like Rouge had done to keep the wetness in her eyes. “If she doesn’t know me.”

Vanilla remained silent, but like a loving mother, got up and embraced Sonic from being, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning her cheek into his, rubbing and stroking his head to calm him down.

“Her mind may not, but her heart will always know who you are, Sonic. You should speak to her.”

With that kind, motherly encouragement, Vanilla called back Cream and Cheese and took her hand as Cream took Cheese’s arm.

“We’ll give you two some space.” she moved further down the trail as Sonic was now solely in charge of watching her.

He took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable, but walked softly over to her, trying not to spook her.

He bent down by her side, “Hey,... Amy.” He felt a lump in his throat as his smile he had tried to summon for her sake vanished at the sight of the flower falling from Amy’s hands and her taking a few seconds to stop shaking, and just stare at her hand while her damaged brain tried to figure out what had happened.

He closed his eyes, sitting down from his squat and finding this terribly hard.

He had avoided this for so long... he had beaten up Silver in his rage and then yelled at Shadow for leaving her as well.

By the time he got to Rouge and Eggman, there was no rage, only heartache.

“It’s been a long time...” He admitted, “That we haven’t seen each other.” He pressed his two fingers into his eyes, and as he strained against crying, his lips trembled like Silver’s had once done... and it was clear he was on the verge of crying.

That’s when Amy’s eyes blinked and she turned to look at him.

She made some weird mumbling sounds that were in-cohesive, and hit his shoulder with a few strong bats.

“Ow, ow, stop!” he leaned away and held up his hand, catching her slapping hand.

“Son.” she said the first syllable of his name,... stared at him... and then angrily, almost child-like, began to hit him again.

“Woah, stop,.. stop,.. stop!” he kept counter-weighting the hand as she hit before trying to pull away from his touch, crying out as he finally let her go and she scrunched her arms into herself.

He didn’t know how to handle this, but he was going to do his best. “Do you... do you know who I am.”

She made a strange, but clearly upset face, and glared at the ground.

“... I’m so sorry.”

“Son...”

“I failed you.”

“Son...”

“I shouldn’t have left you there. I should have let Silver go with Tails and Knuckles. I shouldn’t have blamed him either... I should have listened to Knuckles’s gut feeling... he kept bringing it up and I kept thinking we had more time. I shouldn’t have punched and kicked him... I shouldn’t have shouted at Shadow... I should have just run, like I always do. I should have ran straight to you and I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Amy. I’m so-... I’m so lost without you.”

Amy’s body turned away from him.

It was a beautiful sky... a wonderful summer day... a perfect scene for a picnic or family outing.

But there they were, a broken man once revering himself as a hero... and a broken girl who he missed dearly.

Then, as though a snake about to strike, her hand went back up to strike him... but he began to cry.

Her hand twitched and slowed... before landing on his head.

“...Son...ic.”

He kept crying.

“Son.. ic... cry...”

He didn’t notice.

“Son..ic.. don’t... cry...”

Then his ear twitched, and his eyes shook a moment as they grew wider and wider.

“Sonic...”

He turned to look at her.

She was crying...

He watched... then cried out, “Vanilla!!!” his voice rang through the flowered fields...

It took time, but with help, Amy slowly recovered, and Sonic was with her every step of the way.

(A huge AU, but ya know, I thought-- ‘what’s worse than a huge side-effect that would lead Sonic to his breaking point?’ here you go~)

#sonamy #sonicxamy #sonamy prompt #amy rose hurt fic #amy rose prompt #disability warning

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davidlynchschreibner · 4 years

Text

A long while ago an anon asked me for Davenzi touch headcanons and as happened previously it spiraled out of control into a snapshot-style fic. I left it a long time but with other angsty projects in the works I think it is high time for a fluff break. I hope you enjoy!

A Love Song In The Language Of Hands

With a mother whose arms had always been open for him to crawl into, a boisterous extended family during summer holidays, and friends who drape limbs over each other with thoughtless ease, Matteo has never had any real cause to be touch-starved. Yet, he finds that he has become most spoiled by the ready availability. He asks for nothing but observes how his bones ache and muscles cramp if he goes too long without physical contact. It sates that twinging discomfort to feel a hand on his back, passing over his hair, flicking the round tip of his nose. As he submerges in the warmth he realizes how much he had missed letting it soak in. Readily he gives back, reaching with his hands as once his heart could not, and revels in the care he can exchange. But while the affections of his family both blood and chosen quench his thirst, David is a pitcher of water drawn from an abundant well and the shady cool of a shelter to drink it in. Matteo feels quickly parched for want of the warm press of his body and chapped lips sliding over any available skin. Where the hugs of his friends soothe an ache David’s touch is a euphoric pleasure. So he’s always groping around for it in daylight, artificial light, and darkness. They are teased for their relentless displays of affection but any potential embarrassment rebounds off him without even leaving a scuff mark. Matteo isn’t particular about the method or the mood of their touches but he always craves them. Even a playful slap is good if its David’s hand that’s connecting. He doesn’t have a reason to need like this. But every day he does.

They have equally restless hands. David is an artist and through his eyes Matteo is the first masterpiece he can touch. Not like the stylized saints or marble heroes which awe viewers in museums. Nor the beautiful street art that spills over high city walls and the crumbling innards of abandoned buildings. Matteo is low to the ground, spindly, undecorated when he peels off his many patterned layers. David finds him a perfect canvas that begs for sweeps of paint and ink. The smooth hills of Matteo’s shoulderblades and the sharp mountain range of his spine make a small world to populate with myriad creations. Matteo loves David’s art with oceanic depth and power; he is eager to be part of it. It begins with a bird, a question, and a pen. They both find David’s little portrait on Matteo’s shoulder immensely satisfying. Later, Matteo volunteers to trial a design David is debating for a character and all frustration evaporates as he works. David admires the design after, blows air across the non-toxic paint to dry it, and says only ‘perfect’. With this in mind, Matteo discovers an excellent way to vent stress. When the feelings inside make David feel his skin is stretched too thin Matteo offers for David to communicate in the way he does best--- with art. He works so delicately and diligently, unspooling all the tangled cares of his day and putting them where they are felt, acknowledged, and later washed away by the shower. Matteo lies still for however long it takes, occasionally humming a gentle query or a contented encouragement, until David is almost as relaxed as the puddle of boy beneath him. With an admiring eye the artist observes his work and the way Matteo shows through in the spaces between lines. He smoothes his hands over the fresh ink, uncaring of the way it smudges in places, and presses a kiss to the top of Matteo’s tawny head.

It didn’t take long for Matteo to learn he loves the springy curls of David’s hair beneath his fingers. In quiet moments he strokes tender touches over the pleasantly textured strands, meditating with abstract appreciation how beautiful his boyfriend is. David never lets anyone else touch his hair (would understandably bristle if they tried) but he allows even the most provocative of ruffles because this is Matteo’s love language. His hands are not mean when they tug, not dehumanizing when they reach, not careless when they accidentally get tangled. They can give in their turn the softest admiration and comfort that cards away all worry. The underlying love can be felt no matter what the particular delivery method is. It would be a lie to say that Matteo doesn’t take advantage of his unique permission. Whether it is a playful mussing, sliding his hands into the tight whorls in order to push away or bring closer the face he loves so well, or reverent strokes reserved for private moments, it’s a treasured indulgence. David has grown to enjoy lying pliant under gentle attentions. When they’re curled together in bed or on the living room sofa with a film playing on the television he becomes so relaxed beneath the steady passes over his scalp that he’s fallen asleep on more than one occasion. Matteo buries his fingers in the thickness of the top, rubs over the shaved sides, traces the fine wisps that frame David’s hairline. He loves every hair on David’s head and what he can say with the ways hands move over them.

It’s not a feature most people give thought to but David thinks Matteo’s forehead is particularly well suited to kisses. It’s one of his favourite spots made all the more attractive for being usually covered by tangled ribbons of hair. They tumble into his eyes and move across in unpredictable patterns that shift the slivers of skin between with every movement. Matteo’s forehead isn’t seen in full often but David never forgets the warm plane and the way it curves around his eyebrows. There is a variety of ways to kiss it, each one a silent message that David’s intuitive boyfriend is an expert at interpreting. A slow press still humid with the shared moisture of many kisses says a silent ‘I love you’. A hard smack planted while Matteo tries to dodge teases ‘you’re my favourite idiot’. A feathery brush is an acknowledgment of connection when it feels like there is not enough time in the world. The lingering kiss that rests long and is eventually replaced by David’s cheek murmurs ‘there’s nowhere and no one better than you’. There’s a short peck reserved for praise which makes Matteo’s cheeks dimple and glow more than any flattering words. Sometimes his brow is wrinkled with the swells of his stressors and David traces his lips over the lines until they relax back into smoothness. When David is otherwise occupied with the demands of school, work, and his activities for the student group he volunteers with he apologizes for not being his best self with a firm kiss to Matteo’s temple. They’re still discovering the endless vocabulary of forehead kisses. And they have all the time in the world.

For all that David once fashioned himself a vampire it’s really more Matteo that has an interest in necks. David’s pointedly and specifically. It has always been this way even in the swaddled months of winter, back when they were both hiding in too many layers of clothes and anxiety and David first stood in the WG’s kitchen stripped down to a low-necked shirt. Matteo is quite enthralled with the long lean line his boyfriend displays when he turns his head. His eyes trace the curve from a distance, track the way it bobs when David swallows, shine with contentment when they come indoors from the cold and he watches David unwind his scarf. It’s Matteo’s special place to lavish kisses of both the tender and excited variety. A butterfly-soft contact to reassure, a passionate mouthing in the heat of the moment, a slow press in place of those three precious words. It makes his skin tingle and tighten pleasantly when he runs his lips over David’s throat in the early morning and a patch of stubble pricks him. Sometimes he buries his face there, just presses into the curve of David’s throat and breathes him in. It presses safety into his nerves, the shape slim but solid like the trunk of a young tree, and fragrant with his favourite person’s scent. Despite the strength of it this is such a vulnerable location and they both know it. The skin is thin over blood and bone and he sometimes revels in the fact David is completely at ease beneath his touch. Never shies, never tenses, instead tilts his head in invitation and wraps Matteo up in the warmth of his arms and sunbeam smile.

It’s a very common occurrence to find Matteo lying against David in lazy cat-like fashion and this sight is the one which readily comes to mind. But this is not always the case. It’s fact that David takes immense pleasure in curling his arms around the relaxed borders of the person that embodies home. He would do so until they both surrender to inevitable eternity. But the times where he curls into Matteo and lays his head down are also plentiful. They instinctively relax each other and find the grooves where they can fit together. Sometimes David releases the mindful control with which he guides his life and lets himself dissolve. With a contented puff of air he rests the head so heavy with thoughts in all the dips and bends of Matteo’s body. They cradle him with wordless patience and support. Whether it’s the soft bellows of Matteo’s belly, the sinuous hammock of his shoulder, or the firm plate of his chest, David feels the weight of his skull absorbed as easily as an empty eggshell. Other times, he is thinking of nothing serious at all and feels anchored to the world by the grounding pressure against his head. He turns his cheek into the divots between ribs and listens to the metronome of Matteo’s breath. Or Matteo does something annoying and David lets his head lift and thump back in fond rebuke. Or gently, so as not to jostle their brains, David slots his head just beneath Matteo’s and feels them rest like stacked stones. David can always rest his head on Matteo and the same is true in reverse.

Matteo is fascinated by David’s hands. They are useful in ways he loves to count and he thrills at what they can do. Yet they are not big or heavy with those abilities. The slim lengths of his brown fingers slide between Matteo’s pale digits like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place. Their palms are exactly the same size as he idly measured the first time they pressed together. Beautiful hands, he thinks, capable of both labor and the softest of touches. Long ago Matteo’s hands felt cold with emptiness that longed for another to enfold. It seemed perhaps he would never have that--- especially not from a boy. But David is always eager. In bed or on the street his fingers spread invitingly and prove ready to hook around Matteo’s. He loves those generous hands and how well they care for him. David knows when Matteo is anxious by the way his fingers twitch with the urge to fidget. The calloused pad of David’s thumb rubs soothingly over the nearest knuckle. If Matteo’s hand clenches suddenly tight he’s reaching his snapping point and David quickly places himself between whatever the trigger is and his boyfriend. When Matteo is wilting with the exhaustion of prolonged social engagement he slots their fingers together like a seamless mechanism, squeezes weakly, and David squeezes back in agreement. Then the former gets towed by the hand to an available space where things are less hectic. He’s tugged to lying his weary body against the strong support of David’s with their hands still intertwined. Their palms and fingers speak to each other with a language no one else understands.

