#I really just remember him as the adrenaline-seeking idiot who I really love and would really bring me out of my shell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sickuma · 1 year ago

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SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back.

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?”

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance.

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent,

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours.

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him.

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while.

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe.

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body,

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you.

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel.

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him.

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail.

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug.

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you.

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

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bromcommie · 8 months ago

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Hello & Happy Monday!

So...for the WIP tag game...I know I'm supposed to pick the one (1! ONE!) that I find most intriguing, but this is like a whole buffet of intrigue, so maybe I can have two? 👀 1) НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT) <- ngl, the 'figure out' cracked me up. Also, late night conversations? Yes, please!

2) what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 <- this just sounds fun...and possibly like the title could be deliberately misleading

Thank you! <3

Hello helloo, happy Monday to you too! (but also Tuesday now I guess. It's a 2-for-1!)

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for indulging me with two (2! it's gonna be so long!) <3

НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT!!!) - Ooof, this fucking guy. I'm glad my stern instructions to myself in the title there were funny, because I do indeed need to FIGURE this one OUT and it's bugging me. It's essentially another chapter that's a part of a larger work (not naming names not pointing fingers but it's. The Work I'm Having Trouble Updating) and it was written a looong while back, which is why it's now a standalone file. I love the premise but I kinda want to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, mostly because I'm still deciding on whether I like the way I wrote the backstory for it. So. It's fun! It's challenging! It's giving me a migraine! The title's from this song about a tired traveler trying to find his way in the night. It's three conversations (Steve+Nat, Nat+Bucky and Bucky+Steve - although they barely talk at all) that happen in the night after a very not lucid, injured Don't-Call-Me-Bucky who's recently remembered the Red Room and also had a pretty rattling encounter with the code words seeks Natasha out in Europe for [redacted] something as a last resort, but instead accidentally walks straight into Steve who he's been staying away from like the Devil Himself since CATWS. And then basically bleeds all over him. (I am not immune to the wound care trope! However, this is unfortunately not that.) A lot of ugly feelings and defense mechanisms are brought up, some painful memories re: the war and the Red Room are brought up, and nobody's having a good time or really knows how to process jack shit. They all communicate/perceive love&protection in wildly different ways, and while all three dynamics end on some kind of natural conclusion it's still a lot of unfinished, unspoken business and just kind of sad. Hurt no comfort that's necessary for there to be the promise of comfort in the future, if you will. Tbh, I really want to finish/reincorporate this one. But it's just so *screams into paper bag*. Anyway. Snippet:

When Steve wakes up the next morning Bucky’s gone, like he knew he would be. Like a hurricane passing through, the foreknowledge doesn’t make the aftermath any easier. And then what? his own voice from so long ago echoes in his head as he waits for the water for Natasha’s tea to boil in the sunny little kitchenette of the motel’s lobby. 16 hours later, he’s watching the blinding stripe of the sun setting over the East River before the plane maneuvers onto the landing strip at JFK. The hell else? Then we march on, ace. We go home.

2. what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 - oh good, thank god! So this one is a bit more fun, but it's only got a few disjointed half-scenes so far. The title is actually one of the most literal ones on the list - the fic does take place in Astoria, Queens, and it does involves a certain "nutcase". Several, even. They really don't get along, and then they almost do.

(Blame my recent rewatch of the Netflix shows for this one. Man. What a golden age that was.)

Excerpt under the cut:

It was easy to clock the combat training before, sure, but up close this guy’s… Keyed up. Wild-eyed, a little, and not in the twitchy way of the three idiots piled up outside by the ruined water hydrant, not just sheer adrenaline stoked by fear and booze and coke. More dialed-in, purposefully ruthless. Hungry. Getting up with an expression like an enraged bull in spite of the beating he just took. Nutcase, Barnes thinks bleakly. Not that he’s in any position to judge — glass houses, all that, but — “What’re you,” he croaks, “some kind of psycho?” “Says the guy who just mowed down six guys without blinking." The man spits, grimacing at the blood that lands on the stark white of the rooftop like it personally offends him. If he notices the similar spray across his busted face, his clothes, his military-short hair, he doesn't seem to give a damn. "Nice going, by the way— my man got away." "And my man's bleeding out on a fucking pool table downstairs," he grits out. He doesn't have time for this. This whole night has been one giant exercise in unpredictability, and the police sirens echoing off in the distance are problem enough without him having to duke it out over and over with some local homicidal moron who might or might not be HYDRA. "You wanna tell me what that's about?" The man levels an irritated look back at him and then shrugs, dismissive. "I don't play with my food." "Your food had intel I've been hunting for two weeks." "Tough shit. Maybe if you hadn't screwed up your goddamn trig—" His lip curls of its own volition, affronted despite himself. What an appropriate time for his ego to announce it's back from the dead and in the mix. How fun. “The hell I did. I don’t miss.” "Is that right? There's some real screwed up drywall down there that says otherwise." His voice picks up an edge of something dangerous, aiming for threatening and landing on feral as he takes a step closer, and Jesus, can he stay down already? "Unless you did it on purpose to let him know I'm coming because you work for the bastard, in which case lemme tell you, you and me have a whole different problem." "I don't work for anybody," he says, probably with more intensity than strictly necessary. "He was a civillian. I don't kill civillians." The words curl acerbic on his tongue. He doesn't. He doesn't. That, of all things, makes the man laugh, a bitter little thing that sounds like it clawed its way out of his throat, and only barely. Who the fuck is this guy. "Oh Jesus Christ, not this bullshit again— how many of you assholes are running around this place, huh?" he says, gesturing a little wildly at him. "You got a fancy catsuit under that hobo getup, too?" It's Barnes' turn to look at him like he's a few marbles short, which judging by all evidence he very well might be. The guy snorts at his confusion, shaking his head. "If you consider that criminal piece of dog shit a civilian, you’re way more out of your depth than I thought, kid.”

but also:

“Self-righteous, God's sacrificial lamb type-of-shit," he mumbles around the mouthful with distaste, staring off across the bridge. "Got himself a stupid fucking title and everything, if you can believe that. Major pain in my ass.” Barnes hums, considering, before taking a cautious bite of his own sandwich. The thick pile of fatty meat and melted cheese breaks apart in his mouth easy with a sudden, almost overwhelming explosion of flavours, his empty stomach singing praises despite the ache in his bruised jaw as he chews. He never thought he’d say this, but god bless Queens. “Catholic?” Castle grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, I have some experience with that.”

#thanks for the ask<3 #one of these days I will learn how to make these normal length. not today though lol enjoy!#booksandabeer #tag game #my fic #asks #wip tag game

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samsaraandbeyond · 8 months ago

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OC Introduction: Bunson

From left to right, top to bottom, Bunson, his casual, scientist, and explorer outfit Art drawn by Teh-Ray

It takes somebody this smart to think of something so stupid.

Design

Remember Loren? Essentially my Sonic the Hedgehog in personality?

I wanted him to have an Eggman!

But Eggman as a character doesn't really stand out on his own. At least for me, personally. He's defined by his rivalry with Sonic and other than that, he doesn't do much.

The games don't exactly show him doing much either. You usually find out what he's up to because of other characters peeking into his business. And its usually just building more robots.

I wanted to change that!

Eggman can't stand on his own, so who can? They have to be some sort of villain or troublemaker. I've already had my version of Bowser, so...

Hey, that works.

Wario stands on his own all the time. He's been Mario's antagonist, then a pile-driving treasure hunter in his own platformer, and then an owner of a company that designs and sells microgames.

He also invented a device capable of transporting between dimensions just to hop into a fucking TV so there's that.

Someone so smart...who acts so stupid. That's a fun balance to work with! There are a lot unique ways an extremely intelligent character can screw up compared to an idiotic character. So, I went with it! That's the reason Bunson has so many costumes; the standard Sonic design (minus the shoes and gloves), casual (just lounging around), scientist (experiments, robots, research), and explorer (treasure hunting babyyy).

Abilities / Traits

BRAWN

As big as Bunson is, you'd be surprised to see him run a marathon, carry a car, and punch someone into orbit. He is VERY physically powerful and loves using it to solve problems.

"Didn't think I'd be willing to get my hands dirty, huh?" - Bunson

REALLY REAL WRESTLING

King's Muscle Buster (Tekken)

No, he isn't a practiced wrestler. He saw the moves on TV, even the ones that weren't meant to be recreated, and replicated them perfectly.

Atomic Drops, Dragon Sleepers, Kinniku Busters, Piledrivers, all that good stuff. Consider them in Bunson's repertoire.

"By the way, wrestling is real, and CAN hurt you."

Gadgeteer Genius

Mao (Disgaea)

Bunson has a knack with technology, putting together advanced contraptions in little over half a day.

He's made a killing from selling these off.

"Look at this, LOOK AT THIS! Look at what he's capable of! THIS COULD DESTROY A CITY!!!"

The (Mad?) Biologist

Professor (Disgaea 7)

Bunson truly knows the INS AND OUTS of the living body; every pressure point, vital organ, and growths your insides shouldn't have. His expertise in the medical field enables him to perform life-saving surgeries, modify and enhance the genetic structures of his patients...

Or, y'know, just experiment on people.

"I wish he spent more of his time in an operating room instead of desecrating graves for ancient loot or some shit."

First Aid Specialist

Healing magic off the table? He can work with what she has.

Bunson is educated in the ways of the organic body. He has knowledge of various diseases, poisons, their symptoms, knows the proper procedures for tending to a variety of injuries and conditions, and can improvise solutions should proper tools not be available.

"Relax...I'm a doctor." - Bunson

Unnatural Resilience

Bunson's durability is strong. Annoyingly strong. Cartoonishly strong. Things that would kill most or at least cripple the average person seem to inflict the same amount of damage as having your toe stubbed for him.

"I've blown up plenty of his mechs while he was inside 'em. He'll be fine." - Loren

Personality

Bunson's a crude and crass cat that lacks manners. Being around him is an acquired taste.

His most prominent trait is his thrill-seeking tendencies.

He has to be doing something that makes him feel good. He needs a rush of adrenaline or a goal to work towards or he gets antsy and/or grumpy. He's willing to self-sabotage himself just to make things harder in order to get that too.

Despite all of this, he isn't stupid. He can take things completely seriously and form multiple, highly detailed plans. He just prefers doing things the hard way for his own personal entertainment.

"Bunson is, uh...Bunson is a problem, yes. But...I say let him get away with these petty crimes. God help us if he ever intends to cause real harm."

Backstory

He had done it. All of his effort, all of those sleepless nights, all of it reached its conclusion. Interviews, talk show appearances, award ceremonies, more money than he knew what to do with.

Bunson alone had made monumental progress in the scientific and medical fields, curing diseases thought to have no cure and developing technologies that advanced society forward by decades. His inventions and breakthroughs are saving lives; the praise for his successes would rarely cease.

And he hated it.

He didn't feel anything.

Everyone else was happier due to his contributions yet he wasn't. He felt nothing from the work he put in all of those years, only doing what he felt he was supposed to do to succeed. All he could remember was stress and expectations. He vented his frustrations to people he didn't even like and they suggested that he occupy himself with something to take his mind off it.

So he started exploring ancient tombs for treasure.

Then he started robbing graves.

Then he started evading the police, breaking into their buildings, stealing their things, which escalated into robbing banks, stealing cars, building machines that would help him do these easier...

Bunson found what he was after. Danger. Adrenaline. He didn't want praise for his achievements or to be some cog in a machine; he wanted to put all nine of his lives at risk of his own volition and live to tell the tale after. To make it more fun, he'd handicap himself in various ways to see what he was capable of, either by intentionally leaving holes in his plans or informing targets directly of a future visit.

The one who was once known as the life-changing professor, doctor, and engineer had now become one of the world's most notorious criminals. His previous reputation had gotten him out of jail for free on several occasions only for him to return to his thrill-seeking antics.

Eventually, those antics earned him the ire of an individual who had grown tired of his shenanigans. One who seemed to be capable of foiling Bunson's plans at every turn.

Bunson loved that. A rival? Yes, please.

"Blah blah blah, 'Bunson, that's illegal! Bunson, you can't do that!', does it look like I care? I'm gonna do whatever the hell I want. Feel free to try and stop me; it'll make things interesting." - Bunson

#oc #samsara #unique oc #oc lore #Bunson

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sxlver-sweet · 3 years ago

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Please i'm begging youu i want to see more fantasy au for tokrev and that pirate would be so good i even have some idess on me already 😩

–🎴

I HAD A FUCKING FIELD DAY WITH THIS I WANNA HEAR YOUR IDEAS PLS SHARE

i’m currently sleep-deprived, so some of these are probably really basic and there’s most likely errors somewhere in here skdkcmdksk

also, requests may be closed, but discussions and more ideas are absolutely welcome.

faerie!kokonoi, who preys on the heartbroken drunkards at upscale bars, listening with a secretive smile as they spill their life stories to the bartender. silver-tongued and clever, kokonoi purrs his condolences, slipping their name into the conversation with ease and feigning oblivion when they, cloudy-eyed and ignorant, hand over their precious bank information and the locations of their valuables.

tailor!mitsuya unable to concentrate on stitching up a torn dress with the incessant clanging in the background and snapping at blacksmith!pah-chin, who’s busy forging knight!baji a new sword. mitsuya chastises baji for being so careless, but all baji does is grumble and turn away, black oil and dirt smeared on his flushed cheeks and long hair clinging to his sweat-stained forehead from his previous sparring session.

wizard!mitsuya spinning golems out of clay and shooing them away with an order to find him more materials to craft matching cloaks for his newest apprentices, luna and mana.

leprechaun!nahoya luring unsuspecting villagers into the forest with the promise of gold coins, only to send branches crashing down onto their heads when they venture far enough. they shout irately and scramble after him as he tumbles, laughing, into the shadows… but it’s no use. he’s too fast.

mermaid!yuzuha punching the shit out of pirates and dragging them down from their ships when they disturb and/or hunt the peaceful merfolk

knight!draken pledging his life to princess!emma

werewolf!baji, who appears to casually laugh off questions about his sharp, prominent canines; when in reality, when he’s secretly sweating bullets. werewolf!baji, whom the others wrinkle their noses at and tease when he orders his steak rare. werewolf!baji, who can’t hide the particularly ferocious, almost predatory glint in his eye that only appears during brawls after the sun has fallen. everyone laughs it off, mistaking his bloodlust for adrenaline. it’s only baji, he’s just intense, they reason.

half-blood!takemichi, who leaps through time with the protective blood of a phoenix coursing through his veins. half-blood!takemichi, whose blood aids him in resisting the beckon of death that pries at the empty body he habitually leaves behind and enables him to keep rising back to his feet no matter who knocks him down.

dybbuk!shinichiro, whose rage inhabits mikey’s body, only flaring to aid in crushing kazutora beneath his little brother’s fist. dybbuk!shinichiro, who plucks away at mikey’s sanity day in and day out, demanding for his death to be avenged. dybbuk!shinichiro, who is the reason that mikey can no longer set foot in his bike shop, because no matter how hard he tries, mikey can’t seem to shut out the eerie groaning of forgotten bikes as they rust away or the crackling squelch of metal colliding with bone that he’s positive he’s never heard before—so why is he hearing it now?

executioner!kazutora, who has no problem with the unjust slaughters that tyrant!kisaki approves, because his unchecked guilt can only be satiated by “cleansing the kingdom of immoral souls.” executioner!kazutora, who hums a crude tavern song as he takes his sweet time lining up his blade with the neck of the shivering woman hunched before him—the shivering woman whose only crime is swiping some bread to feed her starving family. executioner!kazutora, who only finds retribution in the twisted cycle of playing the role of god’s “divine” axe.

knight!toman forming a wall in front of their king to square off against an approaching army, a measly one hundred men with fire in their eyes and swords dripping with blood—a measly one hundred men fully prepared to offer up their lives to protect king!mikey.

jester!hanma, who flirts with the women of the court and openly takes cheap shots at tyrant!kisaki, regardless of whether or not he’s in the vicinity. still, it doesn’t matter how humorous the joke is. no one dares to allow even a twitch of their lips. how hanma hasn’t been executed yet, they don’t know.

pirate!nahoya, who cackles like a madman and jeers at an opposing ship from his place perched atop the crow’s nest

apothecary!souya meeting his future s/o in a field of lavender while he’s searching for fresh herbs. apothecary!souya, who’s mortified by the chalky powder spattered on his overalls and runs a hand through his hair, accidentally smearing a yellow dust through his blue curls. apothecary!souya, who blushes when you kindly offer to brush the powder from his hair. apothecary!souya, who offers you one of the dandelions peeking from his pocket as a gesture of gratitude.

ladies-in-waiting!emma and hina scurrying off to deliver empty dishes to cook!mitsuya, who leans forward expectantly to hear the latest gossip when they approach him with sparkling eyes and poorly concealed smiles.

adviser!draken storming into king!mikey’s private chambers without an invitation to shout at him for neglecting his duties and drag him by the ankle out of bed

sorceress!hina enchanting a four-leaf clover necklace with a spell to keep knight!takemichi safe in battle

spymaster!sanzu scaring the shit out of his scribe!s/o whenever he pops up in the windows of the library in all black with no prior warning

doll-maker!izana, who lives in a secluded area of the woods with his apprentice kakucho and obsessively lines his shelves with replicas of the older brother he wishes he had

knight-in-training!chifuyu working extra hard to impress knight!baji, who had recruited him and taken him under his wing

steampunk inventor!chifuyu, who’s never seen without his trademark goggles that kazutora always pokes fun at and threadbare overalls splattered with oil stains. inventor!chifuyu, who nearly has a heart attack when baji hobbles in on one leg, grinning at him with a face swollen with bruises while waving his detached prosthetic leg in greeting. inventor!chifuyu, who keeps wrenches on his belt specifically to hurl at his idiot friends whenever they come into his shop all beat-up with their bronze prosthetics severely damaged

steampunk!hanma, who has a glass eye with the word “pain” engraved on the iris. steampunk!hanma, who asks kisaki to hold something for him. when the latter holds his hand out with an exasperated sigh, hanma sets his replacement eye in his palm and cackles hysterically when kisaki promptly jolts with disgust and chucks it across the room

cyberpunk!sanzu, who’s already inebriated but continues to drown deeper in the neon lights of the club as he pops an array of glowing pills into his mouth, body numb to the robotic assistants that hum around him and intermingle with the equally delirious crowd in case someone were to collapse from overdosing

masquerade!mitsuya, who smiles at you with such kindness and respect as he guides you onto the marble floor that you immediately resolve to discover his identity at a later date

masquerade!kakucho, who does everything in his power to prevent you from uncovering his identity. masquerade!kakucho, who fears that you’ll be disgusted with his deformed appearance once you see his scar.

samurai!yuzuha, who rescues you from a band of thieves but is perplexed when you insist on repaying her goodwill. samurai!yuzuha, who eventually starts coming to you whenever she needs her wounds bandaged or a home-cooked meal. samurai!yuzuha, who refuses to let you touch her sword with your pure, unsullied hands.

potion-maker!ran, who always despises when rindou barges into his workspace for nothing else than to tip over a couple jars and poke fun at his craft. potion-maker!ran, whose skin and hair have been permanently imprinted with the scent of clove and allspice berries. potion-maker!ran, who concocts love spells and perfumes that grant increased intimacy for the lovesick women who visit him when their own assets aren’t working. potion-maker!ran, who smiles charmingly and calls his female customers “darling.” potion-maker!ran, who has no problem with allowing them to test his products on him in order to guarantee their potency—but only if they’re attractive and have a pretty penny to spare :)

gunslinger!mikey, who almost shoots his big toe off trying to impress the beautiful barmaid across the room

servant!baji, who isn’t the slyest but always makes sure he leaves out a saucer of cream for the stray cats that wander through the town during the night, regardless of how much trouble he gets in. servant!baji, who develops a forbidden bond with his royal!s/o due to their shared love of animals. servant!baji, who is ignorant of the ways of courtship but does his best to flirt with you, however flustered and awkward he may be. servant!baji, who sheepishly seeks advice from his mother about how to impress royalty despite him being unable to offer you any material items.

