#Kerosene Fuel near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kissingrhi · 1 year ago

Text

BRATTY ROMAN BRATTY ROMAN BRATTY ROMAN

when i say this fic has changed the trajectory of my life.

this writing????? oh my lord????? here’s my favs:

- “A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him.”

- “I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue.”

- “The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.” this is just fucking gorgeous

- “His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam.”

- “The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again.”

- “This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.”

- “My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.”

- “His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to.”

- “There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.” this entire paragraph… pure perfection.

- “He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.”

- “Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.”

- “There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it.” OH MY GOD

- “No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” this dialogue is sooooo fucking sexy get out

- “The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper.”

- “The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip.”

- “My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.” HOLY FUCKKKK

- “You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?” “romie?” i’m actually going insane thank you

- “Make a mess of yourself.” DAMN

- “Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth.” ??? this is literal art

- “I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” me too king!

don’t even get me started on the end… I’M OBSESSED. the characterization?? the dialogue?? the imagery??

op, if you are not even considering pursuing being an author or a poet, i will pay you money to merely consider the idea. holy fuck.

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

#rhi’s recs #oh my god #read this #idec if you don’t watch succession #readddd this #this popped me out of writer’s block because of how beautiful it is #succession x reader #roman roy x reader #you can just tell how much effort was put in #this deserves awards #holy fuck #best fanfic i’ve ever read. if you can even call it that. this isn’t even- i don’t even know what this is. all i know is that it’s art #this needs to be in the louvre #and i’m being so fucking serious #glorious

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nelapanela94 · 2 years ago

Text

tw: Mild language, swearing, angst

Look away asshole. Levi tells himself, but his brain doesn’t cooperate. Seduced by your nervous laughter, his eyes snap back in your direction. The addictive burn slips down his throat, fueling the bursting fire in his chest at that Matias brat asking you out. He has to look. Even if he feels needles sticking in his eyes, he can’t bring himself to look away.

Spills of wine glisten on the stony floor. The air dank with the mesh of stew and the malty notes of beer. The mess hall stirs with the clattering of plates and mugs, and the screeching of benches, dancing with the snarls of laughter and cheers. Every second grows buzzier and buzzier, as if walking near a swarm of bees.

A golden tsunami sloshes in his mug as he thuds it down on the table. His fingers curled around the tankard, aching as he clutches the metal in his hand so tight, he menaces to turn the pewter into a piece of art that conveys all the rage held inside his chest. His knuckles lose all color, and he wonders if he would ever get the feeling back in them.

Black thin eyebrows knit together in his customary scowl. Everyone oblivious to the ticking bomb. His jaw clenches strained he feels his teeth would crack like corn.

You look so beautiful in that lavender summer dress that flares down to your knees and the ivory bow that wraps up your hair in a loose ponytail.

You gaze down, toying with a lock of hair around your finger, rocking on your feet. “I’m...I’m not sure.” He can read the stuttering in your lips, and then an ice-cold fury rushes through him when the freckled guy catches your hand in his and you blush.

The implosion goes unnoticed.

Your eyes tangle at his fingers laced on yours. Tucking the unmoored lock of hair behind your ear, you unveil the big golden hoop and look up, casting a dimpled smile at him.

Levi freezes on the spot, his heart kicking into a sprint. The room quiets down; the edges of his world shrink to frame the two of you. His hands tremble, his nostrils flare. Expectantly, he doesn’t take his eyes off your lips.

A timid yes slips of your mouth, and a sappy look creeps over Matias’ face. His eyes glint as he drags your hand to his lips and press a kiss on your knuckles.

That’s enough.

He shoves down the last swig of his drink and pursed his lips together, letting the heat dissolve the green-eyed monster lodging in his throat. Veins throb in his neck, his face broils with red. The slam on the table sinks the room into a pricking silence, all eyes drawn to him. He can feel the heaviness of everyone’s gazes. His fist burns but he can’t care less. That’s a tickle compared to what he’s been through. He slips off the seat and shoots a deathly glare at Shitty Glasses when they try to approach.

Steaming, he yanks his hands in his pockets and storms to the door, chewing the inside of his cheek. He can’t turn around. Because your gaze weighs more than those of the bunch of useless fools. It hooks to his back, jabbing the jagged knife again and again. He doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to see you staring at him with those startled enthralling eyes glittering with dismay.

Anger rushes through him ready to burn like lit kerosene. But not at you.

Next thing he knows, he is out of the hall pounding the floor until he hits the place that grants him peace in his long sleepless nights.

The scene he had just witnesses urges him on. He can’t get out of his head that motherfucker leaving his lips printed on you. You must be laughing at his shitty jokes right now, leaning into him, smiling, planning where you’d go on the weekend.

And he hates it.

Oh, shit! He’s acting like a brat.

Fuck, Y/N. What did you do to me? He sighs and sweeps his fingers through his hair. That’s great you jerk. You always have to ruin it. The door to the rooftop squeaks open, and the soothing breeze welcomes him with a fondle on his cheeks. He sits on the ledge, legs hanging over the edge. The pearly glow of the moon baths him, giving his pallor a supple luster. The heels of his hands sink on his eye sockets, and a groan rumbles out from him. What the fuck she sees in that prick? He throws his head back and lets out a long groan of frustration. It’s better that way. Everything you touch wilts. She’s better off away from you.

“Levi?”

He drops his hands when he hears his name dripping from your lips, piping each syllable with pastry cream. Like always. But he doesn’t turn back. His unfounded anger had dusked, and now a smidge of embarrassment swaddles him. His fists clench on his thighs, and his teeth clamp into his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to let your voice in. Seeing you with that guy had sparked dire feelings that prickle his heart. It hurts like needles stinging under his nails. Maybe he’s overreacting, it’s not as he had caught you like a stumbling tangle of limbs. It's not like you were doing anything wrong, but… His head hangs forward as he lets his shoulders sag. Your heels clatter on the stone, louder, and his heart trots a league per second faster with every step you take.

“Are you ok?” You climb next to him, and he cranes his face away, the flush creeping to his ears.

He scratches the tip of his crinkled nose. “Y...yeah.”

“You seem you’re containing yourself again.” You drop your shoulders and sigh. Your legs swing in the precipice, and your eyes stumble with the moon. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

His face latches to you, and he traces your profile with his gaze. White specks glitter in your eyes, and a longing smile tugs one corner of his lips. “It is.”

A chuckle flees from your mouth. “You’re not even looking at her.”

I’m looking at something prettier. He shakes his head, crumbling those cheesy words and sweeps his tongue over his lips. “Do you like him?” He glances down, his toes curled stiff in his boots. Regret fills him right away after dumping the question.

“Matias?” Your eyes flick to him. Cheeks tingling, you cock your head, drawing an arch with your eyebrow. “Well…” you hesitate. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, eyes scooting around. No, he doesn’t unleash a swarm of butterflies in my belly like you do right now. “He asked me out.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He huffs without looking at you.

“What does it matter?”

A lump of iron jams in his throat.

“He’s sweet and funny and he’s been insisting since the cadet corps.” Your sweaty hands rub on the skirt of your dress.

“Do you like him?” He presses on each word. He closes his eyes, clears his throat and careens his face in your direction. “You gonna screw him?”

A scowl spoils your immaculate face. “Your assholery is boundless.” You shift around and thump your feet on the floor. As you stomp to the door, Levi growls and rubs a hand down his face.

“Wait.”

Teetering, your hand tenses around the knob. You breathe hard trying to push the tears back in your eyes, torturing yourself between twisting it or turning around. His steps falter, and you can feel his warmth swathing around you from behind. Why is he always like this?

Why? Why? Why?

Why doesn't he realize his insecurities hurt you too? He pushes you into a hole with spikes.

“Hold on” He breathes a desperate plead. He reaches out, grasping air in his hand.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” The doorknob clicks. Your eyes sting, beads fall from your face painting black spots on the ashy gray stone. “Without meaning to, you end up hurting me.” You mumble. “I just wanted one night, Levi. One night to go right. To enjoy and have a good time. Shield myself from you and your cranky face. Do you think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at me? at us? You were so close to beat the shit out of him. And then you threw your little number making me feel guilty.” Your tears flow heavier, and his heart begins to crack. “You were cruel, Levi. That was really unkind from you.” Your voice botches at the edges.

“I don't understand you. I can't read you. Even though you consider me your best friend, you won't let me in. And it breaks my heart.” You choke on a sob, saltiness swamping your mouth. “I know you know I like you. I like you like you, and when I feel the light filtering through the cracks of your walls, you push me away.” Your hand falls from the knob and your swivel around. Your glossy eyes, your parted lips, your stained face; a barbed wire that trusses around his neck. “You've got me stuck in a limbo. If you just want us to be friends, I get it. I'll respect that. But every time someone comes near me, you blow up. It makes me feel that you enjoy watching me suffer as I seek to escape from a dead-end maze.”

No. He is stoned on the spot, victim of Medusa’s eyes. He’s holding it up. Smidges of blood smears the palms of his hands. Rage pounds in his ears. His chest tightens, his feet weld to the floor. A surge of adrenaline scalds every inch of him from the inside. A pressure cooker on the verge of shrilling off.

You’re wrong and right at the same time. You’ve been hurt, he can see it in your eyes. Let’s rephrase it. He’s hurt you. All this time, he’s been an incoherent idiot. Ever since he arrived all you’ve done is reach out to him. You gave him your smile when everyone else looked down at him with disdain. You comforted him after his first expedition. It’s just that when you get too close, too close you begin to peel his outer layers, something happens to him. His defenses weaken. They crumble.

And he can’t let them fall.

He pushes you away for your own good, he repeats like a prayer hoping one day he’ll believe that crap. He’s afraid you’ll see what’s inside the hull and run away.

“Say something!!!.” Your creaky voice pierces his ears. Your throat scourges with every rushed breath. “Let me get things straight once and for all. Whatever it is, this back and forth, I…it’s too much, I can’t take it anymore.” You wipe off your tears in your arm. He glances at your feet, then sweeps his eyes back to you. “if you can’t make up your mind, leave me alone.”