Love can be expressed with roughness, David has discovered. He grins when Matteo shoves him across the couch, glares without real ire when teeth nip him, enjoys the way he can’t properly pin his boyfriend down because he fights dirty. The burn in his muscles when they wrestle is like a joyful flush. No matter how tenderly he’s cared for Matteo is still untamed. But that’s perfect--- David wants to be challenged and played with. Matteo pokes him in the side when he’s trying to focus and he slaps at the offending finger to make it go away, but it’s already been retracted in favor of an expectant expression that’s difficult to resist. If he wants to linger in bed (as happens every now and then) but Matteo wants to make breakfast he will seize David by the ankle and try to drag him off the mattress and even across the room should it come to that. They race each other and Matteo cheats to get ahead, but then David tackles him to the ground and they’re both yelling and laughing too much to go on. One day they are talking about something tedious and Matteo starts hitting him repeatedly with a pillow. With a frustrated growl David rips it from him and squashes the soft stuffing into Matteo’s face until he signals that he needs a breath. Even when David swallows it back because really he is irritated there’s always a sound of delight vibrating inside him. The other boy is a complete menace but it’s invigorating, lights him up inside, and is somehow more charming than good manners. His stomach jumps and then explodes upwards into butterflies when he’s given that devilish grin presaging some mischief. It’s not a delicate declaration of ardor but they are not fragile.

Their feet tangle and press when they lie together. Sometimes in the heat of summer cuddling is too sticky and they sleep sole to sole like sets of palms in prayer. Matteo loves thick socks, the fluffier the better, so the bottoms of his feet are kept smooth as silk. David began life running barefoot outdoors and his feet are calloused with years of pounding the ground, jumping, twisting inside his trainers so that the soles of his feet scrape. Matteo traces the arch of David’s foot with his toes and marvels at how the other boy is not at all ticklish. In the slanting light of another afternoon David balances a book at an awkward angle because their legs are wound together like a trailing plant and Matteo is cuddled under his other arm. Sometimes when they wrestle David seizes his boyfriend’s leg between both of his and holds tight against the wriggling and kicking as Matteo struggles to gain the upper hand. Eventually they declare a stalemate and lie panting with their limbs still twined. As their breathing quiets into sleepy softness Matteo burrows his foot beneath the edge of David’s trouser leg and runs his toes up the curve of the calf inside it, shivering as rough hairs brush against his skin. In winter Matteo’s feet are consistently freezing but David’s are always warm. They snuggle into the pile of blankets like two birds in the nest. Without being asked David stretches across the cool bedsheets and folds Matteo’s icy feet between the pleasant heat of his own. Like their hands, their feet are often holding each other.

The ways in which they affirm their love through touch are many and ever expanding. It’s impossible to count every expression and location and occasion. There are, David thinks, as many types of touch as there are words in the dictionary. Every one is listened to and remembered. Some spoken sharply, softly, slow and slurred, a burst of sound, an entire speech, staccato. They whisper in the dreamy dark and shout so suddenly it’s startling. Matteo has always been slow to find his words but he writes David beautiful sonnets with his fingers. David sometimes doesn’t know how to say what he is thinking but he can explain with the way he fits his body to Matteo’s. This language is foreign to some. But it is complex, evolving, equal, and most importantly theirs. They’ve had to learn it but it feels as comfortable as a mother tongue. When Matteo can barely lift his exhausted head let alone open his mouth he knows David will listen with his arms. On days that David can’t explain the feelings that throb inside his skin Matteo hears those thoughts through the head tucked beneath his chin. Sometimes they use words, sometimes they use touch, but they tell each other how much the other is loved twenty times a day. With their bodies they can talk, and talk, and talk.

#druck #fic #druck og #og druck #davenzi #my content

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nomimits7 · 4 years

Text

UGH!

Title: UGH!

Genre: angsty (maybe just a little) hinting at smut but no actual action?? (Reader gets cornered and he licks her, does that count?)

Pairing: BTSrapline x reader

Au: Yandere-ish, supernatural-ish… I kind of don’t know what happened.

Warnings: sexual references. Yandere behavior. Description of a slight loss of control. Deception, slightly. Cursing… a little (in my defense, some things just sound better with a power word) considering this is the rap line, that is a warning on its own.

Song reverence: UGH! By BTS

Summary: In a rageful world ruled by rageful men, Y/N decided to change her destiny by becoming an outcast. Hated by all for being the neutral party in almost every situation, she was destined for a lonely life. Maybe her mistake was to choose to be uninformed when it came to who was in charge. Maybe her mistake was the day she allowed herself to feel wanted again. All Y/N knew was that those three men who walked through her door changed everything she has come to know.

Author notes: Hi! I’ve never done this, so I tried to base this story mostly on the actual song and my interpretation of it, with my own inserts as well! Hope you like it! Thank you @btswritingcafe for this fun workshop thingy!! And yes, there are a lot of different movie references as well. Lockdown got me all types of creativity.

•••

The gentle hum of the wind outside combined with the crackling of the wood in your fireplace was enough to make you feel at peace, normal even. You welcomed this feeling with open arms. It’s not often that you get to feel at peace. Even if this was by choice, you missed the peace that came with a ‘normal’ life.

Reclining in your seat, you briefly close your eyes as you try to soak up as much of the feeling as possible before you had to get back to work. You loved your job, make no mistake about it, but with your line of work some sacrifices needed to be made. Many people looked down at you for your choice but in a cruel world such as this… you were happy being an outcast. Very few people chose your line of work seeing as you had to stay neutral. Most people preferred giving in to the rage that filled the air at a constant pace.

Your little world wasn’t always like this. You once lived in a peaceful society, where people actually smiled at least once in their daily lives. This was before the fall of the peace towers before others decided to take over the energy circulating through the air.

In the city of Redak, you thrived on the energy provided by the towers built by the old kings. These towers giving most people ‘gifts’ in exchange for their fears. Yes, this didn’t sound right for most of the people living in Redak, so King Clodious decided to build a peace tower. This tower radiated peace and kept the balance needed for life to thrive. This tower especially kept the other towers on a leash, they sometimes got greedy and demanded more fear to become stronger.

Unfortunately, something or someone decided to take control of the power supply. These individuals soon realized the power harbored in fear, thus leading to the great fall of peace. People slowly started losing control of themselves. Rage being the most prominent power to make the rounds in the air, soon lead to people succumbing to it. Violence soon engulfed the city and rage filled the hearts of Redak’s citizens.

That’s where you came in. When the rage became too much for people to bear, they seek you out. You were one of the few people holding out against the rage- epidemic. Your job was one that required a neutral party to ‘extract’ the rage from a person and replace it with whatever other emotion they needed. Be it love, sadness, or happiness. People needed you, but they also resented you for being strong enough to withstand the temptation. Ultimately, this led to a very lonely life.

Each new patient presented a new challenge. Some would go out of their way to hurt others. Some would just stare and have nothing to say. Some would never shut up and then you got those who thrived in making your life miserable. Today you had one of the last ones. Clare, or rather Queen C as she preferred you call her, was in one of the more severe stages of rage. She didn’t lash out at you like most, but her words made up for that. It took you three times as long to get the right information out of her than it normally did.

And it took twice as long to get her to actually lie down on the power extractor, so you could do your damned job. Everyone you see gave into the idea of perfection or rage, then they end up judging you for staying neutral on the subject. After releasing Clare from the contraption, she was a totally different person. She actually smiled at you and thanked you for helping her. It was draining and a moment like this where you can just sit and relax was rare.

You loved your job, you truly did. You just sometimes wished you could be… normal. Being the outcast gets to you. You crave the attention and affection of others. You want to hang out with friends, lose yourself to loveless love, and be captured by scenes unfolding around you. You didn’t want to be trapped like you were. You couldn’t even leave your own house without being tempted by the sent of rage filling the air. You chose this, but sometimes you regret your choices.

The sound of your doorbell ringing pulled you from your daydreaming. You had no other scheduled appointments and it was too late for any emergency walk-ins. Reluctantly you got up to see who could possibly seek you out. Upon opening the door you’re met with three very handsome faces. They were all dressed to the nine in black suites, completed with styled hair and white button-up shirts.

“Can I help you?” you asked uncertainly. The three men just stare at you, assessing you with their eyes. Something in the way they were taking you in told you to close your door and forget you ever opened it. There was a very clear warning in their eyes, something sinister. Before you could act one of them spoke up.

“We’re sorry for barging in on you like this but we heard a rumor that you were neutral? And we need someone neutral to talk to” he was handsome, that much you could tell. His hair was a light shade of brown, his eyes glowed amber and his skin was flawless. He even added a dimpled smile to help persuade you into letting them in, and it worked. Before you knew what or how it happened they were entering your consultation space and making themselves comfortable.

A little caught off guard, you slowly made your way to your usual seat in the furthest corner of the room. This action didn’t go unnoticed by the three men. You were careful, not like the previous five neutrals they’ve encountered. Your seat was fairly far from theirs and there was a set of sensors surrounding you. They found this fascinating to say the least. Normally neutrals were just good at hiding the rage coursing through them, usually, neutrals weren’t any better than anyone else who has fallen into the trap of rage. You were… different.

“Okay, I’m going to need names, ages, and status in the hierarchic so that I know what type of extractions should be done” You began as you got your glasses from a hidden drawer. Clicking your pen, you looked up curiously to see how these men would react. They always react to this question, especially the last part.

Their eyes stayed focussed on you, unmoving and certainly not planning on moving away from you anytime soon. They expected you to be confused at first, but they didn’t think you wouldn’t recognize them at all. Did you really not know who they were? What danger you were in? Well, you will know. Soon. None the less, they decided to play along for now.

“Kim Namjoon, my age is of no importance and my status is unmatched. I do not need any extraction from you because you won’t find anything to extract.” The man in the middle spoke up. It was the same man who first talked to you. His response was expected, not in this manner but the denial was only one step they would have to take to overcome this rage they feel. Although, they seemed very calm, almost to calm and that was new.

“Jung Hoseok, If you can guess my age I might reward you baby. My status is quite important, but why don’t you come to sit on my lap and feel it rise even more?” the one on the right of Namjoon said. You instantly went red as you stared at the man with wide eyes. No man had ever spoken to you like that and it was doing something to you.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the three men as they watched you like a hawk with binoculars. You were interesting indeed. One of the emotions that get engulfed by the rage, is arousal. If you have given in, you would not be so easily worked up.

“Min Yoongi, age is just a number made up by society to set boundaries of what one can and cannot do. Status is important, but let’s pretend you didn’t ask that question… for now, it’s not important. But trust me, it will be” The last man spoke up. His voice was void of all emotion, the meaning behind his words left a cold chill hanging in the air. You need to be careful around these men.

Shallowing slowly, you averted your eyes from them. This was new, really new. No one has ever gotten to you like these men have and they’ve only been here for 3 minutes. You needed to get this done with and get them out of your home. Something’s off and not in the normal way.

“Y/N”

At the mention of your name, you looked up to see who has spoken your real name. You never shared that aspect of you. No one knew who you were. A name holds so much power and once you gave it away, it’s over. You must have worn your emotions on your sleeve because as soon as you locked eyes with each man, they returned your stare with a slight smirk.

“So, you do exist? We were beginning to think you were a made-up myth or something. Anyway, did you know that everyone is bound to be swallowed by the rage? Even the most stubborn of people give in. It’s been proven countless times. Sometimes they give in just to survive.” Hoseok said as he slowly leaned forward. His eyes, that use to be a deep brown, slowly swirled with red as he kept them on you.

The sensors next to your seat suddenly lost all power. Their lights flickering and going out with a pop that made you jump slightly. You knew you shouldn’t react and somehow you managed to keep as still as possible. Your heart only skipping a beat as a response. You won’t give in to fear, you won’t give in to rage. You won’t give in to them.

Your lack of response only spurred them on to see how far they can push you. They needed to be sure you were indeed the last remaining neutral out there before they could proceed. They could feel the power building within you and that alone made them want you for themselves even more.

“How much of the things people tell you in here do you believe? The truth may become false, the lies may become true. How do you know people aren’t lying to you?” Namjoon asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Tilting your head slightly, his question surprised you. Just moments ago, Rambo over there was trying to get into your head with all his rage talk and so and then he asks you this? Before you could mull over his question more your own voice interrupted you.

“Eyes, Their eyes. Usually, you can read their emotions through their eyes. But most of my clients are regulars and they understand what can happen when they lie. I choose to trust them, they know what they're getting themselves into. I’ve always been an open person, but I do know they lie anyway. There’s nothing I can do about that” your voice was small, yet strong. It was the truth and you knew they knew it was.

The trio didn’t know what they expected you to answer, but it certainly wasn’t that. You were so honest compared to the other. Of course, the other neutrals immediately recognized them and answered according to that. But you, you answered with honesty and so much innocence it was sickening. The way you held yourself was pure and for some reason, they felt the need to hide you away from the world. Like you were made of glass and could shatter at any moment, the initial plan be damned.

“What do you believe Y/N? What caused this world to give in? Why didn’t you give in like them?” Yoongi asked. His voice is soft and full of the promise that you will be all right. This was truly nothing like what your appointments usually consist of. Not one of your clients has ever spoken to you in such a manner that you felt like a human. They always spoke with disgust or anger. Never as soft as this.