necromancer!takemichi who doesn’t know wtf is going on and is literally only a necromancer because he fucked up reading a recipe for garlic bread that was written in cursive

vampire!kokonoi, who looks wistfully upon his collection of dusty, old perfume bottles as he recalls how they’d been the most expensive items on the market centuries ago. vampire!kokonoi, who possesses splintered, wooden chests overflowing with outdated currency that will never again be utilized. vampire!kokonoi, who sits for hours and stares at the photo of the young woman that he’s preserved in mint condition for countless years, wondering why he can’t remember who she is

half-blood!mikey, who wonders why his legs are so much stronger than the rest of his body, why he’s always been so much faster than his peers, and why they’re always chock-full of energy. half-blood!mikey, who’s blissfully unaware that the blood of his ancestors is not as it seems. half-blood!mikey, who has zero clue that his lineage marks him a descendant of the minotaur.

farmer!chifuyu, who’s too shy to approach the seamstress’s daughter, so he resigns himself to only admiring her from afar until she makes a move herself. farmer!chifuyu, who’s beyond embarrassed when he accidentally bumps into her, the dirt and grime on his clothing soiling her pristine outfit. farmer!chifuyu, who tries to brush it off, only to panic when the dust on his hands stains the fabric. farmer!chifuyu, who shows up at your mother’s shop the next day to apologize and is nearly chased out due to his kind “not belonging there,” only for you to object and invite him in, claiming that he’s your friend.

jack the ripper!sanzu, who leans up against a dirty brick building with his head low, tongue clicking in rhythm with the slim hands on his golden pocket watch as he decides on his next victim. jack the ripper!sanzu, who dons a simple, shapeless white mask that contrasts sharply with the elaborate feather woven into his top hat. jack the ripper!sanzu, whom others eye skeptically when he skillfully, easily slices his steak into cross-sections with nothing more than a butter knife. jack the ripper!sanzu, who smiles so charmingly at women, basking in their ignorance as he lures them into a sense of false security with a few sweet words. jack the ripper!sanzu, who seals all of his letters documenting his crimes with a lipstick-stained kiss and giggles manically when it smears onto his cheek. jack the ripper!sanzu, who is taken aback when one of his targets whirls on him with anger in their eyes and a knife gripped in their hands, fully prepared to give him a dose of his own medicine.

achilles!izana and patroclus!kakucho. that’s all i have to say. y’all know what’s up👀

soothsayer!takemichi, who’s looked down upon by his fellow prophets because of his frenetic efforts to change the future. while the rest lounge beneath the shade of trees, sweet-smelling smoke curling from their ornate pipes and hazy eyes trailing after people who they know are supposed to die tomorrow, takemichi is doing his best to track them down to warn them of their fate. “he’s just a boy,” the others chuckle, “he won’t make a difference.”

victorian era painter!s/o, who finds seishu inui snoozing beneath a tree and resolves to capture his beauty on a canvas. seishu, who’s well-aware of what you’re doing but decides to let you have your fun. painter s/o, who’s mortified when seishu happens to “wake up” as soon as they sigh with satisfaction and requests to see the picture.

barista!izana, who mixes drugs into his drinks for certain customers while they discreetly slide a handsome wad of cash across the counter

archer!chifuyu, who accidentally spears his superior through the leg while struggling with his bow. archer!chifuyu, who meets kazutora in the dungeons and befriends him during the one night he spends there. archer!chifuyu, who is confused and hesitant when he is abruptly assigned to join the ranks of the prince’s bodyguards. archer!chifuyu, who is white with shock when he sees kazutora stroll into the room, a golden crown balanced atop his head and a wide smile blooming upon his lips when he spots his new friend.

ROBIN HOOD!CHIFUYU

potion-maker!souya, whose face always softens whenever you stop by his shop during your daily mail delivery route. potion-maker!souya, who’s ashamed of himself for having considered exploiting your trust in him and slipping a love potion into your drink. potion-maker!souya, who always offers to make you something befitting the occasion whenever you’re running low on energy, not feeling well, or are nervous about something. potion-maker!souya, who’s too shy to confess his feelings for you.

town crier!nahoya, who sometimes slips a swear word or two into his announcements and prefers to storm the town on horseback, disregarding his elaborate attire. town crier!nahoya, who has definitely snatched you off the street during his routes, leaving you to cling to his sweat-dampened clothes and shout at him for being such an imbecile.

shapeshifter!nahoya, who diligently keeps his eyes closed because he can change everything about his appearance, except for his distinctive eye color.

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years ago

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May I request a bit of angst but fluff in the end for Atsumu? 🥺 Using quote 1, and can it be both smau and written? Cos I really like yer writing 🥰🥰

When the trio entered Club Rebel they were met with a whiff of alcohol and smoke, a scent they were now well accustomed to. As Atsumu began to scan his surroundings, an animated grin warmed up his features. The space was almost at full capacity, and the sea of unfamiliar faces had the blonde’s heartrate in a mess. He selected Club Rebel for their group outing for one reason alone – he was seeking anonymity. At least, that was the reason he proclaimed to his two friends. The artificial motive was packaged with an impressive sales pitch, and if they did not know his history with the venue, they might have bought it. Afterall, Club Rebel was perfect – he could be anyone here. More precisely, it offered him the opportunity to escape the labels and baggage that was associated with the name “Miya Atsumu”.

“First rounds on me, friends!” A breath of satisfaction was exhaled as he hooked an arm around each of his friend’s shoulders. Bokuto thrusted a fist into the air in response, celebrating the setter’s declaration while Suna mumbled an unenthusiastic “great”.

Truthfully, the only reason Suna tagged along was because he knew you would be here. Despite supplying his friends with a persuasive falsehood, they both knew that Atsumu was harbouring a secret wish. The setter was hoping to a catch a glimpse of the heart he broke. And thanks to the skillful planning of his friends, his wish would come true.

“Since you’re paying, you can bring us the drinks too.” The middle blocker settled onto an empty L-shaped couch, sinking into the cushion contently before waving his friend away. “Bokuto you go find Aran and ‘Samu. Then when you’re both done, come back to me.” Suna did not care whether or not the pair would agree to the plan thrust upon them. Instead his attention landed onto his phone and the social media page he was responsible for monitoring for the evening.

Exasperated with his friend, Atsumu twitched, lifting his hands into the air. His fingers slowly curled into a fist as he tightened his jaw, swallowing the growls wishing to sound. “Suna, ya lazy ass! What do ya think ya are? A damn prince?” Beside him Bokuto raised an eyebrow at the middle blocker, wordlessly questioning whether the plan was in motion.

“Maybe I do.” The emotionless response was aimed at the setter, though Suna’s eyes remained fixed onto the Ace. Tilting his head, he lowered his phone to his thigh. The arrogance in his pose provided Bokuto the answer he was seeking.

“Tsum tsum, just get the drinks. I’m gonna find Aran and Myaasam.” The Ace tugged on his setter’s shirt, nudging him to take his leave.

“Yer the worst.” A final death glare was administered by the blonde to the unwavering middle blocker. Shaking off Bokuto’s grip, he turned on the outsole of his dress shoes then began towards the bar. Sometimes he did not understand what Suna’s problem was. Shaking off the thought with the roll of his eyes, he pressed himself against the bar counter, motioning the barkeep over.

“Heya, Miya. It’s been a while.” The foreign accent hit the setter with a wave nostalgia – the barkeep ‘Star’ was a friend of yours. He didn’t recognize her at first, perhaps due to the alcohol he consumed earlier.

Star was the one who had introduced the two of you, after speaking with Atsumu she suggested that he meet a potential romantic candidate. He could still remember how the butterflies in his stomach sang upon your arrival – you were the most beautiful person he had ever met. But he soon realized it was the kindness of your soul that bathed your features in an angelic glow. God, he was an idiot for letting you go. “She’s here you know.”

The information was stated with a thick layer of disappointment, her dislike for the setter was becoming quite obvious. However, the surge of hope that entered Atsumu’s body allowed him to successfully bypass the distaste in her voice. Fate had blessed him with a miracle – that was all that mattered.

“Do ya know where she is?” The question spilled from his lips before he could gather his thoughts. He knew that she held little motivation to help him – but it was worth a shot.

Star grimaced, continuing to polish the glass within her grasp. Instead of responding verbally, she motioned to the dancefloor with her chin.

While he was eager to see you, the smile that was sewn into the setter’s mouth could no longer be maintained when his eyes landed on you.

A string of laughter exited past your coloured lips when Makato completed another impression of your mutual friend. Beside her, the former Karasuno Captain had his face resting in his palm, with embarrassment flushing his skin. Sugawara patted his friend’s back in a supportive manner, though he too, was failing to suppress his laughter. And for the first time in a month, your lungs had accepted the fresh air, expelling the smoke that was left behind by a past lover.

“Awe, y/n. I forgot the sound of your laugh until now. Thank you for the reminder.” Makato provided a little wiggle to her eyebrows, with a teasing edge to her comments.

“I’m sorry.” The sound of your laughter dimmed into a titter as you shook your head. “Thank you for dealing with me all this time. I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with for the last month.” The alcohol lacing into your bloodstream had equipped you with the conviction you lacked for the last 30 days. While your heart continued to weep from an unforgettable loss, your intoxicated mind led you to believe that you could move on – and that you would.

But even alcohol could not cure the damage that would befall you if you came face to face with the devil himself.

It took you a few minutes to spot him, and when you did, a storm brewed inside of your stomach.

Were your eyes deceiving you?

No. It was him. Miya Atsumu in the flesh.

The tears that were once being shed inside rose to the surface, claiming your cheeks as you locked onto his gaze. Your friends exchanged worried glances seeing your sudden alternation in mood, except when they followed your stare, the source of your pain was easily spotted.

“Why the hell is he here?” Makato seethed, her fingers clenching the stem of her liquor glass.

“Let’s just leave. Come on, y/n.” Sugawara slipped an arm through yours, guiding you in the opposite direction and away from the setter.

Panic flared inside of the blonde when he saw you disappear in the crowd. A desperate glance was tossed on either side of him as he scanned the venue for a solution to this problem. It would take him far too long to block off each entrance even with the aid of his brother and friends. Then an idea struck him, sure it was ridiculous and could potentially cost him greatly, but it his was only option.

“I’m not losin’ ya again.” Mumbling the words under his breath, he broke into a sprint towards the DJ Booth.

Across the dancefloor, your friends strived to lift your spirits while Daichi was sent to fetch your coats. Makato brushed away the liquid clinging to your flesh, while Sugawara had an arm around you, his fingers soothingly caressing your arm. The gratitude you held earlier for the alcohol had quickly morphed into regret, as it amplified the emotions you were failing to conceal. What made the circumstances considerably worse was that all you desired was him.

“Where is Daichi? It shouldn’t be taking this long.” Blowing out a noisy breath, Makato surveyed the area, puckering her lips out in thought. However, rather than finding your mutual friend, her eyes fell upon a certain blonde idiot who was now standing on the DJ’s platform. “Oh no.”

“HEY. L/N, F/N. Don’t ya dare think about leavin’!” Atsumu’s voice echoed throughout the club, drawing the attention of every attendee. The setter adjusted his posture as he squinted at the audience, searching for the person responsible for his moment of insanity. When he spotted you in the crowd, a pained expression painted his features. “Y/n.” The way he breathed out your name so softly brought you to clench the fabric draped over your chest.

This time when your eyes met, you kept the surge of tears at bay, utilizing your acting skills for the first time this evening.

“Y/N, I love ya. I love ya so damn much. I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for us.” The sincerity of his words was revealed by the small cracks in his voice. Atsumu was a confident man, but right now, the only thing keeping him from collapsing was pure adrenaline and fear. “I didn’t realize it at the time, forgive me. I should have been putting yer needs before mine. I should have appreciated ya more, everything ya did for me…” As his bottom lip wobbled, the females in the audience blew out a few “awe’s”. You, on the other hand, were engaged in a battle with your cheeks, swiping away the liquid you could no longer suppress.

“I don’t ever wanna make ya cry again. Please y/n.” He didn’t care that he was begging at this point, he would grovel at your feet if he had to. “Give me another chance will ya? I know I messed up, but let me make this right.” Sniffling, he wiped at his nose with his sleeve before throwing the microphone back at the DJ. Jumping off of the platform, his eyes remained secure on you as he slipped past the dozens of bodies keeping you away from him. When he finally reached you, a timid smile tugged at the ends of his lips.

“Will ya take me back, y/n?”

Unable to compose yourself, you threw your arms around his neck, prior to digging your face into the cotton that covered his chest. As you entered his embrace, the setter was overwhelmed with happiness. Peppering kisses to your head, an apology or declaration of love was whispered between each kiss as he clung to you, fearful that if he let go, he would be awoken from his dream like reality.

“Atsumu…” After gathering the energy required to use your voice box, you pushed away from him slightly. Your eyes were rimmed in crimson, and your mascara was now smudged below your eyelids. But you were still the most breathtaking girl he had ever laid eyes on. Humming lowly in response to his name, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Don’t be such an idiot next time.”

Your demand prompted a sheepish grin to display on the male’s features, though it was short-lived. As after you said your next words, he immediately crashed his lips against yours in a kiss.

“Next time, you don’t need to scream how much you love me on the microphone. You just need to come home.”

A/N: Omg you said tiny bit of angst and I gave you this - I’M SORRY??? hopefully the fluff at the end makes up for it!? AAAh ;-; I hope you like it!! Also I edited this 3 times and at this point if I missed any mistakes pls ignore thanK YOU

General taglist: @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @chocolaterumble @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @graykageyama @bloody-bella @amberalisa @yourstarvic @swoonhui @chaichai-the-weeb @dreamstormings @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut @rajablast

#storytime with jan ❤️#atsumu fluff #atsumu smau #atsumu angst #atsumu miya #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

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PatB/BatB AU: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 1

Summary: Sequel to Imprisoned and part of the PatB BatB AU.

The Beast knows he’s too far gone, in too deep to ever have hope of regaining what he lost. But one action leads to another, and through a series of mistakes, discovers he may have been wrong about so many things.

Pinky is running for his life. He knows he made a promise, and he finds the servants charming, but he can’t stay. The castle was not and will never be his home. But things aren’t always as they appear.

AN: OK ok technically the disastrous dinner request does happen first (as of posting this first chapter, the dinner request scene has not been written yet but I do hope to get around to it), but I just wanna write the West Wing and its aftermath ok lemme have my angst.

This will be a 4 chapter story, each chapter named for a lyric from If I Can’t Love Her from the BatB Broadway musical. It’s a really heartwrenching song and every time I hear it I just wanna hug poor Beast.

AO3 Link

Ch 1: Careless and Unthinking

The Beast heard music drifting from the large dining room, traveling along the wind until it reached his usual haunt on the castle roof just above the West Wing.

Though he was too far to properly hear the lyrics, he recognized that irritatingly catchy melody to Be a Pest, a song the Warner siblings performed on a semi-regular basis ever since the curse upended their lives.

He should’ve known the Warners wouldn’t leave the prisoner alone in his room to starve.

The Beast huffed, a misty cloud forming in the frigid air.

He wasn’t sure why he said that when he didn’t actually want the prisoner to starve. It was counterproductive to breaking the curse.

And that mouse was far too foolish to suit his purposes. Arguing every order, determined to defy him at every turn, uncaring of self-preservation when he skipped into the castle and announced his presence without the slightest attempt at stealth.

Not that anyone else bothered to heed his orders, despite his higher station, but it was especially irritating from someone who was supposed to be a prisoner.

Surely all his hopes of regaining his rightful position weren’t dependent on an idiot whose head was permanently up in the clouds!

Rage mounted in the depths of his deformed body, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t stop the primal roar that worked its way past his throat.

It echoed off the trees, a flock of faraway birds taking to the air to get away from a perceived predator.

He struck the roof with one clawed, oversized hand. Several loose tiles spiraled into the abyss below.

The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. It felt good to be so powerful. His old body was woefully lacking in strength and height.

He’d never been able to climb onto the roof before. A mouse was far too small and fragile to ever attempt something so death-defying.

Nor was he able to tear furniture apart so easily. But now he could.

Give in, a voice whispered, sweet and tempting and malicious all at once. Why resist your anger? Give in now, and you won’t be hurt ever again. I promise.

Anger was the only emotion worth feeling. It was blissful to not experience anything other than splintered wood and torn cloth under his claws. No worries, doubts, or fears to hold him back. When his thoughts became nothing but a simplistic chant of destroy, destroy, destroy.

Then all coherent thought would cease, and only instincts were left.

But anger was a fickle companion. It would encourage him, drive him forward, yet it would suddenly flee. It didn’t stay with him in the wake of his destruction.

And the guilt came.

His shortsightedness robbed everyone of a comfortable life. Nobody was spared. Not the innocent toddler, not the orphans or stray animals seeking a safe haven, nor the regular household staff.

On that first long, horrible night, he’d promised to break the curse. They’d be back to normal before they knew it, and they’d only remember it as one odd, terrifying nightmare.

But his plan didn’t work. And he made that promise again. Then his next plan failed before he set it into motion.

Tomorrow night. I’ll break it tomorrow night for sure.

For the past five years, he made that same promise every night.

But the curse wasn’t broken. The nightmare wasn’t complete.

Every plan failed. He tried everything.

That is, he tried everything except for the condition laid out from the very beginning.

The beautiful witch’s voice haunted him, mocking him through every waking hour and dream, taunting him with fate-sealing roses and mirrors that reflected the monster he was.

“If you can find somebody to love, and earn their love in return, my enchantment upon your castle shall be lifted. Fail in your quest, and you shall remain a beast for all time.”

The condition was an open secret in the castle, though only the Warners dared to bring up the topic within his vicinity.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, guttural laugh, completely devoid of joy.

Love? How could he possibly love anyone?

Love only brought pain.

As a foolish child, he loved his parents.

Then they abandoned him in favor of the lavish court. His existence was a scandal unto itself, and he was secreted away to a province with little royal oversight.

He let out an ugly snarl, cruel fangs digging into his upper lip.

The harsh, unnatural sound only served as a reminder that nobody would ever love him back. His mind, which once held ideas on how to reclaim his throne and improve life in this neglected province, was now dull and dimming further by the day.

He couldn’t read or invent anymore. His hands were too large for the delicate machinery, his claws ripping apart everything he touched. He barely remembered how to stand on two legs, and the few times he tried, he quickly lost his balance and had no choice but to stalk the hallways on all fours, stripped of all dignity.

Intelligence was all he had. And even that would be gone soon.

Nobody wanted a dumb, slavering, mud-colored beast for a lover.

A chilly wind blew snow into his fur, startling him out of his ponderings. The night had quickly grown dark and cold, the land below shrouded in an early winter. The moon and stars were hidden by thick, low clouds.

He didn’t hear any music. The prisoner had likely eaten his fill by now.

The silence unnerved him.

It was quiet on the rooftop, but without the background noise of the servants working or screaming from the unfortunate souls who were assigned Warner or Mindy duty, it was far too quiet for comfort.

When it was silent, the most unwelcome thoughts nagged at his deteriorating mind.

He sighed, regretting his decision to ponder on the roof this long. But then, it seemed his entire life was just one bad decision after another, so he was hardly bothered.

Stretching his sore limbs, he carefully gripped the slippery tiles as he descended down to the West Wing balcony. The wind whipped at his cape, and his exposed fur stood on end to keep his body warm.

This body was more resistant to the cold, able to endure conditions any weak, normal mouse would hide themselves from.

He was powerful.

But that thought quickly came to an end.

He lost his grip on a handhold, sliding several inches on the slippery stone.

The brief scare made whatever remained of his shriveled heart leap in fear, and he was reminded that regardless of physical prowess, he was still mortal.

On some nights, being mortal was a good thing.

He took hold of a thick, tangled growth of ivy that crept up the stone walls over the years, so thick that even his sharp claws couldn’t cut through it. The servants had valiantly battled the plants over the years, but there was only so much they could do.