And all his outrage sinks into pain. His eyes glisten, red and swollen. A glitter of tears make clumps of his eyelashes. He opens his mouth to speak but words claw in his throat.

You shake your head, letting out a snort, and turn around.

His eyes snap wide.

He can't thinking straight. Dizzy by the dashing blood, he’s not sure where it comes from; must be an act of instinct. He reaches out, grabs your hand and pushes you back against the wall.

“What the—” Your blotted irises quiver, and before you find a way out, he slams his lips onto yours. And the second he tastes you, his heart kicks frenziedly in his chest. He can hear every beat in his ears. A soft whine drips from your mouth and he swallows it, pressing his weight against you, feeling the warmth of his body melting with yours. He lets go of your wrist and without asking for permission, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, his hands landing on either side of you face as he drinks you, savors you. Traces of wine lingering in you.

Your hands curl on his upper arms, your nails digging into his linen-clad skin.

His lips move faster and harsher the longer you kiss, your bodies stoking up a blazing fire against the wall. Until he brokes away, stunned.

You stare at him for what seems like an eternity, unreadable, cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling brashly. Anger, pain, disappointment, he can’t tell. And then a searing pain breaks on his cheeks, pounding with the shape of your palm. “Fuck you, Levi.” You push him off, bursting in tears, and thump the door shut. The clang of your heels wane.

“Shit.” He mutters. Grunting his frustration, he kicks an innocent barrel, again and again, until it turns into a jumble of splinters. He shoves his fingers into his hair and clamps tight until fire spreads on his scalp. His back touches the wall, and he lets himself slip down against the soot where the flames of your first kiss had been alight.

He licks his lips, tasting what’s left from you.

Soaked in tears, he slides his arms around his shins, squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his face onto his knees. He knows he’s ruined it for good this time.

But his head is full right now. Full of you and your dress and your Mary Jane shoes, your messy hair and the glint of your earrings. Your bright eyes, his name falling from your lips like velvet. But your words erased your image, flashing in bright letters, stabbing him right in the chest.

You hurt me…cruel…unkind.

Air thins and his chest heaves, clogging with each sob that rakes through him. His heart itches to go after you, but his body is limp after the emotional deluge.

That's why he can't let the walls collapse, because the pain is direly unbearable.

Don't let it in, Levi. Don't.

And he understands that when you hurt the one you love, you’re bound to hurt yourself.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi x you #levi aot #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #nela writes

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colossal-fallout · 4 years ago

Note

Can we have a hella needy (to the point near crazed) dom Hange annihalating a GN reader's cognitive functions with a strap? Thanks :D

I certainly can. 😚

Hange just awakens something in me...

GN reader X Hange

Warning: NSFW 18+ SMUT. Mouth spitting. Slight deg. Strap on.

“Levi, did you need section A3b put with the Research grant, or the Research progress report?” You ask, holding up two rather large chunks of paper work.

Levi’s eyes flicker up to you from his standing position at a table in Hange’s office; elbow deep in his own work.

“I have no idea.” He mutters honestly. “Ask shitty glasses.”

You turn to look at Hange who was usually at her desk in the corner. “Hange, do I pu-”

You freeze when you notice she’s staring at you intently, her elbows on the desk and covering her mouth with her entwined fingers; her eyes dark and an eyebrow raised. You knew that look. She was so deep in thought that you would probably have to rouse her from her daydream.

“Hange?”

“Oi, wake up.” Levi scolds, throwing a wooden pen-pot in her direction.

She flinches as it crashes onto the surface of her desk.

“Hm?” She blinks. “Sorry. I was miles away.”

“We know.” Levi mumbles with a cold glare from his steely eyes. “Which file do we put A3b into?”

“Both. You need two copies.”

You and the captain both let out an exasperated sigh, pulling out an extra sheet of paper and readying your quills.

Her chocolate pooled eyes return to you, her mind slowly sinking back into her daydream as if she were sliding into a hot bath. Those beautiful orbs latch onto your form, drinking you in deeply. You’d assumed she was pondering some science thing like she usually did. But unbeknownst to you and Levi, under her desk her legs were crossed tightly, her crotch thudding and pulsing with intense yearning for you. There was just something about you that just ignited the kerosene of her wildest, most feral desires.

The way you moved for example; to anyone else you’re just... moving. But to her its like your movements are pronounced, your unique mannerisms standing out as if the air around you were a liquid and you just sort of...stood out.

And those eyes... that smile... that ass.

You and Hange Zoe had been dating for a little while now, but it wasn’t too often you got to spend time alone these days. Erwin was really piling on the workload and the much needed anti-stress hormones only added fuel to the fire.

Her thighs tense and squeeze together, hardly not able to take the hot gushing sensation her body was providing her with; her skin heating up as she watches your furrowed brow concentrate on your writing.

She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, her leg beginning to bounce up and down with impatience.

Come on, Levi. Hurry and finish your work... She silently pleads, her nails now digging into the wood of the chair her own perfect ass was placed upon.

Her eyes enlarge when you bite your lip in concentration - the last time she saw you do that was when you were riding her face into glory. Your cum so deliciously sweet and filling. Who needed food if she had your bodily fluids to feast upon?

She relives the moments you’d come undone at her doing, your cries of pleasure melodic, your facial expressions as you -

“I’m done.” Levi finally sighs with relief, head rolling back to your direction. “You need any help? Or can I go and take a shit?”

“They’re fine.” Hange snaps her head up. “I’ll help them if they need it.”

“Okay.” Levi shrugs. “Don’t torture them too much.” he heads for the door.

Oh if only he knew.

Hange gets to her feet, slowly circling to the other side of her desk as he makes his way to the door, trying to hold herself back as much as possible during those torturous last few seconds of Captain Levi’s presence.

She follows him to the door feigning a yawn as he opens the door.

“Goodnight, Levi.”

“Night.”

Not even a second after he leaves the threshold of her office, she slams the door behind him and locks it, the loud bang catching your attention.

“H-hange?” You ask, noticing her expression as she stalks towards you - The very same she rarely showed when she was about to go ape shit over something. “S-sorry, i’m almost done I swea-”

She silences you by yanking your hair and slapping her lips off yours, tongue instantly sliding down your throat with no reservations. Her free hand rips your shirt before you even have time to register what’s going on. Her hands ravish you, like a person who’d been staved for days, finally able to get their hands on a human sized piece of meat.

“Take off your pants. Now.” She growls.

The authority in her voice sends an immediate rush of arousal down between your legs, yet you were still trying to take in what was going on. You automatically obey, sliding your trousers down your thighs, her hand grabbing your sex as soon as it tasted the fresh air.

“This is mine.” She growls, her teeth nipping your neck. “And I demand to use it. Right now.”

You nod, lips parting. “Y-yes ma’am...”

In a flash she has you bent over, face on the desk sticking to the now not-so-neat stack of papers, your hands pinned behind your back as she harshly takes her free hand and slithers it around your body, starting to rub and caress between your legs, her crotch grinding against your bare ass as her clit demands your friction.

Her long body leans down and caresses her face into your nape, hand still working you as you whine, her hips rolling against your soft flesh.

“mmm...” She groans in your ear, “Your body is mine. I can do what I like to you.” She reinforces this with a territorial sinking of her teeth, sucking your neck and leaving a nice darkening mark upon your flesh.

Hange is beyond feral.

She crossed that bridge an hour ago when you’d dropped your papers and bent over in front of her.

She was now well within the territory of hysteria.

Her grinds become more desperate, your shoulders hurting from how she hand you pinned, but it was complimented deliciously from how her hand and fingers were attentive to your sex, your knees weak as her hot breath invades you in the best possible way.

She suddenly spins you around, the relief of her grasp making you sigh deeply while you watch her remove her own trousers and unveiling her pussy - her arousal leaking from her lips and spreading to her thighs and ass as she harshly pushes you down onto your knees, pushing herself into your mouth with a high pitched whine.

“Good little soldier...” She hums, eyes closing and head throwing back as her hands rock your head at her own pace, totally under her control. “You make me feel so... ah~! so good.”

The taste of your lovers thick juices makes you whine like a little lap dog, wanting nothing more than for her to totally ruin you like the little bitch you were for her.

Her over sensitive slit that was good to blow at the best of times began to flex and quake, her loud moans warning you she was about to detonate.

Your eyes enlarge as she screams your name again and again into the heavens, her orgasm igniting the flames of your own yearning as she cusses and swears, her grip on your hair becoming tighter.

She begins to laugh softly as she comes back down to earth, the euphoria of finally having you possessing her - that succubus within her clawing its way to the surface as she throws you back onto the desk with ease, reaching into the drawer.

She'd been prepared.

She knew you were going to be in her office this evening and she wasn't about to let this chance of annihilating you slip through her starved fingers.

"Hange..." You whine in wanting when she pulls out her large strap, not taking her snug eyes off you as she fastens it to herself, adjusting it with such familiarity she didn't need to look down.

Running her tongue up your neck and into your ear, she lines it up to you, the anticipation a disgusting drug that made you feel almost ashamed to be excited to be destroyed by this magnificent woman. Hange turns you into something you weren't too familiar with, but you didn't care; especially as she slides it into you after spitting down onto your entrance.

You cry out as she thrusts, the friction on her clit from the toy enticing an evil grin as she fills you to the brim over and over again - that wild insane gleam in her eye as she smirks at you was enough to hurtle you into your own corner of lustful insanity.

"Beg for me" she hisses with malice, grabbing your face with force.

"Hange! Oh my god! Please! Harder!"

Her nails dig into your cheeks as she graces your wish, slamming herself roughly in and out of you, watching your eyes roll and cross, your body becoming a pile of mush in the palm of her hand.

She gives your cheek a squeeze. "Open."

You obey, parting your lips and flattening your tongue as she gathers spit at her lips, pushing it out with her wet muscle and watching you swallow it like it were holy water - a sinner desperate for their retribution.

Her hips slam harder, the desk clanking everything that were in the drawers as your orgasm quickly hurtles towards you.

"Cum for me." She commands.

You heard the scream. But it didn't feel like it came from you. But apparently it did as your body explodes into waves of white hot surges, rolling through you over and over again, your jaw slackening, still in Hange's grasp, your tongue falling out - the sight of this pushing your lover back into that higher plane of existence her own loud cries almost harmonising with yours and you both blindly tumble down into the void.

