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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 month

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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // THIRTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Things in Ba Sing Se come to a head, taking a violent turn you are unprepared for.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: as seen in the chapter summary this is chapter leans on the more violent side #sorry BUT just wanted to say i love you all thanks for reading and sorry i’m so mean to your character

“Quynh,” you sniffed, holding onto one of her claws. “Quynh, they want to kill Kuei.”

She growled, low and deep, which only made you cry harder. Only when she noticed that did she stop, though her breaths still came quick and short as she rubbed her cheek against your body in a vain attempt to comfort you.

“Who?” she said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “They haven’t done anything yet, but I heard them. I heard them!”

“Tell me what they said, my dear,” she said. “As best as you can, so that there is no chance of misunderstanding.”

“They said that if I turn out to be an Earthbender, they will get rid of Kuei so that I can take the throne,” you said. “They want a powerful ruler, and they don’t — they don’t think that he can be that. But I don’t want to be queen! I just want to play with Kuei!”

“That’s contingent on you being an Earthbender, though,” she said. “You haven’t shown any signs of bending yet, have you?”

You hiccuped. “Yes. Today. I was on my way to show Kuei when I overheard the conversation. But no one can know. Pinky promise not to tell anyone, Quynh! I don’t want Kuei to be in danger.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she soothed you. “But you are a bender of Shan’s line. If you do not learn to control your power, you will destroy this palace.”

“Huh?” you said.

“Bending without control is based solely on a wild instinct. If you do not train in some way, shape, or form, then your every emotion will be like a stone on the surface of a pond. For the everyday individual, this isn’t anything devastating, but you are the princess of the Earth Kingdom. Your bloodline begets only the strongest of Earthbenders, and so the consequences of your bending running amok are that much greater,” she said.

“But if anyone catches me, then Kuei — Kuei — I don’t want Kuei to die!” you said, bursting into tears again.

“He won’t,” Quynh said. “Listen to me, Y/N. If you cannot train properly, if you cannot learn the Earthbending forms and movements that are specifically designed to calm the mind and focus the art, then we must come up with a suitable replacement.”

“What can replace a teacher?” you said.

“I will be your teacher,” Quynh said. “And the crystals around us will be your element. Crystals are a step removed from stones, and so they are difficult for the more traditional benders to master, but you are skipping over to them entirely by virtue of your situation.”

“Will that be enough to ensure that I am not caught?” you said.

“I think so,” Quynh said. “Once you are bored of crystals, we will move on to glass. You see, dear girl, there is a truth that is oft-ignored in this new era of bending: it is no harder to move a mountain than it is to emboss a window. Perhaps one is more ostentatious — who ever takes the time to be impressed by the minute details of a piece? — but both are of the same difficulty. The explosion and the implosion are equally as destructive, are they not? If you cannot practice with the mountains that are your birthright, then you must turn to the other extreme. You must endeavor to bend with an exact perfection; allow no blemishes, so that your mind does not turn on itself in its solitude.”

“Princess Y/N,” a slippery, cool voice said as you rounded the corner towards where the tea shop was located. “It was surprising enough to see you hanging around the Avatar and his friends, but to find a girl of your birth and stature in the Lower Ring instead of in the palace is definitely unexpected.”

You froze. It was a voice you did not recognize, but if they knew you had been with the Avatar, then there was only one group they could have been from. Your swore as stone gloves warped into cuffs around your wrists, binding them behind your back and dragging you into the custody of a man wearing a familiar uniform.

“Dai Li,” you hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Between the two of us, I do not think that you are the one who has the right to be asking me that,” the agent said. You ground your teeth as another agent dropped down beside you, grabbing your shoulder roughly.

“Long Feng will be furious,” this new agent said. “You’ve disobeyed his singular order. What an ungrateful girl you are! A princess who was given everything she ever asked for and was only asked to stay in her rooms in return. Yet you could not even do that much.”

The people on the streets were beginning to stop and stare, whispering to one another at your state. It wasn’t every day that Dai Li agents made their presences obvious — there was an unspoken awareness that they were always there, creeping about in the corners of the collective consciousness, but it was rare for them to become forefront. Even in the crime-riddled Lower Ring, it was the militia-men who enforced the common laws. The Dai Li only appeared for the gravest infractions, and for you to be led away in stone cuffs like this was a scandal of unprecedented magnitude.

“There are more important things for Long Feng to be furious about,” you said as you were pulled through the streets by the Dai Li agents.

“Nothing is more important than you, your royal highness,” the first agent said sweetly, mockingly. “The safety of the Earth King’s heir is paramount to the kingdom’s security.”

As you passed the tea shop, the door slammed open, and the Dai Li agents paused as Lee sprinted out, his face like a thundercloud, his shoulders tense and expression in a scowl darker than any you had ever seen him wear.

“What’s going on here?” he said, crossing his arms and staring down the Dai Li with none of the fear and respect that they rightfully commanded. The way he stood was if he were the one that they should be afraid of, though it was a ridiculous notion — what could a simple tea shop worker do to the famed members of Ba Sing Se’s secret police?

“Out of the way, boy,” the second agent said.

“Where are you taking Y/N?” Lee insisted. “I won’t move until you tell me.”

“Y/N? You’re on a first-name basis with her royal highness?” the first agent said. “How impetuous! It’s laughable, really, for you to think that this girl cares about you.”

It was meant to be nothing more than humiliation. By exposing your identity, the Dai Li were ensuring that you could never again return to the Lower Ring, not if you valued your life or at least your dignity. The people who lived here hated you, after all, hated everything you stood for. The spoiled princess who cared little for their suffering…now that they knew the truth, they would never accept you again.

The whispers grew louder. Her royal highness? Y/N, as in Princess Y/N? The Earth King’s sister? What is she doing here? How dare she show her face after everything? How dare she pretend to be one of us?

“Get out of here!” a man shouted. The declaration was like the breaking of a dam, as the people’s voices rose higher and higher. The Dai Li stood beside you grimly, doing nothing to shield you from the insults thrown your way.

“Is this how you royals entertain yourselves?” a woman said. “Is this what we are paying our taxes for? So that you can live our lives for fun and then go back to the luxury of your palace?”

“Give us our money back, thief!”

“Do we look like tourists, huh? Why’d we have to pay to enter the city?”

“Why are we second to a bear? Why does the Earth King care more about his pet than his people?”

“Selfish witch! You’re no princess. You’d abandon the kingdom if it meant you could live a life of luxury! You ought to be sent to the front lines, let’s see how you like it there!”

“Down with the tyrant! Down with the traitor!”

It was exactly the kind of uprising that the Dai Li had been employed to quell, but they stood there and watched, faces impassive as people came closer and closer, pressing in on you, screaming things that you could not cover your ears from, not when you were still restrained.

“Ain’t she the princess they said was made of glass? I wonder if she’ll break like it, too!”

You weren’t sure who hurled the first brick, but it was only thanks to Lee’s quick reaction that it did not hit you in the head. He yanked you out of the way, but the missed opportunity only incensed the people further.

“You have to get out of here,” you said to Lee. “This is the culmination of years’ worth of anger. I am the target for their rage, but if you’re near me, then you will be caught in the crossfire. Take Mushi and go somewhere far away until this has blown over!”

“Will I see you again?” he said. A window shattered, glass raining down around you as people began to fight one another, too. They were just furious now. They just wanted someone to hate, and whether it was their neighbor or their princess mattered little to them. As long as they could inflict the hurt they felt onto another person.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “I don’t know anything anymore, if ever I did. But I want to, Lee. I want to see you again, and so I believe that I will.”

“Death to the Glass Princess! Death to the Glass Princess! Death to the Glass Princess!”

“You have to go now!” you said. A nearby produce stand was turned on its side, tomatoes rolling out and bursting as people stomped on them in their haste to destroy something, anything, everything.

Out of nowhere, Dai Li agents manifested, using their Earthbending to trap the citizens in constructs of stone, the riot stopping as abruptly as it had started. You used your shoulder to shove Lee away from you, shaking your head at him when he tried to protest before turning away, knowing that he would not leave unless you dismissed him in a way so inarguable that it left him with no choice.

In such a short time, the road had been utterly destroyed. The storefronts had been torn apart, glass and stray stones and smashed goods everywhere. The street itself ran red with tomato juice and pulp and blood, and the people who were encased in rock by the Dai Li were bruised and worn from the effort of the riot.

“Where are you taking them?” you said as the Dai Li moved with brutal efficiency, restraining everyone in the crowd before releasing them from their temporary prisons.”

“They’re all due for a visit to Lake Laogai,” the Dai Li agent standing at your left shoulder said.

“This is why you were forbidden from leaving the palace,” the other Dai Li agent said.. “Do you understand now?”

“I understand,” you said, though what you understood and what he was saying were at odds with one another. It was the kind of conclusion you were only equipped to draw now that you had left the palace and seen the reality of Ba Sing Se, of the impenetrable city whose walls contained any explosions and turned them inward.

As you were marched down the street towards the palace, you could not help yourself from craning your neck for one final glimpse of the ruined street where you had spent so much of your time. Your happiest days had been on these very cobblestones, in and out of these very shops.

Those days would never come back. They were gone now, destroyed as surely as the setting in which they had taken place.

You caught the eye of the man who had started it all, who had shouted at you to leave the Lower Ring. He had been forced to his knees and held there by stone restraints, and a Dai Li agent stood above him with a severe expression on his face.

When the man noticed you looking at him, his eyebrows drew together, his irises shining with fear and desperation. He mouthed something at you, or perhaps he said it aloud and you were too far to hear it, but either way you comprehended the message.

Please.

Your eyes widened, but you were shoved around a corner before you could react. And then there was a scream, followed by a horrible cracking sound, followed by an eerie, disconcerting silence.

Upon arriving in the palace, you were brought to the throne room. The throne itself was noticeably empty, but Long Feng was standing in front of it on its dais, his sly face adorned with a mournful frown. It only deepened when he saw you, and he sighed as the Dai Li agents paused before him, bowed, and then left, leaving the two of you alone.

“Princess Y/N,” Long Feng said, trying to adopt the same fatherly tone he always took on around you. “I cannot begin to describe how disappointed in you I am.”

“Then don’t,” you said. “And tell the Dai Li to free me of these restraints. What would my brother say if he saw me like this?”

“Why, certainly, he’d agree with me, if not my methods,” Long Feng said. “You’ve nearly died so many times in the city that it’s clear I was right. You never should’ve left.”

He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice over your head. So many times. How had he known about any other instance? How had he known that assassins had come for you, and more than once?

“What will happen to the people of the Lower Ring?” you said. “What will you do to them?”

“Do not fret,” he said. “The instigators were publicly executed, as a reminder to the others of the power of the Dai Li. As for the rest, well, the only ones hurt by their little demonstration were themselves. That’s an even better punishment than anything I could come up with.”

“Executed?” you said.

“As long as you stay out of it, Ba Sing Se will remain safe,” Long Feng said. “Now that the dissenters are gone, the public sentiment will return to its usual.”

“But I don’t want it to return to its usual! The people of Ba Sing Se hate Kuei and I, and for good reason,” you said. “They are struggling, and instead of helping them, we are making things worse. Surely you know this, so why have you not yet advised my brother to stop what he is doing and enact policies that will benefit our kingdom?”

Long Feng scoffed. “You know nothing of ruling a kingdom; in fact, you know even less than your brother. If you and he would leave the running of Ba Sing Se to the more qualified, then things would not be so dire.”

“There’s a war,” you said. Long Feng paled, and for a moment, his well-schooled expression dropped into a sneer. It was brief, but you were quicker than he. You saw it, and the beginnings of a theory formed in the back of your mind.

“Who has fed you such vicious lies?” he said. “There is no war.”

“The Avatar,” you said. “I’m sure your men told you that I was with him. If I am lying, then he must be, as well. Do you still deny it?”

“The Avatar is a young boy,” Long Feng said. “Young boys are prone to exaggeration and boasting. In a world that has survived for so long without him, don’t you think he would do anything to gain some legitimacy? Fabricating a conflict isn’t beyond that scope. Of course, occasional skirmishes are a natural consequence of the size of the kingdom, but an actual war is unthinkable. The world is at peace.”

“And the refugees are tourists,” you noted. “Isn’t that right?”

“You’re confused,” he said. “The overload of information that you were faced with in Ba Sing Se has muddled your poor mind, so that you are susceptible to the mind tricks of outside actors like the Avatar.”

“That’s not true!” you said. “I know what I saw. Why are you denying it so vehemently?”

Speaking to Long Feng always reduced you to childhood. With him, you were once again nothing but a little girl throwing a tantrum. It did not help that he was perpetually looking down his nose at you, like you were lucky to have gained his attention at all, like he was doing you a favor by acknowledging you in the first place. You despised it, despised how small he made you feel, despised how powerless you became whenever he rebuked you.

“I’m afraid I must ban you from your brother’s chambers for the time being,” Long Feng said. “I cannot have you contaminating his clear-headed judgment with your hysterics.”

“You’re confining me to just my room?” you said. If that was the only punishment you received, then it’d be a blessing, but of course you could not reveal that to Long Feng, who would then come up with something even worse to thoroughly chastise you.

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe not. How did you escape?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you said.

“If you ever want to see Kuei again, you will,” he said, his smirk growing cruel as you gasped despite yourself. “You two are all-too-similar. Perhaps you think that because you have found a way out of the palace, you are invulnerable, but I can promise you one thing, your highness: if you do not cooperate, I will forbid you from your brother for good.”

You clenched your fists by your sides. “The window.”

“The window!” Long Feng said incredulously. “Do you expect me to believe that? You live on one of the highest floors of the palace. Even for an Earthbender, that route would be suicide, but you are not so much as that. You are worsening your own case by lying.”

Closing your eyes, you bowed at Long Feng, though as a princess you were required to bow to no one but your brother. He did not stop you, though. He never stopped you.

“You’re right,” you said. “I was lying. I apologize. The truth — the truth is a little more incredible, and I had doubted you’d be convinced by it, but that is out of my control. The only thing I can do is speak it and hope you have faith in me as your princess to stand as a bastion of integrity and truth, even when I tell tales that are all but outlandish in nature.”

“Get on with it,” he said. You took a deep breath to calm your racing heart, whose pulse beat like a drum in your chest, behind your eyebrows, around your ears.

“I disguised myself as a servant,” you said. “Once I was dressed like that, no one paid any attention to me. Making my way to the kitchens, I snuck out of their door, and from there, I ran into the city.”