The castle would crumble once the curse took hold permanently and become nothing more than a relic lost to time.

He crept down the ivy to the West Wing balcony, allowing the mysterious, cruel light of the enchanted rose to guide him to safety in the darkness.

Brooding over a rose and making doomed plans in the vain hope of breaking this curse.

That’s all he was good for these days.

Just as he set foot on the balcony, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps within his chambers. He growled quietly to himself.

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the Warners’ antics tonight. Not when their advice proved little use against the prisoner’s stubborn refusal to have dinner with him.

But the footsteps sounded…different. Lighter.

Not brassy like Yakko’s, wooden like Wakko’s, or clinking like Dot’s.

The Beast inhaled sharply.

No.

It couldn’t be.

His prisoner was an idiot, but surely he wouldn’t break the only rule he’d been given. He should’ve been thanking the Beast for his leniency with the guidelines to follow for his stay within the castle property.

Don’t go into the West Wing.

But the mouse was right before his eyes, still on the far side of the room, twirling around in awe at the torn draperies, splintered wood, and haphazard bedding.

“Narf. This room could use a good sweep. I’ve seen pigsties cleaner than this!” the mouse tsked, shaking his head at the sorry state of the West Wing.

Really? The Beast wanted to scream. That’s your main concern right now?

Never mind that the West Wing was a grim testament to just how far he’d fallen, the shadowed lair of a beast, the broken décor scattered and abused throughout the years because it felt so good to lash out at something without guilt, and his prisoner commented on the mess of all things?

His claws brushed against a shard from a broken vase, and he sullenly flicked it aside. The ceramic remains skittered across the balcony.

Alright, so maybe the West Wing was a little messy…

An odd sense of embarrassment washed over him.

He crouched behind a thick tangle of ivy, feeling very much like a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do anything, and the mouse would just leave on his own.

The mouse picked his way through the West Wing, stopping to gawk at a shredded mattress and pile of ragged blankets that served as the Beast’s bed. He plucked at a strip of fabric that had fallen on the floor, and the Beast growled lowly. His sleeping area wasn’t a spectacle.

It was simply where he woke up from a nightmare, only to find that he never truly left.

The mouse gasped, his ears twitching. For a fleeting moment, the Beast believed he’d successfully chased him out of the West Wing. But the mouse turned to a portrait in a golden frame, one that had been painted so long ago, in a faraway life.

He’d dragged his claws across that painting many times, when he could no longer take the image of himself as a prince, mocking him with his dead-eyed stare and prestige.

Reminding him of what he used to be.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it permanently, some part of him couldn’t bear to throw it away. He didn’t know why.

He was tempted to spring out of his hiding place and tell the mouse to get out right now, but the gentle, almost reverent way the mouse pulled the hanging scraps of the portrait up to what remained in the frame made him hesitate.

In the entryway of the balcony, the rose sparked within the bell jar, its ethereal glow blinding for just a moment before it settled once again.

His hesitation cost him.

Slowly, the mouse approached the enchanted rose. The glow was always mesmerizing, always the only beautiful thing in an otherwise dark and ugly room.

Sometimes he fantasized about shredding the rose to pieces and scattering the petals to the wind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to look at it anymore.

But he wasn’t the only one affected by the curse, though he was the one who bore the brunt of it. Too often, he’d come close to forgetting that.

The rose floated just above a small, elevated platform. Five petals had fallen so far, lifeless and dead. More would join them soon enough. The pink glow illuminated the mouse’s unusual blue eyes, which were already lit up in idiotic wonder and curiosity.

With a surprising amount of strength for a mouse so slim, the prisoner carefully lifted the bell jar and set it aside.

The sheer stupidity of that action stunned the Beast.

Then the mouse reached out, fingers outstretched, just a few inches away from-

THAT FOOL WAS GOING TO DAMN THEM ALL!

All-consuming fear and fury seized hold of the Beast’s mind, his vision filled with red haze as he sprung out from behind the ivy thicket.

Protect the rose. Protect the rose at any cost.

The Beast snarled, ignoring his prisoner’s startled gasp. The mouse tripped over his own feet as the Beast snatched up the bell jar and slammed it over the rose.

For a moment, he feared he was too rough with the precious items. Though no petals fell, he wouldn’t allow himself any relief.

Not until the intruder was dealt with.

He gripped the bell jar tightly, slowly turning to face the mouse who thought he could just barge into the West Wing without any consequences whatsoever.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast growled, blocking the rose from the mouse’s view.

The mouse held his hands in front of his face. “I…I’m sorry!” he stammered.

Did he truly believe a simple placation would work? That he broke the one rule, a rather generous rule, just to satisfy his own curiosity?

“I warned you NEVER to come here!” he snarled, caring nothing for the apology.

The mouse stumbled over the corner of a ceramic vase which had oddly survived the carnage the Beast had wrought over the years. His eyes were wide, his ears limp. He squeaked something in protest, pitifully trying to justify his poor reasoning.

“DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD’VE DONE?”

A roar tore out of his throat. He was dimly aware of a terrified scream, his large paws smashing a vase into jagged shards, and all he knew was the pleasure of unleashing his wrath upon anything that couldn’t fight back.

He only saw red.

“GET OUT!”

A pile of broken wood flew past the mouse’s head. He let out a ragged cry and fled the West Wing. His piercing scream echoed in the Beast’s ears, banishing the red, vengeful haze that overtook his mind.

Broken furniture surrounded him.

Downstairs, the servants pleaded in vain for the mouse to stay. A cold wind blew through the castle, icy enough to pierce through his defenses.

The Beast turned to the rose, just in time for the sixth petal to fall.

It had a wicked sense of humor.

The enchanted mirror reflected cruel, sharp fangs as he panted for breath. The portrait’s gaze bore into him, dead-eyed and mocking and judgmental.

And the twisted black horns which adorned his head were heavier than before.

AN: I’m sorry mice, I love you, I swear…

No I did not start the BatB AU as an excuse to torture Brain as much as I already do. It’s kinda sad that many character traits of Disney’s Beast and Brain overlap. Short temper, arrogant, a goal they want very very badly but their own vices prevent them from ever obtaining it, brooding, someone they love so much they’ll do anything for, even give up their own desires, but they don’t believe they can be loved back…yeah.

I tried to do the West Wing justice cause it’s such a great scene in the movie, but I don’t think it translates well to a text based medium. Oh well, you can just listen to the soundtrack, but I think I did well enough with it.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction #patb if i can't love him

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nalu4emily · 4 years ago

Text

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 12

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter.

Contains mature content. Adult readers only!

Natsu sighed, his breath visible in the brisk night air. Unable to sleep, he sat alone outside his house. His mind was distracted, it had been since the quarrel he'd had with his small flying companion.

He never fought with Happy, well, rarely enough for him not to remember anyway and because of it, the Exceed was refusing to speak to him. Sure, they had minor disagreements, tiffs were common place between friends and loved ones, but it never meant anything. This however, was something entirely different, something he knew the cat wouldn't forgive so easily.

"Still thinking about Happy?" A soft voice tore through his thoughts.

He peered over his shoulder at the sleepy blonde standing there, clad in next to nothing, shivering uncontrollably from the crisp autumn breeze.

"I thought you were sleeping?" Natsu replied, ignoring her question completely.

Seeking out a warmth that only the dragon slayer could provide, Lucy plonked herself down next to him and grazed her chilly hands against his bare arm.

"You're freezing! Why didn't you put more clothes on before coming out?" He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

"That's what I got you for! Duh!" She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Playfully rolling his eyes at her statement, he cradled her hands in his, blowing hot air onto them. Once satisfied she wasn't going to freeze to death, he laid his head on top of hers, contented to have her next to him whilst he felt so down.

It had been a week since the altercation between Natsu and Happy, happening just as they were set to leave on a mission with the whole team. Originally, Natsu had been ecstatic about finally doing a job again with everyone, it'd been so long since they'd all worked together. It was going to be his first mission since Haru was just four weeks old and considering the little one was seven months now, he'd been dying to set something on fire.

But then, everything fell apart.

Distraught, Happy had ditched the job altogether and refused to listen to anyone who tried to persuade him otherwise. Natsu hated the idea of leaving without him in such circumstances, but did not have the luxury of bailing out himself. He and Lucy had another mouth to feed and no matter the situation, Haru came first.

It'd been a long mission, having only just returned home from it. Natsu had hoped after a week apart, the Exceed would've been ready to talk to him, but he'd been very wrong. Happy kept his distance and it was starting to really frustrate the fire mage. He valued all of his friends dearly, but the blue feline held a special place in his heart. The inseparable duo not on speaking terms was almost unfathomable, yet here they were and the poor boy was at a loss on how to make things better.

"So, are you gonna answer my question?" Lucy asked, startling the slayer once again, he'd forgotten she'd even said anything. Trying to remember her question, his mind was too muddled right now to think straight. "I asked if you were still thinking about Happy?"

"How can I not? It's too weird not having him here." Natsu looked down to his lap, feeling an emptiness without his friend at home. "I said I was sorry, what else can I do? I can't change what I did."

"I know, but try to see it from Happy's point of view. I imagine he was just as shocked as everyone else when you reprimanded him like that. You've never done that before." Lucy said, thinking back to the incident.

"I don't know what came over me, I shouldn't have called him irresponsible…"

"Or reckless, or careless, or immature… Sounds like someone else I know, hey Natsu?" She giggled at his cute pout.

"Hey, it's not funny!" He huffed childishly. "In my defence, I thought he had been—at the time! Haru could've gotten seriously hurt if I hadn't been there, but I still regret saying them now." He really did regret it. In the heat of the moment, words were exchanged that he wished he could take back.

They were all at the guild, helping to set up the hall for a local event and Happy had been charged with occupying the baby. The Exceed had sat Haru up on the bar top, having only just mastered the skill of sitting unaided, the infant was still a bit wobbly. Thinking the baby had gotten his balance, the cat let go for just a few seconds. In which time the little guy had fallen forward and toppled head first off of the side and nearly collided with the hard floor.

Luckily, Natsu had seen it happen and just managed to catch Haru in time before his head smacked the ground. The baby, of course, had been none the wiser, giggling and clapping his hands when he'd landed in his fathers firm hold, thinking it all a very fun game.

Although relieved to see that his son was unharmed, the slayer did not hold the same reprieve when he glanced up at his little friend. Happy had apologised profusely to the fire mage, however, pumped with adrenaline from watching Haru fall like that, the slayer hadn't taken a blind bit of notice. Further adding to Happy's mortification, Natsu scolded him like a child in front of the entire guild for how irresponsible he'd been, causing the cat to fly off in a huff.

"You were just being a protective father, no one blames you for that, Natsu. But, Happy didn't do it on purpose, you know that! You just didn't give him chance to explain." Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. Those two were such idiots sometimes! "You've got some grovelling to do when he does finally come home."

"Grovel?! But I already apologised!" He exclaimed, but one look from Lucy made him recoil, the guilt returning. "Fine, fine… Happy's pretty stubborn, if I don't do it, he definitely won't." Natsu sighed.

In the end, the cat hadn't really done anything wrong. It'd been an accident and now the fire mage would have to find some way to make it up to him.

"Why don't you take him fishing, just the two of you? You haven't done that in a while." Lucy asked. She could almost see the light go on in Natsu's brain at the suggestion. "It'll be good for you both to spend more time together, he's your best friend Natsu, you don't want him to feel left out."

"You think he feels left out?" Natsu looked down to his lap again, he didn't want Happy to feel pushed out, especially now that this had happened between them. The blue feline was a valued part of their family and now more than ever, he needed to be reminded of that. "I guess I have been busy with Haru, that I've not really noticed because he's always around."

"Babies do take up a lot of time, but a break to go fishing with Happy every now and then wouldn't hurt. Plus, Haru will be old enough to go with you before long." Over whelmed by how quickly the last seven months had gone, she smiled at all the memories they'd made. "It really has flown by, hasn't it? He was a tiny baby not moments ago and now look at him! Maybe he'll even say his first word soon?"

Natsu turned to look at her, feeling a warmth flood his body at the pretty smile on her face as she thought fondly of their son. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

He couldn't believe it either, their little baby, the one they found so helpless that day had become such a happy boy, with so much love held within those chubby cheeks when he smiled. He'd grown into a very cute, chunky baby, that they couldn't be prouder of.

Leaving the conversation there, they fell into silence once again, looking out onto the horizon. Well, Lucy was—Natsu had his eyes set on something much more enthralling. Shining brilliantly with the sun, she made his heart flutter excitedly in his chest. The morning light had cast a warm glow to her angelic form, bringing out all of her natural beauty. To put it simply, she was stunning.

"Like what you see, Natsu?" She teased, feeling his eyes burning into her skull. She moved her head to look at him directly, an amused smile dawning her cheeks.

"I always like what I see when I look at you." Lucy felt herself shudder, he was so blunt sometimes but that's what she liked about him, there was no dancing around the bush with Natsu.

Even after being caught gawking, he kept his gaze on her, only this time she was staring right back. The gentleness of his expression made her yearn for his touch, her eyes flickering down to his lips, feeling a tug from an unknown but familiar force to kiss them.

He cupped her soft cheek, quirking his lips up at the delicate pink tinting her skin. Feeling that same yearning, he brought his mouth to hers. Soft, gentle and smooth, with enough pressure to send little vaults of electricity down into her stomach, eliciting a small contented sigh into his mouth. Their lips, having gained plenty of practice in the previous months, meshed together snugly, tongues interloping, losing themselves to the moment of beautiful uninterrupted bliss.

Breaking apart, Lucy stood herself up, a shiver taking over her body suddenly from feeling the bitterness of the wind again. She turned and offered her hand to Natsu and pulled him back inside. Cuddling up together in bed, Lucy hoped Natsu might get some needed rest now.

Lucy had made it her mission to try and take Natsu's mind off of the missing Exceed. He was always so ready to make her happy that for once an opportunity arose where she could repay the favour. She hadn't seen that face splitting grin in too long and was determined to make him smile as much as she could until he started to feel like himself again.

They'd decided to stay home, after a week long mission away from Haru, they wanted to spend some time with him and just relax. The first to wake, Lucy was already downstairs preparing breakfast by the time Natsu got himself up. Haru had been seated in his chair at the table, whilst Lucy busied herself in the kitchen.

"Morning Luce, whatcha making?" He mumbled whilst stretching, looking over to his partner who was busy washing up the pans she'd used for cooking.

"Morning Natsu!" She chirped, smiling sweetly over to him. "I've made your favourite and lots of it, so I hope you're hungry?" She said, plating it up and placing it on the table.

"Awesome! Thanks Lucy, I'm starving!"

He gave her a tired, half smile whilst walking over to the table and sitting down next to Haru, ruffling his hair. "Morning, little guy! What's Mama made you then?" He asked, noticing the baby had covered himself in whatever sticky substance he'd been given to eat. Natsu sniggered at the state the child was in and grabbed a wet cloth to clean him up. "Did you eat any, or just go straight to painting yourself in it?"

"It was little mashed up pieces of fruit. I was gonna feed it to him but he got there before me…" Lucy's sheepish grin made Natsu quirk his lips up and shake his head in amusement.

"Daddy does that as well. Only, I'm not cute like you so Mama likes to yell at me for it!" Natsu jokingly told the baby, turning to the sound of Lucy giggling. He retrieved what was left of the fruit in the bowl and began to spoon it into the little one's hungry mouth. "That's better, now you're actually getting some!"

Once they'd all finished, they sat around and played with Haru for the rest of the morning. Lucy sat back and watched Natsu chuck the baby into the air and catch him again, pretending he could fly. Whilst distracted, he seemed like his normal self, smiling and laughing, but there was still something that felt off, like he was missing that fire in his belly that he was so well known for.

Just as Natsu was about to chuck the infant back into the air, Haru let out a big yawn and began to rub at his eyes. "Did all that super cool flying make you sleepy?" Natsu said, bringing the baby into his chest so that he could snuggle in. Haru had closed his eyes the second his head touched Natsu's shoulder, sleeping soundly in the comforting warmth that surrounded him.

"So cute! Here, I'll take him upstairs to his room." Lucy whispered, gently taking the baby from Natsu and making her way to the stairwell.

Once returning to the living room, Natsu was nowhere to be seen. Lucy knew where he'd gone though, back outside no doubt to keep himself from getting bored. Seeing a bright light coming from the partially open front door, she walked over and peered out of it, watching as he made short work of burning all of the brown leaves with his fire breath, that'd fallen onto the grass around the house, then perched up against the offending tree, looking forlorn once again.

"What's it gonna take to cheer you up?" Lucy muttered under her breath, making her presence known and walking over to him.

"Huh? What do you mean? I'm fine!" Barely believing himself.

"Sure, that's why you're sat out here by yourself, setting leaves on fire?" Raising an eyebrow at him, she sat herself down on the now charred grass, courtesy of Natsu. "What did those leaves ever do to you?"

"They keep falling on my head, that's what!" Feigning annoyance, Natsu caught another leaf mid air and burnt it, making Lucy chuckle. No matter how blue he was, the sound of her laughter always made him feel brighter.

Silence yet again befell them, it was a comfortable silence but Lucy knew better than to assume it was because Natsu didn't have anything to say. She needed to distract him somehow, make him concentrate on something else for a while. Haru was always a good diversion and had been all morning, but he was now fast asleep so she needed to find something else. Then it hit her, she could totally use herself! Ideas flooded her mind at all the ways she could occupy her brooding partner.

Starting off gently, Lucy leaned forward, catching his attention as she ever so slowly brought herself within inches of his face. Natsu watched, a bemused expression taking over as she pressed her lips to his cheek then moved away again, smiling brightly, hoping he'd reciprocate. But to her dismay, he didn't say or do anything other than look at her like she was being weird. She huffed in frustration, this was going to be harder than she thought.

"Alright, cutesy not working for ya? Fine, I can do rough…"

Eyes widening, Natsu had no idea what she meant by that, but was soon to find out when the blonde eagerly plopped herself in his lap and grabbed his head, pulling him forward and taking his lips by force. Lucy mashed their mouths together in such a fierce and scorching kiss, it was enough to make his head spin. It was blisteringly hot, and full of dark promises, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth and nearly choking the poor guy.

He tangled his fingers into her hair, not knowing what else to do with his hands and tightened his grip, causing a light whimper to escape her mouth. Enjoying the roughness far more than expected, Lucy reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air. She stared into his eyes, his dazed and completely bewildered eyes.

"Are you trying to kill me, Lucy!" He panted heavily between each word, struggling to catch his breath, he felt both confused and aroused by her attack.

"Not even that worked?!" Dumbfounded, she couldn't believe a fiery kiss like that hadn't had the desired affect. "Right, well, you asked for it! If this is the only way, so be it!" She got up from his lap onto her feet and turned away, gathering herself for her next assault.

"Asked for what? I didn't ask for – WHOA!" He exclaimed, shocked by her sudden boot clad foot coming straight for his face. Luckily, he'd seen it just in time to push himself up out of the way before she made contact with the side of his head. "What the hell was that for?! I didn't do anything that time, I swear!"

"Fight me!" Were the only words she said.

Using the other foot that was currently holding her weight, she jumped up and round house kicked him straight in the chest, knocking the boy flying back and landing him flat on his ass.

"Aargh! Dammit Lucy, that really hurt!" Gritting his teeth, he rubbed at the sore area where her foot had made contact. He peered up at the cocky looking blonde standing there in a fighting stance. He was so confused, if he hadn't done anything wrong, then why was she trying to fight him? And then he realised… "Wait… fight you?"

"You brawl with everyone else, so why not with me?" She challenged him, knowing that she'd get a reaction from the fire boy eventually, she just had to say the right words. "Or are you scared I might win?"

"You're being serious right now?" Standing back up, Natsu raised his eyebrow at the smirking blonde, he just didn't understand what had come over her. This wasn't like Lucy, she hated fighting. She never got into any guild brawls and rarely chose violence over talking first. "You're not everyone else though? I don't wanna brawl with you, Lucy."