Hange had wanted - no needed you for days. The supernova of finally having you was more than heavenly as your ruined sex gets pushed into ecstasy again and again. Hange really does bring some dark shadow aspect of yourself to the surface. You really were just her bitch.

And you love it.

#snk #attack on titan #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk fandom #hange smut #hange x reader #hange zoe x reader #hanji x reader #snk hanji #snk hange #aot hange #snk smut #aot smut

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 4 years ago

Text

The Story of Oil in Western Pennsylvania: What, How, and Why?

by Hannah Smith

I am a fries-on-salad, haluski dinner, dairy farm heritage kind of Western Pennsylvanian. I grew up near Venango and Crawford County and had a rural childhood. I went to a small school with about 300 kids in K-6th grade. Around 4th grade, I remember taking a field trip to Titusville, Pennsylvania. I remember seeing the familiar road signs and buildings as our bus gassed along the back roads. I had family in the Titusville and Oil City area, so it was a familiar route to take with my parents. I remember thinking, even at that young age, that the area looked worn and just, well, tired. But I was too young to grasp how this tired little town’s geology had changed the global economy and course of human history. When I was older, I pursued a degree in geology and began to understand more about my local community.

Our field trip took us to Titusville, Pennsylvania to visit Drake’s Well, the first commercial oil well in the United States. The site is named after the well’s driller, Edwin L. Drake who in 1859 struck oil outside of Titusville for the Seneca Oil Company. The company took the name from the Seneca Nation, one of the original Five Nations of the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois Confederacy, who had long made use of the resource Drake sought by skimming naturally-occurring slicks of petroleum, or unrefined oil, from the surface of local waters. These Indigenous people, who were removed from their native lands in the 1700s, 1800s, and 1900s, did not benefit from the Seneca Oil Company.

In the early 1800s oil was an unwanted by-product from salt wells (wells used to mine salt), and before that, a traditional medicine. In small doses, oil was used to treat respiratory diseases, epilepsy, scabies, and other ailments¹. Even today, chemicals made from the refining of petroleum are responsible for many of our modern medicines. Ointments, antihistamines, antibacterials, cough syrups, and even aspirin are created from chemical reactions created from petrochemicals².

However, the purpose of Drake’s Well was to produce oil for refining into kerosene for lamps, and thereby provide an alternative to the whale oil then used to illuminate homes and workplaces. Salt wells used water to dissolve salt source rock, and then carry the resulting brine through piping to the surface where it would be evaporated to leave salt as a solid residue. Although this method works for producing salt, it was far less efficient for producing oil. Productive oil drilling required new techniques, and one of Drake’s most important innovations was the “drive pipe,” sections of cast iron pipe driven into the shaft to protect the drill bit from water and cave-ins. Through experimentation and innovation, on August 27, 1859, Drake struck oil when his drill reached a depth of 69.5 feet.

While Drake’s Well was not the most productive, or largest oil well, the Titusville site is globally significant because it kick-started the petroleum drilling revolution that eventually changed global economies and environments. While Edwin Drake lived a hard life even after his discovery, he is still considered the father of the modern petroleum practices and industry³.

When my field trip class arrived at the Drake’s Well Museum I remember seeing an odd looking wooden building with an awkward chimney-like structure on one side. We were led through single-file so everyone could get a look at the steel machinery used in the drill, and the pipes that dispersed oil into wooden barrels clustered in the building. In my 10-year-old brain there is no way I could properly fathom that this discovery was related to many of the comforts and conveniences I took for granted in my life, such as cars, heating, electricity, plastics, medicines, and even the asphalt roads that we drove on. Why was Titusville special? More specifically, why did western Pennsylvania have oil in the ground?

From about 490 to 360 million years ago, during the span of geological time known as the Ordovician Period and Devonian Period, most of what is now Pennsylvania was an ocean basin teeming with life. Pre-Appalachian Mountains systems eroded over time and deposited sediment of sand, silt, and mud that mixed on the seafloor with the dead plant material. Currents at the ocean bottom were minimal, leaving the accumulating sediments and organic material relatively undisturbed and oxygen-free. Without oxygen, bacteria that normally break down organic material could not act. A thick, black, anoxic ooze formed, preserving the organic material. Over millions of years, forces caused by plate tectonics generated enough heat and pressure to compact the sediments into rock and “cook” the organic material into petroleum.

If you’re from western Pennsylvania, you’ve probably heard of the Marcellus and Utica shales. The natural gas extracted from these rock units formed in a similar way to petroleum but was subjected to a much longer period of heat and pressure.

With Edwin Drake’s success, and layers of oil-bearing rock relatively close to the surface, Titusville boomed. The year Drake drilled his first oil well, Titusville only had 250 residents. However, by 1865 the population increased to 10,000. Nearby Pithole City, now a ghost town, had 50 hotels during the oil peak of the area around 1866. This boom was short lived as other drilling companies began operations in the area and excess production lowered oil prices. Companies picked up to look elsewhere almost as quickly as they appeared⁵. While Titusville boomed and busted, the oil industry itself was growing. Drake drilled for a product to compete with whale oil, but the oil industry underwent phenomenal growth because the demand for its product grew as a lubricant for engines and many other types of machines, a resource for heating on a distributed scale, and as a refined fuel for developing motorized vehicles. Two World Wars during the first half of the 20th Century and the population explosion of the 1950s further increased demand for petroleum. During the Century’s latter half advancements in oil drilling technology made ocean drilling platforms a reality, and with them an increase in oil production as well as an increase in negative impacts due to devastating oil spills.

As of 2016, the world consumed over 97 million barrels daily⁶. So what does combusting 97 million barrels of oil a day, a resource from below the surface, mean for the Earth’s atmosphere? The burning of fossil fuels produces greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide, and fluorinated gases. Greenhouse gases absorb heat from the sun that the earth’s surface reflects back out into the atmosphere, similar to how a blanket traps in body heat. Burning fossil fuels causes climate change by increasing the total amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, thickening the “blanket” around the earth, and increasing the global average temperature. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), in 2019 greenhouse gas CO₂ emissions totaled 33 gigatons, or 1 billion metric tons, or about the weight of 1.5 billion school buses⁸. Climate change is responsible for increased frequency and severity of weather disasters, wildfires, and flooding, to name a few negative impacts. The abundant CO₂ in our atmosphere equilibrates with and diffuses into our oceans, causing the water to become more acidic and eroding the calcium carbonate structures of coral and other marine organisms. Climate change does not just affect wildlife, it also affects the lives of Pennsylvanians. In Pennsylvania climate change is likely to lead to increasing home insurance rates, higher taxes to replace infrastructure, longer allergy seasons, increasing heat stroke rates in citizens, rising food costs due to crops damaged by erratic weather and higher temperatures, and decreasing water quality and availability due to large storms causing water contamination⁷.

Early organisms were buried by sediment 488 to 360 million years ago and altered into petroleum by heat and pressure. For thousands of years, Earth’s petroleum reserves were largely untouched. Innovator Edwin Drake changed petroleum’s role by successfully drilling the first commercial oil well in North America that August day in 1859. Petroleum became a global commodity, eventually fueling a fast paced modern life. Now in the 21st century, the burning of fossil fuels, such as petroleum, is causing worldwide rapid climate change.

When I was on that field trip to Drake’s Well in 4th grade, we did not discuss the global or local implications of petroleum. This resource is responsible for many of the day to day conveniences that have come to define contemporary life, but it also feeds environmental change that is forcing a “new normal,” and will cause an existential threat to humanity. I could not have fathomed that this global resource had its start in my own family’s backyard. I think that Drake’s Well is a good reminder that Earth-changing innovations can happen anywhere. I don’t think Drake could have predicted the scale to which his discovery would change society and the environment over the next 160 years, in the same way that most people do not realize how their small individual actions are affecting the larger social-ecological systems, and sustainability of all life on Earth. Although individual actions can negatively affect Earth, they can also be positive. Who knows, the next innovation to combat anthropogenic climate change may be happening in your backyard. Wind and solar farms have been developing and growing throughout Pennsylvania since 2007, providing an alternative option for electric energy use.

I started having more appreciation for the Earth Sciences as I got older. This eventually led me to obtaining a bachelor’s degree in geology, interning with the National Park Service at the Hagerman Fossil Beds in Idaho, and working in mapping for a few years before returning to school for illustration and design in hopes to marry the sciences and arts together. While obtaining my geology degree I met my now husband who has a Master’s in Structural Geology, and worked in the natural gas field for five years before making the switch to environmental geology. Our family's income was supported by the fossil fuels industry for a time, and therefore we understand a decent amount of the ethics and controversy that is in the industry. However we are both very invested in the earth sciences and look forward to more sustainable tech preserving a better environment for the future.

Hannah Smith is an intern in the Section of Anthropocene Studies. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

References:

1 Early Medicinal Uses of Petroleum 2015

https://daily.jstor.org/petroleum-used-medicine/

2 Modern Uses for Petroleum in Medicine 2019

https://context.capp.ca/articles/2019/feature_petroleum-in-real-life_pills

3 Drake’s Well History of Petroleum 2016

https://www.aoghs.org/petroleum-pioneers/american-oil-history/

4 Description of petroleum formation 2014

http://elibrary.dcnr.pa.gov/GetDocument?docId=1752503&DocName=ES8_Oil-Gas_Pa.pdf

5 The boom and bust cycle of the oil industry 2015

https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/23/business/energy-environment/oil-makes-a-comeback-in-pennsylvania.html

6 World Oil Statistics 2016-Current

https://www.worldometers.info/oil/

7 List of the Effects of Climate Change on People and how to protect yourself 2019

https://blogs.ei.columbia.edu/2019/12/27/climate-change-impacts-everyone/

8 International Energy Agency 2019

https://www.iea.org/articles/global-co2-emissions-in-2019

9 Drake’s Well Museum

https://www.drakewell.org/

10 Seneca-Iroquois National Museum

https://www.senecamuseum.org/

11 Seneca Nation Oil Process in New York State

https://nyhistoric.com/2013/10/seneca-oil-spring/

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #Drakes Well #Pennsylvania #Oil #Petroleum #Fossil Fuels #Anthropocene #Climate Change

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that-good-trash · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Not Okay- Chapter Two Midoriya x Reader/Bakugou x Reader

Izuku Midoriya x reader/ Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: You have struggled with mental health your whole life so why can’t you seem to get it under control. Will you be able to keep the same mask even though two of your classmates have seen under it?