“I always suspected there was a reason people started hating and raging. Just the other day I had to sedate one of my regulars because they lost control. There was a time I thought that something that happened in our past was the reason, yet I came up with nothing. But as I concluded my research I did find something that could provide the answers. When the rage took over our little world, our people fell into fear and chaos. Everyone was scared to death of the future without the peace tower. I believe that is what caused this. Fear, not rage” you answered, voice matching his softness.

You could see that they expected a different response. Like they wanted a different answer. You couldn’t place the emotion you saw reflecting in each of their eyes, so you opted for disappointment. This left a very uneasy feeling in your gut. Why? Why would your answer disappoint? You got the fact that nobody liked or cared for you, but disappointment? That’s new indeed.

“Do you know how neutrals are born?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head slightly. Shaking your head, you allowed yourself to be curious for once. Usually, you wouldn’t dare, but maybe one slip won’t be that catastrophic.

“Neutrals” Namjoon began.

“Neutrals don’t exist by choice. They are born with the inability to completely give in to the rage. Sometimes they do make the choice to give in, but the opposite is easier to do for them. These people are born from a bond of pure lust mixed with love and affection. A careless act their parents would never see as such. Some call it a spur of the moment decision were both parties forget about the rage and fear for those precious moments they share. Where the old world emotions are the only ones present. These children won’t seem different for the first few years. They make mistakes and get angry and act ‘normal’ in the content of the rage. But once they reach the subadult stage they begin to show signs of neutralism. The neutrals thrive off the fear of others, exactly like those in charge, just without knowing. They tend to scare other naturally and thus can grow extremely strong.” Namjoon added, carefully watching the color drain from your face.

“Once they reach adulthood, they are known as outcasts. Now even with them possessing gifts like the feeding of fear and so they tend to ‘not’ survive. Others kill them out of fear, or they are hunted down by other neutrals. Some ‘neutrals’ are just normal people in disguise. You see, one of the gifts that some receive is the act of deceivement. And trust me, they know how to use this gift. Even people like us were fooled more times than we would care to admit” Hoseok added helpfully.

You were not okay. You could feel your head swimming with a hundred and ten different thoughts at once, trying to make sense of this new information. But it seemed like fate had other plans for you.

“Neutrals are very lucky. They receive very rare gifts like control of an element or mind reading. Some even have levitation powers. It can get quite annoying when you try to kill them. I’m curious Y/N. What gifts do you possess? And why are those sensors pointed at you and not us? Aren’t we the ones that tend to lose control?” Yoongi concluded with a tilt of his head.

He had a point. But he wasn’t a regular and thus he didn’t understand why your office was organized like it was. Of course, there were reasons things were the way they were, but as naïve as you are, you’re not stupid enough to trust a total stranger from the word go. Once they knew there would be no turning back. You still haven’t figured out why these men were so important.

“I can’t tell you that” You softly whisper more to yourself than them. That was one secret of your life you wish to take to your grave. Even your long term clients have no clue what you're truly hiding. They simply just know to not set you off.

A low chuckle vibrates through the room as you silently sit and observe the three, laughing men. You knew just then and there these men where here to test you, and you have never been this close to losing your grip on yourself.

“I would advise you three to shut up and get this session over with so you can leave my house,” You said lowly, already losing yourself. This seemed to shut them up rather quickly. The last thing they expected was for you to lose your composure.

“Hey Y/N. Wha-“Namjoon began only to be cut off by your voice.

“Right, sorry about that. Moving on. Could you kindly turn the sensors back on? It’s for your own safety” You said with a beaming smile, a completely different person from just a few seconds ago. Within a few heartbeats later the sensors were back up and running, you visibly sagging with relief.

“So, it’s true what they say. You may be holding out against the rage, but that’s only because you're fighting a continuous battle against your own power within you. That’s why you have the sensors, for when you lose control. It’s to protect your clients, isn’t it?” Yoongi’s voice entered your ears.

Your face paled as you suddenly sat up straight. Slowly you crossed your hands in your lap, briefly making eye contact with each of the men sitting in front of you.

“I think you should leave now. I do hope you can find what you are seeking elsewhere” you said as you stood up on shaky legs and slowly made your way to the entryway. You made it a miraculous two meters before a warm hand engulfed your wrist. In one swift movement, you have spun around and was pinned against the wall.

“I don’t mean to be intruding in personal matters, but I do find it extremely rude that you haven’t tried to figure out who we really are. So, let me spell it out to you nicely. Hello Y/N, I’m Jung Hoseok. The third Lord. You know, those people that’s actually in charge of all of Redak? Over there is Kim Namjoon, the First Lord and that my dear, is Min Yoongi the second Lord.” Hoseok said. His grip tight as his face hovered close to your left ear.

Your eyes widened upon hearing this new information. How stupid of you to refuse to stay up to date with the happenings of your own world. If you have known who was in charge, this situation right here would never have happened. Gosh, you wouldn’t even have let them inside your home if you knew.

Licking a long stride along with the expanse of your neck, Hoseok moved away from you slightly. Your face was paler than he liked but he knew you needed to know that bit of information before they could continue. You were the last piece of the puzzle and by the seven towers, they were going to do anything to get you. Anything.

“Get out” you whispered, sliding down the wall into a little bundle on the ground. There’s a fine line between rage and fear and to any normal human, you would resemble those in the first stages of surrender. Your form small and weak against the enormous power your weak body was objected to. But they knew better. They knew that your form might look weak, but that’s only because you are afraid. Not of them, but yourself.

You chose to fear the one monster you could not control. The monster you were born as. The one neutral that could change everything if she was given the proper training. The one neutral robbed of everything by the only people she deemed good. The one neutral deprived of love, afraid of her own shadow.

“You know. For someone as smart as you, you sure can act dumb. You know as well as we do why we are here and that we cannot just leave after finding you.” Yoongi said. But the confused look on your face was enough to inform him that you truly had no idea why you were of any importance to them. Something neither of them had time to explain to you know.

“We don’t have time to enlighten you but let me give you a quick overview,” Namjoon said, crouching down next to you and lifting your chin with his finger. Your eyes locked and for the love of all that is peaceful, you couldn’t look away even if you tried. His eyes held a dominance that contrasted his words.

“Everyone out there chose to embrace the rage out of fear. The rage wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. The rage was just put in place to make people a bit more fearful of their dearest. It was meant to help people protect. It was meant to give them just the right amount of courage to stand their ground against threats. Unfortunately, we lost control, and to regain that control we must balance out the power tower. We didn’t destroy that peace tower, the people did. The last thing we wanted is for chaos and destruction.” His eyes held a sadness that you have never seen in anyone before.

You felt your heart skip a beat and you subconsciously raised your hand to hold his. His eyes never left yours, something felt familiar about them. But it was the sincerity in them that allowed you to trust them. All three of them.

“Apathy combined with excretion should do the trick to gain control once again” Your voice was soft yet it held truth. The moment the source of the problem is removed the balance should be restored.

“That’s the problem we face. We are the source. The rage that courses through the air, emits from us. We control the amount of power that is released. If we can’t find something to counteract…” Yoongi trails off, looking at you.

He couldn’t possibly mean that you were that something, could he? You were an out of control neutral how could you help them, help Redak? You only did extractions. You steered clear of too much attention. You tried to not let the people see what monster you really were.

Your breathing became shallow as anxiety took over. This was the last thing you needed, you couldn’t lose control now. These men, how powerful they may be, were in danger and you needed them to leave before you snapped. Just as you were about to warn them, the windows started rattling as the walls of the house started shaking. The three men were clearly startled as their eyes shot to yours.

The sensors in your consultation room suddenly started going off and all you could do was yell ‘RUN’ to the three men standing in front of you. It took them a good 5 seconds to realize that they had no other choice in the matter. There where books flying everywhere and some of the furniture even started disintegrating.

“Y/N, we can help you get control. You need us just as we need you. I know you can feel the connection. Let us protect you” Namjoon shouted before all three of them hurried out of the house. Just in time to hear you scream and everything going silent. As much as the sound of your screams was unsettling, all three men slightly smirk at what was to come.

Lying on the floor, almost lifeless, you could only stare at the ceiling as the shockwaves ran through your body. You needed to increase the voltage again, it’s supposed to knock you out and not paralyze you. You were growing stronger and you feared that soon not even the shocking would be enough to control your powers.

•••

It’s been roughly three days since they left your house. Three horribly long days. The amount of power circulating the air increased almost three times than before, and the number of extractions you had to do daily increased almost ten times. Things were getting ridiculous and out of hand. You haven’t completely lost control, but you came very close in the last 48 hours.

Every day that passes gets worse. Not only for your clients but for you too. Usually, your clients came around every five weeks for extraction, sometimes they could stretch even longer. But now you saw some of them at least twice in the past three days. Despite all this, you stayed indifferent, disgusted but indifferent.

You knew what had caused this, but you refused to show sympathy. Your argument was simple, they chose to give in. Why should you feel anything toward their choices? It’s not like it’s your fault they could not hold out. You flat out refused to even think about the three men that occupied your house a few days ago. You refused to think about what they told you, what they did to you. To put it plainly, you were being beyond stubborn.

Well, if you were completely honest with yourself, you were thankful for being so busy with clients. This only meant you had no time whatsoever to think about them, or what they promised you. But soon enough you said goodbye to your last client, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

“Y/N, we can help you get control. You need us just as we need you. I know you can feel the connection. Let us protect you”

Of everything that could pop up into your mind, Namjoons last words played on repeat. They could help you. You knew how close you were to losing it. How dangerous you became every minute that you remain stubborn. But stubbornness is what kept you alive all this time. Through every challenge you faced, your stubbornness is what helped you to not give in to the rage.

But your struggling. Not against the rage but against yourself and this time, you might actually lose. You have no idea how many times your body would be able to handle the shocking before it to will cave in. You know the risks and yet somethings keeping you from seeking them out.

You were just about to take a seat in your consultation area to relax for a bit when the tension snapped. Your whole world started spinning as you felt the power circulate through your veins. Your windows started rattling again as you collapsed to the ground. It felt like you couldn’t breathe with the amount of electricity running through your muscles. But nothing happened. Your own power took control and all you could do was watch as your whole world, your life burned to ashes all around you.

Tears streamed down your face freely as you watched the flames consume your hard work in seconds. You have finally lost the ability to control your own demons.

After the power within has returned to their dungeons within your heart, you finally decided to give into them. That’s how you find yourself outside the tall steel gates 40 minutes later. Tear stained cheeks, with only a handful of your belongings you could salvage. You had no certainty that these men could help you, or even if they would protect you. The journey to their mansion alone has been difficult and unpredictable.

Someone out there really loved fucking with you. First, your own parents abandon you at the ripe age of nine, then you nearly die twice because of some punks ruffing you up. And just when you finally settled into the only profession someone as you could do, this happens. Your whole world literally goes up in flames by your own uncontrolled power. The cherry on top would have to be the fact that there seems to be no fucking bell on the gates and you just walked all this way for nothing. Thanks for that karma.

Just as you began using a fresh packet of tears the gates opened. Hesitantly you stepped inside and made your way up to the front door. Doors swinging open by an unknown force, you peek inside the dark foyer. This was by far the creepiest house in Redak. Not even your home was this dark when the lights were off and the curtains were drawn.

The lights flickered on, startling you into a new bloodline, as three figures appear at the foot of the staircase you failed to notice. Looking around the room, you notice how modern this ancient house is decorated. From the beautiful wooden floors up to the cream painted walls. Finally, your eyes were drawn to the crystals that seem to be the light source hanging from the ceiling. This place looked and smelled fancy and you seriously began rethinking your decision to even breathe the air.

“Y/N? This is truly a surprise. I was beginning to think you would never come here. Oh my, it looks like you’ve been through a rough day” Namjoon said as his surprised gaze turned to concern when he took in your ashened form. At his words, your gaze snapped to your appearance. Your clothes were stained with soot and you probably smelled like a burned turkey. Simply put, you would put a hobo to shame at the way you dared appear before the Lord’s of Redak.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come here looking like this. I-I’ll be leaving. S-sorry” You hastily stuttered out before turning around and aiming for the door. The same door that suddenly slammed shut before you could even take a step forward.

“Do you want some tea? Maybe coffee? We even have alcohol if that would help you calm down. You can freshen up here and then we’ll talk. Come I’ll even dare say I can find you some fresh clothes” Hoseok said as he swiftly reached for your hand to lead you to the bathroom.

“C-coffee would be nice thank you” you simply replied as you allowed the Third Lord to lead you to the bathroom. His hand was warm in yours and you wanted to soak up as much of it as you could but the dirt on your palm prevented that. You were beyond embarrassed at how fragile you had become. These strangers had no obligation to take care of you or even be this nice to you. Why they deemed you worthy, you did not know.

They honestly thought they would have to use even more force to get to you, but when you arrived at their gates it was like the pain inside of them disappeared. They were losing control over the amount of power they released into Redak and they knew the effect it would have on the people. But they couldn’t give a flying pigs ass over the people of Redak. They wanted only you. The fact that you were so different made you that more appealing. Hench why they had to go to extremes such as fire to get to you.