"Why not? I'm perfectly capable! I might even give you a run for your money… Or do you really think I'm that weak?"

Lucy knew that was a low blow and almost back pedalled when she saw the guilt appear in his expression, but she held strong. The blonde wasn't planning on taking it too far, but a little brawl might cheer him up just enough to put a smile back on his face and blow off some steam that he so clearly had built up inside him.

"What?! I never said- Aargh!" Distracted, he was thrown back once again, by yet another lethal kick, to the face this time.

She smirked, starting to feel a little smug at all the hits she was getting in while he was still holding back. Holding his sore cheek, Natsu realised then that he really didn't have a choice in the matter, it was either spar with his weirdo of a girlfriend or become her personal punching bag and that sounded quite painful. With his competitive streak finally seeping through, he stood himself up and wiped the blood from his mouth, dawning a smirk of his own.

"Alright, Luce, you're on! But don't think I'm gonna take it easy on you, you've had your hits, now it's my turn."

In a flash, he was right behind her, about to grab her arms and pin her down on the floor. Having anticipated that he'd go straight for the kill, to try and end this quickly, she threw her head back, crashing straight into Natsu's nose, making him yell out in pain. Lucy swivelled and ducked down whilst he was distracted, taking out his feet and watched him flail, landing him flat on his ass for the third time.

"Ow! That's not fair! You're fighting dirty!" He accused her, holding his nose until the throbbing stopped.

"Oh, poor little dragon doesn't like it when he gets beaten… Looks like I might win after all." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and filled with tease. She laughed mockingly, anticipating his next move while she taunted him.

Back on his feet in an instant, he readied himself for another attack. It was apparent that head on blows weren't going to work against Lucy. Although physically weaker than him, she was too smart and cunning for him to get to her like that. Natsu needed to figure out a way to subdue the girl, the quicker he did that, the sooner this, whatever this was, would be over.

He eyed her dangerously, she was obviously trying to provoke him and he hated to admit, it was working. Lucy's fighting prowess had really come a long way since they'd first met. Natsu felt pride swell in his chest at how well she held her own, even against a force like him. Many powerful mages in the past had struggled to lay even a single finger on him, yet here she was playing with fire and then goading him like it was nothing.

Even though he'd never gone up against her before, the fire mage had learnt through the years that she wasn't one to take lightly. That was becoming apparently obvious, having landed three separate strikes to him already.

"Don't get too cocky, ya just got lucky! It won't happen again!" He warned.

If Lucy wanted to fight dirty, then he would too. Having already made the detrimental mistake of challenging the fire dragon slayer, she naively followed by not setting any ground rules, which he was going to exploit to his full advantage.

He stood by for a moment, gauging her every move until he'd figured out a way to bring her down without going overboard, because this was Natsu after all and he had a slumbering baby to think about.

Taking him by surprise once again, there was no time to react before she rushed at him, dodging the fist he'd aimed right at her in a vain attempt to knock her down. Bringing out her whip, she slid along the floor, catching it around his ankles and yanking hard, toppling him over and watched him face plant the dirt.

"So much for it won't happen again! I was being serious about sparring and you're just making a mockery of me. It'd be different if I was Erza or Gray right now." Surely that would get him into gear? Lucy knew he was probably still unsure of her true intentions and that was the reason for him not going all out, but she wanted him to let loose and be the Natsu she'd always known. "I know I'm not as strong as they are, but now you're just rubbing it in!"

"You really think I'd do that?" His voice stern and his gaze held a seriousness that wasn't there before. Keeping true to her intentions, she did nothing but stare at him accusingly, waiting for him to react in the only way Natsu would.

Taken aback, he bore deep into her eyes, hoping to find a slither of falsity, anything that would tell him she was lying, but he found nothing. A sudden rush of adrenaline pumped through his body, a fire ignited within his belly, determined to prove her wrong.

Grabbing hold of the whip that was still wrapped around his ankle, he yanked it hard towards him. Lucy, of course, tried to pull back, not willing to let go of her precious celestial whip. But Natsu was simply too strong, bringing her closer until she fell straight into his arms. Quickly flipping them over, he pinned her to the floor and straddled her hips.

However, the blonde wasn't about to give up that easily, not until she got what she wanted. Grimacing up at him, Lucy thrust her hips right into his groin, yet another low blow, but necessary. With his eyes leaping out of his skull and a yelp of discomfort, she speedily switched their positions, with her now on top and him being pinned to the floor.

"Nice try, dragon boy, but you're still not trying hard enough!"

Her grip tightened on his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could get out of her grasp, no problem. So she promptly used her magic to dawn Taurus' star dress, using the pervy cows strength to hold the slayer down.

"Jeez, Luce, when did you get this strong?!" Natsu asked surprised, pushing against his restraints and being met with equal amounts of force. He was testing Lucy for sure, finding it rather enjoyable. "Have you been training with that goat man again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you ever bothered to show an interest! You never even ask!" She was trying to push the boy further, he was still holding back and it was starting to frustrate her. "Go on then, Natsu! I know you're not really struggling! Stop treating me like some delicate flower and-"

Before she even knew what'd happened, Natsu had pushed against her and flipped them once again with her arms held down above her head. He was staring right at her, almost intimidatingly so as her Taurus form faded back to her own clothes. She glanced up into his piercing glare, curious to know what he was thinking after having obviously triggered him.

"Lucy… You're no delicate flower… trust me on that." His expression remained stern, like he was working through something in his mind. "You're right, I don't ask but only because I don't need to, you're the strongest person I know. But if that's still not enough for you to believe me then train with me? Show me what you're made of!"

Although not the purpose of this little exercise, she was pleased to hear him say that. It made her feel good that someone as powerful as Natsu recognised her capabilities as well. "I'd love to, Natsu." She smiled.

"Good." He smiled back at her. "And I gotta admit, you've surprised me, Luce. I don't let just anyone knock me down that many times and get away with it, so a word of advice for ya."

Leaning down to her face, his green eyes locked on to her pink lips and smirked as he claimed them eagerly with his own, rough and heavy just like their earlier kiss, proving he could be just as torrid. Detaching from her needy mouth, he studded small kisses across her jaw and up to her ear, where he whispered to her, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You should never let your guard down, Lucy." Hearing him chuckle made her realise her fatal mistake.

"Oh no…" She uttered, gazing upon the piercing glare of a very smug dragon slayer. She gulped thickly, knowing what was about to come. If she didn't get out of his hold soon, he would use her ultimate weakness against her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He murmured sarcastically, enjoying the look of horror on her face. "Did you forget who you were up against?"

Her eyes were wide as he switched to hold both of her arms with one hand and without a moments hesitation, dug his fingers into all the places he knew would make her squirm with the other. He tickled her mercilessly, tears welling in her eyes from giggling so much and Natsu couldn't help but grin along with her, finding pure joy in making her laugh so hard that it made her cry.

"N-Natsu! St-Stop! Please!" Lucy begged, barely able to breathe from his hand ravaging her entire body. She couldn't control her movements, jerking and writhing beneath him as he continued his onslaught, only stopping to let her inhale some much needed oxygen.

"Do you give up?" Technically if she conceded now, he'd win, regardless of what underhanded tactics he'd used. Chest heaving, she stayed quiet, contemplating whether she should give up now or not. He grinned wickedly, preparing himself for his next attack, giving her exactly what she'd been after this whole time. "Surrender or I'll use both hands this time. It's up to you, Luce!"

The girl smiled up at him, happy to see his contagious grin back on that handsome face once again. She pulled her hands free from his loosened grip and sat herself up a little, so that she could reach his face. Placing her hand on his cheek and caressing it softly.

"That's all I wanted, was to see that sexy smile of yours. I give up, Natsu, you win." She said, kissing his lips tenderly then placing her head back on the ground.

"That's all you wanted? Pretty weird way of getting what you want, Luce. But I gotta say, it was fun!" This girl was such a weirdo sometimes, but then again, it had worked, she had cheered him up and had definitely got his blood pumping. Now he had the problem of wanting to let off steam in a different way, a more… intimate way. "You know, watching you fight has always been a huge turn on. Now I know fighting against you just makes that worse."

"So, you like being beat, do you? I didn't know you were a masochist! I'm sure Virgo has plenty of things I can punish you with." She sniggered, as his eyes widened in fear, not entirely sure how serious she was being. "Or would you prefer it if I was the one tied down, to do with as you pleased?" She smirked, feeling his member twitch in excitement, she rubbed it ever so gently with her thigh, turning him on even further.

"Hmm… I think I'd prefer that. I never knew you were into such kinky shit, Lucy." He growled, latching on to her neck and nipping at her sensitive skin. The mere thought of Lucy being tied up, begging him to please her, almost made him want to try it right where they lay, but a singular thought was enough to rip that away. "Wait, I'm not sure how I feel about Virgo knowing, she's creepy enough as it is…"

Lucy giggled, her own arousal faltering as images of them getting freaky were ruined by Virgo popping up in the middle of it, asking for punishment—well, if anything was a mood killer… "Shh! I don't wanna hear about Virgo when I'm trying to have my way with you."

"I like the sound of that even more!" He murmured, closing in on her, and kissing her passionately, the scent of her arousal taking over his senses, making him forget about everything but the beauty under him.

Lucy freed her legs from underneath him and wrapped them around his waist, using him as leverage to pull her hips up and rub her core against his erection. He growled against her mouth, approving of her ministrations. Not wanting to wait any longer, he reached down and pulled himself free of his pants and moved her underwear to the side, gently pushing himself into her and earning a guttural groan from her plump lips.

Heightened by their sparring, he thrust into her hard, making her eyes roll into the back of her head and cry out into the open air. In that moment, Natsu didn't care that they were outside and Lucy's loud moaning would give away to anyone within earshot what they were up to. He had so much pent up energy and as much as he loved fighting, fucking Lucy senseless was the best way to get rid of it. This didn't require any underhanded tactics, he simply allowed Lucy's reactions to guide him and the best part was, everyone was a winner.

"Yes, Natsu… Harder!" She gasped as he doubled in speed. In her haze, she felt the slight ache of her back being ground into the floor, but it was over taken by the intenseness of his relentless pounding. The roughness of it all was going to make her cum, that sweet knot inside her was just about ready to snap.

"Cum, Lucy!" He growled through gritted teeth, feeling her tightening around him.

She was so close, her eyes were shut tight, her breathing had become heavy and laboured and she was gripping onto Natsu's head like it was her lifeline. With one more forceful snap of his hips he came, unloading himself deep within her, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

Feeling him tense between her legs made Lucy shudder, gripping tightly around his shaft and greedily milking him for every last drop. Digging her fingers into his scalp, she pulled hard on his pink locks, her cries of ecstasy flying out with the wind.

Natsu took great enjoyment in watching her unravel and waited patiently for her to come down from her high, soaking in every last harsh breath and weary whimper. It was a new type of accomplishment, knowing that he and only he, could make Lucy feel like that.

Leaning down and grinning like a mad man, he kissed her with every last ounce of lust he had in him, thoroughly spent after their afternoon of wild activities. She kissed him back with just as much fire, burning deeply into their bellies.

"AAHHHH! NOT AGAIN!" They heard a small voice shriek from the distance.

Breaking apart, both mages heads twisted to where the noise had come from, their hearts beating rapidly and faces turning beet red, to see who had caught them in such a compromising position.

"Happy?" Natsu said, all arousal leaving his body as he gazed upon the little Exceed, shocked to see him floating there. "You're back?"

The blue cat was hovering there a few metres away, masking the embarrassment in his cheeks by averting his gaze away from the mages who'd obviously been up to naughty things, wanting no part in it. "Um… C-Carla told me I had to come and speak to you, but I can see that you're, uh, busy…" He went to turn around and leave, when Natsu shouted out to him, catching his attention again.

"No! Happy, wait! Uh—just give me a second…" The slayer yelled awkwardly, grateful the Exceed hadn't flown off yet.

He looked down to Lucy for approval, not wanting to just ditch her like this, but she simply smiled at him and kissed his cheek. This was what she'd been waiting for, knowing that once the pair made amends, everything would return to normal, she would have her family back together again.

"Go on, Natsu, don't worry about me. I'll make sure dinners ready for when you both come home, okay?"

Pulling her up into a sitting position, he slipped out of her and quickly adjusted himself before the Exceed looked over. Natsu jumped up onto his feet and drew Lucy up with him, feeling the strain of their actions on her back as she straightened herself up. Her underwear and skirt were now back to normal and all evidence of their intimacy now gone, both looking as innocent as ever.

"Thanks, Lucy! You're the best!" He grinned, kissing her mouth one last time before letting go of her hand and turning to run towards Happy, who'd been waiting patiently.

The young girl sighed and smiled as she watched them walk off towards the river. Once out of sight, she turned to make her way back inside the house, the sound of the baby stirring, catching her attention.

At first they remained quiet, sitting by the river with nothing but the sound of water rushing passed made it feel awkward between them. Natsu really didn't know what to say, he'd been running it through his head all day how he was going to apologise to his little friend, but now all words seemed to have vanished from his vocabulary.

"So…" Happy started, looking out onto the river. "I didn't know you guys were exhibitionists now."

"Happy!" Natsu exclaimed. Using his scarf to cover his cheeks as they flushed with embarrassment.

"What? I'm just saying! Being caught in the house wasn't enough for ya, so you ventured outside this time?" Happy said, a devilish smirk appearing on his face.

"Shh! Lucy will gut you if she hears you say that!" Natsu darted his head around quickly to make sure the blonde hadn't followed.

This hadn't been the first time the cat had caught them in the act, or the second… or third for that matter. He had a habit of popping up at the most inconvenient of times, although Happy would argue that they were always at it, so it was never truly safe. It was a wonder it hadn't traumatised the poor cat for life. But Happy simply giggled cheekily, shocking Natsu for a moment until he too found the humour in it all.

"It's nice to smile again. I haven't since-" All mirth had gone from the cats face as he looked down to the grass in front of him, feeling saddened as he remembered the incident. "I really didn't mean to cause any trouble, I was just trying to entertain him. I didn't think he'd fall off of the bar that suddenly, I only let go for two seconds."

Happy felt tears well in his eyes as he turned to his best friend. He'd had a lot of time over the past week to think about what'd happened and what could've happened if Natsu hadn't been there to save little Haru.

"Happy, it's o-"

"No, Natsu, it's not okay!" He interrupted the dragon slayer, who instantly shut his mouth, allowing Happy to continue. "You were right, I was careless and irresponsible. I could've seriously hurt him and then what would you have done? You don't want someone like me around, I don't deserve your friendship!"

Feeling like utter shit, Natsu couldn't believe Happy had come to that conclusion. The fact of the matter was, nothing bad had actually happened and speaking in hypotheticals was a waste of energy. All the slayer wanted was his friend back, by hook or by crook, Happy was going to come home with him, because that's where he belonged.

He was going to make this right, Lucy was counting on him to make it right and he'd be damned if Happy thought he was going to be walking away from here without him as his friend. That would never happen! Natsu leaned over and pulled the now crying Exceed into his lap, holding him close until his bawling calmed into whimpers.

"Happy, I will always be your friend, that I know for sure." The slayer sighed, he wasn't good with emotion or talking about said emotions but he was trying, for Happy's sake. "Look at everything we've been through together, you think I'd let you leave alone? I never meant any of what I said to you, Happy, but I couldn't stop it from coming out. Looks like we've both got a lot to learn, huh?"

Happy, having stopped crying, looked up to Natsu's solemn face and watched as he went through the motions. This argument had been their biggest to date and it'd affected them both greatly. It seems even the care-free, rambunctious hot head, wasn't immune to the stresses of life, especially those that came with being a father.

Natsu never saw caring for Haru as stressful, he enjoyed everything there was about being his dad, but having a child was still an extra responsibility and that came with added worry, something the slayer was very unfamiliar with. It was the only reason why he'd reacted like that towards Happy, why he'd been unable to control himself when Haru took that fall.

"I know I don't spend as much time with you now, but that doesn't mean I don't want you around. In fact, having you there makes everything feel normal. You're the one thing that's always remained the same through all of our adventures and I never want that to change. You'll always be my best friend, Happy." Natsu finished, hoping he'd managed to convey just how important the flying cat was to their little family dynamic.

"You're my best friend too, Natsu." The little Exceed felt hope build within his small frame. "Does that mean you're not angry with me any more?"

"Of course not, Happy. I never really was. I just want you to come home."

"Fine… I'll come home then on one condition…" Happy smirked, his stomach rumbling. Natsu tilted his head in curiosity, what did the blue cat want? "I can have fish for dinner, I'm starving!" The cat began to drool, thinking of all the little fishes.

Natsu began to snigger which quickly turned into a full blown laugh, all these emotions were sending him doolally apparently. He'd had a feeling the request would be fish related and he was right. Patting the little guy on the head who also started to snicker. The fire mage nodded, relieved that everything had fallen back into place.

"Kissed and made up yet?" A female voice broke through Natsu and Happy's laughter, snapping their heads to the beautiful blonde standing there. Clad in appropriate clothing this time with a basket in one hand and a baby in the other, smiling happily at the two on the ground.

"Lucy? I didn't hear you coming, I thought you were gonna stay home?" Natsu asked, surprised but happy to see her.

"I didn't know how long you'd be, so I thought I'd bring dinner to you guys instead." She said, placing the basket down on the floor and plopping the little one into Natsu's lap. But before she had chance to sit down herself, Happy flew at her, barrelling into her chest and wailed like a child.

"Lucy! I missed you!" He yelled excitedly, snuggling into her chest. "Did you bring me fish?!"

"Of course! Raw and smelly, just how you like it." She chuckled at the grin on the Exceed's face, plonking herself down by the basket.

They sat along the river bank until the early evening, enjoying their dinner and telling Happy all about the mission they'd been on. Everything seemed normal again, like the fall out had never happened. Everyone was smiling and talking, even Haru was trying to join in on the conversation with his babbling.

"Let's get a look at ya then." Happy said, walking over to the little one. Haru, who was still sat in Natsu's lap, grinned widely as he laid eyes on the cat. Haru tried to lean forward to grab hold of the cats whiskers, but missed and fell forwards again, but this time Happy was right there to catch him, lifting him up into the air. "Wow! You're getting heavy! Just like your Mommy…"

He smirked evilly and looked over to Lucy, who's expression turned sinister. With a sense of foreboding hanging in the air, Natsu took the baby back from the cat and slowly moved away from the now steaming blonde, mouthing to Happy to run for it before she skinned him alive.

"That's it!" She yelled, like a battle cry. Storming over to the Exceed, her Cancer form appearing with two large blades pointing directly at the felines throat, scarily resembling a certain red head. "Say that again, I dare you!"

"WAH! Natsu, help! She's gonna kill me!" Happy screamed, flying into the air rapidly and shooting off into the distance, with the stellar mage hot on his tail.

Natsu watched them both run off into the trees, furrowing his brows he looked to the baby in his arms, who was busy playing with the white scarf. "And they say I'm the impulsive one?" Shaking his head, he casually made his way into the woods, hoping Lucy hadn't killed Happy before he got there to rescue him.

#Nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #nalu smut #nalu baby #natsu dragneel #Natsu and Lucy #natsu x lucy #lucy heartfilia #natsu lucy #fanfiction #fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail #happy (fairy tail)#fairy tail 100 year quest

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youcanreadit · 4 years ago

Text

AT LAST- NARUTO X READER (MODERN AU)

I hope you enjoy this UwU

"Btw Naruto did you hear? The new student will be joining our school today."

Naruto simply nodded and continued to stuff ramen into his mouth. Shikamaru shrugged and went back to finish his own meal. Of course, nothing can make him happier than his ramen.

Later that day, you accidentally bumped right into him on the way to your class. He was opening his mouth about to apologize profusely but the words died down on his lips. A surge of inexplicable emotion surged within him, rendering him speechless. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, apart from his mother.

But he couldn't seem to recognize you. That's when it clicked. She is the new student that Shikamaru was talking about at lunch!