Warnings: Depression, Angst, Anxiety.

Word Count: 4,247

Comment: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I tried to get the second chapter written as fast as possible. I’m so happy that the first chapter was well liked. Enjoy part two, I’ll try to get part three done as soon as possible.

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Morning wasn’t the worst part of the day it just was never better than okay. You didn’t experience the same euphoria as some of your morning classmates like Tenya Iida, Yuga Aoyama, and Koji Koda. Iida gets up early to set an example, to make sure everyone gets to class, and to better sell himself as the proper class representative he is. Aoyama needs time to get ready for the day since he had a routine to look as gorgeous as he does. You remember one time that you had gotten up early to turn in an assignment that was late before class and Aoyama was doing his lashes in the large mirror in the living area. There was a silent understanding before you had left the flamboyant male alone. Koda got up with the birds speaking gently with them, saying little good mornings to them as the sun rose. You almost wish that you had the same kind of drive they had. Maybe if you got up early you could face your problems then and feel better later. It seemed like it would work but you knew all to well that you couldn’t sleep your problems away and you couldn’t wake up before them.

“Maybe if I just didn’t wake up.” You spoke to the girl in the mirror. She stared back with dark circles that would need to be hidden before going to class. She was losing color to her cheeks and her hair was unruly. The worst part about this girl wasn’t her physical appearance. It was the raw emotion in her eyes, the exhaustion that urged some other worldly being to come end all this suffering. The girl in the mirror was crying causing your hand to reach up and catch the tears off your cheeks before they could fall. You and the girl in the mirror had everything in common except when she wasn’t visible, when you weren’t in your room or near a reflective surface she didn’t exist, she didn’t feel pain or sadness, yet you did. You felt every painful breath, every break in your facade.

You had wondered before had it always been this hard to breathe, to exist, to wake up. You were finding that the answer was inconclusive. It was hard before; it’s just getting worse.

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

“Y/N!” Mina’s voice loudly cut through any thoughts swarming you as you pushed your breakfast around on your plate. You weren’t going to make yourself food but when you came downstairs there was a plate already waiting for you and you knew exactly who made it, Midoriya.

“What’s up?” You could never fake a smile at the alien featured girl. She was all the pep and excitement that you wish you could show, that you wish you had in you. Instead you relish in her cheerful disposition happy that you are able to at least do that. Your smile makes her own stretch wider and shine brighter. A squeal leaves her before you are enveloped into a hug. Shock isn’t exactly how you feel. More like slightly puzzled at the abruptness of her physical contact. You lean into the hug cherishing the skin to skin contact and you are almost disappointed when she pulls away. You hear Kaminari wolf whistle at the two of you causing you both to roll your eyes.

“I missed you girl! I barely survived yesterday with you gone. I tried asking what happened but just got told that you weren’t feeling good and then you didn’t even come down for dinner last night. You didn’t answer my texts either. I was so worried but you just smiled at me and.” A squeal leaves her lips again before she’s squishing your face between her hands.

“And your just so cute and it made everything better. You are okay right.” She’s still got your face between her hands when she asks the taboo question. The one that seems to always get the same response from you. How easy would it be to just say you weren’t okay? She would understand, right? But what if she didn’t. what if she found you gross or hated you for being broken? Children don’t like broken toys so you weren’t very liked as a kid but does that same feeling extend into teenagers. Would she still hug you and love you as a sobbing mess? The answer was simple and obvious but you couldn’t risk the minuscule chance of losing your best friend so you lied.

“I’m good.” I’m okay, I’m fine, I’m alright. It was all the same thing just a different word each time. A smile helped serve the words with false honesty.

“Well if you say so. If you need me, I am here for you.” Your teeth bite down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying. You searched her expression but found nothing but love and admiration for you. She kissed your cheek before running off to bother Kaminari and Sero as they left on their journey to class. Your fingers brushed across the warm spot she kissed and a genuine smile appeared. Your heart felt like it was pumping normal and you could breathe. It was a temporary state but you’d take anything at this point.

“Time to get to class everyone.” The class rep’s voice cut through the remaining chatter and like a sheep dog started herding them all out. You stood up sliding the cold food into the trash. You felt bad for wasting it but you had never asked for it to begin with. As you moved to join the stragglers a hand grabbed your wrist pulling you back into the seat you had previously been occupying. You could feel the heat from his skin before you saw his face. Bakugou was squatting in front of you with your leg in his hands.

“Um, Bakugou. What are you do-?”

“Shut up. You never came by my room so I assumed you got raccoon eyes to bandage your leg. You tried to do it yourself and it looks like shit.” You would have been sarcastic but you once again lacked your usual spirit. Bakugou looked up waiting for the old you to resurface. He sighed while unwrapping the bandaging. You went to say something, anything at this point to break the weird tension and silence but instead a hiss escaped at his rough pull of the bandage as he finished wrapping your knee. You couldn’t help smacking him.

“The hell Bakugou, that hurt!” Bakugou rubbed the spot you had just hit him snarling before looking at you with intense yet playful eyes.

“You gonna whine like a bitch or you gonna go to class.” He was fast to dodge your second attack and you huffed before grabbing your bag and storming off ahead of him. He followed you with a smirk on his face. It wasn’t much but he got you to react. To show some kind of emotion that wasn’t sorrow or emptiness.

“What the hell were you eating this morning. I was going to tell you to stop playing with it but I got closer and thought something died on your plate.” You had to cover you face when you snorted at the sheer abruptness of his comedic insult to Midoriya’s cooking. You knew that he had to know that Midoriya had made it since Bakugou was the king of waking up early. You had reached over to shove him but never made contact, he moved away from you. “Tomorrow you will eat breakfast. I always have extra so you can have it.”

“Bakugou. I can’t just take your food.” Your voice is small. One minute you had been stifling laughter and now you felt ashamed that he even felt obligated to feed you. You were starting to feel like a charity case. A gasp erupted when Bakugou blasted part of a metal beam you passed. He didn’t face you but you could tell he was irritated.

“Listen up extra, I don’t do hand outs or fucking charity. I offered you the damn food and your gonna take it. You insult me taking that shitty nerd’s food but turning your nose before you even get to try mine. I’ll force the damn crap down your throat.” You couldn’t figure him out, he was mean one second then trying to be considerate? Nice? He was trying to be something other than his over the top aggressive self even if his kindness still was yelled with profanities.

“So. You admit your food is crap.” Of all the things you could have responded with. You could have cried because he was trying to care or cried because he was overbearing. You could have not responded. Yet you felt the flicker, the embers of your former attitude were still burning just low. They needed fuel and fanning and Bakugou was giving you kerosene. His red eyes were wide at the smirk across your still dry lips. The way that he could slightly see your teeth as if you were ready to cackle like an idiot at your own retort. He raised his hand to spark another blast but both of you were stopped by a too familiar voice.

“Both of you are late to class.” The words were laced with exhaustion and you could see the dark bags under his eyes before you even looked at him, Mr. Aizawa. You nodded and Bakugou scoffed before the two of you followed the hero into the classroom.

You hated being the center of attention, which is why you typically walk into places under the cover of your friends. Right now, everyone was staring at you, there eyes shifting between you and the class asshole. Bakugou paid them no attention and sat down. You felt like you couldn’t move. There were questions and speculations about why you were late, why you came in late with Bakugou. Midoriya made concerned eye contact with you before you shifted your gaze back to the floor and sat at your desk. Your hands fumbled with taking out the necessary supplies and a slight yelp accidently escaped when a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Um, you dropped this.” Todoroki handed you back your eraser that had escaped your bag without your knowledge. Your cheeks flushed at the state you were in. The frantic and anxious behavior you showed him made you feel like a maniac.

“Thank you.” His fingers were cold against yours as he pushed the eraser into your hand. You pulled your hand back and hoped he didn’t think rude of you for doing so. He just blinked before turning his attention back to the board. To anyone watching they’d have thought you had a crush on him with how your cheeks were pink and how fast you were to avoid contact. You didn’t though. Your avoidance was a precaution. You already had two students that were getting close to your issues. You didn’t need Todoroki involved as well. Your pencil moves across the paper in front of you while two pair of eyes watch you with different emotions. Red eyes with a glint of anger at Todoroki touching your hand. He was already irritated that Midoriya was getting close to you, there was no way in hell he wanted ‘icy hot’ involved with you. Green eyes watched you waiting for another sign of pain. He was waiting for even the slightest glossiness and he would be there at your side offering you a handkerchief and his shoulder. After you ran away, he wanted so badly to show you that he was sorry and that he cared.

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

If there was a class you could skip today it would be lunch. While every other student seemed to be enjoying this breaktime between learning and training, you felt that pressure again. Your legs had stopped moving and this time you had to grab the wall for support. There were so many people going in and out of the cafeteria. A few of them gave you strange looks but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes trying to figure out how to stop the rush of dizziness that came over you. You wanted to be able to breathe but found yourself holding back doing so. You were literally causing yourself pain and were beginning to feel faint. Mina was already inside the cafeteria sitting with a group of classmates. You didn’t know who it was today but probably Kaminari and Sero, or maybe it was Jirou and Yaoyorozu. Regardless of who she was sitting with today you couldn’t be one of them. You couldn’t sit there and listen absentmindedly to conversations you had no interest in. It wasn’t that you were a bitch who didn’t care, even though it sometimes came off like that. You just couldn’t fake it today. You wanted to go to Mr. Aizawa and be dismissed for the day but he would just send you to Recovery Girl and you didn’t want to do that all over again.

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.” You hadn’t even noticed Midoriya walk up to you until his voice drown out the ones inside you head.