They could sense the amount of power you harbored, and they knew how to use it to balance everything out to and extend. Their plan was simple: go in, retrieve the power, and get rid of its owner. But that plan changed the minute you opened that door. You were beyond beautiful. Everything about you screamed innocence and purity. Your curious eyes and silent professionalism were a major turn on. But the thing that fixed the decision of claiming you were the way you had no control. Your lack of control over your own powers being the contrast of the century in regard to the work you did.

The most intense of desires to protect you, help you took control the moment you screamed at them to get away before it was too late. They had no idea what happened to you that day after that scream, but they knew you had to, no needed to hurt yourself to gain even the slightest of control. It hurts them to even think of what you possibly did to yourself. But it also warmed their hearts to see the trouble you went through to protect the low lives that depended on you. You were indeed innocent and pure, naïve even, yet they could see the loneliness in your eyes.

They would give their lives to be able to change that, but let’s not think to unrealistically. The chance of that happening was slim and now that you were here, in their mansion made things far easier than they initially thought.

Returning to the matter at hand. They didn’t mean to listen for any noise coming from the bathroom, but when you whimpered at the feeling of hot water against your skin, they almost lost their minds. The fact that you were right there made things worse, but they just couldn’t stop listening to your every gasp, whimper, or sob. Whatever happened before the fire clearly took a toll on your beautiful self.

Once the water shut down, they decided to make their presence known by knocking on the door. Even the yelp of surprise that escaped your mouth had their knees weak and heads swim with lust. It took them another 10 seconds to come back to reality before speaking.

“Y/N? How do you take your coffee? Also, we found some clothes for you” Yoongi’s slurry voice reached for you through the door. His voice was so different compared to the first time you met him. It held emotion and even some strain from the sound of it. Yet, it also felt like silk on soft skin, filling you with warmth and calm. It was a weird contrast and you secretly loved every second of it!

Opening the door slightly, you accepted the clothes and explained your coffee preference. No sugar with milk. It was bitter but what was the point of drinking coffee if you kill the taste with loads of sugar? You didn’t really expect them to find you clothes, but the fact that they gave you a simple button-up shirt that was long enough to work as a dress and a hoodie to match was surprising, to say the least. They added some shorts that hid nicely under the shirt along with some simple socks to keep the feet warm. Tying your hair into a messy, wet bun you opened the door to find Namjoon patiently waiting for you.

“Wow. You clean up nicely” Namjoon awkwardly cleared his throat as he averted his gaze from you. You’re wearing his shirt, Yoongi’s shorts, and Hoseok’s hoodie. He would be lying if he said you just looked okay. It was like their clothes were not made for them but for you to wear. This only further proved their decision to take you for themselves, the correct one.

Trailing behind him towards what you assumed to be the living room, you couldn’t help but take his form in. clad in tight jeans and a tight shirt this man was the reincarnation of sin. It had to be illegal to look so casual while screaming confidence.

Soon you were sitting in front of all three men, warm coffee in hand and nerves ablaze. They asked you what happened about 5 minutes ago, you have yet to answer. They were patiently observing you. You looked small and beyond vulnerable in front of them and internally they goo-ed at your sweater paws clutching the coffee cup tightly as if it were the only lifeline available. They knew what happened, but they weren’t planning on telling you what part they played in it.

“After you left, things got worse for my clients. It was as the power in the air itself increased and that caused many of them to come for extraction in a very short time of their previous ones. I have no idea what triggered it but my own powers started acting out. I even increased the voltage that I use to control my power to far over normal, but it didn’t help. Today, when I said goodbye to my last customer, it felt like a tsunami of power that escaped me. The shocking did nothing and I… I was left watching my whole life burnt to ashes around me. I-it was so intense that I blacked out. I have no idea how long I was out, but when I woke up everything was gone. And somehow I ended up here” you finished off in a whisper as silent tears streamed down your face.

You were ashamed. Your world came crumbling down and here you were, silently seeking their protection, their promise you decided to ignore the first time they made it.

“You have no reason to be ashamed and we’re sorry that you had to go through something like that. The important thing, however, is that you are here now. We’ll give you anything you need” Hoseok said. Reassurance ever-presents in his eyes. You could only smile weakly at them before you felt that overwhelming feeling return. The one that took away everything from you and your eyes widened in fear. You can’t control it and you knew you had to leave before you destroyed them as well.

Everything happened within a matter of seconds. You stood and bolted for the door. Just to collide with a hard chest as arms trapped you against it. You were so, so scared. You can’t allow this to happen. Thus, the struggling began. You were beyond desperate, and you fully relied on your instincts to get you out. Get away from these men that did nothing but be kind towards you.

“Let me go! You’re not safe, I need to get away from you before I destroy you to” You practically screamed.

“Y/N, take deep breaths for me. We can help you, just let us in. Let us in angel” Namjoon’s desperate voice filled your ears.

“We know you're scared. It’s okay to be scared baby” Yoongi’s soft voice came from behind you.

“W-what should I-I do?” You asked as another wave of energy filled your veins, making you stumble. It felt like lava coursing through your veins as the pain becomes too much to bear.

“Let us in. Calm your mind and allow us to take over. All you have to do is trust us. We won’t hurt you sweetheart, but I can’t promise you this will be painless. Let us help you” Hoseok said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. With wide eyes staring at them with complete trust, you simply nodded at his words as you focussed on calming down your racing mind.

Namjoon held you tightly against him as all three of them readied themselves for what they were about to do. Never in their lives had it been this difficult to consume powers from someone. They wanted anything but to hurt you like this, but this was the only way. With one final nod, they began the process.

It was a simple process that ensured they would be able to consume as much power as they wanted from the host. But this process itself was painful, not only for the host but for them as well. The first step was to literally open the host. Nothing to major, the smallest incision would do. The next step was to start the process, it was close to blood magic but far more painful and cleaner.

For the one whos powers, they would consume it felt like someone was ripping their soul out. They could feel every single detail of the power being drained out of them. For them, it felt like hours of torture where in reality it took only 5 minutes to drain them dry.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. You stood there in the middle of them, tears still flowing down your cheeks. There was no power present, not from them and not from you. For the first time in your life, you experienced a world without any external forces. It felt lighter, freer as if you could conquer the world in one day. But like all good things, this moment of peace was ripped away.

It came out of nowhere. Your own power resurfaced with a vengeance like no other. Every inch of your body, mind, and soul was consumed by this overwhelming pain, forcing you to collapse to the ground. Before you could even cry out in pain a new feeling took a hold of you. It felt something close to a hot knife driving through your heart at a slow pace. You could feel every bit of your power being ripped from your body.

Your cries of pain were the only thing keeping them grounded. Your power was so overwhelmingly powerful that they could feel their control slip. But hearing your cries, seeing your curled-up form on the floor reminded them that they needed to stop. They have only taken a fourth of your power, they needed to take more.

Soon enough Hoseok caught sight of the blood dripping out of your nose as you became motionless. The sight that greeted them when they finally pulled away, broke them. Your fragile body felt heavy in Namjoon’s arms as he picked you up and carried you to one of the many rooms. You were still alive, but you were weak. Weak from carrying this burden alone. Weak from fighting against yourself constantly. This being a small sacrifice for them to finally have you in their grasp.

Since the day they consumed some of your power, the city of Redak took a complete 180⁰ turn. The rage that once dominated the streets had subsided, the hate in the eyes of its citizens was replaced by compassion. To put it simply, Redak returned to what it once was before the great fall of the peace tower. People were genuinely happy again.

It’s been almost five days since you gave them your trust. Yoongi was keeping watch over your sleeping form when a soft whimper escaped your once silent mouth. He has never moved so fast in his life. One moment he was sitting near the window watching the trees move with the wind, the next he was kneeling beside you, screaming for the others as he carefully took your hand in his.

Even with the big sacrifice you made, the boys never expected you to stay asleep for so long. They missed your voice, your eyes, your everything. They wanted to see what a real smile would look like, what your laugh would sound like, what your lips would taste like. What it would feel like to own such beauty.

It took Namjoon and Hoseok exactly 5 seconds to make it to beside Yoongi. All three of them carefully watched for any signs of life or movement. When nothing happened for a few moments the feeling of true fear took hold of them. What if you never came back? Might they have overdone it? Did they hurt you that badly that perhaps you wanted to stay away?

Just as they were about to give up, another small whimper escaped your throat. Accompanying said whimper your eyes fluttered open. Their relieved faces being the first thing you see. A soft subtle smile pulling at your lips as you finally felt free.

So naïve.

#bts #bts x reader #bts rapline #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts yoongi #map of the soul 7 #btscafe7 #rapline x reader #nomimits7

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maomao-words · 4 years

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Hello there! May I request Gavin x MC where she’s a medic and happened to be entangled in a hospital hostage scenario because of some deranged patient then Gavin who’s in a mission found out after hearing the news or something? Then she’s just downplaying the event and maybe her injury just so he doesn’t worry? Thank you so much!

You guys sure like your Medic!MC (✿´‿`)

I think it’s quite clear at this point but I adore angst! Please keep sending me angsty requests because I live for them! *glance back at the 546 other fluffy and sweet requests I have and nervously laugh* I’ll get down to those shortly, I swear!

My ask box is still open for the moment!

Trigger Warning: A touch of angst, blood-shed, near-death experience.

MLQC Gavin and a Medic!MC who got caught in a hospital hostage situation:

Dried blood.

That was the first thing Gavin saw.

The once snow-clear walls of the reception area of the hospital were stained with the rich and deep color of blood. The marble floor, where few bodies covered in a white cloth were waiting to be transported, also carried the bloody trails of last night’s tragedy. Wails and muffled sobs could be heard from every corner of the vast room, and police officers trickled in and out of the place, barely withstanding the heavy metallic smell dripping from everywhere.

Flashing his badge at the official standing near the entrance, Gavin took his first steps into the hospital. At his sight, a young man dressed in a black uniform moved from his position and came closer to him. Without bothering to greet each other, few whispers were exchanged between the two and a thin document was handed to Gavin.

With his duty fulfilled, the young man lightly bowed and moved to leave when Gavin’s quiet voice echoed in the silence.

“Where is he?”

The man blinked in confusion at the question, a frown immediately appearing between his brows.

“With all due respect sir, but this is outside of your jurisdiction. The director only ordered for you--”

One single glance at Gavin’s face was all it took for the man to swallow his tongue. The cold, cruel and ruthless eyes that were gazing back at him were wordlessly screaming at him to shut the fuck up before he tore his throat out. It took a mere heartbeat for the man to decide which choice was worth more: Revealing the whereabouts of the deranged monster who just killed four people in one night or risk having his eyes gouged out by the equally dangerous man standing in front of him?

The decision made was easy enough.

After being handed the rest of the documents he demanded, Gavin silently watched as the guy deeply bowed at him this time before hurrying over to the exit as if afraid he will be asked to hand out his life next.

Once the man was out of his vision, Gavin turned to focus all of his attention on the few papers in his hands, which resume the happenings of the previous night... the night he almost lost you for good.

The report cited that the night started out normal. The hospital you worked for was considered one of the best in the area, yet due to its relatively small size, it tended to get too crowded at times. It was already past midnight when the first signs of trouble started to appear.

Gavin flipped a page and continued reading. At a corner of the next paper was a half-torn image of a man. Underneath it, it was recorded that he was admitted to this hospital a few days ago due to a dislocated jaw and several broken ribs caused by a savage brawl at a bar. The man’s situation was not dangerous enough to threaten his life, but the document registered the various precautions the hospital had to take during his stay due to his peculiar identity. The man carried a heavy medical record as well as a pretty bloody criminal history. The hospital, which was extremely concerned about the safety of its staff and its other patients, requested the transfer of the man to another major hospital that was secured enough to dismiss any worries. Due to the serious circumstances at hand, the transfer was approved as fast as possible, but unfortunately, it was not fast enough to prevent an entire massacre from occurring.

It all started with one of the nurses in charge of the floor the man was kept at. A young woman barely out of her residency training was found on the floor of his room, bleeding to her death through the multiple gashes in her head and stomach. Near her was an empty bed filled with blood-stained bandages.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

The doctor who entered the room an hour later was the next victim. When he first stepped inside, he found the room shrouded in full darkness except for the faint light coming from the window. The doctor cursed inwardly at the incompetent nurse who was not doing her job properly and tapped his hands around the left wall until he found the light switch and flipped it on. It took a few seconds for the doctor’s eyes to get used to the now bright room and to step forward. The scene which greeted him, however, was not one he ever expected and was unfortunately the very last one he will ever come to see.

Suffocated to death. Gavin read in bold letters as unrestrained rage started to boil once again in his veins.

Once the doctor’s lifeless body hit the floor, all hell broke loose as the man’s appetite for blood was awakened.

The next two victims fell prey to the man quite quickly as the clock neared two in the morning. Their bodies were stashed away in a supply closet out of everyone’s sight as the psychopath made his way down to the reception area, where you were at

Gavin sighed and rubbed his exhausted eyes. His fingers stopped moving, refusing to turn the next page.