While he gazed at your face like an idiot with an obvious blush on his cheeks, you muttered a quick apology and hurried off, leaving him standing there staring at you, awed.

After the day he met you, he was more cheerful and giddy than he usually was. Ever since he lost his parents, he had felt like he lost a part of himself. It was as if you pulled him out of the darkness and brought him back to his old self.

He would always arrive at school earlier- astonishing all his friends and teachers- so that he could see you more.

He was always watching you when you were not looking. He liked that farway look in your eyes, the shyness that radiated from you, the warm smile playing on your lips.

It felt like adrenaline was injected directly into his veins when you both locked eyes. Your voice, your face, your smile were all his brain would dwell on.

At first, he repeatedly tried to deny his feelings for you.

"I am not in love with her! I like Sakura! I like Sakura!!"

And then he would see you enter the class, your cheeks tinted pink and offering him a smile as you pass by. "Man I am so in love with her.."

He finally decided to take Jiraiya's help. Which was of course a bad idea.

*after hearing the whole thing* "I understand.. It's the L word Naruto"

"W-what?"

"Lust"

Seeing him struggle with his emotions, Sasuke was the one who made him realize he was in love with you.

" Hey dobe, I think Y/n likes Kiba."

"WHATTTT!!!WHO TOLD YOU?"

"But you said you love Sakura, so why are you worried?"

"NO I DON'T!!I LOVE Y/N!!" *silence* (thanks Sasuke)

He would always notice if you didn't have the usual sparkle in your eyes. Whenever that happened, he made sure to put cute little notes in your locker and notebooks. He would hide somewhere and watch you read them, and smile like an idiot seeing your face light up at the cheesy lines he had written in his messy handwriting.

As for Valentine's day, he would spend hours in the kitchen making chocolate for you. Then along with Sasuke, he would arrive at school like an hour earlier to get rid of all the piles of gifts in your locker( he sure is competitive)

"Yeah! Mine would be the best chocolate she has ever tasted!!!" Sasuke simply face palms.

Little did he know that he had accidentally added salt instead of sugar. Yikes. Cooking ain't your thing Naruto

At first he was worried that you would go after Sasuke like all the other girls. It was a pleasant surprise when he found out you weren't a fan girl.*breathes out in relief*

Just in case, he decided to warn Sasuke. " you keep your bunch of fangirls, but remember, Y/n is OFF LIMITS" "whatever dobe"

He stopped at nothing to impress you. He pushed himself to get better at studies. Over time, his grades improved.

When he didn't understand a concept he would rush to you with his books. He was glad that you weren't impatient like the others, but explained to him in simple ways you could.

A total sweetheart he is, it was impossible to hate him. But he could be annoying at times too.

Like when he doesn't see you for too long, he would be a whining, blubbering mess.

"Sakura, I want to se-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NARUTO SHUT UPPPP! I HAVE BEEN READING THE SAME SENTENCE FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES!"

"BUT I HAVEN'T SEEN HER IN TWO DAYS!!

Sasuke: *changes seat*

Not to mention that he is really protective over you. If anybody tries to hurt you, well let's say that would be the end for that person. "Fight me!!"

Naruto was known to be the loud, hyperactive, sunshine of the school. But he immediately transforms into a timid puppy when you are near him.

Like Naruto would be talking and laughing with his friends and then he turns around and sees you -

*you lean closer to his face* I need to ask you ab-Naruto?

*Naruto has stopped functioning*

It wasn't hard for his friends to figure out the reason behind his strange behaviour lately.

They teased him about how oblivious you were to his feelings and if he didn't hurry up, someone would steal you from him.

But he didn't want to rush. Some people are worth waiting for. And of course he was worried if someone like you would go for a person like him. Please tell the poor guy otherwise.

Many boys came forward seeking to be your boyfriend, but you turned them down politely. That left Naruto with a bittersweet hope. It could or couldn't be him. But he won't give up on you like that. His life motto itself was- Never give up,no matter what!

In the brief occasions that you spoke to him would be the best part of his day. The whole world would blur and he could see only you, and hear your velvet like voice.

You were the only one who laughed at his stupid jokes. Oh how much he loved that smile you gave him, he would later replay it over and over in his head.

He would imagine taking you to his favourite restaurant, Ichiraku as a date. From his stories about you, Teuchi and Ayame couldn't wait to meet you.

When you touched him casually, his whole body would light up with a warmth that only you could ignite. That made him wonder how it would feel like to run his fingers through your silky hair, kiss your soft lips and then his whole face would turn as red as a tomato.

On his weekly visits to his parent's grave, he eagerly tells them about the beautiful girl that he recently met. He would tearfully tell them about finally meeting a girl as fascinating as his mother.

As the years passed his feelings never dulled. He fell for you more, your smile, your alluring eyes, your easy going personality and everything else about you.

However, he started to worry when the graduation was getting closer. He couldn't bear to lose you.

The thought caused him such pain that he lay awake for nights, and then finally deciding that it was the right time to let you know of his feelings.

After the graduation ceremony, Sasuke held a party at his house for the new graduates. As much as Naruto enjoyed spending time with his friends, his eyes kept darting across the room from time to time, in hopes of seeing you.

When he finally spotted you amidst the chaos and the tightly packed people,his heart skipped a beat. You looked so beautiful in that blue dress you wore, the coloured lights dancing across your skin adding to the effect.

With his eyes on you, he excused himself from his group of friends and all but hurried over to you, ignoring the laughter and cheers that erupted from behind him.

After saying that he needed to speak something important with you,he dragged you through the mass of people- keeping a firm grip on your wrist to prevent you from getting lost in the crowd- to the backyard.

He finally dropped your wrist when you both reached a secluded spot near a cluster of trees. The loud music and noises from the house was now a distant, faint hum to your ears.

He took a step back and stood facing you. It was hard to believe how tall he had become over the past few years. You had to tilt your head back to look at him in the eyes.

"I am sorry I had to drag you away so abruptly." He hoped that you wouldn't notice the faint quiver in his voice. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

You laughed quietly and waved off his queries " It's alright Naruto. I was planning to get away from all that noise anyway" you grinned at him, flashing your teeth. "In fact, you helped me."

Naruto tried his best to smile back hoping you wouldn't notice anything amiss. But when your smile slowly melted away from your lips,he understood that he didn't fool you.

He was looking at you warily, like he was anticipating something bad would happened. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were full of worry and hope and some intense emotion that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"What's wrong Naruto?" You asked quietly. You raised a hand as if to touch his arm, but then let it drop. "You can tell me"

He ran his trembling fingers through his spiky blond hair-which looked almost silvery in the moonlight-and nervously glanced at you with his blue eyes.

While you stared back at him in confusion, he was having a mental argument with himself.

I can do this! She is waiting for you to say something Naruto!do it!!

"I..." He faltered. He looked at the ground and then up again, at you.

Here it goes..

" Are you dating Kiba?" There was brief pause.

You looked utterly baffled "HUH??!"

Damn what the hell is wrong with me?! He awkwardly shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking bashful " I mean- you both hang out with each other a lot.."

You laughed " He is a good friend of mine, that's all"

"So you both-"

"Nope" You sounded amused, but not at all annoyed, despite the fact that he basically dragged you away to ask you such stupid questions.

"Okay" he said with fake cheerfulness, turning his back to you. "Thanks for the information, I better get back"

You caught his sleeve, making him go still. He turned to look at you, eyes still wide and cheeks tinted red, but they slowly melted away when he saw you gazing back at him almost sadly.

"Naruto" you said his name so softly that his stomach fluttered in response " that's not what you were meaning to say. We both know that."

He blinked.

You were right. What was he doing?!

It felt as if your voice had brought him back to his senses.

He remembered Jiraiya's advice from the morning. It felt as if the old man sensed what Naruto was planning to do. Instead of giving his usual pervy tips, he had said : "Letting her know of your feelings is the way to get to her heart. If you want to know if she returns your love, tell her."

Determination and hope flared in his eyes. He took a deep breath and stepped closer until you could feel the heat radiating from him. You swallowed and felt your cheeks getting warm.

He reached out and took both your hands gingerly in his and stared intently at you.

" Y/n I love you..I always have..."

He watched your eyes widen and lips part with surprise. He continued before you could say anything.

"I know you probably consider me to be foolish and naive, but I mean it when I say that I love you more than I could love myself. I wish I could explain to you how wonderful you are, how beautiful your eyes or how your voice gives me butterflies every single time. I love who I am with you. I.." He swallowed visibly, but his gaze on you never wavered. " I don't know how to explain love..But when I see you, I imagine the two of us cooking together, fighting together..being together. And I can't imagine anything that would make me happier. I would like to do these things with you. That is'' he smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink " if you feel the same."

Your vision blurred as you felt tears brimming your eyes. "Naruto ..."

Naruto's smile vanished quickly. Did he upset you?! Oh crap.

He immediately let go of your hands and started to panic. He raked through his brain,thinking back over the words he had just used on you, trying desperately to find where he went wrong. He had never been in a position before where he had to comfort a crying girl. Once he had borrowed Sai's book on human behavior. If only he could remember..

"Y/n I am sorry-"

He stopped abrubtly when he felt your finger on his lips, signaling him to stop. You slowly withdrew them to place your hands on either side of his cheeks, thumb tracing the whisker like markings on his cheeks lightly. His eyes widened.

"Naruto..that was beautiful.." You said wonderingly, as if you had just woken up from a dream. "No one has ever said such lovely things to me." For a long moment you stared into his eyes,those lovely blue eyes that has always reminded you of the blue waves crashing against the shore- a feeling of peace and warmth and comfort. You could feel yourself getting lost in them. Naruto was still dazed. It was as if the roles were suddenly reversed. He was staring at you open mouthed while you smiled back at him adoringly.

"You are such an idiot Naruto" you teased, but the affection in your voice took the sting out of it "my idiot"

Your fingers were still stroking his cheeks, making it difficult for him to concentrate. He swallowed "W-what?"

A giggle escaped your lips "you cannot seriously think that I didn't notice your feelings all these years" your smile spoke of mischief now "and it was not one sided. Why did you wait for so long to come to me?"

Naruto was shell shocked. His heart was pounding so loudly that he thought that it would jump out. Is this a dream?

You finally stopped laughing and gazed at his blue orbs seriously. "Naruto" you said " I have struggled to make friends all throughout my life. When my parents decided to move to Konoha I was absolutely against it. Starting a new life.." You shook your head slowly " I didn't want that. But then you came along, my personal sun. With your bright smile and cheerful personality..who always tried to cheer me up. Who was always by my side..Slowly I felt myself taking a liking to this place.. And I felt myself falling for you.."

You heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled again "Naruto, I can't find the right words to explain how much you mean to me, but I would like to spend the rest of my life with you showing them. "

He felt tears sting the back of his eyes. He wanted to laugh, cry, curse himself for having waited for so long. He was almost mad with joy. But when he looked at you, he knew that you could see the emotion plainly written on his face. Because love required no language.

His lips curled up into a smile that lit up his whole face. You had seen him smile before, plenty of times, and yet this was different from the others. This smile was the most beautiful one you had ever seen, one that spoke of love and happiness and gratitude, a gesture that was too deep to be explained in words.

The uncertainty in his eyes were long gone, replaced with hope and love. He cupped your face in his large hands so gingerly that you shivered sightly.

"It feels like a dream" he said huskily, brushing a strand of hair from your face "being here with you like this."

"Then let me prove it tlo you that it's not"

You pulled him down by the collar of his shirt until your foreheads almost touched. Leaning in, you kissed both his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, over and over again. Your other hand was pressed on his chest allowing you to feel his rapid heartbeat.

When your gaze finally fell on his lips, resting on them for a second, made Naruto impatient. He craved for your touch,the warmth that you provided. He had waited to do this for so long, he couldn't bear to waste any second longer.

So he leaned in closer and his lips finally met yours, moving gently against your own.

Warmth and desire exploded within him, and the world slowly disappeared from around the two of you. It was slow and soft and perfectly natural, like breathing and yet so intimate.

His calloused hands were gentle as they caressed your cheeks, his warm breath mingling with yours. His hands went to the nape of your neck and drew you even closer, thus deepening the kiss. Sparks flew within you, and you wrapped your hands around his shoulder in response , to eliminate the space between the two of you as much as possible.

He loved the way your lips fit with his like puzzle pieces, moving in perfect sync with his. His lips tasted like ramen, making you smile into the kiss.

When you both finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath hitting your cheeks. He was breathing hard like you, but his whole face was lit with joy, a smile so beautiful playing on his lips that you couldn't help but return it.

Your slender hands went around his waist, cheek resting against his sculpted chest, and listened to his hammering heart. Physically, he had changed a lot since the first time you met him. The childish roundness was long gone from his face. You could feel the solid hard muscle as you held him,the sharpness of his cheekbones,the callousness of his hands. And yet he was still the same. The same luminous blue eyes that sparkled even in the darkness,the same exuberant personality and that infectious smile.

For a while you both stood in each other's embrace, basked in the silvery moonlight with a wide grin plastered on both your faces.

"Thank you Naruto " and in those syllables he heard everything. He closed his eyes in content and hummed in response.

This was the love he'd waited for, hoped for. And now finally, he was home.

At last.

Mom, dad are you watching?

#naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto headcanons #naruto x you #naruto scenarios #naruto uzumaki

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Jokes

Chapter 3

Gordon had become increasingly protective of Tommy as the day went on, which would be sweet if it wasn’t ridiculously unnecessary.

The team reached an area equipped with automated defenses, steel paneled rooms studded with turrets that fired off rounds indiscriminately. Apparently Black Mesa’s heat seeking technology wasn’t refined enough to differentiate between friend and foe. Or maybe no living soul was allowed in this part of the facility regardless of planar origin.

Either way, they were all getting shot at.

They took cover, shielding themselves from the popcorn of gunfire. Tommy tucked himself behind a wooden crate, content to wait it out, when he heard hollering from the other side of the room.

“Tommy!” It was Gordon, lying flat on his belly around a corner. He was panting, curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, adrenaline making his dark eyes wild. “Get out of the open!”

Tommy tried his best to make the short sprint across the room not look like a stroll. Once he was out of firing range, he stood against the wall and tucked his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. Gordon was still prone, popping the occasional stray alien with the pistol in his hand. He passed Tommy an incredulous look, and Tommy was only able to stare back mildly.

It wasn’t that Tommy was hiding the fact that bullets had no effect on him, exactly. He just figured Gordon was already dealing with enough already without Tommy adding, “hey, by the way, my dad is a god and I inherited his power,” on top of it. Didn’t want to break the guy’s brain any more than it already was today.

Lamely, he tried lightening the mood. “It’s okay, the turrets can’t hurt you,” Tommy said, gunfire crackling around them. “It's part of our… turret-ing test.”

Nailed it. Puns were good sometimes, right? Gordon had been chuckling at his silly rhymes a few minutes earlier. Maybe a pun would land.

“I don’t know what you just said to me!” Gordon shouted over the noise, twisting to fire off a round at an advancing creature.

Tommy sighed and casually jammed the turret with a subtle wave of his hand. This afternoon was way too loud. He needed a break. Five minutes of silence. Please. The gunshots died.

When the coast was clear, Gordon clambered to his feet and the rest of the group emerged from their respective positions of shelter. They gathered in the room together, casting wary glances at the automatic rifle bolted to the wall.

Gordon flicked a questioning look to Bubby, who had so far shown the most initiative in their endeavors aside from Gordon himself. “Did you deactivate it?” he asked.

The other scientist just shrugged and made a noncommittal sound before excusing himself to investigate the surrounding area with Dr. Coomer. Tommy, seeing the concern on Gordon’s face, tried once again to reassure him that they were safe. Give him a little peace of mind while still keeping it vague. He wanted to iron that troubled wrinkle out of his forehead.

“It can’t hurt you if you’re smart,” Tommy told him, the words falling out of his mouth without a real plan. “That’s… why we’re all scientists…”

Oh, no. Too vague. Gordon, apparently misinterpreting his nonchalance for ignorance, turned his anxious stare on Tommy. And then he was raising a gloved hand toward Tommy’s face. And then, oh god, he was cupping Tommy’s cheek, locking eyes with him intently.

“Buddy, buddy, buddy, buddy,” Gordon told him. “That’s not how that works. That’s not how that works.”

Tommy’s pulse was running a marathon under his skin. He couldn’t look away. Gordon’s eyelashes were… so long. He and Gordon both were flecked with blood and alien guts, surrounded on all sides by enemies, and all Tommy could do was stare. Why was he fixated on this, why was he like this? He could cruise through a room riddled with crossfire no problem but he froze when the new guy touched him?

Gordon dropped his hand to Tommy’s shoulder, gripping him firmly, still pinning him in place with those dark, fervent eyes. “I need you to preserve yourself,” he went on seriously. “I need you to keep yourself safe, so that you don’t-”

Tommy frantically interrupted Gordon before any more words could come marching out to shock his brain. “This is the Turing test room,” he blurted, reiterating his earlier pun. “The turret ing test room.”

The record in Gordon’s head skipped for a second before he caught the joke and began snickering. He released Tommy to cover his hand with his mouth as he shook his head. Tommy relaxed an infinitesimal amount. Crisis averted.

Bubby, who had returned and was hovering nearby, sent Tommy a cool look before turning his attention to Gordon. “I found a present for you,” he said, beckoning him toward an adjacent room.

Gordon’s head snapped up. “The gun?”

He followed the old man out of the sector with the turret, and Tommy, red-faced, had to take a second alone to calm his racing heart. That was… a lot. It made sense; Gordon himself was a lot. But Tommy hadn’t expected to be so utterly blindsided by the exchange. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slow.

Gordon Freeman was a passionate, caring guy who would have insisted any idiot running through a sheet of bullets should keep themself safe. And he was so wired on stress, maybe he would have clutched at anyone’s face to drive his point home. Tommy had a feeling that wasn’t the case, though, and it scared him as much as it thrilled him.

He composed himself and rejoined the group. Benrey, lounging unhelpfully on a crate in the corner, caught his eye when he entered the room. He sneered and made a jerking off motion. Classy.

---

Things got easier for Tommy once they gave him a Glock.

He hadn’t used one of these in a while, but he remembered the rudimentary training they gave him when he took his position in the Anomalous Materials department. Bullets paled in comparison to spontaneous combustion in terms of alien elimination, but they got the job done. Pulling the trigger and feeling the kick in his hand was incredibly satisfying.

It also felt good to charge ahead at the front of the group, firing off rounds at blinding speeds. Punching bullets through the monsters that lurched toward them was an excellent way to burn off some of the pent up anxiety he had been collecting. He watched sickly green gore spatter the wall as he picked off another one. Cheaper than therapy, he thought wryly. They were… all going to need therapy after this.

Tommy had to admit the admiration his marksmanship drew from Gordon was equal parts gratifying and hilarious. He might as well have been playing hopscotch in the middle of an air raid. Tommy could snap his fingers and immolate these beings instantly if he really wanted to. Freeze the blood solid in their veins. But he wasn’t a showoff, so he accepted the man’s compliments by chalking it up to instinct, keeping his head down and playing the mortal game with a mortal weapon.

At one point, he peeled off from the group to neutralize one of the lumbering beasts they were being accosted by, leaving his colleagues high up on a catwalk and out of danger. It should have been an easy shot for Tommy, but Gordon’s protective streak was apparently a mile long, and he scrambled down to his level to attack the creature with the crowbar. Tommy watched him, bemused, as he took out the alien on his behalf. So brave. So utterly pointless.

He flicked his wrist and winked Gordon out of there, carefully depositing him back up on the catwalk. Faintly, he heard Bubby utter a bewildered, “how did you do that?” to an equally puzzled Gordon and let out a private chuckle to himself.

They eventually reached a cafe of sorts, and after they cleared the room of monsters, Tommy set to brewing up drinks from the machine on the wall. Coffee was good. He always felt he operated at a little slower pace than the steady sprint of time, and caffeine tended to catch him up with everyone else. The other scientists, thoroughly wiped, settled down on the floor to catch their breaths and slow their racing hearts.