“I was gonna go in. I was just waiting and.” You couldn’t figure out a good enough lie but realized you didn’t need to lie. Midoriya was staring at you with his big kind eyes that spoke. His eyes told you that it was okay to be upset. “I actually don’t want to eat in the cafeteria. I really don’t feel like eating at all.”

You rubbed your arm the same way you had when he had first caught you the day prior. No eye contact because you knew that the second sentence you had said was concerning, especially since he was assigned to be your personal nutritionist. You waited for him to speak or attempt to comfort you but no words were spoken. Instead your wrist was gripped and your legs were once again moving along with his. Panic began to settle into your chest and head. Was he going to take you to Recovery Girl? Was he going to take you to Mr. Aizawa? Neither of those options came true. Instead you found yourself outside a staff room that, once the door was open, you found was empty.

“Um Midoriya. I don’t think we are allowed in here.” You cautiously followed him into the room waiting for a teacher to catch you both. Though you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t cool to be in a room that students couldn’t just barge into.

“I have permission from All Might to eat lunch in here. Usually I eat with him but he has a meeting and I’d rather eat with you.” To anyone the words I’d rather eat with you would be some lame pick up line, however with Midoriya they meant something different. The romantic/deep part of his sentence was that he chose you over his idol. Your chest tightened in a way that you were unfamiliar with. There was no pain or feeling of panic. Just a sense of mattering. You had felt something almost similar when you were bickering playfully with Bakugou that morning.

“Also, um you can call me Izuku or deku.” You look up and realize you are standing awkwardly in the doorway still. You move allowing the door to close before sitting on the couch across from Midoriya.

“Okay, Izuku.” Even though he had told you to call him by his first name it didn’t prepare him for how it would sound coming from your mouth. He covered his face trying to hide the flushing of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting you to use it so soon.” A smile spread across your face at his shy behavior. “Are you really not gonna eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating.” You sounded like you had some kind of eating disorder but you didn’t. You just felt like you wasted energy that you already lacked on something minor. Your stomach did groan against your hand that you had placed against it in order to muffle the sound. After your failed attempt at silencing your hunger the sound of something being pushed across the table toward you caught your attention. It was a prepackaged sandwich, simple and plain yet so enticing.

“I’m not going to pry but I think you should eat. We have training later and I don’t want you getting hurt. You don’t have to worry about the taste either. I didn’t make it.” Midoriya laughed after mentioning his inability to cook. You almost felt bad since you had thrown away the breakfast he made.

“I’ll eat it, but because you asked me too and I can’t say no to my personal nurse.” The first part of your sentence got him blushing again but by the end he was flushed from embarrassment. Midoriya eats his lunch while you unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. It is dry and doesn’t have much flavor and yet you have to hold back not devouring it. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till now. A few crumbs fall onto your lap so you brush them off as you push the last bite into your mouth. You look up while chewing and see Midoriya staring at you. He doesn’t look away and you both make silent eye contact.

“Why do you look so sad?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you almost didn’t hear him, almost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Yesterday you were crying, you looked so tired, you still look tired and like you’re ready to cry. You seemed scared when Recovery Girl questioned you. I don’t know what you are going through but you don’t have to do it al-”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it. I’ve heard it so many times that I just might lose it if I have to hear it from you.” You don’t mean to sound rude and you probably don’t. You just didn’t need this right now. Lunch was finally going well, you had eaten and got to enjoy the silence. Midoriya meant well but you couldn’t let him in now. He was already in deeper than he should be. However, despite wanting him to stop you were once again contemplating what could happen if you told him. Just like you had wondered about Mina you wondered what he would do. He wasn’t judging you and yet you couldn’t help feeling like he was. The demons whispered their tormenting words invoking your insecurities. This was no longer a lunch between friends. You felt trapped, a cornered animal afraid of capture even if it meant a better life.

“Y/n. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you again. That isn’t my intention. I want you to trust and rely on me. I want you to be able to tell me what’s wrong. It might help.” The way your head swung upward made him regret pushing you. You stood up on shaking legs and slammed your hands down on the table.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR HELP! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH SO STOP TRYING TO ‘FIX ME’!” The words aren’t necessarily yelled but are spoken in a harsh booming voice that has cracks in it. The words lash against Midoriya as if you had physically hit him. He doesn’t flinch but does back into the couch to avoid some saliva that flies out with your words. He knows that once again he has messed up but he also knows that you didn’t want to push him away. In spite of all that was yelled he could see in your eyes, the regret and agony you felt. He didn’t pursue you as you fled the room knowing that you needed time. He would see you in class later hopefully.

Running away has become a regular occurrence. If only you got graded on running away, then you wouldn’t have to worry about grades ever again. The weird thing about this new hobby of yours was that you didn’t do it before. It was new and strange. You never liked facing issues before but you never really had to. Before you just lived in harmony with your anxiety and depression. You could cry and then go and hang out with classmates like it was a casual routine. Now you were afraid to be around people with how unstable you had become. You knew you could only run for so long before you had to return and play hero with the rest of the class.

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

“Where were you during lunch?” Mina had asked seeing as no one else seemed comfortable with asking. You were MIA during lunch and completely checked out during the last few classes. Now you were changing into your gym uniform with the rest of the girls.

“I was with Midoriya.” It was a mistake to mention Midoriya because the girls weren’t actually listening to you and Mina before and yet now all eyes and ears were on you. Jirou lifted an ear jack in your direction while Yaoyorozu stared at you with a curious smirk. You could have sworn Uraraka looked at you with slight pain, or maybe jealousy?

“OoOoooOh, what were you doing with Midoriya?” Mina meant well with her waggling eyebrows and kissy faces. You push her face away. Even though you had a mental breakdown earlier Mina still found a way to make you smile.

“I was eating lunch. He thought I could use some alone time since I’ve been kind of tired and being around you guys is draining.” Mina gasps at your comment about her being draining and feigns offence. “I am not draining.”

“So, you were alone with Midoriya during lunch?” You don’t catch who asks the question jut that it was asked. You sigh wishing that humans weren’t naturally curious and that teens weren’t always looking for gossip. You don’t reply, which looks even more suspicious, as you leave the locker room.

Everyone is paired up with someone to spar with. You see Mina wave from her spot across from Tokoyami beyond her you can see Midoriya with Kirishima across from him. He doesn’t look this way and you wonder if what you said hurt him. You wonder if he will begin to hate you. You look around to see of you can spot Bakugou, your hand reaching down and rubbing your bandage through your pants. You turn when your name leaves your sparing partners lips.

“Sorry Todoroki. I’m ready whenever you are.” You get into a fighting stance and wave him forward beckoning him to attack. His expression never changes as ice dances across his skin and slowly spreads around him. You shouldn’t have underestimated his abilities nor should you have let yourself fight while dehydrated.

You wouldn’t say that you were hurt enough to go to Recovery Girls office however you did find yourself stumbling into the locker room shower. Once you shed your uniform the bruises on your body become visible to you. You whimper as your fingers press into the tender wounds. You let the shame and sweat rinse off you before you slowly sink. Sob escapes as you curl up on the floor. The locker room is empty and has been for a while. You had laid on the floor of the gym defeated for longer than you had meant to. Todoroki had originally tried to help you up but you wouldn’t move. Just lying there pathetically wallowing in your own failures. It was a simple match and yet you never landed a single hit and your dodging was useless. Your failure to match Todoroki’s strength lead to you sobbing on the dirty shower floor naked and bruised not just physically but your ego as well. You had assumed everyone had left back to the dorms or to go about their day like normal but you were wrong. Someone had noticed your absence, actually that person had witnessed your distracted fight and wanted to beat the living hell out of Todoroki for going so hard on you and not noticing you weren’t in a good state to fight. This person also watched you drag yourself to the locker room. He waited to make sure no one else was around before following the sounds of your sobbing. The steam covered every mirror blurring his image as he passed them to get to the stall you were breaking down in. He leaned against the wet tile wall. He let himself slide down until he was squatting, his knees jutted outward and his arms laying inward against his thighs between his legs. He moves his left hand toward the curtain making himself known.

“You’re not alone dumbass… It’s okay to not win every battle. It’s okay to not be okay.” These words coming from the most prideful guy you’ve met made your chest tighten. He was the last person you’d expect to be outside your shower while you broke down. He was the last person you’d expect to tell you that you didn’t need to win. Yet here he was saying this and being here for you. You try to hold back another sob but fail. Your hand reaches under the curtain and your fingers entangle themselves with his as you continue to weep against the cold tile.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero x reader #midorya x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #izuku x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha midoriya #mha imagines

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hyperpsychomaniac · 4 years ago

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Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 4

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

“Are we there yet? I thought you said this was supposed to be fun?”

Launchpad shook his head and grinned. “Nearly there, kiddo.” The whining should have been bugging him. But he was surprised she’d actually come. This one was much more of a troublemaker than his Gosalyn had been. Not that she hadn’t upset her adoptive father on more than one occasion, but that had always been innocently. She’d been such an odd child.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“Launchpad doesn’t ignore me.”

“I’m not your Launchpad.” The Negaverse Launchpad took one last drag on his cigarette, then stomped it out under his boot and carefully kicked dirt over it. “Look, we’re here.”

They’d come upon a derelict little shack. Behind it ran an old creek bed, all but dry in the arid weather.

Gosalyn frowned. “I’m still not impressed.”

“Man, you’re a tough little nut, aren’t you?” Launchpad booted open the rusty door, and the whole hovel rattled and shook. A single, not-quite-upright support column propped up a support beam that ran across the centre of the roof. The column visibly swayed, dust rained down from the rotting ceiling and the old kerosene lamp he’d hung up bounced around, but the shack stood firm. One day he was going to send the whole thing crashing down, and that was exactly the reason Launchpad kept booting the door in so hard. Inside was littered with fuel cans, butane canisters, a couple lengths of PVC pipe, crates of bottles and cans, some old course rope, and, of course, potatoes.

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the gun? This is just a pile of trash.”

Launchpad winced. The terrible thing was she was right. He really missed his rocket launcher. He scooped up the PVC pipe and tossed it to her. “Well, you’re going to learn how to make a gun from a pile of trash. Grab the other half. I’ll get the potatoes.”