“No one noticed the truth of your identity?” Long Feng said.

“It’s amazing,” you said. “The kind of things that you pay no attention to when you think of someone as lesser. When I looked like a servant, I was treated as one. For better and for worse.”

You waited with bated breath, hoping beyond hope, praying to Quynh, to Agni, to Tui and La and every other spirit that he would believe you.

“It seems I underestimated you, your royal highness,” Long Feng said. “Chhay!”

From behind the dais, a man appeared. He wore the same uniform as the rest of the Dai Li, though the collar of his undershirt was gold instead of green, a signifier of his elevated status. You knew without being told who he was: Captain Chhay, the legendary captain of the Dai Li and Long Feng’s second in command. The stories told about him were numerous; he was the closest to a national hero that the Earth Kingdom had, as well as the main reason that the Dai Li were so loyal to Long Feng.

“To ensure that you never have the cause to don a servant’s garb again, I will assign Chhay to be your guard,” Long Feng said. “He will stay with you at all times and watch over your every move. In that way, we can be certain that you are where you are supposed to be at any given moment.”

“Don’t worry, your royal highness,” Captain Chhay said. Fear spiked in you, because the voice was not unfamiliar to you, and you suppressed a shudder, doing your best to remain neutral. “I’m sure we will get along.”

“Yes,” you said, fighting to keep your own voice steady. “I’m sure we will.”

Captain Chhay emanated an aura of cocky, self-assured smugness. He knew that he was powerful; maybe he even knew you feared him. Either way, he had to understand that between the two of you, he was the stronger, and so he walked with a swagger to his step as he escorted you to your room.

“Captain Chhay,” you said, holding onto your skirts, wishing you had someone there to protect you. The Blue Spirit…Lee…you would’ve even taken Sokka, at this point, though you doubted he would’ve done very much besides maybe demand the captain do a cartwheel. But you were alone, without even the Water Tribe cartwheel-fanatic as an ally, and so you had to figure out how to do this on your own. “How long have you been in the Dai Li?”

“I didn’t take you as a student of history,” he said.

“It’s one of my hobbies,” you said, wiping your palms against your bodice. “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?” he said, though a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not because of me, I should hope.”

“It’s — it’s just that you are so famous,” you said.

“And you are a princess,” he said. “I am but your humble servant. As for your question, I joined the Dai Li shortly before your brother’s coronation.”

The next question was the most delicate, and you could almost persuade yourself to not ask it at all. After all, did you really want to confirm this? Was it worth it, or did you ought to leave well enough alone?

No. If you were right, then you were the only hope left for Ba Sing Se. For your subjects, who were crumbling under the oppressive injustice they faced daily to the point that they had almost killed you in an attempt to restore some semblance of order. If not you, then who would defend them? Who cared for them nearly as much? Who knew them in the way you did?

“When were you promoted to the rank of captain?” you said.

“When Long Feng was appointed your brother’s regent,” he said. “The information is public, so why are you asking me?”

“There’s no better source than the one which lived through the event,” you said. “I am going to take a bath. I trust that you do not need to be at my side for that?”

“I will remain just in front of the door,” Captain Chhay said. “Don’t even think of doing anything funny. I’ll detect it immediately, so it’d just be a waste of time for the both of us.”

Your bathtub was more like a small pool, constructed at Kuei’s behest when you had told him you longed to learn to swim. It was filled with warm water at all times by servants who never introduced themselves to you, and it was deep enough that you could float in it and not touch the bottom if you so desired.

It was only once you had submerged yourself that you let your mind wander. What did you do now? You were just the weak little princess, the girl who could do nothing for anyone, including herself. You could not even go to Quynh for advice, not with Captain Chhay all but atop you constantly. If you exposed that secret, then there was no telling what might happen, to both you and her alike.

You were trapped in a vipers’ enclosure, and the vipers were of such deadly stock that you really had no hope of survival at all. You could only submit to Long Feng’s demands, could only beg Captain Chhay for mercy, so that he was not overly harsh when the time came.

The pool had begun to cool off by the time that you ascended the stairs to leave it, wrapping a towel around you to ward away the chill you had been feeling ever since Long Feng had unknowingly revealed his hand. But that chill was internal, and the towel could do nothing to protect you from it, so after a moment, you set it aside and put on your nightclothes, exiting the bathroom with trepidation.

Captain Chhay was leaning against the wall, his hair let out of its braid and loose around his shoulders, his helm low over his brow, though he was by no means asleep, tilting towards you as you scurried towards your bed like a mouse.

“I will rest now,” you declared, pulling the blankets up around your shoulders and staring at your desk, which was at the other end of the room. It was covered with your glass sculptures, the ones Quynh had been so proud of you for making. A dragon. Twin fish. A badgermole. A flying bison. A bear, constructed so carefully that the fine points of glass covering its surface appeared to be fur, appeared to be genuinely soft to the touch. And uncountable others, each different from the rest, united only by the perfection that you had attempted to attain with every attempt.

Sleep evaded you, though you were not actively trying to seek it out, either, not when Captain Chhay still stood in your doorway, his half-lidded eyes trained on your motionless form.

If you fell asleep, there was no guarantee you’d ever wake up again. You mulled over the events of the day as you tossed and turned, hating how things had changed in such a short span of time but realizing it was necessary. It was in the end not a change that had occurred but a shift in your awareness. These things had been happening for quite some time already.

More than yourself, you worried for your brother. Maybe you could escape, could open the door and run into it and demand Quynh close it before you were pursued, but what would become of Kuei? As long as Captain Chhay was around, it was not safe for him. It was not safe for either of you.

With that in mind, it was obvious what you had to do, but were you capable? Well. You supposed you had to try. For Kuei. For your kingdom. You had to try, or else your people would continue to die, would continue to endure agony and blame your family for it, though you and your brother had never done anything but try to love them.

So you threw the blankets aside and slid off the bed, shoving your feet into a pair of slippers, and you did not pray to the spirits for help. It was your father you called upon — not the 51st Earth King, but your father, the man who in a sense constituted half of your being. It was him you asked for guidance, even though he could never give it to you, even though he had never known you enough to care.

“What are you doing?” Captain Chhay said.

“I had a nightmare,” you said. “Can I talk to you about it? I am still so — so shaken up.”

“I’m not your babysitter,” he said. “Talk to someone else.”

“Aren’t you?” you said. “I have no one else. Please, captain…I am all alone in the palace. In the world, in fact. Won’t you at least listen to me? If it were your own daughter asking, wouldn’t you want for someone to show her that consideration?”

“I don’t have a daughter,” he said gruffly. “My wife died before she could give birth.”

Still, he softened imperceptibly, making his way towards you. You backed up towards your desk, his every step matching your own as you grew closer and closer to where you wanted to be.

Please, Father.

“It was such an awful dream,” you said.

“What was it about?” he said, finally giving in, taking off his helmet so that you could see his shrewd eyes, which were as gentle as he could make them. It was almost as if he felt sorry for you, as if he were seeing his never-born daughter in your place.

“The day my father died. I saw it in such vivid detail,” you said. Your back hit the desk, and your hands trembled as you reached for one of the statues, slick fingers glossing over their surfaces before finally finding enough purchase to grab onto one of them.

“You weren’t even alive when that happened,” Captain Chhay said. “How can you dream about it?”

“I’ve been told the story so many times that it can sometimes feel as if I were there myself,” you said. “Besides, it was a dream. All sorts of impossible things happen in those.”

“That is true,” he said. “Was that all? It happened many years ago. I’m sure it was frightening, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.”

Please, Father. You disguised the twisting, undulating motions of your hands by pretending to wring them behind your back out of distress.

“Something different happened,” you said. “Something new. You see, this time, I heard the assassin’s voice as he killed my father, and to my surprise, it was one I recognized.”

“Your mind cannot conjure up new sounds, so of course you recognized it,” Captain Chhay said, though the softness was rapidly fading from his eyes, replaced with wariness.

“No,” you said. “That’s not why. I recognized it for a more meaningful reason, I know I did.”

“Whose was it, then? Are we to place a man on trial just because, what, you had a nightmare?” he said.

Please, Father.

“Actually, the trial has already begun,” you said. “And the verdict has already been decided. The voice really does belong to the man who murdered my father all of those years ago, and I know that because it was the same voice which belonged to the man who tried to kill me so many times. Because it was your voice, Captain Chhay!”

I’m sorry, Father. Please, Father. Father.

Before Captain Chhay could react to the accusation, you used your bending to impale his heart with the spike of glass that had once been the bear statue. He collapsed immediately, blood bursting from the site like a fountain, the glittering tip of the makeshift weapon poking out of his back.

“How — did — you — bend?” he choked out, voice gurgling as even more blood welled up in his mouth and spilled past his lips, forming a puddle by his cheek.

“Long Feng isn’t the only one who’s been keeping secrets,” you said, bending the glass out of his body so that there was no evidence of what you had done. Smashing it against the ground to further the deniability, you bit your tongue to push back the bile rising in your throat. “You were assigned to kill me, weren’t you? Weren’t you? Answer me!”

Captain Chhay’s body convulsed once, and then he was completely still, his eyes glazed over, frozen while looking somewhere distant, forever stuck searching for something he could not find.

You had done that. A choked sob escaped you, your horror at the deed mixing with the relief you felt that he could never hurt you again. He could never take Kuei from you like he had taken your father.

Patting your palms, now stained with crimson, against your white nightgown, you turned towards your dressing room, where the door to Quynh’s Den had just appeared. Walking towards it, you pulled it open and gave the room one final look, taking in the violent scene created by your own hands.

Then you stepped into the passageway and closed the doorway behind you for good.

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minijenn · 4 months

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Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: How To Train Your Dragon

Fucking FINALLY I can gush about this goddamn MASTERPIECE of a fucking movie, and the source of my newest obsession cause oh my god, ya'll oh my god this FRANCHISE is RUINING ME and it may not be why I decided to understake this entire Dreamworks watch to begin with (for better or worse, but worth it to get to watch through this trilogy again).

We focus on Hiccup, a young viking who's out of place among the other dragon-killing vikings on Berk, especially his stern father, Stoick. During a dragon raid one night, Hiccup accidentally shoots down a Night Fury, said to be one of the most dangerous dragons of all. Slowly but surely, however, Hiccup secretly befriends this dragon, which he names Toothless, while in the midst of dragon hunting training alongside Berk's other young vikings, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut.

So this story is so damn good, so fucking good, its so simple, so rooted in the emotions of it all, of Hiccup being torn between wanting to live up to his father's expectations while also growing closer with Toothless and coming to sympathize with dragons in general. As a result, we get some of the strongest emotional highs and lows in really any Dreamworks movie, and it all works so well and flows so beautifully. In fact, this story doesn't even need an antagonist like its two sequels do (i mean it kind of has one in the Red Death, but its more an obstacle to be taken out above all else), it's source of conflict really is what I just described above and it's so well-crafted on every level.

Hell, everything about this movie is. The characters are all phenomenal, it's not wonder this spawned two sequels and several shows (you should watch Riders/Defenders of Berk and Race to the Edge btw, they're great). Hiccup is one of Dreamworks' best leads by far, a genuis little ball of sass who is just as loyal as he is stubborn. The other teens don't get a ton of focus here, but Astrid does, and she's great, starting out as our usual Dreamworks tough gal before eventually softening up to Hiccup heading into the third act. Also, can I just talk about Stoick for a sec? They could have done this man so dirty, could have made him the usual angry father who doesn't understand or care about his son, but he isn't. He cares so damn much about Hiccup, and it shows, even if he claims to be embarassed by him, even if he seems like he wants him to change, he still loves his son to hell and back (which makes what happens in the second movie so much more tragic, but we'll get to that). And then of course, there's Toothless, who is just... absolute Baby. I love how catlike he is, and how, much like Hiccup, he's also kind of a sassy little shit in his own special way.

The animation, golly, its so pretty, The flying scenes are this franchise's bread and butter and they are just a delight to watch. The character designs are some of Dreamworks' best, especially on the Dragons. They all look so unque and have their own little quirks that make them all special. Toothless especially is animated so well. They give him these cat-like mannerisms that bring so much charm to a character that doesn't speak a single word. It's fantastic.

You know what else is fantastic about this movie? THE MUSIC OH MY GOD. This may just be the single greatest score in ANY Dreamworks movie. It's GOD TIER GOOD. The entire franchise has amazing music, but most of the themes that repeat throughout the next two movies started here and they're all so beautiful. Seriously, give this score a listen if you haven't, its just... amazing.

The whole movie is amazing! I honest to god love everything about it so much. It's such a strong start to what I think is Dreamworks' greatest franchise, to a world and characters that I am literally obsessed with now send help, and to a series that I'm so very excited to be revisiting for this watch through. Please, if you've never seen How to Train Your Dragon, do yourself a favor and watch it now. You will not be sorry.

Overall Rating: 10/10

Verdict: (gestures vaguely at Hiccup) LOOK AT MY SON

Previous Review (Monsters Vs. Aliens)

Next Review (Shrek Forever After)

#jen watches #how to drain your dragon #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks animated movie ever #dreamworks watch #dreamworks

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one-strugling-bean · 2 years

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Random Thoughts on HTTYD RttE S2(Ep8-13)

Ep8&9 - Astrid is being a little meany to the twins, but i get why

Barf&Belch throwing that last tree trunk and then butting heads, looking super proud of themselves was funny

Daamn, Ruffnut! It seems she's been holding that in for a long time now

Okay, like, i can see where Ruffnut is coming from; there have been moments where Astrid mocks or scolds elements of her team (mostly either the twins or Snotlout) for really small things, but since it's always played for laughs, we as a viewer have never taken it into consideration until now, when Ruff throws it at Astrid's face.

But you can't completely blame her! Sometimes, the twins really do stupid stuff and put the team in danger, and Astrid won't forget that, as she shouldn't.

But then, she's also too inflexible and that's where Hiccup's better. He's able to reach a compromise with the twins and make them follow and help the team in their own way. Astrid - it's not even that she can't do that - it's that she won't. And the twins aren't dumb, they understand that.

Fluffnut and Stuffnut are genius names and i shall not take any criticism

Yeahhh capturing one of the twins might not have been your best move here

Im really curious to see what Tuff's plan is

Poor old cousin Lars #2

"-and that these guys love us?" and Hookfang promptly turns his head away - Hookfang is a tsundere confirmed!!