He could still hear your broken voice over the phone after you begged one of your colleagues to call him as you bled to death on the cold, hard floor.

Gavin has been barely sleeping for half an hour after finishing up with his most recent mission when the familiar tune of his phone woke him up. His brain, muddled with sleep, did not register your very first words. He hummed in exhaustion, slowly turning his aching body in the bed and struggling to focus on what you were saying when the sounds of your sobs finally hit his ears.

“--Just know that I love you and that I- want... I want you to be happy- even without m-me-”

Your last words were broken, so full of anguish and grief and Gavin was fully awake in a heartbeat. He could hear police sirens in the background but he could not understand what was going on. But before Gavin could even start to formulate a question, your weak voice started up again.

“Take good care of your--self, baby,” before the line was abruptly cut off and only eerie silence remained.

A gentle tap on his shoulder snapped Gavin out of his thoughts and he turned around to greet Anna. She weakly smiled at him and his eyes traveled down to her bandaged arms before asking her how she was feeling. After the call was cut off with you, Anna was the one who reached out to Gavin to inform him of what was happening and to urge him to hurry back to you.

Anna told him how the lunatic tried to choke the first medic he laid eyes on, the minute he steeped into the lobby of the reception area.

That medic happened to be you.

Once your screams and wails reached the ears of the few nurses and doctors close by, they all came running for you. The man, instead of feeling cornered, seemed to enjoy the new attention that came with trying to kill you, and only increased the strength of his fists around your neck, threatening to snap it if anyone came near.

The situation was too fragile for anyone to directly attempt to get him away from you, but the police has been contacted already at that point, and all was left was to pray that the lunatic won’t kill you before they arrive.

Once the maniac realized that all exits were blocked and that the police was on the way, he recognized that his ‘game’ with you has come to an end and started to nervously glance around for a way out. Taking advantage of this moment of panic, Anna flung herself at him in an attempt to loosen his hold on you but the man’s stolen scalpel was faster than her and he ended up slashing your neck in the struggle.

Anna was sobbing her heart out when she delivered the news to Gavin and barely managed to tell him that you were rushed to an emergency surgery before Gavin was up on his feet and out of his hotel’s room.

Anger, frustration, bitterness, anguish, hatred and guilt all welled up inside of Gavin’s chest until all he wanted to do was scream until his throat was sore. His eyes were burning and his chest felt heavy as if it were filled with lead as he drove back to Loveland city at dawn .

Gavin felt as if the world was crumbling around him the moment he laid his eyes on your bruised figure helplessly laying on the hospital bed.

In the few hours it took for you to finally open your eyes and to smile weakly at him, Gavin felt as if he was stuck underwater, with everything slow and warbled around him. Only when he tenderly held your hand and gently kissed your knuckles that Gavin finally felt able to properly breathe again.

But things were far from being over.

Gavin was not planning on putting last night’s massacre to rest until the lunatic tasted hell itself.

That was the oath Gavin swore as he turned around to smile at Anna before gently knocking on your hospital room.

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mr love gavin

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nekojitachan · 4 years

Note

For the ask meme thing, circus au, with marriage proposals or braiding/brushing hair. (Although I am parshal to a non angsty "it's not you, it my enemies, because, well its *Neil*)

*******

Last one!

Ha, this turned out more like an actual story?

Hmm… well, the last one had braiding hair in it so….

Very brief references to violence and a tiny bit of gore (not explicit), fair warning.

*******

Andrew is content as is possible for him (or so he thinks), traveling with the Foxes’ Court circus; he has his brother and cousin with him, the others know to leave him and his alone, it’s a different city every week or so, and it’s the safest he’s been in his life.

He helps set up and tear down the tents as well as handle any customers who get out of hand, while Aaron assists Abby, the crew’s healer, and Nicky helps draw in the crowds. They each have a job they do well, have found a place in Wymack’s ragtag crew of Foxes.

And then the bleeding heart bastard had to go and hire a new animal tamer.

Neil Josten arrived with a bag strapped to his back, two large felines (a black panther and a mountain lion) and such a strong aura of danger that set Andrew’s nerves on edge at mere sight of the young man.

Nicky said it was just his hormones reacting to a major hottie and nearly got stabbed.

The majority of the Foxes were their usual idiot selves and fawned over their newest recruit, desperate to get Neil to reveal something about himself, but not Andrew. He noticed how Neil was careful to never let any real details about his past slip, how his black hair had an odd sheen to it at times, how the dark strands normally fell onto his (too attractive) face to hide his (too pretty) pale blue eyes, and how he never went without his costume’s mask when the circus was open to paying customers.

How well he treated his overgrown pets (Sir and King, what ridiculous names) and put up with a prattling, attention-starved Nicky.

There was a lot of downtime when the circus wasn’t putting on a show, so Andrew took to hanging out around Neil (normally found with his cats when not dragged off by Matt or Allison). At first Neil ignored him, but when the mountain lion (Sir) showed an interest in Andrew (surprisingly not to eat him), Neil enlisted Andrew’s help with the oversized furballs.

While he pitched in to clean their enclosures, feed them and (safely) play with them, Andrew and Neil exchanged a few simple truths – Andrew being fostered out while an infant, Neil traveling around with his mother, who taught him how to raise and train the cats, various likes and dislikes. He pondered how to get to the real truths (who the hell are you?) when there started to be little ‘accidents’ around the circus.

Accidents like rigging coming loose, one of Dan’s horses escaping its stall, Robin realizing that the safety net for the trapeze act wasn’t set up properly….

Odd how it all started after Neil joined.

Odd how Neil grew withdrawn and took to walking around at night with his cats.

Andrew ‘allowed’ his coworker his space at first; after they set up in Binghamton, he snuck out one night to follow Neil and the cats at a distance, only to watch them run between the tents where Bee read cards and Abby sold her potions. There was an odd sound similar to a choked-off cry, which made Andrew curse and burst into a run himself, visions of Neil being harmed in his head as he rounded the corner to find….

To find King mauling some stranger while Sir batted around… something that had once been attached to said stranger. Andrew gulped then scowled at Neil, who was poking around in a leather bag, and felt a return of that ‘danger’ sense when the bastard smiled at him.

He ended up helping to bury a mauled body that night.

Still, unwanted exertion aside, it helped to break the rest of the ice with Neil, who apologized while shoveling and told Andrew that it wasn’t him making Neil so standoffish, but his enemies. It seemed that he and his mother had really been on the run all those years from his powerful and abusive father, and she’d trained the cats to protect Neil.

She’d managed to kill his father a couple years ago (and died in the process), but some of his people were still after Neil – not many, but some. So he continued to run and hide, and picked them off one by one when they came after him. He’d seen the advert for the circus and, tired of running, thought why not try something new?

After that, things changed between Andrew and Neil (funny what burying a body together could do to a relationship). Andrew told Neil more about his childhood (about the abusive foster homes – not everything, but Neil was smart and figured things out after a while, especially after the ‘please’ truth), spent more time together until Sir allowed Andrew to groom him and feed him by hand.

Until Andrew dared to ask Neil ‘yes or no’ and be told ‘yes’, and discover that Neil could be as careful with him, as mindful of boundaries with him as he was with the damn cats.

The Foxes Court traveled around the country and put on show after show, and every couple months Andrew had to help bury a body (he didn’t understand why Neil didn’t let the damn furballs eat everything, and was told it wasn’t good for them – well, being up half the night burying a pile of shredded human wasn’t good for him… at least Neil made up for it during the rest of the night).

It was during their show outside of Belmonte when the Malcolms struck – the last two loyal followers of Neil’s father. Neil had gone to check on the cats one more time before bed, when Andrew heard a faint knock on the door.

It turned out to be Renee, who’d noticed something ‘odd’ while on her way back from returning something to Dan, and so she’d come to Andrew. Suspecting what that ‘odd’ was, Andrew slipped free a knife and went in search of his wayward boyfriend. Renee, who hadn’t always been the darling of the trapeze (more like the terror of the slums back when she’d been Natalie Shields), quickly followed.

The Malcolms had Neil trapped between them, right outside of the cats’ enclosure; he had managed to fend them off until then, not exactly defenseless without his cats to back him up.

Andrew and Renee were more than adequate substitutes for the furballs.

Renee, the bitch, left without helping to bury the bodies.

Neil was in a bit of a daze for the next few days as it sunk in that with the Malcolms dead, he should finally be free of pursuit from his father’s people. Andrew waited on tenterhooks to see if he’d leave the circus and settle down somewhere, and when a week passed finally worked up the nerve to do something.

He marched into the cats’ enclosure where Neil was grooming King and stood in front of his boyfriend. At first he tried to ignore Sir, who leaned against him and demanded that his ears be rubbed, but it was difficult to do that with such a large cat so he obliged while glaring at Neil and asking the gorgeous idiot to move in with him.

To share the same caravan.

Neil might have only been with the circus for about a year, but he knew what it meant when a couple officially shared the same caravan; he gaped at Andrew for several seconds before he stuttered out if Andrew was sure, if it was a joke or not – and got yanked forward.

Andrew said he was not joking, and asked ‘yes or no’. After a slight pause, Neil smiled, a truly beautiful sight to behold, and said ‘yes’ before he leaned in for a kiss, one which Andrew savored right up until they both went down beneath the weight of two overgrown, purring furballs.

*******

Ah, I had fun with these.

#nekojitachanfics #fantasy mashup prompt #aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #circus au #sir and king!#sorta #proposal!#renee walker #courting your loved one through the burial of bodies #mumbling into the void #i think we all can agree that i have issues #but that's fine because these boys have issues too

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asgardianthot · 4 years

Text

Hunting Season (sambucky) - Part 4

Series Masterlist

A/N: ello :) I hope you’re all safe and sound, and I hope you’re surviving quarantine. Here’s an angsty update for you to enjoy!

Words: 3329

Day 3.

The morning had prepared for the happy couple an hour of kayaking. Bucky got his tired ass to the lake with the least amount of motivation possible, for he had spent a sore night. The idea of Brock Rumlow spending the night in that house had his bones rattling. Sam, on his part, couldn’t blame him; Brock only stayed there when the two were an item, so the fact that he was tagging along indefinitely had ‘ill intentioned’ written all over it. Bucky’s theory was that Brock probably thought he was gonna crash the lunch party and win him over again, stay the night at their old bed instead of a small guest room downstairs.

On the bright side of matters, Sam and Bucky were still the only ones to have a hunting clue. The envelope that had fallen out of the Viktor Frankl book had a hand-written note, specifically placed there by Nana. It read as following: If you found this clue, congratulations, you have a brain. Frankl was more than just a man in search for meaning: he was a neurologist and a psychiatrist, as well as a philosopher. It’s not hard to guess why my husband was obsessed with him. Now find out more about the author and try to guess what else he and Theodore had in common. You’ll know where to look.

Those words meant absolutely nothing to Sam, but it made some sense to Bucky. All they had to do was research about the author of the book and find a connection, for now. The rest would be a problem for later.

Right now, meaning at that very exact moment, Sam’s problem was kayaking.

“Okay, so what now?” he asked Bucky, holding the paddles like they were going to hurt him.

The second the word ‘kayak’ had been brought up when discussing future activities, Sam knew he would make a fool out of himself, for it was something he had never done, while the rest of the guests had been practicing every summer since they bought the damn house. Still, he put on his swimsuit and showed up. For Bucky. They were the ones closest to the lakeside, as Bucky was still teaching Sam, meanwhile the other Barnes were already paddling away or messing around in circles, as they prepared for a race.

“Now, you kayak.” Bucky replied simply, which earned a death glance from Sam.

He was already having enough trouble adjusting to the new sport, which left him with little to no patience. Fortunately, Bucky pitied him and laughed as he moved to the front seat, agreeing to help.

“Okay, wait,” he grunted as he struggled to accommodate behind Sam, “let me help you.”

Sam felt the warm pressure of Bucky’s chest against his back without any type of warning, and flinched a little. He could feel the drops of water that hadn’t dried out in Bucky’s skin stick to his own, and it sent shivers down his spine. He decided to believe the shivers were caused by the startling feeling of water droplets.

“You’re holding it wrong.” James explained as he took the paddles from Sam’s hand.

Wilson rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”

“Someone’s cranky.” Bucky remarked, “Didn’t sleep well?”

Sam thought hard about that one. As a matter of fact, he had woken up plenty of times during the night, only to find Bucky struggling to catch his own sleep next to him. The situation was weird as it was, so Sam pretended to miss it.

“You kick your feet a lot.” Sam lied.

“There’s always the divan.” Bucky reminded him.

“Will you shut up about the damn divan? No one should sleep in anything called like that.”

However, the ridiculous discussion came to an end when Bucky managed to get Sam to paddle correctly.

“That’s about the hang of it.” he congratulated him before turning his body and dropping it into the water.

The water barely reached his chest, so he stood there in waits for Sam who accomplished his goal of successfully kayaking away.