Gosalyn looked at him like he’d grown another head. But he definitely had her hooked. She grabbed the other length of pipe, and carried them both outside.

Launchpad gulped at the lump in his throat. Oh man. He was getting attached way too fast. Hanging out with Gosalyn had roused that faint feeling of guilt down inside. He’d have liked to have thought he’d gotten between his Gosalyn and Negaduck once or twice, that he’d protected her. But the truth was, despite all his faults, Negaduck would never dream of physically hurting his daughter. He had other ways of keeping her in line. Launchpad had never stood between them; he’d never had the guts. He’d just been the guy who was usually around when Negaduck got so fed up with his daughter he felt like hurting someone. At least now his Gosalyn was being looked after way better then he’d ever been capable of in Negaduck’s house. She was better off without him.

Launchpad huffed and hefted up the crate of potatoes. “Bastard.” He booted one of the butane canisters and sent it spinning out the door.

“Hey!”

“Pick it up. We need it.”

Outside, Gosalyn was trying to assemble the bits of PVC pipe, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Here.” Launchpad set up the pipe to form the canon, resting it on its makeshift tripod so it pointed out and over the dry creek bed. Across the other side he’d previously set up crates, bottles and cans. And, most importantly, nothing that he’d get in trouble for hurling a potato clean through.

Gosalyn was picking up on the general idea. She rifled through the crate of potatoes, picked a good sized one, and rolled it down the tube. Then she scowled. “How’s a bit of plastic supposed to fire a potato?”

Launchpad picked up the tin of butane and spun it around so Gosalyn could see the ‘caution: flammable’ warning on its side. “We’re going to set this. On fire.”

“You’ve really got a theme, don’t you?”

Launchpad filled the tube with gas, and sat himself behind the pipe to line her up and make sure the recoil didn’t send the whole thing spinning off. That had been pretty funny the first time he’d fired it, and Gosalyn probably would get a kick out of the whole contraption knocking him on his ass. But he wasn’t going to risk it with the child of the superhero who probably still didn’t trust him around. Satisfied everything was set up as safe as a potato gun could be, her lit her up.

The potato shot out of the tube with a pop, sailed through the air and splattered some hundred yards across the other side of the creek.

Gosalyn’s jaw dropped. “Keen gear.”

Launchpad loaded and fired off a half dozen more. Truth was the thing was impossible to aim, and he rarely had to go out to set up new targets. Still, he somehow managed to send a potato splintering through an old crate he’d set up. He broke down laughing, which really confused Gosalyn. He’d spent far too long scratching a likeness of Negaduck into that crate, but you couldn’t actually see it from this distance.

“Okay, you weirdo. If you’re going to sit there and giggle, I think that means its my turn.”

“Alright, alright. Let me get you set up. This things got a fair bit of kick. Wait…” The sound of an engine cut into the desert air. It sounded like a motorbike. Launchpad’s eyes narrowed and his fists tensed at his sides.

“Is that a motorbike? What, what is it?”

“Probably that damn kid.” Launchpad drew in a breath, and fought down the part of himself that still wanted to deal with any annoyance with as much force as possible. He’d kept it at bay last time, even if Mrs McQuack hadn’t been entirely happy when he’d told her what happened. “I caught him riding on the McQuack’s property a few weeks ago. When I told him to clear off, he back-chatted me. So I fired a potato in his general direction. I think he got the message.”

Now, he was going to have to find some other way to deal with the situation. Mrs McQuack had told him off, despite the fact he’d made it clear he hadn’t actually fired the potato straight at the brat. She hadn’t made him do anything dumb like go apologise, but she’d told him not to fire projectiles at or near people again. Especially kids. “At least, I thought he got the message.” Launchpad shielded his eyes as he searched for the machine. It was familiar, but now he wasn’t sure it was that same kid’s bike.

“Fill her up. Check. Aim. Light her up!”

Launchpad didn’t realise what Gosalyn was doing until the PVC pipe let out a decidedly louder than normal pop. The slam of an impact and splintering wood followed a split second later.

Launchpad spun around. “Shit!”

The PVC pipe bounced and rattled along the ground then rolled to rest. Gosalyn slumped against the side of the shack where she’d been thrown, one of the brittle boards cracked and splintered behind her head.

“No, no, no…” Launchpad skidded to his knees beside her and gently shook her shoulders. “Kiddo?”

The motorbike rattled up behind him and the engine shuddered off. Even a bratty kid would help. And if he didn’t, he could donate his bike to getting Gosalyn back to the house as quick as possible.

“Oh. Wow. Nice job. She’s been here, what, three hours? I can’t believe I used to let you babysit. In fact, I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

Launchpad’s chest tightened; he couldn’t breathe. His vision grew fuzzy around the edges. All he could focus on was his trembling hands and how they engulfed Gosalyn’s tiny shoulders. Gosalyn. Launchpad finally managed to suck in a gasp of air, and the oxygen cleared his head. He couldn’t let him hurt this Gosalyn. Launchpad gathered every ounce of his strength and turned to face the voice from his past.

“You ran away from me too, didn’t you?” Negaduck. He was right. There. His yellow and black motorcycle behind him, and Launchpad wondered how he’d ever mistaken its sound for a dirt bike. “So much for loyalty.”

“What are you doing here?” Launchpad’s voice grated and caught in his throat.

“I tailed that idiot Darkwing Duck. Figured I could have a little fun out here.” Negaduck’s beak split into a wide grin. “But this is a surprise. Where’ve you been, buddy?”

“I was never your buddy. You have to leave. Now.” His voice sounded weak, pathetic. Even to his own ears.

Negaduck laughed. “Oh, someone definitely ran away, didn’t they?” The cackle cut off just as quickly, then Negaduck was right on top of him, grabbing him by the collar, pressing his beak against his. “You don’t tell me what to do!”

Launchpad stumbled back under the unexpected weight and his heart-rate rocketed. He shoved Negaduck off and threw up his guard. “Don’t touch me!”

Negaduck raised his hands and took a step back, chuckling. “Someone’s developed a backbone.”

“You can’t. Be here. You’re whole deal is Saint Canard, and Darkwing Duck, and… you can’t mess with the McQuacks. They’re good people. They don’t live in a place like Saint Canard. They can’t deal with all this superhero and villain stuff.”

“The McQuacks, huh?” Negaduck stroked his beak, completely ignoring the fact Launchpad was squared up like he wanted to fight. “Oh, you idiot, what have you been doing? Playing happy little families? This isn’t your world, you know.”

“Never stopped you from trying to take it over.”

Negaduck flung his arms wide. “That’s because I’m ambitious. But now, there’s an idea. Messing with a cute innocent country family whilst Darkwing Duck tries to protect them? Could be fun.”

“Negaduck, don’t.”

“Come on, Launchpad. You know it will be. I know I usually left you in charge of the home front. But, seeing as you’re here, why don’t we both have a little fun?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Negaduck waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll let you fly my aeroplane.”

The faintest hint of a thrill rose in Launchpad’s chest. He was actually letting him… And then, slowly, he lowered his fists. “I… I can’t believe I let you take that away from me. I’ve got plenty of aeroplanes I can fly now. And the people who own them don’t tease me with them, and make me feel like I have to earn every last little shred of respect!”

“Been behaving yourself, have you? Got them fooled? Please. What do you think they’ll think about this?” He pointed a finger at Gosalyn. “Or this?” And jabbed his thumb back into his own chest. “As soon as they see who you really are they won’t be so forgiving.”

“Darkwing’s here.”

“Yeah, and you just knocked out his daughter. Listen up, Launchpad. I’m giving you a choice. As soon as your little surrogate family realises I’m here, they’re going to start asking questions. They’re going to think you called me, or at least that taking you in was what brought this tragedy down upon them…”

“You leave them alone.”

“Maybe I will. I’d rather cause my havoc at night anyway, so I’ll give you until sunset. Then, you’re going to come back to this sad little shack and you’re going to tell me you’re ready to help me take down Darkwing Duck. In return, I’ll let these good, kind people get away with simply the scare of me slaughtering a superhero in their back garden. Or, you oppose me, or tell Darkwing I’m here, and if that happens…” Negaduck cackled. “I’ll burn this whole place to the ground, along with any soul unfortunate enough to get in my way!”

Launchpad’s fists shook at his sides. Grab him now. Tie him up. Beat him to a pulp. He’s half your size! All those thoughts bounced around in his head. But he didn’t move. “Negaduck, please don’t.”

Negaduck threw a leg over his motorcycle and started her up. “Think about it, old pal. It really would be fun causing chaos with you again.” Then he gunned the engine, skidded around so the bike threw up a wave of dirt, and tore away.

As soon as the motorcycle disappeared over the nearest rise, Launchpad’s knees buckled. His back slammed into the old shack besides Gosalyn and he put his face in his hands. “Aw, kid. What am I supposed to do?” He fished the packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, and fumbled to push out a single one so he could grab hold of it. The simple task was almost impossible.

Gosalyn shot to her feet. “I knew I needed to keep an eye on you!”

“Shit!” The packet jumped from Launchpad’s hands and cigarettes scattered everywhere. “Damn it, kid. I thought you’d really hurt yourself.”

Gosalyn put her hands on her hips. “Don’t play games with me. I saw you talking to Negaduck! You’re still working for him, aren’t you?”

Launchpad’s heart plummeted. “No! I didn’t even know he was here, I swear.”

“A likely… story…” Gosalyn blinked a couple of times, then sat down heavily.

“Aw, man, you’re not okay, are you?” Launchpad reached out for her.

Gosalyn swiped a hand in front of her face. “Back off, buster.”

He could’ve scooped her up and there would be nothing she could do about it, but Launchpad paused in his advance. “You hit you’re head. I just want to check you’re okay.” He reached out for her again, slowly, and she lowered her hand. He felt her head. There was no blood, but he thought he could feel a decent sized bump.

Gosalyn tolerated it for a second, then slapped at his hand. “Ow, stop.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.” She frowned up at him. “Your hands are shaking.”

Launchpad swallowed hard. “I’m not working for Negaduck. Please believe me. He was just… there. He said if I didn’t help him he’d hurt the McQuacks. What am I supposed to do?” Suddenly, nothing seemed as important as this kid believing him. He didn’t know what else to say to convince her.