I love how the hunters did not care that Ruffnut escaped, they just let her go

Yayy apologiesss

Ep10 - Fishlegs is so freaking sweet - he's like a giant gentleman, super intelligent brave and kind, and i love whenever he's on screen doing stuff

"I promise I'll tell Snotlout where i hid his favorite axe!" Omg, what did Snotlout do?

He probably thinks the twins hid it btw

OMGGGG I swear i hadn't seen that far yet!! Snotlout does think the twins hid the axe!!

Poor Hookfang :'<

"You should listen to me more often" "Naaah, I shouldn't" This little exchange between cousins was great

Sooo Fishlegs kinda toasted himself there on the Seashocker's back huh

Ha, karma finally came to visit Tuff and Ruff

Ep11 - I've never seen him before, but the Skrill looks so damn cool! Just from his name, my guess on his design was a silver, slick-looking dragon with a big mouth, and i couldn't have been more wrong - it was a surprise to see him as black and purple, he's so pretty!

"Isn't Snotlout's dad acting more violent and deranged than usual?" That you would already characterize him as both does not bode well with me

I really wanted Hookfang to throw Spitelout off of him ngl, that was a rude push

Why did Spitelout come along?!

Also, Astrid being done with Snotlout, part34 (someone should make a comp of that, it'd be so long)

"I hate smart dragons. Which is why I love you!" Aww, Tuffnut sure has a way with words. Also, rider-dragon love

"How come he gets revenge?" Well, it's one of the many perks of being main character, along with a raging martyr complex and everyone wanting a piece of you (for good and bad reasons)

I'm kinda confused, what is Hiccup's plan here?

Soooo, does Dagur actually like the Skrill, ooooor

My lord, why is Spitelout still here??

Yeahhhh team effort timeeeee

Omfg, Spitelout why (Snotlout's "Wait, what?" was a nice way to show how dumb that move was)

Toothless is so protective of Hiccup, and for good reason

I write this up here, and the guy immediately has himself standing in front of a freaking arrow shot - of course Toothless is protective, his rider is always getting himself in dangerous situations!

Good for the skrill, good for him

Yeah, I do not like Spitelout

Uhm, what was that ending, why did you all laugh, he was hurting his son on purpose, peeps why

Ep12&13 - Don't think I've mentioned it until now, but I really enjoy Dagur's voice, it doesn't fit with what I inicially expected of him because of his looks - i expected a much rougher, raspy voice - but the animators and his VA still make it work so well

Toothless silently judging Tuff and Snotlout in the background while Astrid and Hiccup talk was a really funny detail

Sooo I'm guessing this is the Tufflout bromance episode I've heard about

Hm, first impressions of Viggo: he looks a bit common, not a lot of distinguishable features to him, and the way he grabbed Ryker's chin felt so creepy to me - he's already an unsettling guy that's for sure

Ah, he put his arm around her shoulders, noo

His voice is super smooth, it is unsettling

"Hiccup knows we have it-" "Yeah, he let us borrow it-" "I stole it." pfff great

Ngl, i was waiting for the whole "Heather being revealed" thing to take q lot longer

Also, Flightmare pretty, but he does a number on the eyes

Dagur still has no idea Heatger betrayed him huh

Nouuuuu Heatheeeer

Viggo can teletransport apparently, good to know

And Ruffnut makes a good point

Okay, i gotta say Hiccup makes a good argument there, Viggo demands a well thought out plan

Do i sense a Dagur redemption arc..?

"I thought you liked it toasty?" "I like toast-y, not toast-ed!" Snotlout, Astrid, i appreciate you two

Yeahhh Dagur will help Heather somehow by the end of this ep

Im gonna guess that the Dragon Eye Viggo got is merely a duplicate of the real thing

Thank you Dagur!!

Oh, okay, no, it was the actual Dragon Eye, damn

So, just to check, Heather is now gone, Dagur is kinda on his own side, and Ryker and Viggo have their own evil plans with the Dragon Eye - okay that's fine

Welp, and that's Season 2 for you! Can't wait to keep watching it now!!

Its 2am tho, so now i gotta sleep, byee

#httyd #httyd rtte commentary #race to the edge #hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd #astrid hofferson #fishlegs ingerman #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #toothless #stormfly #meatlug #hookfang #barf and belch #viggo grimborn #dagur the deranged #Httyd ryker #Httyd heather #way too many tags

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dumbfinntales · 1 year

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Yesterday I finished God of War: Ragnarök and I have some thoughts. I still have some side content to do, and honestly that’s pretty much the best part of this game. There will be spoilers so don’t read below if you haven’t finished the game. Also this might be a long one.

GOW Ragnarök is a frustrating game. I loved GOW 2018 and it was nearly a 10/10 title, but had some hiccups. I wanted Ragnarök to be the better version, the better game. What makes it frustrating is that it’s both better AND worse. I have never seen a game take so many steps forwards and backwards at the same time. But to start out positive I’ll say what I loved and what they improved upon.

Most obviously: the enemy variety and bosses. 2018 title had a severe lack of enemies and unique bosses, but Ragnarök delivers in spades. There are so many unique encounters and cool mythological beasts to fight. I do wish they didn’t use the Nightmare enemies so much in encounters, but eh, still. The bosses are really fun to fight and are spectacles to behold. I’m also happy to say that the final boss was actually really good this time around! You do battle a certain thunder god at the end, but you end the game with an encounter with the Allfather.

More weapons! Although we only got one new weapon it was still awesome. The Dreipnir spear was so much fun to use and now that Kratos has 3 unique weapons in his arsenal it made the combat feel so good and smooth. There were few new additions to the combat, but it felt as great as ever! I liked the new elemental system, it added a nice spice to the combat.

The exploration and side content are amazing once again and offer small story lines and wonderful character interactions. There’s just something absolutely comfy about going on an adventure to loot some ruins and solve some puzzles while the characters talk among themselves and tell tales. This might sound cheesy, but at times it almost feels like I’m there in the boat listening to their stories.

And of course the characters themselves! Most of them are so wonderfully written and I especially loved Sindri and Brok. I mean they were already great back in 2018, but they’re only better here. All the characters feel like people and some of their interactions are very humorous. Although I have to admit that at times their little “quips” become tedious to listen to. And some jokes are just plain awful, like Sindri trying to come up with a nickname for Atreus and audibly goes “Ugh that was such a bad nickname, sorry Lok’! Oh that one was bad too”.

It all seems fine and dandy, right? Well here comes the frustrating bit. For every good thing and improvement the game does there is something else to drag it down. Let me tell you this, God of War Ragnarök is not a 10/10. Not even a 9/10. There’s just too much shit that drags it down to deserve that, and I hope to GOD that it doesn’t win Game of the Year. I want Elden Ring to take that title because I want the gaming industry to see what kind of games we ought to get. It’s not the end of the world if GOW wins, but by god I’ll dread the future of triple A games.

My biggest gripe of all, this game is designed for idiots. I’m not being patronizing or joking, but the handholding is out of this world. Characters yell out the most obvious shit and constantly ruin puzzle by yelling out the answer for you. In the boss fight with Nidhogg Freya yells directions at you NON-STOP. “Do this” and “do that”, “avoid this attack”, “don’t stand there”, “shield up!” by Christ almighty shut the fuck up. Imagine having someone in real life backseat your every move and you can’t shut them up. That’s this game.

Many bosses are also trivialized since they drop so much HP (could be due to my difficulty as well, but dunno) and if you die you’ll start with full HP while the boss might be at half. There’s no punishment for dying. This game feels like its designed for a very specific kind of person who doesn’t play that many games and just wants to be along for the “ride”.

Another major gripe I have is just how slow this game is. There are more slow walking sections and they’re even longer. There are moments like climbing the Asgard wall or walking around with Odin that could just have been a cut-scene. The Atreus sections just suck. They’re far too long (fuck the forest level with Angrboda) and the combat as Atreus is so limited compared to Kratos. The first time you play as Atreus was perfect! It wasn’t too long and was a nice change of pace. Stretching that to 2 hours of gameplay is insane. Also is it just me, but is there a lot more of those climbing sections in this game? It feels no matter where I go I either have to crawl, climb on a wall or slowly creep through a narrow space which all halt the games pace to a crawl.

This is a personal gripe, but most of the Norse gods feel like wet noodles. The Greek gods had a presence, that of might and glory. Here they’re just some dudes. Odin wasn’t exactly what I expected and what the hell is Freyr even? Sure he’s amusing with his nonchalant party goer attitude, but he’s supposed be a god? Freya herself is also supposed to be a god, but honestly feels like just some lady that knows magic. I only really liked Thor and Heimdall. Thor had the power and presence of a god while also slightly humanized, and Heimdall had the arrogant bluster of a Greek god.

I also feel like the ending felt odd. The whole “ragnarök” thing came and went and didn’t feel as climactic as I expect from a literal apocalypse. I also don’t get Sindri at all. I understand being broken by your brothers death, but he now holds a grudge on Kratos and Atreus due to something no one saw coming. Sindri blames them for his brothers death, even though it was indirect. I don’t know, but it left a sour taste in my mouth. The ending is very open so maybe we’ll see some future GOW titles.

But yeah, this ended up being very long. But I had a lot to say. My final verdict is, it’s a fun game. But it has so much holding it back. Far more than the 2018 title. If you asked me which one I’d rather replay I’d say the previous game. It has its flaws, but they’re not as numerous as here. I was so hoping that Ragnarok was the better title, but alas. This game gets a MAYBE YOU SHOULD HIT THE GLOWING THING UP THERE TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE out of ten.

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #spoilers #a review type of deal

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steele-soulmate · 2 years

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Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 32, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault

WORDS: 1283

“I love that!” I told Sammi as I saw the design, she had been working on for my wedding dress. “In a light teal?”

“Why teal?” My baby sister wrinkled her nose at my color choice as she looked up at me.

“Green for Peter’s favorite color, blue for my favorite color,” I pointed out. “Besides, I always get white clothes filthy dirty.” I wasn’t lying, that plus I didn’t consider myself a virgin, even if I “technically” was one.

“Good point,” Sammi hummed before returning to shading in the dress with a dark turquoise colored pencil. “What else do you want in your wedding dress?”

“I just really want to feel pretty,” I told her.

“Come on,” she rolled her eyes. “Can you at least give me a challenge?”

I worried my lip, unsure of what she was asking.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” she quipped. “I can get the family wedding pearls from Anna and I can make your dress. But what about something borrowed and something blue?”

“I can get a simple bouquet of flowers with blue,” I shrugged again. “I’m sure Peter has something I can borrow.”

I looked across the open walled tent and saw Peter and Jackie, their heads close together as they talked animatedly about something.

“Do you think our brothers will like Peter?” I asked her.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Sammi stuck the tip of her tongue out as she deepened the color on the bodice.

“He’s twice my age,” I confessed, wrapping my arms around myself. I wasn’t sure if my soulmate would be okay with me discussing that he went to Rikers and had a problem with alcohol and used cocaine in his past.

“Mary Claire, look at me,” Sammi ordered, setting her pencils and sketchpad down to take my fingers into her hands. “We have seven physically terrifying older brothers who are only looking out for us. They love you and don’t want to see you get hurt again, okay? Did you know that Adam had offered to fly back to our home to watch us while mom and daddy were in Paris?”

“No,” I sniffled, wiping away the tears in a rush, not wanting my soulmate to see them. “I still love them.” “But you don’t love mom.” I couldn’t really argue with her there- there was a reason why I was low to no contact with the bitch. “Mary Claire, listen to me- mom is dying. The cancer has returned and is killing her-”

“Which she deserves,” I scowled. “Sammi, listen to me- if you and Jack-Jack want to go say your goodbyes, go and say your goodbyes. But don’t expect me to attend her funeral.”

Sammi flinched back at the anger in my voice but didn’t really say anything else on the subject.

“So, where will you two be tying the knot?” she asked, changing the subject.

“It will probably be just a simple courthouse wedding,” I shrugged. “Honestly, the idea of having an extravagant wedding makes me have grade A anxiety.”

“Do you know what Peter wants?” Sammi asked, scooting in closer next to me and wrapping her arms around me as well.

“No.” I thought back to our talks of our future and I realized that he had agrees to my little wants and wishes without telling me what he himself wanted. “He never told me.”

“Sweetheart?” Peter suddenly realized that I was crying and leapt up, crossing over to kneel in front of me and drag me into his lap. “It’s okay, everything’s okay, please don’t cry sweetheart…” he murmured in between sweet little kisses.

“I’m sorry,” I hiccupped.

“What is there for you to be sorry about?” he wondered, pressing an open mouthed kiss to my forehead.

“For only thinking about myself,” I told him. “Tell me about your dream wedding.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, suddenly picking up on why I was crying. “Sweetheart, I’ve been married before and I don’t want a big church wedding or anything. I want a scaled down ceremony, if even that. I’d be just as happy not getting married, but if you want to get married at the courthouse, give me a date and I’ll set everything up.”

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, leaning my ear against his chest and allowing his heartbeat to calm me.

THUD THUMP

Little girl sent a punch that landed into Peter’s stomach and he chuckled before peeling my away from him to stand me up and place a gentle kiss to my stomach.

“Good girl,” he whispered, leaving another kiss on my tummy before reaching up to bring me down for another sweet little kiss.

“You’d be a good daddy,” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” he hummed happily, pressing his lips to my stomach once more. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” I looked up to find that Jackie and Sammi were nowhere to be found, having left us alone for some us time. “What do you want to do today?”

“Spend it with you, sweetheart.” He stuck his nose behind my ear and just inhaled, making me giggle as his breath tickled me.

“Okay then.” I took his hand and began to lead him past all the guilds and shops that lined the faire grounds.

“Where are we going?” my soulmate asked as I led him behind the fairy guild and into the trees.

“Fairy Creek Meadow,” I told him. “It’s a popular hidden secret of faire. I’m quite convinced that at least half of the kids here had been conceived there.”

I pushed a branch out of my way to reveal a circle of trees surrounding glass and flowers. I smiled as I lifted up my skirts and stepped into the center of the grass. I could feel Peter behind me, his phone out, the gentle CLICK as he snapped a picture.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” I asked, taking his hand and leading him over to one of the trees. He sat down and held his arms open so that I could cuddle right into them. I cooed as I settled myself in between his legs, the small of my back pressing into his manly hips as he wrapped his arms around me.