“Now come back to me.” Bucky instructed his apprentice, “Turn.”

Watching him swirl the canoe so concentrated, Bucky couldn’t help but find him slightly adorable. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t seen Sam learn something like that before, but it definitely was a good look on him. A smile creeped up his face, however, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, his ears picked up on a conversation behind him. He saw that uncle Milo was talking to Brock, and he only then figured they probably had been the entire time, which made him feel observed and, most of all, uncomfortable. Bucky was so distracted by the interaction that he almost didn’t see Sam returning to him, but he noticed right on time to stop the tip of the kayak before it hit him.

He shook it off by shooting a smile in Nana’s direction.

“Sure you don’t wanna hop in the water, Nana?” he messed with the woman who looked over everyone from her chair.

“I want another drink, sweetheart.” She messed with him back.

Bucky winked at her and returned his attention to the fake boyfriend, who seemed a lot more comfortable with the sport. They most likely wouldn’t win the race, but at least Sam wouldn’t feel bad for sucking at it.

“You know what?” Nana’s voice was loud and clear this time, which got everyone’s attention, “First one to get me a drink gets a clue."

The bold statement was followed by hesitant glances. Most of the family exchanged weird looks, none of them sure of how to proceed.

"Is she for real?" Bucky said, frowning.

Then, cousin Colin jumped to the water from where he was paddling, and started swimming towards land. Rebecca went second. Bucky and Sam were quick to notice how they were the ones closest to the lakeside, which didn’t make it seem like Nana was unbiased. If anything, it made the couple look like the favorites. Alas, Bucky and Sam climbed onto land fast, hearing people rush across the water behind them, until they heard a scream.

As they both turned towards the noise, they saw Rebecca slapping her hand around, swallowing water, and barely managing to yell the word ‘cramp’.

Bucky dove back on the water to save her. Literally. As Sam awaited kneeling on the shore, he couldn’t help but notice nobody else went to help. As usual, Bucky was Rebecca’s knight in shining armor.

"Rebecca, are you ok?" Winnifred barely asked above her usual tone to be heard.

The siblings were too busy trying to stay afloat –Bucky dragging her to land and Rebecca coughing her lungs out– to answer, so the mother insisted.

"Rebecca?"

Luckily, Sam cut in to get the unhelpful and mediocre concern away from the scene, "She- she's fine! We got this!" he assured the woman.

Once the siblings reached the wooden shore, Sam pulled Rebecca up by her arms while Bucky climbed up, panting. The young woman held her leg in pain.

Right on time, Brock approached them to save the day.

He extended his hand towards Rebecca, "Here, let me-"

"Get the fuck away from us!" James shot him an aggressive warning while placing a hand on Rebecca's back, not dignifying the man with eye contact.

Rumlow raised his hands in defense, "Just tryna’ help, Jamie."

The snap in Bucky’s brain might as well have been hearable. He was so done with the hovering figure he used to call his partner, everything in his head went red with fury. He looked up at him with such rage, Sam anticipated his outburst even before it happened.

"Shut up, Brock, shut up!” He yelled directly at him, microscopic bits of spit being thrown in Brock’s direction, and followed by a uncomfortable, still silence, which Bucky couldn’t stand either, “Are you deaf or are you a fucking idiot? I said leave!"

Rumlow accepted the offense and shook his head, putting on a disappointed façade.

"You're insane." He informed Bucky before turning on his heels.

As the man walked back inside the house, the spectators of the show remained silent. All that could be heard was Bucky’s heavy breathing, until Rebecca spoke.

"Way to go, brother." She whispered, which was only heard by Sam and Bucky.

Bucky’s expression revealed how shocked he was at his own courage to pull off such a stunt.

"That felt so good." He admitted, drawing a big proud smile on Sam’s face.

The outburst that morning, no matter how fulfilling, had taken a toll on Bucky. The rest of the day, it was all he could think about, and therefore, it naturally got the paranoid spinning wheel in his brain running at full speed. Cousin Colin, after the lake scene, was the only person insensitive enough to actually go through with Nana’s demand; the man had brought his grandmother a nice summer drink from the kitchen, which the lady received with a roll of her eyes. Unfortunately, she had promised the deliverer a clue, so she reluctantly kept her word and gave him the help in private.

It didn’t necessarily worry Bucky nor Sam, because the couple still felt they were winning so far. They had found the first clue by themselves, no help needed, so the best Colin could do was keep up with them before they got the advantage again.

No, what had them both worried was this cocktail gathering after dinner, right now. It was too early for anyone to be tired enough to go to bed, but it was late enough for people to start making bad decisions. That had been Bucky’s case. Drink after drink, worry after worry, the liquor had found its way into Bucky’s system long ago. In fact, he was sitting down, resigned to his sorrow, with a glass of champaign in hand.

He was wasted, and Sam could tell. While Bucky played around with the almost emptied glass, Sam’s chest felt heavy.

"He's watching." Bucky suddenly said, his enunciation already affected by the booze.

His eyes were fixated somewhere in the room, over Sam’s shoulder. The latter didn’t need to turn around to know who he meant.

"Don't pay attention to him." He shrugged it off.

"He used to do that,” Bucky, however, acted as if Sam hadn’t even spoken, “when he didn't approve of something."

"Hey.” Sam called, demanding his attention, “Hey, look at me. I'm here with you, okay? Not him."

As much as Bucky wanted to lean into those words, embrace the support and such, he knew it wasn’t truly real. Sam was there to help him out of pity, or so he thought. He used to love imagining having a boyfriend who would take away the pain, wipe away the tears caused by Brock. He used to like that image, but sometime in the horrible long-lasting relationship, he just didn’t think it possible. Anyone loving him after Brock? Anyone putting up with that baggage, with the lurking ex-boyfriend watching them at all times?

It simply wouldn’t happen. It’s why he wasn’t there with an actual boyfriend. It’s why he had to play-pretend with Sam. In his head, there was no place for anyone to love him. Not after he’d been chewed on by Rumlow and spat out a hundred times.

"But you're not.” Bucky sad dryly, almost insulting, “Not really. I'll never get the real thing."

Sam’s brain had a hard time with that one confession. Did Bucky mean that getting his friend to play fake boo was the closest he'd ever get to a boyfriend from now on? Or as he implying a world where Sam could have become the real deal? His confusion left him almost speechless.

"And why is that?" he managed to ask with a heavy heart.

Bucky was too quick in answering Sam’s doubts, "Cause I'm messed up. 'Cause of him."

That being declared, James stood up from the table, leaving his company sitting there by himself, rudely. Sam watched him get to the bar, which consisted of a few tables set up for drink service, attended by one of Nana’s kitchen employees. It did the trick in looking fancy enough for an improvised bar, and still, Bucky managed to look fairly pathetic, leaning on the table and ordering yet another hard liquor.

For the next half hour, Sam brought himself to chat and interact with the Barnes, but mostly, he was checking up on Bucky every other minute. Fortunately so, since it allowed him to spot Rumlow as he approached the drunk figure. Wilson excused himself and headed straight for the bar, and was noticed by the man who looked, as usual, like he was up to no good.

"Samuel, we were just talking about you." Brock greeted him cynically.

"Leave him alone." Sam said, not messing around.

Bucky’s eyes were fixated on his drink, avoiding exchanging gazes with his ex, no matter how hard Brock tried to catch his attention.

"I don't think anyone should leave him alone like this." Rumlow cocked a brow, giving off the most pedantic posture yet.

As much as Sam didn’t wish to sound just as condescending as the ex-boyfriend, he needed him to back off. So he stood his ground, planting himself in front of Bucky, and raised his chin.

"Oh, goodie, that's what I'm here for." He clarified with a taunting tone.

All of a sudden, Bucky decided to stand his ground as well. Unhappy with the exchange of words about his state, he got himself in front of Sam, stumbling a bit.

"I don't- don't need anyone to look after me." He managed to croak out, frowning.

After he delivered the words, he propped himself on the table unsteadily, causing Sam to gesture catching him, but Bucky seemed to be partially alright on his own. Brock, on his part, gave him a deeply disappointed look. Suddenly, Sam understood so much; the paternalistic vibe he gave off, like you’re nothing for yourself and are in desperate need of his aid. The way Rumlow judged people could get anyone to doubt themselves. Luckily, Sam wasn’t giving in.

Brock extended his hand to the more-than-tipsy man, "Come on." He said, more a demand than an offer.

The response was even more abrupt than that morning by the lake. In sight of his hand so near him, Bucky’s paranoia crippled through his bones, provoking a different kind of outburst.

"Don't touch me, you fucking maniac!" he yelled, taking a step back.

Sam’s skin crawled. During the tense silence that followed, he felt eyes staring at them three. Brock, however, didn’t seem nearly as shocked, but instead acted like this was just typical Bucky. He did seem embarrassed, though, being the victim of the scandal for the second time that day.

"Let's go." Sam pleaded, not daring to touch Bucky in a jumpy state like that.

That was Rebecca’s cue for approaching the lot, allured by the fuzz.

"What's going on?" she demanded an explanation in a low, but harsh tone.

"Nothing.” Rumlow spoke before anyone else got the change, “He's making a scene, as usual."

Rebecca shot him a threatening glance, to which he simply rolled his eyes and abandoned the bar area. Sam took his place in order to check up on Bucky’s face, and found his eyes beginning to water. He was frozen in place, eye sockets reddened by the drunkenness and lips caught between his teeth.

"James, get it together.” Rebecca whispered, “Everyone's staring."

Although Sam was expecting more comfort from the man’s sister, whom just so happened to be scolding him for no reason, he kept his quiet this time. The two sober characters dragged Bucky’s body to the nearest chair and forced him to sit down, which only attracted more attention towards him, but that way he could remain still and far from tumbling scandals.

"Get him some coffee before he embarrasses himself even more." Rebecca told Sam, sternly.

As she kneeled sat next to her brother in order to pretend normality, Sam just gave her a look of disbelief. He didn’t think she could act so heartlessly before.

"You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" he threw her a sarcasm dagger, refusing to move.

"Believe it or not, I'm helping him.” She spat, looking around frantically in hopes no one was judging them, “Coffee, Samuel, please."

Sam took one last good look at Bucky before obeying the very persuasive sister. The drunken mess was avoiding all sorts of eye contact, and was almost pouting like a child. Wilson didn’t have much else to do but get himself to the kitchen, although reluctantly. At that moment, he hated everything; every person and light were getting under his skin, and even the sound of glasses clinking together pissed him off. Right before he reached the kitchen, the sound turned muffled, abandoned far away, and there was a sense of peace. Silence. And breaking through that silence, there was a sharp voice.

“I’m telling you, this is our chance.” The voice echoed from inside the kitchen.

It was unmistakably Rumlow’s. Of fucking course. The man was a goddamn ghost lurking around every room of the massive house. Sam was determined on turning back, until he heard another voice responding.

“Give me a few days-“

“I don’t have days to give you.”

It sounded like an altercation that had just recently began, right before it could get too heated.

“Is your lawyer not your personal bitch this time?” the other man accused Brock, “You not screwing him, too?”

“You want the money, right?”

The inciting question was followed by a tense pause. Therefore, Sam seized his chance and walked into the kitchen, hopefully being able to pretend he hadn’t heard any of it. He recognized the other man as uncle Milo, when the two angry men straightened themselves too quickly, in an attempt to dismiss their previous altercation.

Sam gave them an uninterested glance, “Am I interrupting?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What can we do for you, Samuel?” uncle Milo raised his voice with false friendliness.

“I’m just gonna make some coffee.” He replied, waltzing towards the busier side of the kitchen, further away from them.

Before he could even get a hold of the coffee maker, Rumlow’s forceful interruption made Sam stop in his tracks.

“Nicole can take care of that for you, right darling?” he called for the maid in a patronizing tone, “She’ll even pour it for you and everything.”

Sam glanced at the woman who was still putting the dishes away when it definitely was the end of her shift. It wasn’t just about Rumlow’s treatment of the staff, it was everything, from the way he put Sam in an uncomfortable situation, to the smirk on his face while doing so.

“No thank you, I got it.” Sam told the working lady.

“Actually, she’s got it,” Brock insisted, this time much more taunting, “that’s her job.”

Sam found himself cornered, and resigned, although not without showing his discontent. He pinched the bridge of his nose and agreed tiredly.

“Fine, uh… Can you just take it up to James’ room when you get the chance?” He forced a smile in Nicole’s direction, whom nodded politely, “Thank you.”

When he was leaving to return to Bucky, Sam took a turn on his heels at the last minute. His blood still boiling, he gave the two plotting men a small but clearly exaggerated reverence.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” He let uncle Milo know his anger wasn’t directed towards him, then spoke directly to Rumlow, “Fuck you, Brock.”

“Classy.” The appellee complained.

“You’re right.” He lied, then turned to the maid one more time, “Nicole, my apologies for such rudeness. On behalf of Mr. Rumlow, of course. I guess money can’t buy decency.”

After addressing that last insult to the obnoxious man, Wilson headed back to the cocktail gathering in order to retrieve his drunk friend.