“I must’ve really hit my head… okay. He must’ve followed us from Saint Canard. Maybe we should tell Dad.”

“No! We can’t. If I tell Darkwing, Negaduck’s going to hurt the McQuacks. I have to deal with this myself. And if the McQuacks find out…” If he lost their trust, he didn’t know he could take it. No wonder this world’s Launchpad had been so angry with him when he arrived. It didn’t matter that he’d changed. He’d dragged trouble right along with him. Launchpad hung his head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Gosalyn leaned over and swiped her knuckles into his arm. It was a terrible punch, and he was sure she could’ve done better had she not been semi out of it. “Come on. Where would you be if you hadn’t crashed in their front yard?”

Not causing trouble for innocent families for sure. Launchpad stood to his feet and held out a hand. “Can you get up?”

Gosalyn pushed herself to shaky feet and grabbed onto his arm.

“Right, I’d better carry you.”

“You are not carrying me like a baby.”

“I’m not letting you walk.”

“Hang on. Crouch down.”

Launchpad did as she instructed. Gosalyn managed to make a little jump, and hook her arms around his neck. Launchpad hefted her up in a piggy back, making sure he had his arms under her in case she passed out again and lost her grip. He started heading back to the house. “You’re not going to tell your Dad about Negaduck, right?”

“Okay fine. But you have to do something for me first.”

Despite his apprehension, Launchpad rolled his eyes. This kid was something else. “I’m not letting you play with the potato gun again. But, go on, anything else. What do you want?”

“I know Negaduck’s not a nice guy. But you’re terrified of him. What did he do to you? Launchpad told me about him making you burn your planes, but, you know, what else?”

Launchpad’s guts tightened. “Aw, man, kid. You don’t pull any punches do you?”

“If someone scared my Launchpad that bad… well, that’s why I was so mad at you.”

“Okay, okay…” There was plenty to choose from. Some he certainly wouldn’t share with a kid. But neither did Launchpad want to downplay her question by choosing something like Negaduck getting way too competitive about playing punchies, which had never really bothered him at all. And then he thought about his own Gosalyn. “It wasn’t just me he was a jerk to…”

***

“Come on, Negaduck. Are you sure you’re not going a bit overboard?”

“Stop whining,” Negaduck grumbled as he balanced on Launchpad’s shoulders so he could tie his minion’s wrists to the branch above. The dying tree in Negaduck’s backyard couldn’t take his weight, so they’d just settled for stringing him up to it with his feet still on the ground. “You’re the idiot who let her keep talking about getting a pink pinata for her birthday. Honestly, I leave you two alone for five minutes…”

“You beat a pinata with a stick! I thought you wanted her to find something violent to enjoy? Sounds like violence to me.”

“She wants a pink pony pinata because its supposed to have candy inside. Urgh. I don’t want any daughter of mine getting candy for her birthday. By this age, I expect her to ask me for a butterfly knife or something.” Negaduck finished his knot, then leapt back to the ground. “If she wants to hit something with a stick the only thing she should enjoy getting out of it is blood and teeth.” He scooped up the rolled up bit of cardboard that had come with the pinata Gosalyn thought she was getting, and thumped Launchpad heavily on the chest with it.

Launchpad grinned. “Heh. Yeah. That’s always fun. I’m glad she won’t be knocking anything out with that flimsy piece of trash though. But we’ve got to start her somewhere, right?”

“Oh, yeah of course.” Negaduck dug amongst the smashed paper mache they’d already destroyed in the corner of the yard, and came up with a handful of colourful candy, and a pink ribbon. “Now, hold still.”

“I don’t want that thing in my hair… wha…”

Negaduck rammed the candy, wrappers and all, into Launchpad’s beak, then trussed it up with the pink ribbon. “That’s much better.” He grinned, patted Launchpad on his bulging check, then screamed: “Gosalyn! Get your butt out here. It’s pinata time!”

Gosalyn stumbled out of the house in her pink party dress, blindfolded. She grinned madly as she swayed across the yard like a drunk man. “Dad! Can I at least see the pinata first?”

“What? And break the pinata rules?” Negaduck winked at Launchpad. Then he hurled the rolled up piece of cardboard over the Muddlefoot’s fence. “Won’t be needing this!” He reached into the pile of paper mache and pulled out an aluminium baseball bat.

Launchpad shuffled back. “Nefadufck…” he mumbled around the plastic mixed with sickly sweet goop in his mouth.

“Stay where you are, Launchpad!” Negaduck barked.

Launchpad jerked to a halt at the order.

“What?” said Gosalyn. “What’s he doing?”

“Being pushy. You know how he likes smashing thing. But you’re the party girl; so you get to go first.” Negaduck shoved the bat into Gosalyn’s hands and adjusted her grip. He pointed her to face Launchpad.

Gosalyn tapped the bat on Launchpad’s hip.

“Higher, sweetheart. If you want it to spill, you need to hit it right in the guts.” Negaduck leaned forward, hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a wicked grin splitting his beak.

Gosalyn adjusted her grip. All the practice Launchpad had with her in the back yard was paying off; her swing was perfect. The bat slammed up under his ribs. Launchpad dropped. The flimsy bough broke under his weight and snapped in half on impact across his back. Launchpad doubled over as bile leapt up his throat and mixed with the gunk in his mouth. He spluttered and gagged and couldn’t get air, and then the flimsy pink ribbon popped and the whole mess spilled out on the browning lawn.

Gosalyn ripped her blindfold off. No way she could’ve been fooled that impact had been with paper mache. The bat clattered to the ground at her side.

“Gosalyn… I’m… kay…” Launchpad said, then sagged back down with a wheeze.

Gosalyn’s eyes filled with tears. “Launchpad, I’m sorry.” She bolted back into the house.

Negaduck cackled. “Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Launchpad spat, then pushed himself to his knees, a hand still to his belly.

Negaduck grabbed him by the collar. “Next time, I expect you to talk her out of this kind of garbage before I have to get involved. I can find someone much bigger than a little girl to take a swing at you.” He hauled him to his feet and flung him towards the house. “Now go ask her if she wants cake!”

***

He’d carried Gosalyn almost all the way back to the house now. Launchpad gulped and adjusted his grip underneath her. Between Darkwing Duck and the McQuacks, he really didn’t know how this would pan out.

“You can put me down now.”

Launchpad let her slip off his back. She grabbed him around the waist and hugged him tight.

“Hey… what?”

“I’m sorry, Launchpad. I knew Negaduck was a jerkface, but… I won’t tell my Dad. And I’ll help you take care of Negaduck.”

“Heh.” Launchpad prised her off him. “Let’s just make sure you’re okay first.”

***

Drake had paced the porch for the last half hour. His only consolation, despite Birdie’s assurances that the Negaverse Launchpad was harmless, was that it was highly unlikely he had kidnapped his daughter. Gosalyn would have taken off with him simply because she knew her father wouldn’t like it.

Finally, he saw her coming down the front path, Launchpad’s double trailing almost right behind her. Drake cleared the front steps and rushed to meet his daughter. “Gosalyn, don’t go running off like that!”

He knew something was wrong when Gosalyn looked up at him, not ready for an argument, but with relief. And then she slumped into his arms. Drake clamped her tight to her chest. His gaze snapped up to the Negaverse Launchpad, and the only thing that stopped him from slamming a fist into his face was supporting his daughter. “What did you do?” he hissed.

“Dad, it’s okay,” said Gosalyn, though she still clung to him. “It’s not his fault. I was being stupid and I fell over.”

Launchpad shuffled a boot through the dirt. “She hit her head. I’m sorry. I thought I was watching her.” The subdued moment was just so… Launchpad, that it gave Drake pause. His buddy’s double actually felt bad about this. So he should, but still.

Leaning on the porch railing beside his wife, Ripcord went rigid. “Wait, she hit her head?” He paled several shades. “I’ll… doctor…” He bolted back inside so quickly the door slammed into the wall and the front windows rattled.

Birdie winced. “Rip! It’s okay, she’s conscious…” She hung her head in resignation. “Great. We’re going to have the entirety of the town’s medical staff here in ten minutes. I thought we were past this.”

Drake scooped Gosalyn up, despite her half-hearted protestations, threw a glare at Launchpad’s double, and followed Birdie inside. His heart still thudded in his chest, but it was steadily slowing. He wasn’t sure how mad he was supposed to be at the Negaverse Launchpad. I mean, he’d be mad at Launchpad if he’d let something like this happen, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. He wasn’t surprised Gosalyn had gone and down something dumb. It wasn’t the first time.

“Yes, send them now!” Ripcord growled into the phone.

Birdie, put a hand on his arm. “Ripcord, calm down. Here…” She took the phone off him. “Yes, she’s conscious. But if you could send one of the doctors over that’d be great.” She hung up, then turned back to her husband and grasped his hands. “Are you alright?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Ripcord grumbled.

Launchpad pushed past them, not making eye contact with anyone, and went into the kitchen.

Drake took Gosalyn into the living room, put her down onto the sofa and rearranged the cushions around her.

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you are. Although, its not the first time you’ve given yourself a concussion.” He squeezed her shoulder. “That head of yours is nearly as hard as Launchpad’s. You’ll be fine.”

“My son does not have a hard head,” said Ripcord. “And neither does your daughter! You don’t know what happened to her; it could be serious. How can you be so blase about your own child…”

Drake saw red. He whirled and stabbed a finger into Ripcord’s chest. “I think I know whether my daughter needs medical attention or not, thank you very much!”

Although Drake had intended to give him a good prod in the chest, he found himself pointing just above the man’s belly button. Ripcord glared down at him, and then his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

Drake lowered his hand. “I… yeah, I know. Thanks for, you know, being so on the ball and calling the doctor. Sorry, I overreacted.”

Ripcord smiled tightly. “Hey, its fine, I get it. I have kids too, remember?” He turned to Birdie. “How long ago did we call?”

“Speaking of kids,” said Birdie. “I heard one of our planes come back over. Launchpad might be back in the hanger. You should go talk to him. He’ll be in a better mood after taking a plane out.”