I then reached into my basket and pulled out a book.

“Do you want me to read to you?” I asked, leaning back and tucking my head directly underneath his chin.

“Of course,” he answered.

I twisted my head and placed a simple kiss to the underside of his jaw before flipping the book open.

“Chapter one, The Boy Who Lived,” I read, snuggling down deeper into his protective hold on me. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@starchild0985

#Peter Thomas Ratajczyk #Josh Silver #Kenny Hickey #Johnny Kelly #Mary Claire Bradley (OFC)#Peter Steele #Type O Negative #Heavy metal #Soulmate AU #Age gap romance #Smut #Matching tattoos soulmate AU #Tattoos #Mentions of child rape (nothing graphic)#PTSD #Milk kink #Soft smut #Grinding #Assault

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 3 years

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if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #candywrites #if i can never give you peace

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euphoriic-dysphoria · 3 years

Text

Blue hair - Bucky Barnes

Firs time posting something like this on Tumblr, I welcome constructive criticism, anything to make my writing better and easier to read. As long as you're not an ass about it.

Summary: you've wanted to dye your hair for sometime now, but you're too scared to do it all by yourself and it seems like a whole big thing now that you keep kinda wanna do with a friend. Yes I'm projecting😅😅

THERE MIGHT BE A PART TWO, NOT REALLY SURE YET.

Warnings ⚠️ : none, just extreme flustered bucky, whipped bucky, fluff ig yeah. Without further ado,

Bucky was falling for you. Hard. He fell more each and everyday, but somehow, you were either not into him at all, or painfully oblivious.

He said painfully, because everytime you expressed even the slightest discomfort, even if on the Quinjet you just couldn't fall asleep, bucky just had this inexplicable urge to suddenly bring you all the pillows in the world to make you happy and laugh and smile your beautiful smile.

Bucky wasn't stupid. He'd seen how smart you were on missions, and how fast you'd solved riddles to annoy Tony. You would never be oblivious to things like this. He'd long ago accepted that he was just gonna be a friend to you, of course that didn't stop him from daydreaming about you, or freezing up everytime you brushed your arm with his.

After all, some might assume what with bucky falling head over heels for you (literally, but that's a story for another time, including Sam and being at the beach) that you guys were probably best friends or at least pretty close. Nope. Bucky was embarrassed to say that you stole away all his old fashioned Brooklyn charm the minute you were in a 2 meter radius. He was so nervous he stumbled over his words and opted to just stay quiet and enjoy your presence.

Of course, you thought that bucky was just naturally shy, and well- akward. It never occurred to you that you were the cause of that shyness, but you didn't mind. You found it endearing and utterly adorable the way a pale pink would wash over his features, and brush across his nose.

Today, he was utterly relaxed, pink free, in his room in the Avengers tower, reading and trying to get the thought of you out of his mind. That was hard when abruptly a hard knock sounded at his door, and he was just about to turn around and ignore it, when he heard you mumbling and thinking outside. Supersoldierhearing

Closing his book, he straightened up and furrowed his brow, thinking as to why you'd be outside his room. He hoped everything was alright.

"buckkyyyyyyyy! Woa-hiya, how are YOU on this verrrry fine morning?" You stumbled into his room, bucky was so deep into his thoughts he wasn't aware he opened the door so suddenly, you almost fell in.

A whirlwind of chaotic energy, you recovered quickly and jumped about, before turning back to where bucky was frozen at his door.

You were only wearing a T shirt.

Now, it was 7 in the morning, and most of the avengers were well aware that you walked around in a t-shirt in the mornings, well, only Steve and Nat cause they were the only ones that woke up then. Normally, bucky wakes up earlier to do his run, and so by the time you wake up, he's showered and reading in his room.

Shaking his head a bit to uh, clear up his thoughts, he quietly trudged back to his bed, where you were sitting and excitedly bouncing up and down on.

You gave him a good morning half hug, as you were practically buzzing with energy.

Oh. That alone was more that enough to make Bucky's cheeks start to glow a dusty pink.

However, you were already setting up the boxes of hair dye on his night stand.

"ok. Alright buck, are you ready for maybe the most important decision of your lifetime?? Ahem-" Buckys eyes widened as you did a little drumroll, jiggling your thighs and bringing up your shirt a bit, but you were too absorbed in the boxes you didn't even notice.

In your best announcer voice, you looked at him and grinned. "Blue, or red?" Holding up each colour respectively.

Huh? Bucky was so focused on your smile he practically missed what you said, which would've been hella embarrassing.

"uh- I'm not- where is this coming from?" Bucky almost winced at his voice, coming out hoarse and deep.

With an angelic smile on your face a devil would fall for, you patiently explained the hair dye situation. You wanted to dye your hair. Check. You already bought the hair dye. Check. And last but not least, now you were waiting on one of your friends to reply to you about dying their hair too. This wasn't a demanding act, for you only hit up the people you knew also had wanted to dye their hair too.

"i-i uh whyreyaaskingme?" Oh god. Before Bucky had anytime to mentally smAcK himself for mumbling like that, you were already replying.

With a soft smile you said, "well of course I'm asking you buck, I don't think it's very nice to knock on people's doors at 7 in the morning unless they're awake, and Nat and Steve left together to get coffee. Plus, I trust your opinion, I'm sure you have an excellent sense of style." You teased, reminding him of the time he refused to wear a ridiculous suit that Tony had jokingly, not really, designed.

Buck sighed quietly, as you made your way to the bathroom to compare the colours. Ouch. It was never a nice feeling to know you had come to him out of necessity. Little did he know, you had earlier rushed Nat and Steve straight outta here, in attempts to build a closer bond with bucky. Those two just shared a smug little knowing look, before hightailing it right out of the tower.

Lost in his thoughts, bucky didn't realize you had stopped muttering to yourself about the hair colours.

It was quiet. Too quiet. In the bathroom, there was absolutely no sound.

Bucky frowned, making his way over, and knocked on the door.

"can-uh do you mind if I come in?" Bucky knocked.

The door creaked open, and Bucky peeked inside to find your dejected expression and little pouty lips as you sat on the edge of the sink counter, scrolling through your phone.

"hey- wh-whats wrong doll?" Aw jeez. Cut it out, he said firmly in his head. Stop stuttering, just talk to her like a normal person.

"you- wanna tell me why you're looking like a sad puppy down over here?" Bucky's breath hitches as he's in the middle of berating himself for comparing you to a puppy, when you finally look up and meet his eyes, droplets threatening to leak and break past your waterline.

Bucky's heart just about cracks at the sadness radiating off of you. As far as he knows, you of all people should never have to feel this sad. All nervousness forgotten, he quickly bends down and tilts your chin up, tenderly wiping away the tears that have now started their journey down your cheeks.

It's been 5 minutes of you and him, leaning against each other as he wipes away the quiet tears that keep replacing each other.

Finally, in a quiet voice, you explain. At first it was just the dissapointment of no one wanting to really dye their hair with you. But you understood. Really, it was early in the morning, and it was easy to see why people didn't wanna dye their hair right away, or at all even. You completely and totally respected them and their choices. But then, you thought, maybe they're annoyed at me. Maybe, they don't like me anymore. Maybe they wish I'd leave them alone. Maybe they'd be better off without me.

You were well aware you were spiralling, but after the negative thoughts started, it was hard to stop. You had anxiety of these types of things.

Countless times, Nat and Wanda had had to reassure your wanted presence and that the team did love you.

While you were explaining, Buckys arms slowly snaked around to embrace you, and put his chin on top of you head. He was sad, simply because you were.

But listening to your thought process made him realize that you were human too, and it opened his eyes to listen to your anxiousness, no matter how much it still hurt.

Uh oh. The feeling was coming back, tugging at bucky, eating him away, making him want to do anything to make you happier.

Tightening his arms around you one last time before releasing you, he blurted, "uh- I'll dye m-my hair."

Your eyes widened. A small smile slowly creeped onto your tear streaked face. "Yo-you'd do that f-for me?" You hiccuped.

Holy shit. Oh man. Bucky would've tattooed his face if it gave you that little glowing smile and hopeful face you were giving to him now.

"Oh doll. You wouldn't believe what I'd do for you."

PART TWO IS NOW UP

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writingfandomfeels · 3 years

Audio

Tadashi Hamada - Drunk Karaoke

A/N: I wrote this yearssssss ago after first falling for Tadashi Hamada and being inspired by this clip of his voice actor Daniel Henney singing on YouTube for a different role. I hope you can listen to the audio and enjoy imagining Tadashi serenading you in this story <3 “No.” Tadashi breathed, staring at his phone.

“What?” You asked, approaching him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This can’t be happening!!!”

“What is it?” You repeated yourself.

“I only got 65% on the last assignment! I don’t understand, I worked so hard!!!” He huffed.

You searched yourself for some way to encourage him. “There’s other assignments right? I’m sure you’ll do better on them. Maybe just check with the professor on what you were getting wrong and see if you can make up for it?”

“No, not in this class, she’s very strict. Absolutely no makeups, she’s warned us. I could still check why though so at least I’ll know… ”

“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” Fred offered, suddenly appearing in the back of the emptying nerd lab. “Yeah, you won’t be able to hear back from that teacher tonight anyways and you got nothing else to do. Have a little fun for a night. Wasabi is DDing”

You looked to Tadashi, curious his response. Your boyfriend wasn’t much of a bar goer but he did go with his friends on occasion, usually as the designated driver though.

He sighed. “Yeah, okay, might cheer me up after all this.”

You crowded around the bar, each taking turns ordering. Except Fred. He took 3 shots and ran off to dance. Wasabi got a diet coke since he's the designated driver and Honey ordered a martini. Everyone looked surprised when Tadashi got ready to order too.

He shrugged at their expressions. "It's been a long terrible day that I really just want to forget."

"Well if you're in the mood for forgetting..." Gogo paused and ordered some complicated drink then slid it to him. "It's my own little concoction. Strongest stuff I've ever had."

Tadashi eyed it hesitantly.

"I...don't know Gogo," Honey said looking at Tadashi. "You don't have to drink anything if you don't want to." She reminded him.

He shrugged. "Why not. What have I got to lose." He said and began drinking Gogo’s concoction.

"Hey! Look! It's karaoke night!" Wasabi said turning his attention to the stage opposite the bar.

Honey gasped. "Tadashi! You should sing!!"

You looked at him shocked and impressed. "You sing?!!"

He shook his head. "Only in the shower or when I don’t notice I’m doing it. I'm not nearly drunk enough for karaoke."

"Well then! That can be arranged!" You laughed and ordered him a shot.

He chuckled. "I would have never thought you the type to get someone drunk and take advantage of them." He teased.

"What can I say," you shrugged, "I love singers”

"Oh, do you?" He asked watching, interested.

You smiled at him coyly and he quickly took the shot. Not long later, he's making dumb jokes and like a hyper little kid.

He giggled as he stared at you.

"What?" You smirk.

"There's two’a you." He giggled more. "This is so awesome. I love having two’a you. But wait which one is the real you ‘cause I don'wanna acciden’ally kiss someone who's not my girlfriend." His eyes grew big as he slurred. "Whoa, yeah, that would be bad....but two of you!!!" He exclaimed excitedly again.

You laughed with Honey and Gogo at him.

"So does that mean you're drunk enough to sing for me now?" You asked.

"Sing?! OHH YEAHHHHH I WAS GONNA SIIIING FOR YOUUU, okay okay just....just wait here...." He said and got up from the bar stool, stumbling a bit. "Just stay here..." He held his hands up, "I'll I'll be right back...okay?"

"Okay, I'll be here." You smiled.

"Okay." He said and started to leave but then ran back to kiss you, catching you off guard, and then ran back to the stage.

Gogo chuckled at your surprised look. "Yeah, he gets a bit clingy when he's drunk."

"A bit clingy?!" Honey said as if what Gogo said was a terrible exaggeration.

Gogo chuckled again. "Okay, a lot clingy! Once he wouldn't let Honey go to the bathroom alone."

"He kept saying I was his best friend and not to go but I was like ‘Tadashi I really have to pee! And what about Fred he's your best friend too?’ Thankfully that got him distracted enough to tackle Fred with hugs instead of me." Honey explained.

You laughed at the story with the girls.

"Next up! Ta-" the MC paused and looked at Tadashi who was just off stage "dude, I can't read your handwriting… what does it say?"

Tadashi just grabbed the mic from him instead.

"Heeeelloooooooooo Sanfransokyooooo! It is I, Tadashi Hamada, here to serenade you.....buuuuuuuut mostly just my girlfriend ‘cause she's a dork waffle and got me drunk so I would sing to her." He slurred. "But it's okay ‘cause she's really cute. Okay! This is a song! Called...ahh....umm....a thing, I dunno......anyways I umm OH! Oh it's starting!!! Everyone it's starting, shhhhh! Wasabi it's starting, look, shhhhh!!!"

You and the group laughed at him and Honey got out her phone to video it. Frankly, you were quite impressed with his talent.

When he had finished, the whole bar applauded like mad. "Thank you!!!" He shouted and dropped the mic. He picked up his baseball cap that had fallen while he was head banging, then jumped off stage.

You got up off your barstool to meet him. "You were amazing!!!!" You shouted over the new music playing. You reached your arms out to hug him but he pulled you into a sloppy kiss instead.

"Let's dance." He grinned and pulled you deeper into the crowd.

Moments later, you bumped into Honey again.

"IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU GUYS EVERYWHERE!!!" She yelled over the music. "YOU GOTTA COME SEE FRED!!!!" She dragged you off behind her and soon you come within view of a mechanical bull that Fred was totally rocking.

Having a few drinks in yourself, you decide you want to try it too after Fred. Tadashi didn’t realize this at first though, so got upset when he saw you getting on it.

"WhAdder youuu doing?!!" He scolded.

You shrugged. "Giving it a try."

"No no no no no!!" He said, running over and trying to carry you away from it. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"But Fred didn't get hurt." You pointed out.

"But Fred is a idiot so even if he did I woulden’ be too worried. But you’re too pridddyyy t’ fall an’ break your face. Fred can break his face if he wants though." He slurred and pulled at your hand. "C'mon let’s do something else.” The drunken boy looked around the bar for something else to do.

“LOOK DARTS I LOVE DARTS DON’T YOU LOVE DARTS?!" he said excitedly and pulled the darts from the board then backed up. "I'm sooooooooo good at darts, just watch me," he said, giving you a charming crooked grin and a wink.