Sitting in a circle, mugs in hand, they talked. Grounded themselves in some normalcy. Got to know each other a bit. Benrey was nowhere to be seen, off somewhere doing whatever it was that shithead entities did, which made the flow of conversation infinitely smoother. Tommy sipped the house blend, listening to Gordon as he led the discussion, prompting the team with questions about their homes, their families.

His mouth really never stopped, did it? Gordon had been pelleting them with words ceaselessly almost the entire day; one would think he’d need a break eventually. It was nice that he was curious about his colleagues, though. The fact that the group consisted of a lab experiment, a clone, and a demigod made conversation a little tricky, but Gordon’s genuine interest and concern for each of their lives was lovely.

Tommy learned that Bubby did, in fact, possess a sense of humor, catching Gordon with a zinger about friendship that was as touching as it was mean. Dr. Coomer had his own jokes, too, and Tommy just about snorted into his coffee when he declared, “I had a wife, but they took her in the divorce.” These guys weren’t bad, Tommy decided. Just a little unhinged.

And then Gordon’s attention was on him. “How ‘bout you, Tommy? Where are you from?”

He was from here, of course. Well, technically, he was from all over. His father had made sure Tommy took in a wide range of experiences as he grew up, but he always returned to Black Mesa like a homing pigeon in the end. While the facility had its flaws, the New Mexico wilderness that surrounded it was beautiful. Tommy loved the desert, and he liked to think the desert loved him back.

How did Tommy put something like that into words? How did he explain to Gordon that his only family was an ageless, supernatural being with the ability to bend time and space to his will, and a golden retriever? Coffee steamed in his face as his brain disconnected from his mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m an orphan,” he answered, haltingly. Then, because that was a fucking depressing lie, he cheerfully added, “but I have a dog!”

Gordon, caught off guard, let out a startled laugh. God, those dimples were just stunning. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked.

“Sunkist,” Tommy answered fondly.

He had no reservations about sharing his dog with the man sitting across from him. He loved Sunkist, and he imagined Sunkist would like Gordon if they ever met. He could already picture the guy’s cheerful smile as he patted the retriever’s head. Good dog. Best friend.

“You named your dog after a soda?” Gordon asked, still grinning outright. “You really like soda, huh, bud?”

He briefly squeezed a hand on Tommy’s knee, and his stomach did a funny swoop like it was on the end of a yo-yo. Tommy blankly held Gordon’s expectant stare for a while and then realized he hadn’t answered.

“Yeah,” was all he could come up with in response.

He sure did like soda. Helped him see faster. That was a thing he had said today. Tommy had said a lot of things today. He was usually a man of few words, but Gordon got him talking, pulled the dialogue right out of him, whether it made sense or not.

And hell, he wanted to keep talking, which was a new feeling for Tommy. He wanted to keep sitting here on this grimy tiled floor and drink coffee and shoot the breeze with this little ragtag team all afternoon. When it was time to move on, he was reluctant to get going.

The apocalypse, however, waits for no one. So he went.

---

Further along in their road trip through hell, Tommy’s father made an appearance. His haunting visage materialized down a hallway, the air shimmering and warping around him like a desert mirage. Nobody really noticed he was there, but Tommy saw him. He always did.

It was later than he expected; Tommy had hoped his father would have found him hours ago to fill him in on what was happening, but that, apparently, was not his plan. His swirling eyes met Tommy’s from where he stood a few yards away. The crimson security lights made him look ghoulish. He didn’t say anything.

Tommy wordlessly jerked his thumb toward the team of scientists he had been tagging along with. Raised an eyebrow. These guys have anything to do with it? his motions asked.

His father tipped his chin back and passed a glance to the distracted team, then back to Tommy. He gave a solitary nod.

Tommy pointed to himself. And me?

He smiled like a bobcat on a moonless night. You are exactly where you need to be.

Tommy sighed. His dad was playing chess again. Odds were he knew far more about the Resonance Cascade than he let on, and was choosing to leave Tommy in the dark to further whatever ends he had in mind. Tommy didn’t exactly resent him for it - possessing cosmic knowledge would probably make anyone’s parenting style a little strange - but he’d appreciate at least a hint about what was happening.

Gordon suddenly pulled up beside him, shining his flashlight directly into his father’s face. The man just eyed him back silently, unaffected by the harsh beam of light. Tommy watched Gordon’s gaze focus disbelievingly on the mirage in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“What?” Bubby called distantly. He was working on an exit door further down the hall, trying in vain to bust it open while Coomer hooked his fists at the deadbolt.

“The guy in the suit,” Gordon clarified. He gave a concerned look to Tommy. “You see that, right?”

Still clutching his flashlight, he was glancing back and forth between Tommy and his father, grasping at a shred of assurance that he wasn’t completely losing it. Tommy looked back at him pityingly. He wanted desperately to explain things to Gordon, to tell him that there was a plan, to offer his hand in an act of trust.

But his father was staring at both of them wolfishly, and he bit down on his words. Later, perhaps. When Tommy himself felt he had a firm enough grasp on the situation to relay it to Gordon accurately.

Tommy shook his head. It felt like he was slapping Gordon across the face.

Bubby, impatient, scoffed, “What are you talking about? Open the door.”

Gordon ripped his attention away from the shimmering man in front of him. “It’s locked, bro,” he called, and he left Tommy’s side to do damage control. “You can’t - stop. Don’t shoot it open.”

The fact that Tommy’s father had revealed himself willingly to Gordon indicated that he was a person of interest to him. Knowing how he operated, Tommy deduced that this could either be very good or very, very bad. He gave the man a tight-lipped smile. Good to see you, dad.

His father winked. Keep him safe.

I was already doing that, Tommy wanted to argue, but his father was warping out of the room, leaving him to handle the consequences of a dimensional rift on his own. Tommy rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Back to the chessboard.

Chapter 2 <-----> Chapter 4

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #guns #violence #hlvrai

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hawkbucks · 5 years ago

Note

Okay, so I usually don't send this kind of asks or prompts, because I don't have any wishes - I'm happy with whatever I get. But if you're up for it, I'd really love some HEAVY Tony-centric angst. Ship or no ship, whatever you prefer more, and sad end - or if you're not comfortable with that not more than a hopeful end. I just want you to crush my heart and make me cry. A lot. If that's nothing you want to write, that's okay, I love your writing anyway! Thank you for all your hc's and fics! :)

HELLO, FIRST OF ALL, I AM SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG AND SECOND OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR BEING WILLING TO WAIT.

I hope this quenches your thirst for angst! I’ll admit to not really? Writing angst that much? So I’m not sure how this holds up, but I hope it’s okay!

Loosely inspired by canon.

As a child, Tony comes to the realization that he is not meant to be loved.

His mother tries. Oh, God, she tries. She brushes his hair in the mornings, places bandages over his bloodied knees whenever he went to play out in the garden and inevitably fell due to an untied shoelace, but nothing--nothing--she does makes up for the way his father treats him, the way those barbed words wrapped themselves around his heart and lungs and squeeze until he could barely breathe.

See, dear old dad makes sure that his dissatisfaction with Tony makes itself apparent at every turn. Tony isn’t smart enough, he isn’t quick enough, he isn’t careful enough, he isn’t tough enough. He cries too much, clings too tightly to his mother, spends more days reading about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table than brushing up on his advanced mathematics courses.

“You're useless,” he remembers his father sneering, smelling faintly of alcohol and cigar smoke, while he desperately bites his lower lip to stifle his sobs as he picked up the remains of his toy car on the floor, “spending your time on those things instead of studying. I don’t see why Maria bothers. I certainly wouldn’t.”

Clutching the scraps of metal to his chest, Tony runs out of the room as fast as his legs can carry him. He throws them in the trash, nearly retching up his entire lunch as he does so before going into his bedroom and curling up in his bed, buried under a ridiculous amount of blankets. He doesn’t know what to do to make his father happy short of running away and risking his life on the streets.

He doesn’t know what to do to make his father love him.

He keeps to himself at school. People don’t seek him out, and he doesn’t seek people out. He gets labelled as the “eccentric rich boy,” which is fine by him.

Except there’s this other kid, James Rhodes, around 3 years older, that won’t stop trying to get him to come out of his shell. It probably helps that they’re roommates, otherwise Tony would be giving him a wide, wide berth. As in, making detours to the other side of the campus kind of wide.

“C’mon.” Rhodes slides him a plate laden with a microwaved chocolate croissant. “Talk to me a little.”

Tony eyes the plate. He hesitantly reaches forward, like he’s afraid that Rhodes is going to snatch it away from him at the last second, before bringing it towards himself. He nibbles at the edges of the pleasantly warm croissant. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because you seem scared every time that I see you?” Rhodes answers. “Listen, Tony, you’re young. Younger than anyone else on this campus. I’m... worried, you know? You need someone looking out for you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I’m not trying to be one. I’m just saying that you’d be better off having someone who cares for you. I’m not going to swaddle you and put you in diapers.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “You better not.”

Rhodes smiles at him. Tony finds himself smiling back.

It’s nice, having someone with him at school. He and Rhodes--or Rhodey, as he now calls him--are basically attached at the hip. They do anything and everything they can together. Tony has almost forgotten how it’s like to be this happy.

He tells Rhodey one day, tentatively excited, that he’s found this girl: Sunset Bain. She’s a brunette with hair all the way down to the middle of her back, she’s wicked smart with a rapier wit, and, most importantly, she doesn’t care that Tony’s a Stark.

“Stop growing up so fast,” Rhodey complains. “It’s making me feel old.”

“You’re 19.”

“I feel old.”

They go on dates--nice ones, but not expensive.

He has his first kiss with her. It’s quick and chaste, but he liked it. She doesn’t push him to go further, and for that he’s glad.

He holds her hand as they walk under the trees.

As it turns out, Sunset did a little snooping in his stuff when he’s distracted and made off with Stark company secrets right after they celebrated their 6th month together.

“Stupid boy,” his father snarls, slamming a hand down on his desk. Tony’s heard it all before, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He doesn’t look up from the floor, hands clasped behind his back.

Tony croaks, “I didn’t--”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t think she’d take advantage of you? Did you actually think she loved you?”

Tony doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to appear to be even more of an idiot, because, yes, he actually thought she loved him. She would whisper as much when they cuddled on the couch, anyway.

“Unbelievable,” Howard mutters, taking Tony’s silence as confirmation of that fact. “Get out. I have to deal with this mess that you made.”

Tony nods. “Yes, sir.”

He leaves, each step heavy. Everything after that is a blur. All he knows is that he left that room and he ended up back in his dorm, face down on the floor, sobbing his eyes out with a half-empty bottle of Vodka lying next to him.

His parents die at some point. Car accident.

He sobs into his pillow. He wishes--

He wishes he was in the car, too. At least he’d be with his mother.

Rhodey has been his anchor through all of this. He lets Tony ruin his shirts with his tears and his snot. He brings Tony coffee and cupcakes whenever he thought he could use some cheering up. Hell, he even offers to TP Sunset’s house--a tempting offer if he didn’t know that Rhodey would end up arrested for doing so.

Like most good things in his life, Rhodey ends up leaving to join the Air Force. Tony wishes he could be selfish enough to ask Rhodey to stay a little longer, but he doesn’t.

He gives him a hug and a pat on the back, and Rhodey is gone.

Rhodey tries to contact him. He calls, sends letters, e-mails, but Tony doesn’t reply.

He knows it’s self-sabotaging. He knows that it’ll end up ruining one of the rare positive relationships he’s ever had in his far too long-feeling life, but he doesn’t care.

He’s never deserved Rhodey’s love.

Tony is unsure if he should feel the glad the morning he wakes up and doesn’t see a missed call from Rhodes sitting in his inbox.

He drifts along in life. Stark Industries was handed over to Obadiah Stane, and Tony has no plans on taking it from him.

He drinks, orders takeout, spends his days on his phone or laptop. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t ever have to lift a finger to work in his life. It’s a boring--if safe--life.

Crossing the street one day, he literally runs into a guy: tall, broad shoulders, with pretty blond hair. He apologizes profusely, but the guy brushes it off, tugging him over to the other side when a car honks. “I’m Tiberius,” the guy says, holding a hand out.

Tony takes it. “I’m Tony.”

He falls in love with Tiberius fast and hard. It’s like Sunset, but a million times more intense. There’s just... something about the man that makes adrenaline pump in Tony’s veins and gives him a high that he has to spend hours shaking off afterwards.

Of course, he’s terrified. Rhodes isn’t going to be there if something goes wrong (and something usually does go wrong when he’s concerned).

Then Tiberius kisses him right before he leaves Tony’s apartment, and he melts.

“No one else could love you like I can, Tony,” Tiberius murmurs against his lips, the movie they were watching all but forgotten in the background.

Tony hums. He wraps his arms around Tiberius’ neck and draws him closer. Tiberius loves him. Maybe all of his insecurities were wrong.

“Ty,” Tony says in his best soothing voice. “Leave him alone. He didn’t know.” Tiberius is weirdly territorial. He won’t let anyone near Tony, man or woman, young or old.

“Like hell he didn’t.” Tiberius continues to glare at the trembling man in front of him. “I should knock his lights out.”

“Don’t.” Tony grabs onto Tiberius’ bicep and starts to pull him away. “C’mon, let’s just leave. We’re going to miss our reservation.”

Tiberius rips his arm from Tony’s hold. “Oh, so you’re siding with him? Maybe you should go on a date with him if you care about him that much!” He stomps away, leaving behind a scared, slightly frazzled Tony.

“I’m sorry about him,” Tony says to the man next to him, trying his best to put on an assuring smile. “He can get riled up.”

“It’s--it’s fine,” the man replies. “I should be the one apologizing to you. He’s... you’re going to be alright, right?”

“Of course I am,” Tony replies, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The man looks at him with pity.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tiberius says, arms around Tony’s waist, kissing his neck. “I just love you so much.”

“Yeah.” Tony’s tone is empty. Tiberius has... well, he’s changed a lot. Tony thought that he was possessive before, but now he’s like a monster. All the woman did was wink at him and Tiberius yelled at her to the point where she was on the verge of tears.

He still loves Tiberius, though. He thinks he does. He’s not too sure. Tiberius loves him, though. He knows that.

Tiberius pauses. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“What?” Tony places his hands on Tiberius’ shoulders. “I do!”

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

Tony swallows. “I was... distracted.”

Tiberius narrows his eyes, gaze going steely. “Are you thinking about her?”

“Ty--”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“You’re being ridiculous--”

Tiberius’ hand moves up to the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony feels the ice cold grip of fear in his stomach. “Who else is going to love you if not for me, Tony? I’m the only one who can put up with you.”

Tony feels bile rise up the back of his throat. This isn’t healthy. This is far from it.

But if this is the kind of love that he deserves, then he’ll take it.

#Oh lordy what do I tag this with?#abuse tw #depression tw #alcohol tw #Hope those are fine. If anyone needs anything else tagged just say so!#justsomeoneunordinary

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grody-cosplay-n-crap · 5 years ago

Text

Good dreams are worse than nightmares

on ao3

Drabble is based on a canon where the "Derry curse" doesn't die with Pennywise and the losers are still doomed to forget. Angst because I hate myself. Post movie.

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

Richie Tozier had a pretty good life. Actually, most people would probably say it was a great life. A few simple dickheads might even think it was the perfect life. After all he was a minor celebrity, one who basically got paid to tell dick jokes. He might not be Hollywood royalty but he got invited to late night talk shows and once in a while had a real role in a real life creative project (only some were trash). Some days he still couldn't believe he made enough money to never want for anything by essentially being a charming asshole (debatably). Something else that appealed to those simple idiots who idolized his lifestyle was the fact men in his position tended to have access to lots of women, most vastly out of their league. Groupies, girls seeking a flash of attention, even starlets seemed to let themselves be taken in by the most pathetic of idiots as long as they were funny. Now Richie was definitely a pathetic idiot, but not an extreme one by comedian standards. In fact he might be a damn Adonis among funnymen. Therefore it would make sense he would be drowning in women hotter than would have even glanced at him before the fame. The fact these women didn't actually exist was a minor detail. His lack of romance wasn't really a concerted effort. He never sat down to think through why women had never really been part of his life. A "reason" didn't haunt him, those thoughts never coming to the forefront of his mind. All he knew was that their absence didn't feel much like an absence. It just felt normal, right. And so what if there actually was no hot girlfriend with even hotter friends to jerk off to? The illusion was the important part and he was good at it. He was charming enough to say the shitty not-actually-his material in just the right way so people would actually laugh, and in return got fame, fans, and money. So yeah, he had a pretty good life.

Except for the dreams.

It wasn't every night. He wasn't actually sure how often, when he remembered he had them, the memories slipping down away from his conscious mind into the dark like a watching a coin fall down a well. The nights when they came were almost always normal, with him slipping into sleep casually, often helped by some whiskey.

The main dreams were mostly flashes. Images, sounds, feelings. Blood, more than he had previously comprehended was in a human body. On his glasses, tinting his vision. The wrenching feeling of just one instant, irreparable and unfathomingly terrible. An invisible hook yanking his guts far away from his body with dread. A face, a voice saying his name. Words trying to come out, feeling as if he had swallowed a plant covered in barbs, hooking themselves deep into the rings of his esophagus. His brain, in shock, protecting itself with denial, dissociation. Voices around him full of pity. His body was moving, but against his own will. Tunnel vision zooming in on just what he is leaving behind as he is dragged away. Why the fuck are these hands him? Don't they know they have to help? Let him go, LET HIM GO. He is sure he is screaming but there is no sound, just slow motion destruction, the crumbling of a house and his hope. Finality. The blood...the blood is still there. He had promised and he had LIED. He was a traitor-

gone, gone, gone-

Richie wakes more violently than he knew possible, his heart pumping his body full of adrenaline, a mockery of when his ancestors spent days ready to run from a lion's jaws at any second. As the sweat cools and tremors make their way through his body Richie wishes there was a lion. There is nothing to run from here, just the feeling of a raw hole where his heart should be. A despair so bone deep it's physically painful, making him curl in on himself as if to hide from it. And even as the feeling something irreplaceable is gone clutches him tightly around the throat still it begin to fade. He can't hold on to the feelings, so much so it seems like trying to keep water from evaporating off him in the hot summer sun. Soon enough he has slipped back into sleep, dreamless. By the morning nothing is left but the vague recollection of something haunting him in the night. Something that seemed so terrible in the dark twilight zone of 4 AM but now in the clarity of daylight and reality seems trivial.

Sometimes right before succumbing to unconsciousness a moment of clarity will come, a flash of memory that he's afraid, terrified to see the dream again. Sometimes when he wakes he begs to remember, so he can at least be prepared. So he can try to understand. So he can go to a fucking doctor and force them to give him something so strong he'll never fucking dream again. Tears of frustration slow and dry even as he begs.

Those aren't the only dreams though.

There is another kind that will come to him with frustrating infrequency. Deceptive things, possibly more devastating in the long run than the ones full of blood and fear. These dreams are soft and warm, safe. A cheesy song from some 60' s girl group is playing in the background, slow enough that dancing is really just slight rocking back and forth. Because he is dancing, holding someone close and he can't remember if he has ever done this before. They are shorter than him, sturdy in his grip. He looks down and thinks 'ah, that's why I'm not interested in those women'. There is no name to the face but he feels a certainty even stronger than that of his own name that he never has or ever will love someone as much as he does this person in his arms. They notice his stare and look up with a half smile, eyebrow raised, and if Richie was dumb enough to still believe in such things he might think this is how heaven feels.