#sam wilson/bucky barnes #sambucky fanfiction #sam x bucky #sambucky #fake dating au #sambucky au #sam/bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 years

Text

will i stop writing/posting before i’ve introduced boco to every damn engine on sodor? maybe. maybe not.

I’ve wound up liking the Donald scene quite a bit. In my fourth and final “BoCo comes to Sodor” post, I was planning to write about how, even for a young diesel (even for a young diesel who is more reliable than the Metrovicks!), I suppose that "merely” witnessing the steam holocaust would severely mess with an engine’s head.

After all, even for humans, being stuck in a situation where others are abused is itself abusive.

This scene + reflection is going back to anxious!angsty!BoCo, but it’s also a good illustration of why he is so tightly wound. (I don’t think it’s his natural personality.)

Bonus/warning: definitely some casual “racism” going on here (don’t know a better word for it) although, again, I think it should be obvious that BoCo’s been brainwashed and gaslit, that he’s remarkably unhateful despite all of it, and that, overall, this way of thinking is really not in his nature.

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

April 1964

5702 had cause to re-think a great many of his conclusions when they arrived at the junction. Like the harbor, this was a set-up on a much grander scale than the rural two-track branch line that ran between them. Unlike the harbor, it was quite busy with people and engines, the latter exchanging whistles as they saw each other. A main line passenger train was pulling out just as they arrived, hauled by none other than a Black Five, who, for all its unusually bright green paintwork, nevertheless at once gave 5702 much more a sense of being in the right era. Black Fives were still common on the mainland, and indeed he and his brothers had been bailed out by that class of engine perhaps more often than any other. (And they had been bailed out by many.)

Of course, close-mouthed Myron was up here too, with a push-pull train, which the main line passengers were beginning to board. His side of the platform also led to a goods yard, though this one was much more cramped than the one at the docks. They wouldn’t have much luck, if they wanted to put 5702 to shunting there. Some of the sidings were no bigger than he was, and just then it was crowded and in some disorder. 5702, his own hearing more than acute, caught his rescuer hiss frustration as he pulled into it.

“Honestly, boy, you’ve left this place a right mess,” 5702 heard the fireman tease, after they came to a stop.

This made the engine hiss some more, and the driver laughed even as he reproved the fireman. “That’s enough out of you for one morning! Never mind, Edward. You'll have a chance to get it to your liking again sometime this decade, I’m sure.”

A deep-toned whistle demanded their attention. Now that the Black Five had left, another engine, with its lengthy train of coal trucks, was visible on the track beyond.

5702 stared at the angry-looking steam engine. He was blue and old as well. Of course, this was a six-coupled goods engine. Stronger and hardier than Edward’s speedy kind, there had still been more than a few on the mainland when the diesel had first been made. 5702 and his brothers had felt real respect for their sort, for—within certain weight limits, of course, and over shorter distances—they had proven, despite their age, capable of hard work even with rather little fuss taken over them (as compared to other steam engines!), and it had not altogether seemed fair to the Metrovicks that literally every single one they had once known had been scrapped in so brief a time. In fact, more than unfair, the sheer haste had been indecent, and not a little frightening.

Anyway, it seemed that the Black Five might be an exception, with the Victorian engine not actually so unusual, around here.

And 5702 might have been rather heartened to see one of the old six-coupled type still around and at work—if it hadn’t been scowling deeply at them both.

“And where have ye been?” he demanded of Edward.

“We’re not yet due,” retorted Edward. “You’re early!”

“Aye, and double-quick it was I sorted this lot, to try and gain some time!”

There was definitely something deeper driving this workaday bickering, and everyone knew it. The deep-whistled engine was eying 5702 with great suspicion. More than suspicion: hatred. The diesel was familiar with that sort of reaction, although in his experience the steam engines—normally not the most tactful sort of vehicle—still did not often display quite such open animosity. (While on-shift, at least. All bets were off, when the engines were left alone in the yards or sheds.)

“This is D5702. He’s come to help with goods on my line. And this is Donald.”

Donald looked as though he wanted to laugh, but was too bitter and furious to manage it. “Looks as if he’s been a muckle help so far! Failed already, have ye, square wheels?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” said Edward coolly, “but he’s to be cleared at the Works before they’ll let him take trains.”

“Ach.” Donald was still mocking. “But I heard tell yon diesels were so ‘low-maintenance’!”

“We’re all engines, Donald. None of us move on our own!” Uncoupled from 5702, Edward left to join the rear of Donald’s heavy train. Although both engines went about their business with cool competence, their whistles, when starting, made their mutual annoyance abundantly clear.

Steam engines aren’t able to keep much secret of their emotions. 5702 had always either pitied or looked down upon them for that. But somehow, already so immersed in their turf, he found himself a little wistful.

5702 and his kind had always understood steam engines, on the whole, to be rather crude and ill-behaved. They caused the workers and crews a great deal of trouble, and therefore could expect nothing better than to be replaced. Both scorning and fearing such a fate, the diesels prided themselves on their own self-control. But now, seeing them here quite free about their feelings, yet perfectly useful—and obviously in no danger of being disciplined or scrapped for a mere show of emotion—5702 found his world quite backwards. Now it was he who felt deficient… and a little envious.

Even once the coal train had vanished from sight, a series of distant whistling could be heard. Such communication was needed during uncoupled banking operations, so that everyone knew when it was time to push, drift, or brake. The tones of both whistles grew less angry as the job went on, and, by the end, when Donald whistled thanks, and Edward whistled good-bye, it was clear that the engines had somehow wordlessly made up the quarrel.

5702 felt his first near-overpowering wave of homesickness. (It was not to be the last.) In that moment he wanted at least one of his own brothers, very much.

#ttte fic #ttte #the railway series #ttte boco #ttte edward #ttte donald #fic snippets

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fieryanmitsu · 4 years

Text

If Only | A3! (one-sided Itaru/Izumi, Sakyo/Izumi)

This story plot suddenly just cannonballed into my head while I was listening to Shintarou Asanuma’s cover of “So Close” from Disney’s Enchanted. For those of you who don’t know, he is Itaru’s Japanese voice actor! I really do love AsaShin’s singing voice, and he seriously just knocks it out of the ballpark with this song. I’m just heartbroken forever now, and the lyrics made me cry, so here I am with an angsty story that no one asked for, hahaha!

Because of the way I envisioned this story, it felt most right if I wrote it in present tense. However, this style of writing is definitely something out of my comfort zone and I can’t remember the last time I tried writing in the present tense. So, I’ll apologize in advance if I make your eyes bleed with my terrible grammar and any unintentional switching to the past tense (especially since I don’t write with a beta)!!

IF ONLY

CHARACTERS: Itaru Chigasaki, Izumi Tachibana, Sakyo Furuichi

PAIRINGS: unrequited Itaru/Izumi, Sakyo/Izumi

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

Itaru finds himself in an unfamiliar situation: on the sidelines of a blaring dance floor. He has attended many weddings in his lifetime – he was at that age, after all, as his parents often remind him – but, he can count on one hand how many wedding after-parties he has bothered to join. Actually, he didn’t even need one whole hand. One experience was enough for him to have his fill of plastering on a fake face and dealing with obnoxious drunk people – especially drunk women trying to get into his bed. Not to mention, he would lose out on his precious free time.

However, there was no way he could get out of this particular after-party. After all, it is the Mankai Company-exclusive after-party for Izumi and Sakyo’s wedding. Or was it the after-after-party? Did the impromptu karaoke session thrown together by Banri and Tenma count as an after-party? Regardless, much to Itaru’s misery, skipping out on the current celebrations is not an option – according to Tsuzuru, anyway.

Nibbling half-heartedly on one of the finger sandwiches that Omi had prepared, Itaru lounges casually at one of the cocktail tables. A beautiful bouquet of flowers sits upon the pristine tablecloth – lovingly hand made by Tsumugi, of course – but his eyes spare them no glance. Instead, his gaze is glued on Izumi’s slender figure as she sways her hips on the dance floor, surrounded by a gaggle of the younger Mankai Company members. They cheer her on as she clutches the skirt of her floor-length white dress, whirling around with abandon. Her smile flashes brighter than the tacky disco ball suspended from the ceiling, and Itaru is unable to look away.

Suddenly, the dance music fades out and the mood in the ballroom completely changes as the DJ – Sakoda, because his services are free – starts playing a mellower tune.

Picking up his glass, Itaru throws back the rest of his drink, feeling the alcohol burn a hot trail down his throat. There was no way he was going to get through this evening sober. He clunks down the empty glass and vaguely registers Sakoda loudly announcing that it was about time that the boss gets his butt on the dance floor already.

The young salaryman absentmindedly shoves another sandwich into his mouth as he watches Sakyo being pulled from his seat at a nearby table and shoved into the centre of the rented hall by Taichi and Misumi. The bespectacled man stumbles as he nearly trips on one of the table legs, and Izumi catches him in her arms as the two young men laugh rather than help.

After Sakyo regains his footing, the newlywed couple wrap their arms around each other to the cheers of the audience and they begin swaying to the tune of a slow, romantic song. The usual hard expression on Sakyo’s face softens as he looks down lovingly at his bride, and the smile that Izumi returns is blinding.

Itaru tears his eyes away. He doesn’t know why he still feels bothered. Did he not literally witness those lovey-dovey faces all day as they had been exchanging vows, giving their speeches at the reception, and cutting the wedding cake? Maybe the alcohol was exacerbating it, but the remaining sandwich in his mouth suddenly tastes like sand and he feels sick to his stomach. He wants to run away, wants to get away from the awful feelings wrapping their fingers around his chest and squeezing his heart painfully.

But, as usual, he doesn’t do anything. Just like the countless other instances in the past years. How many times had the voice in his head shut him down when he wanted to reach out to her, only to freeze and pull away?

‘Why bother – you’re not good enough, anyway,’ the voice lamented.

‘You’re just useless gamer trash – you’ll never be able to give her what she deserves,’ the voice sneered.

‘Why compete with him – he’s better than you in every way,’ the voice demanded.

He has long lost count.

Itaru is drawn out of his thoughts by loud whooping and wolf whistles. Turning his head to the source of the attention, he sees Azuma confidently step onto the dance floor while flicking his ponytail over his shoulder. Moments later, the long-haired man gracefully steals Izumi away from her groom with a wink. Even though the lighting in the room is dim, Itaru can just make out Sakyo rolling his eyes as he steps aside, but not without a good-natured smirk on his lips.

Izumi giggles with delight as Azuma leads her across the dance floor. Before long, the professional cuddler’s actions start a chain reaction. Kazunari swoops in shortly after with a cheeky grin to enjoy his turn with Izumi before he twirls her away to – a very drunk, Itaru notes – Tasuku. The director is nearly crushed by his burly body when he fails to keep his feet under him, but Citron rescues her and begins spinning her around the dance floor. Izumi’s laughter rings in Itaru’s ears as she continues to waltz through a succession of more Mankai Company men.

And, then, suddenly, Izumi is standing in front of him, and her hand is on his wrist.

“Dance with me, Itaru,” she requests – no, commands – and tugs lightly on his arm with a big, innocent smile and flushed cheeks.

In any other situation, his rejection would be instantaneous. He doesn’t dance – can’t dance. Izumi knows this, too, considering the countless number of times he has trampled on her toes during practices.He knows he should turn her down, because nothing good can come of this.

Maybe, he could use Masumi as an excuse – the young man was slumped over on one of the tables, dead to the world. He could say that he was taking Masumi home to rest (and mope) in his bed instead. But, something about Izumi always makes his brain short-circuit and he can’t bring himself to say ‘no’.

Still in a daze, he lets her pull him onto the dance floor. It’s not until he feels one of her hands settle on his shoulder and her other hand clasp around his own, that it really hits him.

An intense surge of emotions wrenches through his gut and he wants to throw up. His mind is a tornado of competing, conflicting thoughts, threatening to rip him apart from the inside. He feels a telltale prickling behind his eyes and he bites down so hard on the inside of his cheek that he can taste blood.

Hide it, he screams at himself. SMILE, damn it.

So, he does. Except, it’s not the smile he means to give – the princely, aloof smile that deflects everything. Instead, he gives Izumi a smile he has hidden for years. The one that he only permits himself to give her in his dreams.

Itaru wants to kick himself – wants to stab his own traitorous heart – because, in his moment of weakness, he is succumbing to the escapist habit he has depended on since childhood. However, this time, instead of imagining himself as Lancelot, as he often did in his youth, he imagines that he is… hers. Imagines that this is their dance. Imagines that he is the one that said ‘I do’ at the altar. Imagines that he can make this beautiful woman, in her pure white dress, happy – for it was this woman that gave him a place to belong and he can’t imagine being anywhere else but by her side.

And, in that moment, Itaru is the happiest he has ever been and he wishes he could keep holding her hand forever. Maybe, this moment could have been real–

If only he didn’t always just decide to give up, then maybe he could have said ‘I’m serious’ instead of ‘I’m just joking.’