He threw the first dart and it hit the edge of the board. The second hit about 2 inches from the target, and the third....hit your forehead.

"Aaahhhhh!!!" You grabbed at your temple before looking down to see the bright red blood on your hands.

"OH NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" He rushed over to you. "I'm SO sorry Y/N!!!!!" He apologized, looking at the cut and hugging you. "We gotta get Baymax! Baymax!! BAYMAX!!!" he began calling and wandering a little. "OW! BAYMAX! OW! BAYMAX! ACTIVATE!!"

You held your stinging temple and ran after him, grabbing his arm with your non-bloody hand. "Hun, Baymax is at home." You pointed out.

"Oh" He paused, looking worriedly at the dripping blood. "Well let's go find him then!!!" He said, determinedly scooping you up into his arms and heading to the doors.

Once outside he wandered up and down the street almost whacking your head on a light post. "Umm..." he hiccupped, "where are we??"

You laughed. "How bout we get Wasabi to drive us instead?"

He nodded, setting you down and going back inside with you to find your friend.

***

“Aghh, my head…” Tadashi groaned the next morning.

You rolled over in bed to face him. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

He looked at the bandaid plastered to your forehead. “Did I do that?” He moved his hand up to his head, groaning again. “Everything is so hazy.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t that bad.” You reassured.

He turned over to pick up his phone, checking the time to see how late the two of you had slept in. In doing so though he noticed an email notification.

“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it.” He breathed.

“What?” You asked curiously.

“My professor… she’s actually going to let me make up my grade!”

“That’s amazing!!!” You cheered.

He looked at the time again. “Not if I don’t make it to meet her!”

Tadashi jumped out of bed, instantly regretting the fast movement.

You cringed as you watched him place a hand to his mouth, willing himself not to vomit.

Hurriedly he changed out of his pyjamas and into the first clothes he could find.

“Good luck!” You called after him as he rushed away.

#tadashi hamada #tadashi hamada imagine #tadashi x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #tadashi imagine #big hero 6 x reader #big hero 6 imagine #big hero 6 #big hero six #bh6 x reader #bh6 imagine #my writing

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

lmao we need the story now of Ian sitting in Mickey’s lap at the bench to piss of the housewife! 😂 love ur stories xx 💋

Expansion of a moment alluded to here. It got extra silly.

They’re stumbling home early one morning after practically spending the night at the Alibi Room, tossing back shots with the Gallaghers in celebration of Carl and his police partner securing the deed. Even with a handful of cops among them—can’t believe this place is a fucking pig pen now, jesus Gallagher—they had both enjoyed themselves, content that Carl wouldn’t let anyone mess with his family. Hell, Tipping wouldn’t either—he’d been staying in touch since he crashed their anniversary, and seemed to love having a couple of ex-con pals to shoot the shit with on a Friday night.

Ian stumbles as they get closer, nearing the edge of the park they take Franny and Fred to sometimes when they babysit, and Mickey grabs him around the waist with a laugh.

“Watch it,” he giggles. “You’re fuckin’ hammered, man.”

Ian twists so that they’re holding each other, swaying awkwardly as he gets his arms around his husband.

“Gonna hammer you,” he slurs, before nearly falling on his ass when Mickey pulls back with a snort.

“Gonna fucking hurt yourself is what you’re gonna do,” he disagrees, grinning. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Ian pouts, but Mickey just takes his hand and leads him farther into the park until they come to a worn stone bench, which he shoves Ian down onto unceremoniously.

“Sit down before you fall down, tough guy,” he orders after the fact, then pushes a pliant Ian over until there’s space to sit down next to him.

It’s pretty quiet this early as they sit together in a silence broken only by the occasional hiccup from Ian. There are a few kids on the playground already a short distance away, surprising for 6AM but not unheard of. The sun is up already, but weak, and it casts faint shadows that play over Ian’s face and hair as Mickey looks at him. It brings out the the varied highlights, making it look like a rainbow viewed through a red lens, and Mickey can’t help but reach up to run a hand through it.

Ian hums, and leans sleepily into the touch. Lightweight or not, now that they’re still, he’s coming down fast.

“Got some weird fuckin’ memories here, man,” Mickey says suddenly, eying the bench they're sitting on. It's familiar, and he runs fingers over the grooves left behind by someone's knife. Probably his old man's.

“Bad ones?” Ian asks, and he can feel Mickey shake his head.

“Nah,” he answers. “Not really. Just…weird,” he repeats. After a beat, he lets go of Ian and turns to face him on the bench. “Wanna help me make some better ones?” he asks, and Ian grins and leans in.

Their kisses are soft and light, a little sloppy with lingering drunkenness, lips tasting of cheap ale and stale breath. It’s perfect.

“Excuse me,” someone says loudly next to them, and they break apart. Mickey doesn’t grace the interruption with his attention, settling instead for stroking a hand up Ian’s back, but Ian turns to look at the woman who spoke.

She’s dressed in a sleek black tracksuit with pink lines down the side, bleached hair tied up in a stern bun on top of her head above a thick, velvety headband. One hand is on her hip, the other resting on the handle of a designer stroller, one of those fancy ones that looks like an old Victorian pram but with UV protection and a vented base. Ian tries not the grimace at the idea that it’s probably fucking wifi enabled or something, and could feed his entire family for months if they hawked it.

“Can I help you?” he asks anyway, just to be polite—though his tone is anything but, thanks to his diminished faculties. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, though, whether he likes the gentrifiers taking over his home or not.

Then she opens her mouth, and he immediately reconsiders that stance.

“Could you not do that around the children?” she says pointedly, gesturing to the playground a few feet away where a handful of kids are scrambling over the jungle gym.

That gets Mickey’s hackles up.

“Could you not mind your own fuckin’ business?” he returns, dropping his hand from Ian’s back to make a rude gesture.

The woman scoffs at them, and makes a gesture of her own. “It’s my business what you show my kids,” she tells him haughtily. “This is a family space.”

Ian looks from the woman to his husband, whose eyebrows are climbing his face, and makes a decision.

“Of course, sorry,” he says, ignoring the way Mickey’s head snaps back to look at him. “We’re being so rude, taking up this whole bench when families might need it.”

Mickey starts to grin, catching on when Ian gets up. His hands find Ian’s hips, keeping his steady as he plops right down into his lap.

“That’s not what I—” the woman starts, stunned by the display, but they’ve both stopped listening. Ian leans in and and licks obnoxiously up the side of Mickey’s neck, reveling in the disgusted sound that the woman makes, then Mickey is turning his head and capturing his mouth in a much more thorough kiss than what they had exchanged before.

They don’t even notice when she calls her kids over, two toddlers in matching designer play-clothes meekly coming when called. They don’t notice when they leave, the woman trying to keep the children’s backs to them as they walk away. They do notice the way she trips over the curb on her way out of the park, but they just huff a laugh into their kiss and keep going until she’s out of sight.

Mickey is finally the one to pull back, stroking Ian’s face with his thumb as he does.

“That was kinda hot, Gallagher,” he admits. “Gotta get you drunk and riled up more often.”

Ian laughs, pressing his face into Mickey’s neck where he leaves a chaste kiss.

“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem with all these rich fucks moving in,” he offers, “but if you get me home, I’ll give you a sneak preview of what’ll happen next time.”

Mickey’s grin is slow and wicked. “Got yourself a deal, tough guy,” he says. “Let’s get your ass home.”

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fanfic

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shoutoismybaby · 4 years

Text

Omega Shame Part 1

Summary: After spending most of your life on suppressants and ignoring your second gender, you finally decide to embrace who you are with your alphas support. But what happens when your alpha Bakugou walks in on you nesting and sparks memories of your past trauma?

warnings: ABO, Nesting, ANGST ending with fluff,

***

Nesting. This was something you hadn't even attempted since you were but a small pup. Both suppressants and fear had kept any desire for this activity far away from you, until a couple months ago. That was when you got a courting proposal, your first ever.

It was a necklace, and not just your typical alphas 'just learned how to make jewelry with string'. No. This necklace required welding, a skill you had no idea about, but that just made sense for your alpha to poses. The chain was a simple silver, leading down to a locket with intricate holes on its top layer, creating an almost explosive like design. The cloth that sat inside was a ruby red color that matched the alphas eyes, and the scent it held was strong of caramel and ash.

Of course if Bakugou was to make a courting gift, his was going to be the best you had ever seen.

You had wasted no time in placing the necklace around your neck, relaxing as his scent filled your nose. It was from this point that you knew Bakugou would make an amazing alpha for you. After all, if he put so much effort into the courting gift, you could only imagine the effort he would put into courting you. Even then in typical Bakugou fashion, he passed all expectations.

It started with the way he would make you lunches, walk you to wherever you needed to go, and made sure to give you a thorough scenting only after he got permission. He always showed concern for your physical and mental wellbeing, stopping you from pushing yourself too hard in training and even scolding you for your self deprecating jokes.

“No one gets to talk down about my omega. Especially not my omega.” He had growled at you once. Again Bakugou did something unexpected, making your omega purr at a growl.

It felt so nice to have someone who cared about you. Someone who encouraged you to stop hiding your second gender from everyone but those in your own class. Not that you had even let your class discover on purpose, but the stressful situations class A had gotten in over the years did wonders for wearing off suppressants and scent blockers.

He, along with your other classmates, had been building up your confidence in your secondary sex for years now. Bringing you to the realization that being an omega didn't mean that you were weak or any less than betas or alphas. Momo and Ochako were omegas after all, and they were some of the strongest people you knew. So once you had gotten an alpha your omega was basically begging to be set free, and you didn't feel like you had to deny it anymore.

So here you were, after 3 months of being off of the medications your hormones and instincts were finally leveling back to normal. It was something you had never experienced before, but you had Bakugou to help support you along the way. That's why you needed his scent in your nest. No matter how nauseous you felt walking into the young alphas room while you knew he was training, your omega refused to continue the day without at least one peice of his clothing. More than that and you were sure you would be sent into a panic attack. You had no idea how he would react to you doing this. Would he be disgusted? Angry?

Ironically the only thing calming your thoughts was to continue building the nest. Pillows upon pillows methodically shoved between various stuffed animals and blankets became nest shaped as the time passed. Soon enough you were left with just one item left, one of his favorite skull shirts. You had wanted to take something he would miss less, but they weren’t drowned in his scent like this one was. You sat back into the middle of your nest to take a thorough look around. You didn’t want to take too long to decide a place for it by now as you were getting tired. Not to mention you were going to go out on a movie date with Bakugou so you also needed to get ready for that. You would have checked the time if you weren’t so fixated on your task, and that would turn out to be a huge mistake.

You had finally found the perfect place for his shirt when you heard your door open from behind you. In the middle of slipping the clothing item over your pillow you froze as your heart began to race. Your omega knew it was an alpha before you knew who it was and she let out a chirp before you could stop it.

All you could remember was the first time this had happened, an Alpha walking in on your nest. You were seven, not old enough to even present as an omega but tendencies could show early in childhood. You were excited and happily humming as you arranged your blankets, stuffed animals, and your parents best smelling clothes into small yet sturdy walls in the shape of an oval on your bed. You couldn’t help but feel safe, like you would no longer fall off your bed in the middle of the night, or that monsters or other intruders would quickly avoid hurting you once they got just a single sniff of your parents alpha scents. You were proud when you were finished and immediately snuggled into it for a nap, only to wake up to the scent of rotting eggs. A clear indicator your father was both near and very angry. All the yelling and trashing of your hard work that happened next was just a blur. But you could remember how you felt the entire time so vividly. The way your lungs seemed incapable of taking in air, the trembling of your hands and especially the weakness in your knees. Most of all, you remembered the absolute terror as your safe space was invaded. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as fast as your heart would allow it, and you could only sit back and watch.

It was that day that you first became aware that there was something wrong with you. Something gross, weak, and worth hating.

That’s why even when the scent of Bakugou filled your nose, your heart still didn’t slow down. In fact, it only sped up when you finally turned around to look at him, all of the hope you had gotten by convincing yourself he would be happy you were embracing yourself quickly diminishing. His brows furrowed more than normal and his mouth was set in a deep scowl, slightly open just enough that his naturally large canines poked out.

He was angry.

“Do you not know how to answer your fucking phone?! You were so eager to force me to agree to this date and then you don't even respond when I-” Your thoughts were racing far too fast to actually hear what he was saying. Your omega could only think of one thing, your alpha was angry with you. You messed up and now he was angry with you. It was just like your parents, you should have listened to them when they told you it was stupid to nest.

But you had worked so hard on it, and it made you feel so good. You didn’t want your nest to be torn apart again. The smell of smoke wafted from the alphas' palms as you were too caught up in your memories to really hear him. Hear how he was angry with you for forgetting about your date, angry that you had stood him up and too busy being upset to even notice that you were sitting in a nest. The smell of smoke invoked just another event in your mind, one that happened when you had first presented as an omega at 13. Something that caused the damn behind your eyes to finally break.

“PLEASE DON’T DESTROY MY NEST” You Omega sobbed, distressed chips flooding from your chest like air. “Please, please!”

Your outburst startled the Alpha into silence. He could only stand there and watch as his omegas scent was filled with fear as she wiped at her eyes aggressively. A first he was confused, letting his body pump out comfort pheromones instinctually as he let himself observe the situation. You were dressed only in your school uniform, clearly having been building the nest that surrounded you from the time you entered the dorm room to when he had burst into your room, now far past dark. You were trembling too, body curled up in on itself as you hiccupped and begged.

“Please, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy! Just please dont destroy my nest.” Your voice cracked and it resonated painfully in his ear and his heart dropped. Why did you think he would destroy your nest? Sure he wasn't the best alpha but he wasn’t a monster. Did you really think he would destroy the one place where you felt safest? A weight grew in his chest that left as a deep growl,

“Here.” He growled, “Probably best if we just end this bullshit.”

This was all your fault. If you hadnt built this stupid nest in the first place, or even started crying like a fucking baby then this wouldnt have happened. But you were a weak omega, and just like your parents said, no one can love someone so weak. Especially not someone as powerful as Katsuki. You shouldn’t have let yourself believe that they were wrong for even a second. You had thought that Bakugou would be the one who would love you for who you truly were. But that was naive. No one could love such a burden. No one could love you.

The drop of the crafted bracelet to the ground seconds before your door slammed, leaving you alone once more in your room, proof enough of that.

Your parents were right.