When he wakes up the heavy grief settles on him like a second blanket. He accepts slowly that this is reality, hard and sharp and bright, almost unbearable and he thinks maybe he is actually in hell. He tries to mentally grip onto the dream as hard as he can but with every beat of his heart memories collapse like that house- what house? These dreams stay with him for a couple days. He admonishes himself for basically having the romance version of a wet dream. At least he thinks that's what it was, he knows he had a dream and in that dream he felt so happy he had been moping about reality for days, which was pathetic. He was forty not fourteen. For some reason the jokes about his fake girlfriend seem even more wrong for a couple shows, but he can't figure out why. Soon these feelings too turn into nothing but a slight whisper in the back of his mind and as he always has and always will Richie Trashmouth Tozier pushes them away, slaps on a smile and pushes on with his amazing life. And if the numbness he has felt since his vague childhood keeps growing like a limb slowly losing circulation then so be it. Ignorant to a cycle his brain refuses to remember, doomed to relive trauma he can't understand, still the show will go on.

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

I read fix it fics but this is the shit I write. I'm sorry I don't know why I'm like this. Might do a sequel where he remembers because I love pain. First time I've written in like....7 years, I hope it's not bad

now has a sequel

#reddie #im sorry #it #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it chapter one #andy muschetti #steven king #richie tozier #losers club #derry curse #angst #drabble #it fanfiction #how did it come to this #im nervous to post this #but I have also accepted my fate #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

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beybladeimagines · 5 years ago

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This might be an idiotic request, but I kind of need it. I won't say why I'm asking this because it's too embarrassing, but here it goes: Choose a blader (male) who cheated on his girlfriend. Whether he tries to fix the relationship or choose the new girl instead is up to you. All I want is for the guy to feel at least some regret or shame or acknowledge that he hurt her, please. Thank you.

Mod Note: Please know that I loved writing this for you and I really hope you’re okay. You are wonderful and deserve to be loved honestly.

He’s always been the type to invest himself in a mere moment, but never remember what it entailed later on. He’s infatuated with the thought of being temporary - with living so loudly until he defeans his surroundings. He doesn’t care about memories - making them or existing within them - but all at once, he’s cursed to be confronted by them. No matter how fast he runs, no matter where he hides, no matter how often he tries to seek solace at the bottom of a bottle, the past always seems to find him.

He remembers. He remembers seeking out a stranger. He remembers sights, sounds, and smells that he had grown all too accustomed to. He remembers the flashing lights, the music, the way bodies had practically bombarded him for attention. He remembers feeling desperate, like he needed to seek out a solution from every sin that surrounded him. He remembers smiling, despite how disingenuous the gesture was. He remembers locking eyes with a woman from far away, despite feeling absolutely nothing for her form. He remembers a mighty ache building within his chest, but in that moment…he could not place the emotion. The siren had her sights on him. She made a path through the people, completely enamored by this energy. What is it that he seeks? Why is his aura so enticing? Why does he easily oblige? What was the point of him being here? In the instant that she appeared, Bryan wrapped his arms around her neck, allowing lips to lock with someone who he swore would take away the ache. But all this collision did was bring him closer to death. He struggles to feel something, but he continues to crash, and crash, and crash in hopes of awakening anything within him.

He loves you - there’s no past tense about it. But he is a boy who has never knew of honest affection and has prided himself on how much he can hurt. Despite how badly he wants to forget every form he has encountered, you have become his favorite thing to think about. When you embraced him for the very first time, he was reluctant to accept your warmth. He was a boy made of ice. If you were to make him melt, how else would he be able to sink other people’s ships? But it felt so nice… Your arms around him served as an asylum. He no longer minded the thought of dying. After all, you were heaven. But lord, he became so greedy. Your touch could transform so much about his mood. Arms were always around you, looking for something new to touch and to take. But all at once, he just wanted to make sure you were real. How can something so good devote so much time to something created by chaos? He never knew why you liked him, why you took the time to learn to love him, but he allowed himself to accept it.

But even demons have doubts. He has never learned to hold something for too long. He has never known of fragility, or of patience, or of devotion. In fact, he fears the fragile, because of how easily it can break. He doesn’t know of effort, of doing what you can to make sure something is stable. He is used to things breaking… Which is why he runs away, which is why he leaves them, which is why he seeks out another escape and hopes that you’ll still be there when he’s done. Because he is a boy, after all. He is a boy who has never known of honest affection. He has only ever imposed anguish, despite the amount of light you have lent him. If he hurts you, will you stay standing? He’s been hurt and he’s still standing. A pity he has so many holes and needs others to keep him up.

“Why…?” That’s all you can even ask him. Much of you is heavy - heart, stomach, knees, back. All of you feels like it’s going to collapse, like it’s going to cave in, like you’re going to fall but into absent arms. How you manage to stand so strong is something even you don’t understand. But when your voice cracks, it’s evident that you have already begun to break. Yet you still look him in the eyes, you still search for an answer despite, all at once, not wanting to know anything at all. Bryan, on the other hand, is still musing through memories. Why does he allow himself to remember the face of someone who was merely a kiss and nothing more? Because he accidentally gave this maiden meaning… And because of that, he made you meaningless. When you ask him a question, it hits harder than any attack he’s been exposed to. It’s one word, but it serves as a bullet to the brain.

Why? Why did he do it? Is it because he’s scared of getting close? Is it because he doesn’t know how to keep a connection? Is it because he wanted to push the boundaries to see how far he could go until you decided to leave? Does he really feel anything at all or did he just want to be selfish with whatever sensation existed between you two? Did he hope to find that in someone else? Or did he simply want to see if it was possible to feel something for a stranger? In the end, does it really matter? In the end, his choices did not reflect him cherishing you. In the end, you are standing before him, exuding an emotion he never wanted to be exposed to. Those tears of yours… At once, he told himself he would catch them. Now he’s the reason for them.

Lips part, but nothing leaves him. He doesn’t even have an answer. Suddenly, he is met with adrenaline. Blood pumps frantically throughout the body, but it won’t let this boy move. What is this feeling? He’s never felt so anxious before in his life! He’s losing something, something good, something pure, something that could’ve helped him. And he’s the one who ruined it. “I fucked up…” That’s all he can say and it resides upon a whisper. Is he too ashamed to hear the truth for himself? He practically has to heave it out, as if he’s in disbelief. Regret… That’s it. He feels regret. He’s never known of this feeling, even when he woke up from a night of drinking. It’s never been so infectious. It’s never eaten him alive or made him feel less than human. It’s never stopped him from moving or speaking, and yet he cannot confront you in the ways he once could.

All you can do is release a small laugh, as if you are painfully amused by his own surprise. Is he can idiot? How can he acknowledge his actions, but say it so shamefully? Isn’t he the one who prided himself on always being open, loud, and out there? Isn’t he the one who mastered in the art of breaking? This is something he has done before and he can’t even own up to it. He does this for fun, you are aware, but right now he wishes he could take his reign of terror back. Look what he has lost… He can’t seek out the same kind of sanctuary from anyone else in the way you provided it. You have always served as a high, as a thrill, as something to keep him composed, and now he will rot from his previous ways. No parties or drinks will ever serve as an answer. No kisses from mystery girls will bring his body back to life. He can dig, and dig, and dig and seek out a haven through sin, but it will never come close to what you had created for him.

He once was a boy who prided himself on forgetting. Living in the moment was his musing. Now, when you walk away, he strives to remember the details of your face and fleeting form, hoping that even though it leaves him now, you will still find him when he sleeps. Be a memory, be a dream, be something. He begs quietly… Regret is the reason you plague his brain. But his mistakes are the reason you will always stay so distant. He extends the very hands that turned a living girl into the ghost of a good thing… And yet you continue to leave. In time, you hope, he will learn to salvage all of what (and who) he once shattered.

#beyblade #beyblade imagine #bryan kuznetsov #scenario #Anonymous

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hazthediv · 6 years ago

Text

Kings And Queens - Kingsman AU - part 2

Word count: 3625

Summary: When Y/n’s brother tries to kill her, in order to take over the family mafia, she seeks refuge with the Kingsman. The Kingsman has been trying to shut down the mafia for quite some time, and since Y/n is looking for revenge, she might offer them a helping hand.

Prologue | Part 1

Ri’s masterlist

Hazthediv Masterlist

Credit: Moodboard by @itsholyholland

A/N: I took a break from Tumblr for a while, so that’s why I’m not posting this till now. I most likely won’t update on a regular basis, but I’ll try to get a chapter done every once in a while. I hope you enjoy!

The rain was pouring down, making her drive just a bit slower than she usually would. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and her head was starting to spin. The events of the night was hitting her, thoughts racing through her mind, and she was already debating whether or not she was making the right decision.

Going to the Kingsman was already a bold move, if not completely stupid. They had no reason to trust or even believe her. Why on earth should she suddenly want to help bring down her own mob? She had had several run ins with them already, and to say they were on friendly terms was an overstatement, so they had no reason to help her, even if it would help them.

She didn’t know what to say when she got there, or what to do. Did she just knock on the door, and just waltz in, acting her confident self? As she pulled up next to manor, she didn’t feel anything like her confident self.

She was anything but confident as she walked out, into the rain. Her head was spinning, she was dizzy, her heart was beating so fast and she felt like she could barely stand. Since the adrenaline wasn’t helping her anymore, she was beginning to feel the pain in her body.

She wasn’t sure if she should bring her two bags up to the door or not, so she left them in the car. She had never felt this insecure, this desperate, this helpless. She could always handle it, she always had a plan, she always knew what to do, and she never asked for help, but now? Now she desperately needed help.

With an annoyed sigh, she knocked on the door. As she waited she adjusted her jacket impatiently, before knocking again. In that moment, she just wanted to get out of the rain, get out of the dark. It felt like something was crawling up her back, making her uneasy. She was nervous, maybe even a bit scared, but she would never admit that to herself.

As she was about to knock for the third time, the door opened. Inside was a agent she hadn’t seen before, someone she normally would have taken notice of, but tonight she didn’t even give him a second glance.

“Can i help you?” He asked, sounding tired. His hair was a mess, and and he wasn’t as well dressed as the agents usually were. Based on the time, it wouldn’t be weird if he had just woken up.

“I need to talk to… God, what was his name” She mumbled, trying to remember the name of the agent she had ran into several times. For some reason, she thought that if she just knew the name of a agent, he would let her in. Maybe if she could just see an agent that knew who she was, they would let her in, let her stay the night. Worst case, they would arrest her. “Gala-something. That guy, i need to talk to him”

“Galahad? Is that who you mean?” The young man asked, eyebrows raised. She gave him a small nod, not wanting to explain further. “Can it wait till the morning? It’s the middle of the night, he’s asleep. You need to have a really good reason, if you want me to wake anyone up”

“Do you know who i am? Because I’m sure if you tell him I’m here, he’ll be out of bed in a second” She stated. Her energy was starting to drain, and she felt exhausted. There was no way that she could put on a tough act. Anyone who knew her, wouldn’t be able to recognize her, because everything that defined her was gone.

“No, I don’t know who you are, and unless it’s life or death, it can wait till the morning” He was about to close the door and go back to bed, when she stopped him.

“It is life or death. I’m Y/n Fox, I run one of the biggest mobs in the U.K., so why don’t you just tell agent Galahad, that I’m here? I’m sure he’d like to know” She saw how his eyes got a big bigger by the mention of her name.

“Why are you here? He’s been after you for months. There’s got to be a reason to why you’re suddenly showing up at our doorstep in the middle of the night” He was suddenly completely awake, taking a closer look young woman in front of him. He had heard about her, everyone had.

“I’m here to help you take down the mob. I know more than anyone, and you can’t do it without me” She looked him right in the eye, but she had a hard time focusing on anything. She was getting dizzier by the second, but she was trying her best to keep it together.

“Right, and why on earth would you want to take down your own mob? Sorry love, but I’m not stupid. Why are you really here?” The young man asked again, as another young man walked down the stairs and towards the door. The second man she recognized, and it somehow made her relax just a little bit.

“What is the problem, Lanval?” The other man came to the door, and as soon as he saw her, he tensed up. “Miss Fox. Fancy seeing you here”

“I know. I wouldn’t be here, if i had somewhere else to go. I’m not an idiot” She sighed, her words slurring slightly.

“What do you mean you have nowhere to go? And why on earth would you think we would be of any help to you?” Agent Galahad asked harshly. He wanted to arrest her right there, but he knew he didn’t have anything to arrest her for.

“My brother decided that he wanted the mob, so I’m here here to see him fall. If he wants to knock me off the throne, I’ll burn the castle down” she was trying her best to look tough, and they both knew she meant business, but she didn’t look like it. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Why should I trust anything that comes from you? You’re aren’t exactly the most truthful person in the world” Galahad kept his posture, but he could feel something was off. She didn’t look nothing like herself, and there was something wrong with her.

“You shouldn’t trust me, but right now my life is in your hands” She told him truthfully. The nausea and dizziness became overwhelming, and she knew she had lost more blood than what was healthy. “Please, if you don’t help me, there’s a good chance that I’m going to pass out on your floor in a minute”

“What are you-“ Agent Lanval started, just as she stumbled inside, unable to hold her herself up. She had black dots before her eyes, and it took all she had to not pass out. Her jacket had slipped halfway off, revealing a bit blood stain on her shirt. “Shit”

“Fuck” She muttered from the floor, hand moving to the wound. “Please help me”

“Lanval, get her to the infirmary. I’ll get everything else ready” Galahad demanded, already rushing to the infirmary. Agent Lanval lifted her up in his arms, earning a moan of pain from her.

“Sorry, but it’s either this or walking and I’m not sure you’re in any condition to walk” The blonde agent said with a face that showed no signs of emotions. “I’m not even sure how you managed to stand at the door for that long, let alone get here”

“Adrenaline” She said through gritted teeth, waves of pain going through her shoulder. “Works wonders”

“Well, I hope you can get that going again, because there’s a good chance that it’s going to hurt a lot more in a minute” He told her honestly, as he stepped into the infirmary and put her down in the first bed. Galahad was already there, ready with everything they would need to stitch her up.

“Right. We need to get her clothes off, and we might need to give her some blood” Agent Galahad said, as he started to cut open her jacket.

“Trying to… Get me naked?” She tried to be witty, but just talking was causing her a lot of energy.

“Lanval, get a towel or something to cover her, while i fix her up” Galahad said, sending the younger agent on his way. He was cutting open her shirt, revealing the bleeding wound, but making sure not to expose her. “Now, what on earth happened to you, Miss Fox?”

“Knife. Stab” She muttered, mentally rolling her eyes at him. It seemed pretty obvious to her what had happened, and she would’ve thought any idiot would be able to tell.

“I guess that’s how your brother decided to take you out, then” Galahad said, connecting the dots, while getting ready to clean away the blood. “This is going to sting” He said casually, before putting a cloth on her skin around the wound.

The closer he got to the wound, the more she started squirming, trying to get away from the pain, trying to make it stop. When the cloth touched the open wound, she let out a scream that almost seemed inhuman. Since she was still squirming, it forced him to stop for a minute. In the meantime agent Lanval had returned with a blanket that he used to cover most of her body.

“She’s a screamer, that’s for sure” Lanval commented, earning a glare from her. It didn’t last long before she closed her eyes in exhaustion.

“We might need to anesthetize her, give her something that knocks her out” Galahad said, while she was till catching her breath.

“No” She said weakly. She was already slipping in and out of consciousness, but she didn’t feel safe here. She couldn’t trust the Kingsman, she didn’t really have the option of a choice, but she at least wanted to be awake if something happened.

“You don’t want anesthesia? Sweetheart, it’s not really a choice. This is going to hurt a lot, and I don’t think you want to feel it” Galahad already had the anesthesia ready, and he didn’t give her a chance to do anything before he gave it to her. “Lanval, hold her down till it kicks in”

“Fuck you” She hissed through gritted teeth, as the blonde agent held her down. Galahad was starting to give her stitches, closing the wound in her shoulder. She was struggling as much as she could for a couple of minutes, before she passed out.

“That was about time” Galahad muttered, finishing up carefully. “She’s a tough one, that’s for sure”

“So what do we do with her?” Lanval asked, stepping back a bit. “I mean. She’s out cold, she’s not waking up anytime soon, but what do we do about her? Do we leave her, guard her for the rest of the night? Do we turn her in? She is a criminal”

“She’s also part of the royal family, and it would be a big scandale if we turn her in” Galahad said, sitting down in a empty bed.

“So? It’s not going to be our scandal. It would possibly just help bring down the mob faster, and get her brother arrested too” He suggested, not caring too much about a royal scandal.

“And how do we turn her in, without letting anyone know about us? Do you plan on just handing her over to the police in this condition, without having to explain anything? Like how you know her, which connection you have to her, why on earth would a princess or duchess come to you, after her own brother stabbed her? How do you know for sure she’s a criminal and not just a victim?” Galahad asked.

“Scotland Yard then?” Another suggestion.

“Harrison, you’re an idiot. Have you ever considered why we don’t work with any police services?” Y/n was out cold, and Eggsy didn’t see the use for their code names anymore. “If we work with the police, the government will know about us, and then we wouldn’t be independent anymore”

“So what do we do about her? What’s the plan?” Harrison asked, looking at the woman on the bed. He knew about her, he knew how deadly she could be, but as she was laying there she looked more than harmless.

“I don’t know. We can’t do anything right now, so i guess we’ll have to wait till the morning. If she really wants to bring down her own mob, I say we let her help” Eggsy said, as he started cleaning up.

“So you want to trust her? You want to trust a criminal, whom you’ve been after for a while? Someone who's also one of the most dangerous people in the country, and who is a well known killer” Harrison looked at him surprised. “I’m just saying, from what I’ve heard she’s very deceiving and manipulating. Do you really think it’s a good idea to trust her?”

“I never said to trust her, I’m not a div. I’m just saying, she wouldn’t come here if she didn’t need help. She’s desperate, and we might as well use it. Her brother tried to kill her, and I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who forgives anyone” He clarified. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and cuffed her right arm to the bed. “I don’t trust her one bit, but we’ll check on her in the morning, and decide what to do”

“I don’t think we should help her. We got her, what else do we need?” Harrison said sternly. He had a weird feeling about her.

“Except she’s no longer in charge, her brother is. He just tried to kill his own sister, so I don’t know what else he might do. At least she was very by the book, and we knew what we were dealing with, now we don’t have a clue. Which is why we need to take him down too” Eggsy said. It annoyed him, because he finally had her, but he wasn’t really closer to bringing down the mob.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait till the morning then” Harrison shrug. He took off his suit jacket, and put it over her.

“What are you doing?” Eggsy asked.

“Giving her something to wear, in case she wakes up before we’re back here. You cut open her clothes, and even though she’s desperate, and think she still wants to have some dignity”

***

Hours later she woke up. Her whole body was sore and heavy, and she had little memory of what had happened the night before. She opened her eyes, and found herself in a strange place with a aching shoulder.

She tried to sit up to get a better look around, but was retained by the cuffs on her wrist. She could feel the burning sensation on her shoulder, and she could see she blood stain on the sheet under her.

With careful movements, she moved down on the bed, so her hand could reach her earring and take it out. With the earring in her hand, she started picking the lock of the cuff that tied her to the bed. It took a lot more concentration that it usually did, but her mind was slowly starting to clear up and she could think straighter.

Her memories of the night before was starting to come back. She remembered her brother coming into the room, and she remembered imagines of them fighting, but she didn’t really know why they were fighting or what they were fighting about.

With a click the cuff released from the bed, and she was able to get up and away. As she sat up, she was hit with a pounding headache, that made the pain from her shoulder seem like a meaningless itch.

More imagines flashed in her mind, and she remembered how her brother had tried to kill her, and she didn’t need the memories to know why. She had always known he wanted to be the one in control, but she never thought he’d actually kill her to get there.

She didn’t remember much else besides that. She didn’t know where she went or what had happened, she didn’t know where she was or how she got there. Someone had to have helped her, because she couldn’t have done it herself. She would still be bleeding, or possibly dead if she had been on her own.

She noticed the cut up jacket and t-shirt under her, and the lack of a bra told her she had been in a hurry. A black suit jacket was on top of her, and despite the pain she was quick to put it on and cover herself up. With a grunt she got up and took a look around.

There was no arguing that she was in an infirmary, and based on the high ceiling and big windows it was most likely in a very big house or mansion. There were several beds, but hers was the only which was used. Everything looked clean, like the place wasn’t used that often.