If only he was brave enough, then maybe he could have returned her embrace, instead of wrenching himself away.

If only he could hate himself less, then maybe he could have told her: ‘Choose me.’

If only this dream would never end.

If only–

But, he hears the melody beginning to slow down…

Not yet.

… and the last notes of the song fade away.

Please.

Then, their feet come to a halt, and Itaru wakes up.

“Thanks, Itaru! You’ve made me so happy!” she exclaims with a smile that burns its image into his eyes.

And, despite the irrational part of his mind screaming at him to keep hold of her hand, he just gives her a smile – a real one, because he loves her – and gently plants a kiss to the back of her hand before he lets her go.

It took me a long time and many late nights of fiddling around before I was satisfied with this, so hopefully my words got through and you were all able to the fruits of my labour!

I would also highly recommend you all to take a listen to AsaShin’s cover of “So Close” if you can (it’s from the Disney Koe no Ouji-sama Voice Stars Dream Selection II album). There is also the original Japanese version on YouTube with subtitles last I checked as well. Ultimately, this story was a culmination of my feelings and thoughts as I listened to that song.

Anyway, thank you again for reading and feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts or any constructive criticism!! If you enjoyed, please reblog~

-Anmitsu

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super-haikyuu-hotline · 4 years

Note

IDEK about you but ushijima angst is pret hard ta find, so would you write some for him pretty puhlease? Something about him seeing his ex after some years - he regretted breaking up with them but he was too scared to ask to get back together or something - and he's still in love with them. Bonus if they're dating someone new and he knows them too. Cheers!

If you’re looking for good Ushijima angst, @dorkyama wrote this really beautiful piece. You can read it here! It’s one of my favourite Ushijima writings on this site. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

Anyways, I’m happy you came to me for one too! (▰˘◡˘▰) I’ve been in an angsty mood lately, so this ask is perfect for now heheh.

Thanks for sending this in! I hope you like it! ^̮^

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ushijima did not expect to see you here.

He thought that he had dealt with his feelings concerning the break up a long time ago, but seeing you again in person for the first time since then brought on a wave of inner turmoil that he never anticipated.

There was a series of images, of sounds, of places in his past that he thought he had buried. It all rushed back to the forefront of his mind, and demanded to be seen, to be felt, to be relived. Ushijima found himself needlessly clenching and unclenching his fists on his lap, if only to have some semblance of control over himself in that moment.

You once always wore a hair tie that he bought for you back then. Even flat-out refused to cut your hair during the sticky heat of the summer months, like you had made a habit of doing before him. Ushijima couldn’t place why he was remembering this one thing, when you gave him so much to remember and even more to forget when it was over. You left such an indelible mark on his youth, irreplaceable.

But he was only able to come to that conclusion after you.

He was the one who broke up with you. He chose not to have you with him. It didn’t make sense for him to be wallowing in melancholy, especially when it’s been years. Especially since he chose this outcome for himself. Especially since you were clearly doing better without him. For a moment, he tried to picture what it would’ve been like to be on the receiving end of your smile, but he came up short.

It’s been too long.

You were doing better without him. That much was fine. Ushijima knew he was the not easiest boyfriend to have, and certainly not the most loving or available or supportive. If you could smile like you hadn’t a care in the world now, then it was enough for him. At least you were doing well.

That was all that mattered anyway.

An automated message came on the train’s sound system, announcing the name of the next station. You continued to have an animated conversation with the people who had boarded the train with you at one of the previous stations. You gestured quite wildly as you spoke, as he remembered that you had the tendency to. It was yet another detail of you that was so small, so insignificant that he took knowing it, noticing it for granted.

They laughed, and so did you.

There were only a few metres of space between you and him, and it was easily crossed, if so he chose to. But he didn’t. Ushijima remained in his seat, alternating his gaze between you and the vacant seat across from him, hands still balled up on his lap.

The train continued on its way, a little bump in the rails here and there. You grabbed onto the arm of one of your friends to keep yourself from tumbling backwards where he sat. There was no malice attached to his wishful thinking, but if only you had let yourself stumble back just a few steps, he could’ve met you there. Could’ve said “good afternoon” to you for the first time since high school. Could’ve exchanged some meaningless pleasantries with you that he knew he would’ve placed too much weight on after parting ways with you again.

There was a multitude of ways for him to approach you, and there was an infinite number of excuses he could use to speak with you even for a second. Ushijima debated it, for a moment. If he should. If he deserved to, even now.

The man whose arm you were still holding on to touched your hand, plucked it from his forearm and put it around his waist instead. You allowed him to, and the man responded with a smile, saying some things Ushijima couldn’t hear even if he strained his ears.

When you smiled back at the man, Ushijima decided that he wouldn’t intrude on a part of your life that was happier for his absence.

#hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #scenario #angst #i couldn't bear to write ushijima's ex dating someone he knows #because that would hurt too much #but if you want #you can come ask for it when my askbox is open!#i'll cry but i'll write it for you #if so you desired heheh

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dottiechan · 4 years

Text

Finders Keepers Pt. 1 (A SWTOR Imperial Agent story)

Part 1 / Part 2

Word count: 1633

Summary: SIS agent Dorathine Garza is left behind on Dromund Kaas after going undercover.

A/N: Thanks for kicking my writer’s block in the butt!!! I worked Dee’s story over a little, and gave it a good angsty twist in the end! Also, who needs proofreading, right?!

@catpella: does she ever get out? i still want to knowwwww

Warnings: anxiety, grief

It was supposed to be just another covert mission. Infiltrate Imperial Intelligence, gather information about Operation Krenth, get extracted by the SIS. She’s done it a thousand times before - her mother used to say that all Garzas are born with a blaster in hand, after all. Hutt Cartel, Exchange, Black Sun, blast, even the Sith Academy. She’s survived them all, her devotion to the Republic growing fiercer with every assignment. It was gruesome work, but she liked it. It made Dee feel invincible when she gambled with her life and won. Better than a night at the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa, she’d tell you.

This time, things are different. This time, the SIS went on radio silence after getting the necessary information out of her, leaving her stranded on the Imperial capital. That was 3 days ago. There will be no extraction. There will be no victory. Not this time.

Dee used to joke about her work, saying she took out the Republic’s trash for a living. She’d never imagined she’d live long enough to become the trash.

Dee counts the hours on the first day.

She knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s found out. In her shocked, panicked state, she does what she was always taught by the seasoned SIS agent who’d trained her – she reverted to the first undercover lesson beaten into her. Act inconspicuous. Cover your tracks. And above all, watch for any and all opportunities. Her chance of getting out thins with every passing second, and it’s painful to resist glancing at her chronometer as she uses up her last minutes. Stars, I never thought I’d go out in this blasted Imp armour and its stupid bucket of a helmet, she thinks as she walks across the Citadel towards the taxi pad, all forced tranquillity, casual steps and feigned respect when passing by a Sith. Dee’s seen loth cats with more discipline than some of these so called lords, but she won’t string a civilisation up for worshipping its apex predators. The Republic isn’t all that different, despite its claims.

The barracks are tidy but not exactly spacious, and a few glares are enough to make the other recruits shut up. She’s not here to make friends with Imperials, but... she doesn’t know why she’s here anymore. She repeats all she had to learn about Operation Krenth for the SIS over and over in her head until she can’t think straight anymore. Dee is homesick, utter desperation heavy on her chest as her panic melts into sadness. If the SIS wanted her dead, she would have preferred being lined up to a wall and shot. That is clean. That is fair. She won’t pretend to be a saint, won’t pretend to have followed every order to the letter, to have never worked for her own benefit on the side. But she did what the other agents couldn’t, and she did it well. Her stomach twists when she realises she’s just as expandable as the other agents, the ones she knew the SIS only employed until they outlived their usefulness, the ones she was tasked countless times to dispose of in creative ways. But when she thinks of her mother, she straight up becomes sick to the stomach.

General Garza was no doubt informed beforehand. And all she had to do to turn it around was to say no.

But she let it happen to her daughter anyway.

Dee stops looking over her shoulder after the first month. The only mistake the SIS did when they sent her on this suicide mission was giving her too good a cover. They should have known she’d use it. So when she catches the attention of Keeper, she only works harder. Edging slowly inside, earning their trust favour by favour, mission by mission. She’s too good an opportunity to be passed up, even though she knows the old man suspects something. They both have a nose for trouble, a keen sense of survival that has kept them both alive and going all this time.

When the mission to Hutta is outlined, an unspoken truce is made between the two. Friend or foe, honesty or lies, they need each other. Imperial Intelligence needs her to infiltrate a Hutt’s palace – child’s play for an agent of Dee’s calibre. In return, she needs them to trust her enough so she might get close to Operation Krenth from the Imperial side.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her it’s only so she could get home, to the Republic. That by ensuring a Republic victory, she’d be forgiven. But with every single day she spends in the heart of the Empire, she knows the inevitability of her revenge. She has the upper hand – she remembers all the SIS security codes, the secure channel decryptions, the standard operating procedures, the preferred tactics. In the Imperial helmet, Dee is just another infantryman, just another number, just another body to be dropped. Which is why she is in the perfect position to remind them why you must put down a rabid kath hound, why you must cauterise a wound before it festers.

“Welcome to Operation Krenth, Agent.”

Keeper’s voice is undecipherable. Dee wouldn’t put it past him to know. It would be the perfect test of loyalty. She clicks her heels together and stands at attention, the prospect of payback momentarily soothing the constant pain of betrayal in her chest. Betrayal and abandonment for a sin she wasn’t even deemed worthy to know by her old superiors.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

...

“Total mission failure, General. I’m telling you, they have a mole in our ranks! They knew every move we’d make before we did them!”

“Calm yourself, Lieutenant Jorgan,” Garza replies as she forces herself to be still and tranquil despite the catastrophic outcome of Operation Krenth. Instead of ensuring the Empire’s defeat, they only doubled their own by trying to stop an Imperial stealth mission on Ringo Vinda, losing a key Republic shipyard in the process. A devastating blow, considering the resource and material that went into cracking Operation Krenth.

“With all due respect, how can you say that, sir?” the Cathar seethes as he rounds the holotable, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Your own daughter died giving us intel on the Imps.”

“I don’t need to be reminded what we lost during our campaign, Lieutenant,” she barks, tone sharper than intended. Not a day passes without Garza thinking about Dee, and how the SIS was forced to abandon her on Dromund Kaas. It’s as good a fate as death for a spy, and to mount a rescue op of that scale would not be supported by the GAR. Her rationale knows this. But there are days when she just wants to commandeer a shuttle, sling a rifle over her shoulder and blast her way into the damned Dark Council chamber to demand her daughter back. Elin Garza knows Dee is dead, she can feel it in her bones. She knows her demands are empty, childish threats; her hopes naive and otherworldly. There’s not a thing she can do or say to undo the damage that’s already been caused.

It doesn’t mean she can forgive herself just yet.

“That... was out of line. I’m sorry, General,” Aric says, his head sinking between his shoulders in defeat, anger, anguish. “I just... keep going over the mission in my head, constantly. Thinking what I’ve done wrong, what piece of intel I might have misinterpreted.”

“It’s impossible to tell. Maybe we simply waited too long. Let the intel grow stale.”

“We did everything by the book. It was supposed to be one of the easy ops. Now, I’ve lost two Havoc men, more regulars than I could count, the second largest Rep shipyard on Ringo Vinda... Something doesn’t add up,” Jorgan sighs as he places his hands on the holotable and leans forward, letting his eyes search the holoimage of the destroyed shipyard as if his own failure was written in the debris.

“Rest, Lieutenant. Recharge. Fill the gaps in Havoc squad’s ranks.”

Garza is already behind her desk, eyes trained on the incoming reports on her datapad. Aric Jorgan knows his general better than to try and say anything more. Her attention is already elsewhere, far away from what she has been saying just minutes ago. So he mutters a “yes, sir” and grabs his helmet, fingers gripping the plastoid so hard he could snap it in half. Dee might have been an SIS agent when she disappeared, but she was a rookie under his leadership a few years before that, and such emotional ties are not easily broken. He might not have had anything to do with the mission that was her downfall, but that doesn’t mean he will not keep feeling responsible. Like it was his fault somehow. Like he could have prevented it in any way. And the fact that he cannot investigate without Garza’s blessing doesn’t exactly help soothe the Cathar’s nerves.

Just as he’s halfway through the door, Elin’s voice halts him. She does not look up, her concentration is not once broken. But her intentions have never been clearer.

“Once you do that, I want you to report back to me, Jorgan. You will take Havoc squad and unravel the real reasons behind this defeat. Learn all you can and keep HQ and the SIS updated on the situation. We must avoid incidents like this in the future. And more importantly, I won’t allow my daughter’s death to have been in vain.”

It’s been a long time since Aric stood at attention willingly, unironically, without being told to do so. He finds himself doing just that now anyway.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

#dottiechan writes #swtor #swtor imperial agent #oc:#dorathine garza #aric jorgan #general garza #swtor fanfiction #tw: anxiety #tw: grief

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