A flame of anger lit in your chest. Why were you so unloveable just the way you were? Why couldn’t you just be different? Why couldn’t you be an alpha like your parents had wanted?

You could feel your nails extend into claws as the hair on your body raised. You glared at the soft material weaved together around you as hot tears built up behind your eyes. This time instead of being fueled by fear they were fueled by rage and resentment.

You were so angry. So angry at youself, at your weak omega, and especially at your stupid nest. You couldn't help but let a couple tears fall as you let your anger get the best of you, and you didn't stop it until you were heaving in the middle of your disaster of a room. Surrounded by torn pieces of fabric and the other contents of your room scattered by your tantrum, you finally let yourself breath.

You turned around to see the item you had been avoiding, your pillow with bakugou's shirt. With a deep breath you grabbed a hold of the object, digging your claws into its plush softness. The caramel ash smell that permeated the air only helped to break down the remaining bits of your anger. And you didn’t want to be left alone with your despair just yet.

With the release of your breath a ripping sound could be heard. The shirt split and cotton popped out from the opening like popcorn. Once you had successfully dissected what had been a comfort item you threw it somewhere away from you and took another deep breath.

Now you were finally alone. Just you and your reality. You could really feel how much pain your omega was in as your hair began to lower and your normal nails returned. You had heard about this pain before. A deep one in your chest, heartbreak. Your omega seemed to curl around that feeling. Of rejection. Self hatred. That no one would ever need you, let alone want you. You could feel yourself start to slip into the limbo of numbness and searing pain.

An Omega Depression.

You remembered learning about it back when you were in middle school, most people were beginning to present as their second sex. Your teachers had emphasized how important it was to get medical attention at the first signs, you knew how dangerous it was, but all you wanted to do was lay there on the floor. You were tired, and what was the point? No one cared about you, not your parents… not Bakugou. Your throat strained painfully at that thought. Bakugou didn’t want you, and it was your fault.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha omegaverse #bakugou katsuki x reader #alpha bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha omegaverse

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bloomyagi · 3 years

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bakugo smut #hawks smut #bakugo x you #hawks x you #bakugou x reader

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minijenn · 4 months

Text

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: How to Train Your Dragon 2

(*screams in insanely high frequencies*) HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 IS ONE OF THE GREATEST THINGS DREAMWORKS HAS EVER MADE AND SOMEHOW EVEN BETTER THAN THE FIRST AND I AM IN SHAMBLES EMOTIONALLY AFTER WATCHING IT BUT I NEED YA'LL TO LISTEN TO ME AS I SCREAM ABOUT HOW IMPORTANT THIS FILM IS TO ME OK?

Woo, ok, calming down a bit. But can you really blame my excitement? How to Train Your Dragon 2 is just... so damn good, it is so damn good ya'll. It takes everything the first movie did, the characters, the story, the animation, the music, and just... perfects it. It is an utterly fantastic ride from beginning to end and it is one of the main factors as to why I am so utterly head over heels for this franchise (well, it and Race to the Edge, again go watch it, its good).

We return to Berk five years after the first movie, with Hiccup under pressure from his father to take on the mantle of chief. However, danger soon arrives in the form of Drago Bludvist, who is amassing a dragon army. While searching for Drago to try and reason with him, Hiccup reunites with his estranged mother, Valka, who, much like him, has a deep affinity and respect for all dragons. From there, well, damn a bunch of stuff happens, in a story that just flows so well and just... slams you with so many emotions, from sheer joy and wonder to crushing despair and grief. It's a roller coaster, to say the least, one that is utterly captivating and at times, utterly heartbreaking. And I adore every last second of it.

Our returning characters are all fantastic, as usual. I especially love the arc Hiccup goes through here, because while the first movie was in ways, a coming of age story for him, this one truly is, with him struggling to figure out who he really is and who he's meant to be. It's a beautiful narrative about responsibility and leadership, one that Hiccup and Toothless experience together in such a beautiful, parallel way. As for our new cast, we have Valka (who I'm in love with btw) and she's just delightful. The way we get to see her bond with Hiccup and rekindle her relationship with Stoick is absolutely beautiful (AT LEAST UNTIL THE DAMN MOVIE TEARS THIS BEAUTIFUL FAMILY APART WHY CANT THEY HAVE ANYTHING NICE FUCK).

However, I do have to say that the weakest link in both this movie, as well as the next installment in this series... is its villain. The first movie didn't have much in the way of an antagonist, and I think it worked well in its favor. Because HTTYD antagonists... are kind of mid to lame. Drago Bludvist is certainly on the more mid side; he's just... ya know, a bad guy. He isn't really a compelling foil to Hiccup, just some crazy guy who wants to use dragons to conquer people and uses violence to get his way. He's not especially interesting, despite his rather cool design. He's just... there.

But that one minor point aside, everything else about this movie is utterly fantastic. The animation is somehow even more stunning than the first, with so many new dragon designs to see and an even wider world to explore. The flying and fight scenes are so mezmerising to watch, and the music FUCKING GOD don't get me started on this score. It is utterly HEAVENLY, just like the first movie's (also For the Dancing and the Dreaming has me in shambles, I'm still crying, don't look at me). What kind of insane magic Dreamworks used to make this movie look and sound as good as it does? The world may never know.

So yeah, this movie clearly has a major soft spot in my heart. I watched it when it first came out in theaters and absolutely loved it then, just like I do now. Every time I review it, I fall more in love, especially now that I've seen the tie in shows, I can appreciate how they led up to this movie and what details were thrown in that to make them serve as something of a prologue to 2.

As for the movie itself, its such a masterful work of art, one that I'll gladly return to over and over again. Aside from Prince of Egypt, it's probably my second favorite Dreamworks movie overall. And considering some of the other contenders on this list, that's saying something. I love it to pieces, always have, always will. It's wonderful.

Overall Rating: 10/10

Verdict: Hiccup's Mom has got it going on

Previous Review (Mr. Peabody and Sherman)

Next Review (The Penguins of Madagascar)

#jen watches #dreamworks watch #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon 2 #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks animated movie ever #dreamworks

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

significant upgrade

i wrote the rest of this on the plane don't come for me if there is a MISTAKE !! (however do politely shoot me a message so i can correct my typo lmao)

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: nada except brooklyn is a BITCH, ok so maybe cursing is a warning

_________

James: SOS

Sophie

Doll

Sophie: what do you want

James: Come bar

To the bar

Sorry not sober

Sophie: I’m grading, buddy

James: No no no

DEFCON 5

Urgent

After their short back and forth, and James’ little typing bubble popped up multiple times before going away, Sophie pushed aside her work and called him. She checked Find My Friends first, feeling better about the situation once she saw Rafe’s dot at the bar with the boys. “James? Something wrong?”

“Yes. Sophie, listen, look. You gotta get here.” James told her with a little slur to his words, but what was more telling was the sheer volume on the phone call as he yelled. He was always a loud person naturally, but she swore he got ten times louder when he had an ounce of alcohol.

“I already told Rafe I couldn’t, I have to catch up on grading stuff if I want to go out tomorrow. Is something really wrong?” She questioned, but considered going anyway. She’d already graded over half the work and it was proving easier to mindlessly go through than she thought, and she could knock it out tomorrow morning if she really needed to.

“It’s like, urgent, Soph. Look, come here, wear your sluttiest top - that’s not an insult, by the way, it’s a compliment or whatever - like, empowering or some shit - shut up, Colin -”

“James -”

“I’m serious, she is not backing down -”

That caught her attention and she stood, glancing over her appearance in the mirror. “Who?”

“Just c’mere. I’ll have a drink ready for you. Are you still on that Fireball peach schnapps kick? Like a fuckin’ psycho?”

She laughed. “You drink vodka redbulls, James, shut the fuck up. I’ll be there in...uh...ten.”

“Deal. Sluttiest top!” He added before hanging up.

She rolled her eyes, looked herself over in the mirror, and shrugged. She wore an old pair of Nike shorts and a t-shirt of Rafe’s with his name on the back, an old intramural shirt. If it wasn’t senior year, and if she wasn’t locked down already, she’d probably give more of a fuck, but she just wanted to take the opportunity to hang out with her friends while she could. After swiping on a quick coat of cherry lip balm and brushing her hair, she shoved her feet into sandals and made her way to the bar.

When she arrived, she went straight to their usual corner booth and slid in next to Colin, who greeted her with a grin and a drink, as promised. James threw his arm around her shoulders and messed with her hair immediately, making her squawk in protest. “Flint, kiddo, that is not nearly as slutty as I expected.”

“The Cameron on the back adds some possession though, don’t you think?” Colin pointed out, slapping James’ hand away from her.

Sophie scowled, combing her fingers through her hair. “What am I here for?”

“Oh! Right.” James stood on his toes and scanned the bar, locating Rafe in the far corner. Rafe wore a forced smile and was leaning against the wall with a couple of the other interns from Jeni’s over the summer - including Brooklyn, who was twirling her hair and stood right next to Rafe.

Sophie stood on her tiptoes, hand on James’ shoulder for balance as she followed his gaze. “I don’t see him, what am I looking at - oh, shit.”

“Yeah, see why I told you to go for the slutty top?” James reached for her shirt, tugging at the hem until she shoved his hand away.

“No, she would have just implied I was a prostitute or something.” She shook her head and turned back to the table, then took a long sip of her drink, draining nearly half of it in one go. “I don’t want to seem, like, overbearing - I mean, she’s with the whole group.”

Colin raised his eyebrows, skeptical. “She’s touched his arm multiple times and made him link arms when they did shots earlier. Had everyone else partner up too as an excuse.”

“Exactly.” James nodded, emphatic. “I already tried to rescue him, but Colin says m’ too drunk.” He hiccuped to punctuate his statement, then pushed a plastic shot glass toward her. “Here. Got you tequila.”

She wrinkled her nose, eyeing it with a frown. “I hate tequila.”

“See! I told you!” Colin exclaimed, snatching the shot glass away and knocking it back. “If you need backup, just wave or look over or something. I’ll deck her if I need to.”

She grinned, drinking the rest of what James got her. “Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it.”

“Hey. Whoever Rafe’s dating, we’re dating too.” James proclaimed, patting her head affectionately. “Just without the fun parts.”

“Lovely.” She replied, glancing over toward Rafe again. Brooklyn was now leaning just a little closer and Sophie could practically feel the tension radiating from his body, even from all the way across the room. She frowned when the other interns seemed to agree on something, dispersing, but Brooklyn stayed.

Sophie stood there and watched for a few more moments, seemingly frozen, until Colin nudged her shoulder. “Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She dismissed, taking another breath before striding across the room. Of course, someone turned at the exact moment she rounded the bar, spilling their drink down her light pink shorts, soaking the entire left leg. She didn’t even let the guy apologize before she shrugged him off with a grimace and made her way toward Rafe.

He noticed her immediately out of the crowd, grinning and straightening up once he saw her. “Soph!”

She smiled at her eager boyfriend and how he always lit up upon seeing her, without fail. “Hi, baby.” She greeted, slipping her arm around his waist as he rested hers comfortably around her shoulders. She never - ever - used pet names in public, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Thought you weren’t coming out tonight?” He asked, glancing over her outfit and frowned when he realized half her shorts were wet. “What happened?”

“Grading went quicker than I expected.” She dismissed, her eyes flitting over his expression. He looked confused and she could tell from the way his eyes were glassy that he was drunk and nearly on the verge of falling asleep. “Can I try your drink?”

“Rafe, are you going to introduce me?” Brooklyn feigned a smile, fingers tightening around her own drink.

He furrowed his brow even more, looking between the two of them. “I thought you guys met. At the charity gala thing, remember? Sophie had that really pretty dress?”

“Yeah. We’ve met.” Sophie replied coolly, taking Rafe’s whiskey sour from him and took a sip. She hated them, with all her heart, but wouldn’t dare make a face in front of Brooklyn.

“Oh! Sorry, I just didn’t recognize you, you must have been wearing a ton of makeup or something at the gala.”

“She still looked like herself.” Rafe supplied, confused. He traced his thumb over Sophie’s cheekbone, staring at her in concentration before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Sophie swore she saw Brooklyn’s jaw tick as she watched the two of them, as she watched what she used to have.

“Okay, okay. Rafe, did you tell her about all the fun things we did this summer? Sophie, you were away or something, right?” Brooklyn asked, hyper-conscious of how Rafe leaned into Sophie more and how he pressed a sleepy kiss to her temple.

“Nope.” He replied, popping the p. “Nothin’ to share. The internship was kinda boring. She was in Barcelona.”

“Oh, right. Long distance wasn’t too hard on you then?” Brooklyn probed with a sympathetic smile. She reached toward Rafe to touch his arm reassuringly, then seemed to remember at the last second that Sophie was right there, and jerked her hand back like she’d been burned.

“Nah. Why?” Rafe asked, cocking his head to the side, some of his hair flopping into his eyes.

Brooklyn grinned. “I just didn’t think you’d still be together, is all.”

“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure you follow me on Instagram. So you’d know.” Sophie shot back with an equally fake grin, determined to come out on top in the petty exchange.

She wished Rafe was more sober so he could make an excuse for them to leave or shut the whole conversation down, but when he was drunk he didn’t pick up on any tone inflections. (She’d accidentally made him upset more times than she could count with a poorly worded sarcastic insult, and immediately felt guilty as his drunken gaze gave way to his signature pout.) To an outsider, their conversation seemed as civil as possible, like three friends catching up, until you got close enough to see the bared teeth and the tense jaws.

“No...I don’t think I’d waste a follow on you.” Brooklyn retorted, glancing down to the Cartier ring on her hand. “Sophie, usually when people wear designer, they have to have the clothes to match the rest of the outfit. Not whatever…” she looked her up and down, scrutinizing her clothing choice. “...Whatever is going on here.”

“Hey.” Rafe interjected, finally noticing the hostile undertones in the conversation. “Be nice, she’s hot in whatever she’s in.”

Sophie had to resist rolling her eyes at his completely unhelpful comment. “It’s okay, Brooklyn, I actually have style, so I don’t have to rely on wearing tacky designer clothes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my boyfriend and I are going to go hang out with our friends.” She glanced over toward the boys for backup and tilted her head toward the door, and James and Colin started making their way over. Alright. So she’d handled that well, she thought, matched her energy without getting too emotional or heated -

Brooklyn wrinkled her nose at Sophie’s comment. “Careful. He gets emotional when he’s drunk.”