She heard faint footsteps coming from afar, and it made her go stand beside the door. Adrenaline was pumping through her body again, making the pain bearable. She didn’t know who was going to come through that door, but she knew whoever it was handcuffed her to the bed in the first place, so it most likely wasn’t a friendly face.

With than handcuffs still around her right wrist, she had it ready, waiting for someone to walk through the door at any moment. The footsteps got closer, and she heard the door unlock. So not only had she been handcuffed, they had also locked the door in an attempt to keep her here.

A young man walked into the room with a tray in his hands. He walked past her, and all she could see was his dark curls and the back of a black suit. With silent steps she snuck up behind him, put the handcuffs around his neck, and tightened her grip.

“Who are you and what the hell am I doing here?” She said in low voice. She didn’t want to make too much noise, or attract any attention. The young man dropped the tray, making more noise than she had anticipated.

“Kingsman, I’m with the Kingsman!” He exclaimed, putting his hands up to pull the handcuffs away from his throat. “You came here by yourself”

“I would never do that, no matter how desperate I was, so if you don’t want to die in a minute, I’d start telling the truth” She tightened the cuffs on his neck, making him gasp for air.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill my agents, miss Fox” A voice from behind her said. With the cuffs still on the young man’s throat, she turned around, facing a familiar face.

“Are you gonna stop me? Because we both know that he’d be dead and I’d be gone before you got the chance” She looked him dead in the eye, keeping a tight grip on the cuffs.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill one of my agents, since we just saved your life. You were desperate enough to come here, because you have nowhere else to go, so if you want our help, you let him go” Agent Galahad stood calmly in front of her, as she slowly loosened her grip.

“Why would you help me? What’s in it for you?” She asked before letting him go completely. She didn’t trust him, she didn’t trust any of them.

“From what I understand, we want the same thing. I want to shut down your mob, and I know you want to take down your brother. You can either cooperate, and get what you want, or we can simply do it without you. It’s your choice really” Galahad offered.

“You can’t do it without me. You wouldn’t even have had me, if I hadn’t been dumb enough to walk up on your doorstep. I on the other hand, can get what I want without you” She finally let the other agent go, letting her arms fall down by her side.

“I don’t think you realise how close we were. We know more than you think, and we were very close to bringing you down entirely” Galahad said as a matter of factly, expecting her to be surprised, but she just smiled.

“I hate to break it to you, but you only know what I wanted you to know. I’ve been feeding you false information since the first time we ran into each other. So whatever you think you know, is most likely a lie” She told him, an apologetic smile on her lips. “So give me a good reason to why I should help you”

“Miss Fox, you don’t really have much of a choice. From what I understand, you have nowhere to go, you have a very injured shoulder and could easily be taken down right this second. Or did you really think that I’d let you walk, when I finally have you in custody?” Galahad said cooly, and judging by the look in her eyes she knew.

“I’ll cooperate, but I am in no way in your costurdy. We both know I could get away if I wanted to, and we both know that as soon as we both have what we want, you’ll never see me again. I help you, you let me walk. That’s the deal”

“That’s the deal”

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #kings and queens #ri writes #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #hazthediv #Kingsman AU #kingsman!harrison #kingsman!tom

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jamlocked · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about John

Seeing as @raeofalbion and @summeringminor asked for it, let’s talk about John. I feel it may be unwise, but on this blog WE DIE LIKE MEN.

I want to talk about the violence and why, contrary to some things I’ve seen, it’s just…I don’t want to say, ‘not as awful as it’s made out’ but I can’t, because it is. But the reasons behind it don’t seem as alien to me as they seem to be to others.

Okay. So, first off, let’s talk about the British cultural thing I mentioned on this post, that I feel is sometimes overlooked (understandably) by those overseas. And I’m not condoning his behaviour in any way as a result of this, just pointing it out.

See, in my generation, it was always perfectly normal to utter casual threats of violence. Keep in mind that John is about ten years older than me, or something – I forget what year S4 is supposed to take place in - so this is even more true of his generation. Even when I was a kid, it was perfectly normal to say, ‘shut up, or I’ll kick your head in’. My mother would tell me, ‘I’ll skin you,’ if I was cheeky. When I was a teenager, my mates and I were all, ‘shut your mouth or you’ll get a slap’…and the thing is, none of us ever did these things, it was/is just a way of speaking in the UK. Hyperbole. There’s a very definite line, and people would rarely make the jump into actually doing any of it. But this is why John making statements like, ‘I could break every bone in your body while naming them’ does not read as abusive to me, it just reads as a standard, ‘shut your face because you’re annoying me’ statement.

Another mitigating factor – John was in the army. Now, my dad was in the army. So was my uncle. My best friend in my twenties was a senior cadet instructor, and I very nearly joined up myself a couple of times. I also played rugby – as John does/did – and spent my teenage years surrounded by lads with pints in their hands, threatening each other with a kicking while still being the best of mates. I went on holiday with an ex-paratrooper who told me that the regiment celebrated the arrival of new recruits by stuffing them in a locker and chucking them down a hill. This mate spent his first two months as a para recovering from a broken leg, collarbone and arm as a result of this initiation. (The guy was also utterly mental in other ways, but that’s another – very army – thing).

My point is…if you’re British and of a certain age, if you’ve been in the services, if you like macho sports and hanging out in that sort of company…there’s a certain way of speaking and behaving. And John is an intelligent man and a doctor, so not fully subscribed to this – I think it’s made pretty clear that he’s an outsider in some respects - but he also goes on holiday with his rugby mates, he’s addicted to danger and adrenaline, and he’s only happy when chasing down criminals with a (pretend) sociopath. He’s not portrayed as a sensitive type. He’s just more sensitive than Sherlock to social niceties, and spends his time pointing them out to him. But in the context of his age, the country he lives in, his background job, his hobbies, his current chosen way of living…his casual threats of violence don’t seem out of place to me.

(I will add at this point that speaking this way seems less of a thing, nowadays. Most of my friends now are about ten years younger than me, Oxford graduates, generally Woke, and would never dream of talking like that to anyone. Hurrah for the younger generation!)

HAVING SAID ALL THAT. John’s actions in S4 – specifically when he beat Sherlock up in TLD – were reprehensible. I could write a whole other essay on why, ‘a relationship would complete you as a human being’ was just awful, and…maybe I’ll get into that in a bit, because NO NO NO. But we’re talking about violence here, and why he seemed to start S1 as a generally affable guy with problems, and ended up shoeing Sherlock in the ribs on the tiles of a morgue. Of course that was gross. He crossed a line that few people go over, and the worst thing about it all was that Sherlock just accepted that he deserved it.

But again, the seeds of this were in him all along, and you can argue that yes, it made his character go to a really horrible place, but also that it was an action born out of circumstances and was there specifically to highlight just how much trouble John was in at the time. It also served as a plot device, because the relationship between John and Sherlock – the nucleus of the whole show – had to break down to its lowest point before they could rebuild it for a glorious coming-back-together in the final episode. It’s a standard redemption arc, where both heroes start high, fall to the pits, and then come through it together, stronger. It’s one thing to have John freezing Sherlock out and Sherlock nearly killing himself with drugs to get him back…that’s a slow-burn falling apart, and it’s hurtful but it’s not exciting. When you’re making ratings TV for the majority of people who are not in fandom, and just want their excitement fix once every few years, then you need a crunch point. A visual representation of how bad things have become. So, you get John literally kicking a man when he’s down, blaming him for the death of his wife. It brings it home to a mass audience.

…damnit, I had so many other things in my head about this the other night, and they’ve all deserted me. Never mind, let’s move on to the big Lack of Apology.

I am one of those who would love, beyond all else, for John to have stood in front of Sherlock at the end and the end of that episode, and said, ‘I’m sorry for assaulting you. I’m sorry for blaming you for Mary, when she was her own person and made her own choices. I know you did your best for her’. That would have been lovely.

At the same time…I think it says a lot about their relationship that he didn’t say it. I don’t think Sherlock needed him to, no matter how much we know Sherlock deserved to hear it. I think this was an instance of Moftiss trusting the audience a little bit. Quite simply, the fact that John stood in front of Sherlock and admitted, ‘what it is…is shit’, and then cried – Sherlock and John don’t do vulnerability with each other. They take the piss and call each other names, and are downright insulting a lot of the time (‘I always hear ‘punch me in the face when you talk’…’you’re an idiot – oh, don’t look like that, most people are…’). Sherlock drugs John without consent (twice), and sets an imaginary dog on him in Baskerville. John quips about Asperger’s. They’re friends, but they’re not soft with each other. They’re British men of a certain generation (written by British men of a certain generation). So, John came to Sherlock after all the shit that happened, and he admitted that he wasn’t doing well, and Sherlock stood up and hugged him and told him he was a human being. Sherlock knew he was sorry, or he wouldn’t have come. John knew Sherlock has been beating himself up over Mary, or he wouldn’t be in the state he was in. They accepted each other back into their lives, and tacitly agreed to move on. They’re intelligent men, they knew what they’d been through, they knew they were both sorry. And from there, they go onto TFP, having each other’s backs once more and finishing the season running together side by side.

I’m probably missing loads of important stuff, because I haven’t watched S4 since it aired. But the feeling that has stayed with me since I watched it, is that nothing that happened in the first two eps was good between them, but nothing was particularly out of character either. John beat Sherlock up because he was wracked with guilt over thinking about having an affair, and then Mary died. Him beating Sherlock up was an eruption of that guilt, transferring it onto the easiest person to blame. And of course that’s an awful thing, but he’s supposed to be a human being. People do that shit all the time. The fact that Sherlock forgives him is a whole other kettle of fish (let’s not get into his whole lack of self-esteem), but what is true friendship if not seeing someone at their very worst, and loving them anyway? I don’t think – I hope – that no one believes John makes a habit of that, and beats Sherlock up once a week for the rest of their lives. It was a one-off thing that came from a very particular set of circumstances.

…okay, I’m going to shut up. This isn’t me defending John as a character, because honestly he’s always been one of the least interesting to me as a whole. But I do think he’s integral to everything that happens, and I see a lot of readings of his behaviour as completely OOC, or that somehow he’s a poor representation of friendship (I mean, he is in lots of ways but Sherlock’s often worse). I just…prefer to look at him as character, rather than some idealisation of How Friends Should Act towards one another. He’s not there to represent an ideal friend, or be an ideal person. He’s a foil to Sherlock who, let’s face it, is Problematic with a capital P. Yes, John functions better in society, but it’s a certain section of society. He’s a bloke who plays rugby and dates a string of women, and doesn’t remember details of their lives. He’s a bloke that chafes at domestic living (very clear in S3) and seeks excitement, so he texts another woman in S4. He’s not any kind of ideal. He’s just a bloke, and he falls apart when his wife dies, and it brings out the very worst of him. Sherlock accepts that, and they move on. It may be an unpleasant character arc, but I just don’t see it as being one that’s inherently OOC.

(But fuck Moftiss for ‘a relationship would complete you as a human being’, fuck them fuck them fuck all the way off.)

#john watson #sherlock holmes #meta #sherlock #characterisation #writing #bbc sherlock

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therandomletters · 5 years ago

Text

The downfall

(Just a little warning before we start. If you are reading this for some reason I want to let you know, there’s mention of consuming drugs and depression/synthons of mental illness in this series. So please if you feel like you can get triggered by any of those topics, please don’t read)

As his hand reached for the switch of the lamp on the nightstand he knocked down the old sketchbook that had been occupying space next to an empty bottle of pills and a half empty glass of water, it would be surprising if he didn’t knock down the glass and the bottle too.

James finally managed to turn the lamp on, which made him squint his eyes before the blinding light. It wasn’t even that bright, it was dim and almost inexistent since the had put a pair of his underwear on top so it would provide less light. But he stayed out of the sun or any kind of light for most days, so the slightest ray of sunshine or artificial light bothered him.

Things had been rough for the past few years, but during holidays everything became ten times harder and since Jazz had arrived he just felt like not leaving his bed. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his sister to death, but changes, as small as that one was, were a whole deal for the young boy.

Jazz had been trying to get him out of bed since he decided he was better there, what she didn’t know was that her attempts only made him want to say in more. This made it easier for him to change his schedule. Sleep during the day, get out and wasted at night.

The getting wasted part was a recent thing, for the past year or so he had been sneaking out of the house at night to meet with Stella - back in high school she was known for being the main provider of anything illegal you could ask for. Even if it was hard to believe for James, some things still remained the same, Stella’s business was one of those.

That is where our boy was heading to, Stella’s basement. Surprisingly enough the girl had taken him under her wing, meaning she liked hanging out with him and since James wasn’t just going to take whatever she gave her to bring it home, he stayed in her basement for the night either drinking or taking whatever new pills Stella had - in the hopes that doing that would give him a few minutes of complete silence, away from everything and everyone. That was what James was seeking, the feeling of the world going quiet.

“Heard your siblings are back home” Stella was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and head leaned back as she took a puff of the joint she was smoking.

James was laying on the couch, eyes closed as he listened to the soft music playing on the back and now Stella’s talking. Both sounds were muffled due to the effect of the pills she had given him when he first arrived.

Because of the strong effect they caused, he had to take it slow and get in that laying position, too weak to even respond to her comment.

“Also all the Barnes” she made an emphasis on ‘all’ in the hopes of getting a response from James.

That made James laugh a little, which Stella didn’t quite understand, but also didn’t question. What she didn’t know is how James had been avoiding the Barnes for the longest time. Family diner on the weekends? Don’t count him in. Any of them at his house? Find him locking his door and blasting some music. And of course no coming anywhere near their house.

Again, this is nothing personal against them, he had a deep love for his extended family, but spending even five minutes with them would take James who knows how long to recover. It didn’t matter how many things he tried, nothing would work to overcome the feeling that takes over his body whenever he does something that reminds him how things used to be.

“Including Alex” Stella wasn’t much of a patient person and James not answering wasn’t helping her with that, so she went straight to the point.

One of the many times he had gotten drunk in that same basement he had told Stella a lot about his life, and Stella wasn’t blind, she had witnessed James’ behavior back in high school herself. The few people James floated around – mostly his siblings - and the way he looked at Alex Barnes.

Silence remained as James’ answer, he was listening, but didn’t feel like even starting to talk about it.

“Are you still alive over there?” she asked punching his leg.

The music on the background was the only sound that filled the room for the next couple of minutes, until James felt the punch she had given him and he reacted.

“Yea” James groaned “you have more?” he asked after a while, extending his arm with his palm opened, thinking she would straight away would give him what he wanted.

“Dude, forget about overdosing in my basement, I’m not giving you any more pills” sure, Stella had a guaranteed business with James, but she wasn’t stupid, she needed to set some boundaries - otherwise James would keep going one after another until he wouldn’t wake up, also the boy had grown on her and she didn’t feel like watching him die in her old couch.

“You’re a party pooper” Stella found funny the way wasted James talks - he slurs every word and his voice gets deeper and raspier.

“And you need to get your dick suck to blow off some steam” she chuckled, slapping James’ hand away.

“No shit, Sherlock” his eyes opened slightly, he was trying to focus his eyes on her, although everything was pretty blurry “do you wanna suck it?” he asked, his eyebrows raising at the same time as his goofy smile.

“Maybe” she took a second to take another puff of the joint “If I were into dicks” the high couple of friends looked at each other, keeping the stare contest for a little longer until both of them cracked laughing.

Eventually the laughing died down and none of them said anything else. James was still very much in a different world while Stella had changed positions to lay completely on the floor, staring at the ceiling, which was painted with a weird attempt of a replica of the starry night – it looked awful.

“I’m hungry” James announced out of the blue.

When he didn’t get a reply from Stella he started the process to get up from the couch. First step was changing to a sitting position, second step – rest for a couple of minutes until the room stopped spinning.

After that he managed to get up and stumble to the old dresser, where normally he would find the first drawer full of snacks, but this time when James opened it there was nothing.

“you gotta be kidding me” he mumbled, checking the rest of the drawers to see if maybe he had made a mistake and it was a different one, but no luck – all of them were empty.

“Don’t waste your time, there’s no food” Stella informed him.

“I’ll go get some” there was a 24-hours-open shop not too far away and even though he was so tired he had to drag his feet in order to walk and ever more on drugs - he was hungrier.

“you’re gonna freeze your ass” Stella was too high to make it sound like the cold weather was a real problem and James still didn’t give a fuck, so he left.

He put his hood on and went outside into the snowy and windy night. The cold wind against his skin made it feel like a thousand tiny needles were being stabbed on the face, which helped him a little to be back into the real world.

The streets were empty, something to be expected at 3 a.m., but still a nice surprise for James, who decided to take his time to wander under the faded street lights. He thought it was a good idea to eat some snow, but it wasn’t – the after taste was sickening.

For a moment he forgot where he was going, even where he was in that moment, but when he saw the lights of the store in the middle of the parking lot he remembered he was actually hungry and his mission was to get some snacks.

Obviously the store was deserted. The only person there was the clerk, who couldn’t care less about James’ presence, his attention was focused on the comic he was reading and that was simply perfect for James.

He walked with heavy feet through the store, lights too bright for his own liking, and after grabbing some doritos and a few chocolate bars he went into the liquor section. He checked for any cameras pointing at him or to the bored clerk to see if he was looking at him, he wasn’t, so James took one of the smaller bottles of ron and hide it under his hoodie.

Shoplifting wasn’t a regular thing for James, this was maybe the second time he was doing it, and the rush of adrenaline through his body after he walks out into the cold again it’s what makes it worth it.

“I don’t even like this shit” he said to himself as he pulled the bottle outside to take a better look at it.

Taste wasn’t something important for him anymore anyways, he was down to drink whatever that gets him out of the agony that meant to be himself. That’s why he opened the bottle and took a long gulp, feeling how it burned down his throat.

“Fuck” he groaned before continuing his way to Stella’s basement. And maybe you’re thinking what a bad idea it is to mix alcohol and pills, James knows it, the problem is he doesn’t care.

The idiot kept drinking on his less than ten-minute walk, being more and more intoxicated by the second. In those conditions he couldn’t recall feeling much, but he knew the feeling was something he hadn’t experienced before.

He could feel his heart pounding really fast on his chest, his legs were failing him along with his hands, they were too weak to even hold the bottle of alcohol anymore. The light in the street seemed to be less and less bright as the stumbled with trouble. Next thing he knows he collapsed on the snow, unable to move any part of his body or even keep his eyes open.

About five minutes after James fell unconscious was when a very much high Stella found him, he had made it to her house, but not inside. The sight of the boy’s body, looking like he was dead, was the perfect thing to activate her emergency mode and make sure he was still alive.

There was pulse, slow and she could be perfectly getting confused by her own pulse, which was racing giving the circumstances, but she wanted to believe that James Rogers hadn’t overdosed on her front yard.

First thing she did was to move him on a different position, on his side, because the plan was make him throw up and empty his stomach from all he had taken in.

She tried, with the best of her abilities she had developed over the years, but he wasn’t reacting and that is when she reached for her phone to call 911. As if James knew what she was about to do he started to throw up every single thing he had eaten that day.

Stella dropped her phone and helped him to stay in the position he was in, she even tried the rubbing back thing, but it only made her more nervous since the boy was shaking like crazy.

Once he stopped throwing up – for the moment – Stella helped him up, one of his arms over her shoulders and of hers around his waist to help him stay up and make it inside the house, where she helped him to lay on the couch – on his side, of course – and went to get as many blankets as she could find, not only he could overdose but also, what if he was hypothermic? She had no idea how long he had been outside in the cold, he was lucky she thought about going out to see if he was coming back.

James was going in and out of consciousness, it depended if he was throwing up or not, but the entire picture looked scary, life threatening scary. That left Stella with no other option but to call an ambulance, she knew that wouldn’t be James’ choice and he will surely be very mad at her, but not calling an ambulance meant that maybe he didn’t get the chance of being mad at her, because he would be dead.

#james rogers #the downfall #original character #original story #imagine #imagines #marvel au

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