“He doesn’t, actually, he was probably just being manipulated by you.” Sophie shot back with a sharp tone, protectively curling her arm tighter around Rafe’s waist. He just watched the back and forth with a furrowed brow, not sober enough to keep up.

James and Colin arrived just as Brooklyn sneered at Sophie, shaking her head. “Whatever. He’ll end up drinking away his problems in private like his dad anyways.”

As Sophie’s nose flared and as she took a quick step toward Brooklyn, getting right up in her space, Colin immediately grabbed Rafe’s arm and pulled him away. “C’mon, Rafe, let’s wait for her outside.”

Rafe let himself be tugged along, but frowned as he glanced back at the girls. “She’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes. She’ll be fine.” Colin replied confidently, dragging Rafe and James out of the bar.

Sophie stood tall, eye-to-eye with Brooklyn. “Don’t say that shit about Rafe. You don’t know him like that -”

“I do, actually. I know a lot more about him than you probably realize. Has he taken you to the Bahamas yet?” Brooklyn didn’t back down at all, smirking when she saw Sophie’s expression falter for a split second. “Still no? He’s probably embarrassed.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sophie snapped, unable to come up with a better response. “Give it up, you’re not with him anymore.”

“Yeah, but I know he’s not going to keep up this little facade once we graduate college. He needs someone that can keep up with his family, that’ll do more than just hang on his arm at all the charity events.” Brooklyn smiled, taking a step back. “I’ll be there for him when you can’t hold your ground.”

“You’re delusional.” Sophie shook her head, so furious she couldn’t snap back with a sharp comeback. When Brooklyn just shrugged and lifted her drink to her lips, Sophie tipped up the bottom of it, making it splash all over Brooklyn. “Have a good night.”

“Fucking -”

Brooklyn exclaimed, but Sophie just turned on her heel and flipped her off over her shoulder as she strode out. She was fuming, practically shaking, but didn’t dare break down in front of anyone in the bar.

Colin regarded her carefully, making sure she was okay. “You good? Need me to go back in and finish the job?”

Rafe, leaning on James, seemed to finally realize she’d come out. “Baby! You’re back!”

She bit the inside of her cheek, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m okay. Thanks Colin. Need help walking these two home?”

He grinned, gesturing at the way the two boys were slumped against the wall of the bar. “Might need a little help, yeah.”

She nodded and slipped her arm around Rafe’s waist, unsurprised when he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Alright. C’mon, Cameron, your bed awaits.”

James sighed, striding along with them. “I want a girlfriend to bring me home.”

“Too bad, you’re stuck with me for now.” Colin quipped, grabbing James’ arm when he tripped on the uneven sidewalk.

“Was she being mean?” Rafe asked with concern, reaching for her hand. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Yeah. Your ex is a bitch.” She replied bluntly, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Am I gonna have to drag you home?”

“No ma’am. I’m good. All good.” He replied quickly, though unconvincingly as he slurred his words. “There’s a chance that I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

“A tiny bit?” Colin snorted, waving his hand in front of Rafe’s face. “You and James did multiple Jagerbombs. That always does you in.” He glanced over Sophie again, concerned. “Soph. You okay?”

“Huh?” She did her best to help Rafe along and guide his 6’3” frame so he wouldn’t trip over the sidewalk or walk the wrong direction, but was running through a script in her head of all the things she wished she had said - or done - to Brooklyn.

Colin frowned. “You’re doing that thing, Rafe says you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re mad. You want me to go back in? I’ll talk to her, I swear -”

“S’true. She does.” Rafe confirmed, then finally seemed to pick up on the anger radiating from her. “Did I do something?”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She reassured him quickly, then gave Colin a small smile. “It’s okay. Thank you. I just - she just -”

“Yeah. I know.” Colin nodded. “Fuck her.”

“Exactly. Fuck her.” She repeated, a little louder and a little more confident.

James whipped his head back and started walking backward for about two steps until Colin forced him to keep his eyes ahead. “Who are we fucking?”

“We’re not - James, pay attention.” Sophie sighed, urging him along.

Rafe leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of her head, then whispered - in the loudest stage-whisper possible - “I think I’m a little too drunk for fucking.”

“Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded dutifully, hooking his arm in with hers. They made it to the boys’ house a couple minutes later and Colin shoved James onto the couch, tugged off his shoes and grabbed him a water bottle from the fridge.

“Alright. He’ll be fine here, Sophie, do you need help with the stairs?” He asked, noticing the way Rafe slumped onto her.

“Um...no. I think we got it.” She took a deep breath, her mind still racing from what Brooklyn said at the bar. “Thanks, Colin.”

“Night, you two.” He paused on the stairs, glancing back at James and then at Sophie for a moment before heading upstairs.

Sophie nodded, more to herself than anything else. “Alright. Rafe, baby, work with me on the stairs and then we can go to bed?”

“I got it, I got it. M’not that drunk.” He protested, but tripped up the first step anyways, knocking his knee against the stairs as he fell hard with a thud. “Ow!”

Without even asking, Colin was jogging back down the stairs all the way from his room in the attic, hauling Rafe up before Sophie could blink. He dragged Rafe up and into his room, ignoring his protests, and pushed him onto the bed. “Soph, you can go get ready for bed, or whatever. I’ll babysit.”

“I think I got it, Colin -” She started halfheartedly, only to be cut off by Colin just pointing at the door. She nodded gratefully and hurried into the bathroom, quickly wiping off her makeup and brushing her teeth. When she returned, she paused just outside the door to hear Colin talking to Rafe.

“Give her a break, okay? She just had to deal with your insane ex -”

“She didn’t have to -”

“She did, because you’re a fucking pushover sometimes.” Colin interjected, exasperated. “Your breath reeks, get your ass up and go brush your teeth.”

“You’re mean.” Rafe grumbled back, but got up and ambled out to the bathroom, giving Sophie a dopey grin as he passed. Colin followed him out but stopped in the doorway, acknowledging her with a nod.

Sophie looked like she was about to cry, overwhelmed by how nice he was being and the fact that someone even noticed that she was struggling a little with dealing with Brooklyn. Without a warning, she stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you.”

He stiffened in her arms, then awkwardly patted her back after he was released from the hug. “It’s no big deal. Anything for a friend. Especially a friend that’ll stand up to that bitch.” He cracked a grin, nudging his shoulder against hers.

She laughed, rubbing her eyes quickly. “I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about her.”

“Yes. She’s awful.” Colin nodded. “You are a significant upgrade.”

“What are we upgrading?” Rafe asked as he returned from the bathroom just wearing his boxers slung low on his hips, with damp hair - even though they hadn’t heard the shower running - and his breath smelling of mint.

“Nothing, bud. Good night, you two.” Colin gave them a nod of dismissal and strode back upstairs, leaving the two once he was confident Rafe could stand on his own again.

Rafe reached out, noticing her slightly teary eyes, and affectionately stroked his hand over the top of her head. “You good, angel?”

“Just tired.” She yawned to make a show of it. “Where’d your clothes go?”

“Oh. Uh…” He glanced back to the bathroom. “I was gonna shower, but that was too much work, so I just got my hair wet.”

“...Right. Okay, bud, you need sleep.” Sophie ushered him into his room and onto the bed, then changed quickly into a spare pair of pajamas she’d left behind. When she returned to the bed and slipped under the covers next to him, he rolled over to face her, concern written all over his face.

“You’re upset.”

“Not at you.”

“But you’re still upset. Talk to me?” He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone tenderly, unsure what was going on - and honestly, the room would spin a little if he shut his eyes - but he was still conscious enough to pick up on Sophie’s feelings.

She nodded, rolling onto her back so she didn’t have to make eye contact. “It’s just - it makes me so fucking mad that you dated her. Not because of anything you did, but I just know you deserve so much better. And then she just still thinks she has any influence on you, she’s so damn condescending - ugh.” She rolled back over, frowning. “If we ever broke up I don’t think I’d ever be able to see you again.”

“You wouldn’t see me anymore?” He frowned, trying to keep up.

“No. It would hurt too much. That’s how I know she damn well didn’t love you like she should have.” She insisted, eyes bright again as she ranted. “She fucked up by letting you go, you’re a fucking catch, Rafe. I’m sorry she didn’t realize your worth.”

He blushed and pulled her close, nudging his nose against hers before kissing her. “You wanna repeat that again tomorrow when I’m sober? So I make sure I remember?” He had a joking tone, but seemed a little unsure too.

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you that every damn day if I need to.” She kissed him back, heatedly, as if to emphasize her point. “I love you. You’re mine and I love you.”

“M’ yours.” He confirmed with a sleepy nod, not nearly reciprocating the kiss as hard as hers. “My favorite girl.”

She pulled away, peppering kisses over his nose and cheeks before resting her head on his chest. “Good night, baby. Don’t you dare throw up in bed.”

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes. “I won’t. Sweet dreams, Soph.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks #obx #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

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simpingforsoftboys · 3 years

Text

Reacting to You Confiding In A Friend That You Miss Them

ft. SakuAtsu

G/N reader

Yes I wrote this at 2 am this morning 😃 Why? Because I wanted to be sad. ☹️ Luckily for you the ending is fluffy ✌️

You were curled up on the carpeted floor of your walk in closet. The lights were off, door shut, and the only thing audible was your quiet cries. A pillow was pulled up against your chest, which you heaved soft sobs into- desperately seeking some sort of comfort in the plush object. There was nothing more you wanted at the moment then to feel your dear boyfriends arms around you (even if Kiyoomi’s hold was rather hesitant). Alas, they weren’t here with you- busy with late training. Honestly you couldn’t even find it in you to be mad at them- knowing how important the next few upcoming matches were for their careers. Some people said you were much too understanding- that your relationship dynamic wasn’t fair- since your partners spent so much more time together than they did with you.

You weren’t a fool- love lost simply was not the case at all- it was just the fact that you barely felt their presence in your home in general. They went to bed at around 9- while you turned in at around 10 or 11 most nights. In the mornings they were up at 5 or 6- whereas you rose at 7:30. The only times you got to really spend time with them was on their sole day off- Sunday. Even then, it was usually spent with them relaxing at home sleeping, no date nights or anything. Again, you weren’t hurt by this specifically- it was just that you missed being with them.

So here you were at 6pm on a Friday night, sitting in the dark recesses of your designer brand filled closet. No amount of prada, gucci, or Valentino products could be enough to soothe the ache in your chest. You hadn’t spoken to Atsumu or Kiyoomi about your feelings yet, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded your home... they had warned you about their busy schedules when you first started dating them afterall. So you were merely reaping what you had sowed.

You sighed, clutching the pillow tighter and burying your face into it. Eventually you would have to leave the comfortable space of your closet- but for now you would enjoy the company of the cool shadows and the feeling of a protective wall behind your back.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with them... but maybe you would be able to tell someone else of your grievances and lighten the heavy feeling in your heart.

W/SakuAtsu:

“Omi-Omi!” The blonde setter called, setting the ball over to his lover- just the way he liked. Kiyoomi ran up and jumped, arm back before swinging it down forcefully. The Mikasa ball zoomed over the net- smashing into the floor with a “boom” sound. “That was great!”

“Thanks.” Sakusa replied, before striding over to the benches- grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig. “Let’s clean up, shower, and head home- I’m tired.” He says straightforwardly, ignoring the sour face Atsumu makes. “We’ve spent enough time here- even Hinata went home already.”

“Fine... Y/n’s probably missin’ us anyways.” Normally Atsumu would argue- but he realizes that while practice is important, he would much rather spend time with you instead.

A little while later they arrive back to their penthouse, freshly showered and ready to spend some quality time with you. All the lights are off except for the kitchen’s- Atsumu pokes his head into the area- only to see it devoid of his lover. The dinner ingredients are all laid out and ready to be cooked.

“Hm that’s weird isn’ it Omi?” He asks, looking at the taller male. Kiyoomi’s eyes are narrowed, lips turned down in a frown, then he’s stalking away- telling Atsumu to come along like he’s talking to a dog. “Wow rude much-“

“Shh... do you not hear that?” Kiyoomi questions in a low voice, pausing outside of their bedroom’s cracked open door. They fall silent, listening intently. Soft sniffles and barely audible talking are heard from within the room- no from the closet. Exchanging a look, Sakusa silently pushes the door open all the way and the two slip into the room- intent on eavesdropping on the conversation.

“It’ll pass Keiji- honestly it’s just because it’s around that time of the year again... I can’t- won’t say anything... this is what I signed up for when I entered this relationship.” It was you- and it sounding like you had been crying (if your hiccups were anything to go off of). “But I-“ You fall silent, most likely to let Akaashi speak. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Kiyo, Tsum-Tsum? Yeah I know it’s supposed to be the busiest time of the season but I’m feeling kinda touch starved so could you please indulge me?’ No way- Yes it is selfish!”

“I”ve heard enough of this-“ Atsumu mutters, his heart hurting for you. He had known that they weren’t spending as much time with you as usual- but he really didn’t think it would pain you like this. Why wouldn’t you tell them? It wasn’t selfish at all- damn your too big heart.

Kiyoomi was having similar thoughts, they, no- he had made you question your worth in their lives... Made you feel as though your feelings were worth less than his career. This was unacceptable and completely wrong. THEY were blind for way too long- it was time they made right by you.

“W-hat are you d-doing home so early?” You gasp, startled at the sight of your towering boyfriends in the entry way of the closet. “Yeah I-I’ll call you later- mmph.” Atsumu nearly tackles you into a hug, leading you to drop your phone onto the carpet. Kiyo folows his lead and sits on his knees in front of you two, reaching over to brush his thumb over your lips. Vaguely, they can hear a soft chuckle then the dial tone- signaling that Akaashi hung up.

“Doll why didn’t ya talk to us? I’m so sorry we made ya feel that way- I love ya so much I never meant t’ hurt-“ Atsumu trails off, presssing lingering kisses to your face- attempting to convey all his love for you through them.

“It’s okay Tsum-Tsum, I should’ve said-“

“No.” Kiyoomi interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips. “My love you did nothing wrong. We knew that this would be the busiest time of the season- and because of that we should have made sure to leave some room in our schedules to spend time with you.” His normally calm eyes were glittering slightly, a flurry of emotions buried in his dark hues. He leans in and presses a long, loving kiss to your lips. “Volleyball comes second- you and Atsumu are my top priorities.”

He says it so easily, as if he had no doubt about it- so surely like there was no possibility that his statement could be untruthful in anyway. It caused your heart to warm exponentially- reassurance filling your veins.

“Kiyo...” What do you say to that? You initially want to disagree- to argue that there’s no way that THE Sakusa Kiyoomi could love and value anything over volleyball. But another, larger part of you want so desperately to believe him- to have the same faith in his last statement that he himself does

“I can hear ya doubtin’ already.” Your other, possibly more volleyball crazed boyfriend, says. “But it’s the truth babe. It doesn’t matter if ya ‘knew what ya were gettin into.’ Cuz yer wrong. We love Y/n the most- not volleyball.” He reaches down and holds your right hand in his own strong one. “Please talk to us if yer hurtin’ even if we don’t seem t’ notice right away- it doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

“Okay... thank you for being here when I need you most. I love you Tsum, Kiyo.”

“We love you too, now let’s get out of here hm? There’s no practice tomorrow (because it’s Meian’s anniversary)- so we can go out on a date?” Kiyoomi offers, lips quirking up at the excited smile on your face. Even with the tear tracks and messed up hair- he thinks this look is one of his favorites.

“Yeah! We can even wear those matchin outfits ya bought last month! How bout it dolll?” Atsumu agrees instantly, gazing at you expectantly.

You smile back and nod. “Sounds like a plan... but first I have to make tonights dinner.” Your words have them chuckling- both agree to help you out (but it’s more like you and Kiyoomi are going to cook while Atsumu hands you things).

Your problems aren’t solved yet, but with a little more time and communication- the three of you know that you’ll be just fine.

#haikyuu poly au #miya atsumu x reader #sakuatsu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader

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slutsofren · 3 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 9: Give ‘em Hell Kid

summary: after taking care of the stragglers, you make way to find Ellie amidst of all the chaos that follows her and you come face to face with a blast from the past

word count: 2,754 im gonna make up for all these short chapters i swear!!

content warnings: blood mention (i mean c'mon y'all know exactly what this fic is), animal death, somebody gets murdered a bit violently

notes: just wanna say a little thank you for all the recent influx of subs/bookmarks/comments/kudos/follows on here and on ao3, y'all warm my heart. also, the next few chapters will deviate from the tlou timeline to make way for some angst :^))))

read on ao3 here / masterlist

Your lungs were burning with each breath. Huffs escaped you. Aches filtered through your body. Running, chasing, fighting. Ellie was in deep shit and you prayed she was alright. Following after her path, you tracked your girl.

It didn’t take much to figure out which way Ellie went, between the very obvious messy shoe prints of the men chasing after her and the hoof-marks. It made finding her all that much easier. You trekked through the slosh of the muddied snow until you came across a striking stain of red. Your steps faltered and you took the sight in, the sight of blood in between all the white and brown that overlooked a small cliff. Stopping dead in your tracks, your breath hitched as you peered over.

A gasp in horror escaped you when you saw the lifeless body of dear Callus. Quickly jumping, you dropped from the ledge he was under and landed on your knees with a harsh ‘oomph’. The pain tingled up to your spine.

Scrambling up to check on Callus, looking for any sign Ellie was hurt only to find none. You brushed the dark hair on the horse, “I’m sorry Callus.” Mentally sending an apology to Cherry too. She was going to be sad when she hears but if anything, she’d take the apology in exacting revenge on his murderers.

Kneeling on the cold ground, you sent a silent wish to the stars, wishing that Callus will be taken care off wherever he is, noting how he was such a good horse, how he will be greatly missed but was certainly loved. He may have been just a horse, but even then, horses were smart and sentient. He knew.

Just as you finished your well-wishes, the horror quickly engulfed your mind. The worry grew for just a moment as you continued on the path, leaving the dear horse behind until you stumbled upon dead body after dead body, all leading in a patch down to a lake then to a little cabin, long since forgotten shops, and up the stairs to some sort of lakeside hotel, anger finally settling in your bones.

You found yourself following a trail of blood, gore, and footsteps, pride warming in your chest. That’s my girl, you silently praised. You drew a knife and a gun, as you approached what looked to be some lakeside market, too many hidey holes to walk through here confidently. Nevertheless, you marched on.

The path led you to an abandoned lodge overlooking the lake but no sign of Ellie, just more dead bodies of those bastards.

It would have been a beautiful sight long ago, in the time before. Now it was an empty and hollow shell of its former self, littered with gore.

Even shuffling as quickly as you could through the main hall of the resort yielded nothing to finding your dear young companion, not as the sun was really setting low. Had that much time passed, you thought worriedly.

You kicked an overturned table and groaned loudly, not giving a shit if somebody heard you. Letting yourself be mad for just a moment before taking a deep breath and exhaling. At this point, you weren’t sure if you’d want to move stealthy, try and make as much noise as possible just to take some of the heat off your girl.

Frustrated still, you left the resort and circled outside to locate another set of footsteps, likely of them chasing after her. It looked almost as if there was a small fucking army chasing her but still, you didn’t spot anybody. Much to your chagrin.

Taking off once more, you cursed as the visibility lowered. The snow was progressively picking up all around you causing some of the footsteps to slowly disappear.

It was swirling around in a thick blanket in the air, covering the footsteps you had been following. It felt like you were running against the clock and you took off running, focused on the remaining trail until you heard it.

Loud and metallic. A bell. Faint but there. A city center with a tolling bell possibly?

You didn't think twice about changing your direction and moving faster through the storm.

Motivated even more so, you continued on this path, following the chime until you came into view of a cheap haphazardly thrown together defense wall. Ducking behind a nearby structure, you looked on, assessing it as best you could with the little visibility you had.

Faintly, you could make out concrete walls with some barbaric barbed wire thrown lazily against it, many many weaknesses here and there. Most importantly, you noticed there was nobody manning the walls.

You ran and ducked every so often, listening for voices but finding none. Instead, you followed the bloodied trail Ellie left behind her. It was almost like a taunt to the others in this community, or maybe even a gumdrop-like trail for you, screaming ‘come find me’. Whatever it was, only a mark of design by the tough kid wanting nothing but to simply stay alive.

Pocketing your weapons, you took a few steps back then ran.

It was almost too easy to just jump the fence but you did, after hesitating ever so slightly. Your breaths were now heavy huffs, your lungs were cursing you to stop but you refused to, not when Ellie was in danger.

Then, arming yourself with your knives you tried to make your way through the town as stealthy as possible. Only taking out whoever was in your path but aiming not to make a spectacle before you could locate Ellie within this town.

Every time you took down one of those gruesome bastards, you didn’t dare to stop and search them. Your only goal was to find Ellie. You could hear the men talking about her and how she got away, sparking pride within you once more as you took off, following the chaos she left in her wake. Noting how some of the bodies were still warm, their leaked blood still sticky.

Turning the corner of a mechanics garage, a loud thunderous snap echoed through the area.

Startled, you pulled back into a crouch and watched as a large fire erupted in the distance. That spark of hope igniting as bright as the fire, signaling Ellie fighting back like hell.

“Shit,” you sighed trying to catch your breath. You rose to your feet and took off faster now, headed towards the explosion.

Off through the thick sheet of snow, you could faintly make out a large sign above a dinner, displaying the name Todd’s across it. You could hear somebody yelling from inside and aimed for it, the fire barely catching your attention.

Time was running against you, as it always did. The fire grew hotter, the building more dangerous. These were the least of your worries.

You were beyond frustrated as you circled the building, aside from the very obvious and intentional door being lit on fire that was growing at a rapid pace, there were no other entrances you could see aside from a dozen unbroken windows.

It took a couple tries to find an entrance that was viable, feeling like you were running out of time as the male voice from inside grew louder, as you could hear bullets fly just as the man was yelling. Thankfully you did find a cracked window.

Judging by the amount of noise already happening inside and assessing the risk, you figured breaking it wouldn’t alert anybody so you did just that and crawled through, doing your best not to scrape your knees.

Gaining your footing, you looked around and saw you were in some sort of kitchen for the diner. There were large stainless steel surfaces, looking moderately clean. That’s not what got your attention, but the screaming match happening in the dining area.

It took you a minute but you got close to the ground, snapping to the corner as to not give away your position, not as you saw a large man with a beard towering over a small figure- Ellie.

Your brows furrowed in anger as you ran, planning on tackling this man but he was knocked over to the side as Ellie wacked at him endlessly with a machete, hacking him to death. Overkill.

One, two, three. Each swing she grew more and more violent,

Yelling for her to stop, she continued her attack, until you grabbed her against her back, holding her close to stop her. She tried to fight against you, almost throwing you to the ground. “I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” Petting her hair, trying to calm her down, she recognized your voice and she slumped in your arms.

You were exhausted, the adrenaline slowly leaving your blood gave way to the roaring pain in your lungs and muscles. Surely you’d be sore for the coming days. Even so, the pain would have been nothing next to losing either Joel or Ellie.

The two of you stayed like that, holed up in a grimey embrace for a few moments. You repeatedly ran your fingers through her tangled up brown hair as she hiccupped the last of her sobs into your coat. The only sounds permeating the moment were of Ellie and the fire.

Fuck. The fire.

Just as you realized the predicament the two of you were in, the blackened smoke scratched and irritated your eyes, throat, and lungs. It was suffocating you and doing worse to Ellie,

If it weren’t for the raging blaze that was spreading, you would have left much sooner. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time to go.”

Ellie didn’t respond and you were about to repeat yourself until you heard heavy footfalls behind you. Moving the distraught and distracted teen slightly, you drew one of your guns and aimed, about to shoot but were stopped when you took notice of just who was standing there, palms up in defense.

Joel.

Joel was alive, right there.

Ellie recognized him before you could even register what was happening. She jumped out of your arms into his, babbling about David and crying once more. He calmed her, mumbling “Oh, baby girl… It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You watched from the floor as he tried to wipe the blood from her tear stained cheeks, barely keeping your own shit together.

“C’mon,” he said, not looking at you, “let’s get outta here.”

You rose from your haunches, swaying just a little at the inner emotional whirlwind you were facing mixed on top of the physical toll you were feeling. You watched as Joel put his arm around Ellie, walking her out the way he came in. Both of them were limping slightly. Following the two of them, you kicked the dead man just once as Joel led you both out of the burning building to your horse, Whiskey.

He turned around to say something but cut himself off, taking in the sight of you. “Shit, Are you okay?”

You followed his gaze to where your clothes were coated in a disastrous mixture of blood, dirt, and stars know what else. “It’s not mine.”

He looked like he wanted to look you over but he focused on Ellie instead, giving her a helping hand onto the horse. Joel gestured for you to get on behind her but you shook him off, “No. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“If you don’t get on the goddamned-,” he began to argue but you shut him down.

“I’m not going to fuckin’ argue with you right now.” You checked over your horse, noticing how Joel didn’t bring anything then approached Ellie, “Hey, sweetheart. Think you can handle leading Whiskey and Joel back to the house?”

She wiped away her tears and nodded, “I think so.”

“Good. I’ll see you there soon.”

Joel opened his mouth to counter you but you stood up to him, on your toes. You had grabbed his jacket and pulled him close, getting in his face. “You take our girl back to the fuckin’ house and you make sure neither you nor her go off the rails or so help me, I will finish what that rebar started and end you. Got it?”

You were tired, you were angry, you were relieved. But most of all, you were pissed the fuck off. Not necessarily at him but at, well, at everything. Being this troupe’s sole caretaker for the past few weeks was taking its toll.

Just as you got into his face, he got into yours. At only a hair's breadth away he threatened you all the same, “You do not get to be angry with me, you do not get to push me around, got it?”

His brown eyes bore into yours, you could see he was more exhausted than anything but you were not going to let him be the judge of what happens next. “Fuck you, Joel Miller. We saved your life, hell, I saved your life. You owe me. Now you’re going to get on that fucking horse with Ellie and you are going to the safe house and we are leaving this goddamned shithole. Together. In one piece.”

“Please, Joel, let’s get out of here,” Ellie’s weak voice interrupted.

The near-dyin’ old bastard opened his mouth to counter you again but decided against it. Most likely for Ellie’s sake.

Joel leans close to you and whispers a threat in your ear, “If you’re not back by nightfall, we’ll leave without you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you snap.

He takes a half step back, his tired brown eyes meeting yours. For a flash you think he wants to apologize but he doesn’t, his pride wouldn’t let him anyways. This was the game the two of you have played all these months. This push-and-pull bullshit. It was tiresome in situations like these, the dire need of survival, but during those blissful moments of reprieve, it brought you joy.

Joel’s heavy footfalls penetrated the tense air even as he saddled up in front of Ellie. He calls your name and in his roundabout way, bargains with you. “Come back alive.”

Before you could even answer or reply, he’s off with a huff. Ellie strapped closely behind him.

Watching them go, you ducked and retraced your steps in the heavy and blinding snow. The storm hadn’t let up and likely wouldn’t any time soon. It worked well into your favor for now.

The journey back wasn’t as arduous or as dramatic as the way forward but you made it back to the safe house without incident. The whole time your mind juggled between the mixed emotions of Joel. Gratitude he was alive, joy that he was walking and talking, anger that he was walking and talking and not resting.

There was just a lot happening all at once. It’s why you wanted to be alone for the time being. Too many emotions swirled in you, too many thoughts, too much of everything. The bitter cold nipping at your fingertips helped, kept you grounded.

At least until you heard the low grumbling of Joel coaxing Ellie back to the land of the living, much as you both did the same to him these past few weeks. His voice trailed up the basement and didn’t stop as your steps echoed through the stairwell.

When you stopped at the final landing did you look up. He was holding her close as she cried, she still hadn’t stopped. His hands, bruised and bloodied from stars know what, coaxed themselves through her messy hair. The sight of them both covered in other people’s blood hurt you in ways that no wound could ever compare to.

He was whispering nothings to her, praises for her fighting, echoing words of ‘shh, it’s okay’, repeatedly in a low soft voice. You came close to the two of them sitting on the lone mattress, “Hey, sweetheart, I’m back.”

Joel looked up at you again, looking over you. Taking in the sight of you now. He gave you a tense nod as Ellie reached around for your hand and squeezed it. Once she let you go you brushed her hair from her face and slowly stood.

“I’m going to pack up everything and we’re going to leave here, put this shit behind us.”

The two of them said nothing but Joel caught your eye and silently, you both came to an agreement. Whatever bullshit you two had, when it came to Ellie, she came first.

Isn’t that what family is for?

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