“Yeah, but…”

Birdie patted his arm.“Not your kid. We’ll handle it. You know you’ll just get underfoot.”

“Probably,” Ripcord huffed. He glanced one last time at Gosalyn, then headed out the front door.

Launchpad came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and took it to Gosalyn. Drake snatched it off him, then handed it over to her.

“Dad, really?”

“I don’t know what you two were up to,” he said, voice low. “But you are not going out together unsupervised again!”

***

Chapter 5

#darkwing duck #darkwing #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfiction #dwd #dwd91 #darkwing duck 1991 #nega launchpad #negalaunchpad #gosalyn mallard #drake mallard #ripcord mcquack #birdie mcquack #negaduck #disney ducks

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babi-correia · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Fire (Part 8)

Words: 1161 Warnings: None? Pairing: Oops A/N: I totally see this being Stella shooting glares at Casey and his reaction during this part!

When you wake up, the bed is weirdly empty. You get up, looking around the room and not seeing any trace of what happened last night; well, other than the handprint on your hip.

You put on your robe before going downstairs, collecting your purse from the living room and grabbing your phone from it, groaning when you see you have under 1 hour to get to your shift.

Something inside you wilts and burns with anger when you realize that Casey is not at your house anymore and that he had left without as much as a goodbye. You stomp back up the stairs, going into the bathroom to take a quick shower before you head off to the firehouse.

You go through the motions absentmindedly, only snapping out of it when you find yourself in your car, with the garage door open and the engine running. You back out of your garage, glancing at the passenger side to see your duffle bag, phone, and wallet sitting there.

You're surprised to catch the previous shift leaving, waving at them as you clock in. You sit in the cozy little couch, watching the news as the reporter introduces a new topic.

"This is just in: a suspicious wave of fires is taking Chicago by storm, giving CPD and CFD a whole lot of trouble. It seems a wave of arsons, from what we gathered from the fire investigators, but thankfully it hasn't made any victims yet." You stare at the TV as it shows footage from the scenes, buildings scorched and firefighters putting out the fire. You snap out of it when you hear two male voices booming as their owners come into the mess room.

"I'm saying you're dumb, and I'm not withdrawing it. You are." Severide stops talking abruptly when he sees you. "Oh, hi (Y/L/N)."

"Hey." You reply, giving Casey a curt nod, and he replies with one just like yours.

Slowly, the crews start coming in and you mingle, being pulled aside by Stella shortly after she arrives.

"You and Casey, what's up?" She asks in a hushed tone, pushing you into your office and closing the door behind her. "What happened yesterday (Y/N)?"

You face her and she takes in your posture and facial expression.

"Nothing much." You reply shortly, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Severide told me otherwise." She hums, crossing her arms and leaning against the door. "Did he really leave in the morning without saying anything?"

Inside, your mouth is wide open. How dare he expose the events like that!! You feel the heat rise to your face, the anger inside beginning to boil over and forming a foul mood. Stella sees the change in your posture and raises her hands defensively.

"How dare he?!" You mutter, seething. "I knew it was a mistake, I knew he'd regret it, but fucking tell other people about it?!"

"Hey, hey, calm down." Stella tries, grabbing your shoulders. You shoot her a glare. "He and Severide are best friends and he called him in the morning to talk about it. I happened to hear. And you know neither me nor Severide will tell anyone about it, nor will Casey."

You rub your temples, trying to push away the headache that is starting to form. The buzzer sounds out, startling you.

"Truck 21, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, fire in progress-" You don't even pay attention to the rest as you bolt past Stella towards the Truck, finding the rest of your crew already there.

Sinclair speeds off as soon as you're inside, following closely behind Engine 51.

You arrive at the scene, finding an abandoned building going up in flames. You quickly get off the truck, barking orders to your crewmates as you take in what's going on before turning to Herrmann.

"Hey, Herrmann, this building is abandoned, should we do a sweep anyway?" You ask him, and he turns to you.

"This looks like arson. It might be rigged to do more harm if anyone goes in." He says, looking back at the building. "But we'll have to fight the fire inside anyway."

You turn away, grabbing a hooked hose and dousing the building as it gets consumed by flames.

----

A few hours later the fire dies out, and you go over to the scorched remains of the building. You call Herrman and he comes over to you.

"Do you smell that?" You ask. He nods.

"Is that kerosene?"

"It seems like it. And look at that puddle." You point out a puddle a few feet away from the two of you that has a rainbow-like sheen. He nods slowly.

"This was arson."

"It was." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Do you mind if you guys stay behind? I'll stay on the next, but I need to talk to Chief Boden about this."

Herrmann nods and waves you away, and you walk towards your truck, getting inside and noticing the dark sedan parked across the street before driving away.

----

When you get to the firehouse you go straight to Boden's office, knocking on his door.

"Got a moment Chief?" You ask, standing at the door. He looks at you over his glasses, nodding. You get in and close the door behind you. "It's about the last call. I'm sure it was arson, and I saw it before at my old firehouse."

"Did the perp ever get caught?" He asks, taking off his glasses.

"That's the thing, Chief. We knew who it was, but we could never prove it." You sigh, running your hands through your hair. He hums.

"What makes you think it's the same person?"

"The same accelerant. The same black sedan always parked nearby. Buildings burning down completely, the fire burning any evidence possible. And always near whatever firehouse I'm working at." He raises his brows at the last part. "...It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Our suspect was Kirk Stewart, a firefighter. He used to work under me, but things got ugly and he had no respect for any type of authority. Eventually, I went up to my Chief, having had enough of his shit, and he was discharged. Soon after, these weird fires started coming up every day, some days even more than one fire, always around our firehouse. And we would always see the same black, plateless sedan parked nearby, and sometimes even Stewart in the middle of the onlookers, the accelerant was always kerosene, and the buildings were always empty. We could never prove anything. No cameras around, and if there were they'd stop recording around the time the fires started; no evidence of any type left behind, or at least none that would resist the flames. Everyone knew it was him, but we could never charge him." Boden nods as you pause. "And all the factors were there today. The sedan, the kerosene-fueled arson, an empty building. I think he's back."

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gills-corn · 4 years ago

Text

The water running down Ligaya's hands turn reddish-brown. The tang of blood still lingers in her mouth but she allows herself to breathe. She could just easily wash that down with water. Bloodied palms are more damning, more dangerous, but God be damned if she didn't feel something course through her body as she fled the scene.

"You're home?" a groggy voice asks behind her.

Ligaya starts and smacks her hand on the sink but it's just Anita, looking ruffled, her hair and clothes windswept and there are traces of blood on her mouth and clothes.

Ligaya relaxes her shoulder and beckons the other woman to join her, clicking her tongue. "You have blood all over."

Snorting, Anita nudges Ligaya with her hip, grinning up at her. There's something in Anita's eyes as she flicks her gaze throughout her face, eventually settling on Ligaya's lips. Ligaya feels her heart stop.

"Having a few droplets of blood wouldn't put me in danger, Li," Anita whispers, her breath practically fanning Ligaya's face.

"You should still be very careful," Ligaya replies, as gently as the other girl.

The flickering of the oil lamp casts shadows on Anita's already sunken face but Ligaya is still hopelessly staring at her face as if it's the last thing she'll do. It's painful and pointless - this has been going on for fifty years, would she let herself crumble now?

"Anything for you," Anita replies with a wink.

Her tongue darts around her mouth, wiping off the excess blood. Ligaya, despite the abundance of blood in her system, feels like she could faint.

She takes a step back, picking up the pieces left from her shattered sanity, like a loon gluing back pieces of a broken vase. There's no saving her - she and Anita both, really - but she could pretend. She has gotten pretty proficient at that. Still, Ligaya is not a good actress. And Anita is too smart for her own good. Ligaya, despite not wanting to take her eyes off her friend, turns around and busies herself with a empty mug.

"So, who did you - "

"Eat?" Anita supplies, turning on the faucet.

Ligaya hears the water run before promptly nodding. "Don't forget to use soap."

"Fine," Anita grumbles.

Ligaya doesn't know how she still complains - half a century of doing this should be routine to Anita by now.

"I, uh, had a little excursion with Dominador - I think his last name is Tan? I'm not so sure," Anita answers, her voice a little too light.

Ligaya could hear the grin in her voice and she feels her chest clamp up. Stupid, stupid.

"And you ate him afterwards?" Ligaya asks, immediately having the courage to turn around and face Anita, who is now wiping her hands hastily on her skirt.

"Ligaya, darling, eating him was the excursion," Anita says, pursing her lips. "Are you suggesting - "

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Ligaya exclaims, throwing her hand in the air. "I still don't know how you get these men alone and feast on their blood."

Anita smiles up at her, the type that makes Ligaya weak on the knees. She just scoffs and leans against the wall of their cramped kitchen, pulling out a lone cigarette from the pocket of her shorts.

"I have my techniques and you have yours," Anita replies. "Let's just say both of us are pretty good at what we do."

Sighing, Ligaya rolls her eyes and strolls towards the lamp, where she dangles the end of her cigarette at the flame and waits for it to light. Anita's right - while she's more of a femme fatale (a title Anita so rightfully claimed when she learned the word, referring to herself as such while Ligaya wanted to tear her hair out of her head), Ligaya's more of a 'corner-a-person-in-a-dark-street-and-literally-suck-the-life-out-of-them' kind of person. However differing their methods may be, they make it work. They feed, they survive, they push on as 'normal people', whatever that means. They constantly move places, for fear of being tracked down or seen as the death rates keep rising. They live. And living is more than enough for Ligaya, even if that means losing Anita to another man every single night.

She takes a drag and puffs it on Anita's face. Shame. Doesn't even do anything to mar her looks. Ligaya bites down a laugh as the other woman coughs gently, waving her hand around the air.

"Li, not funny," Anita remarks, sliding off the counter.

"We're virtually immortal, Ani. Besides, it's - it makes me destress," Ligaya answers, watching Anita bustle around the kitchen.

For whatever reason, Anita always scarf down 'human food' after eating literal humans. She says hunting is physically draining. Ligaya wouldn't know. All she does is wait in silence and try her best to not move but she always prepares something for Anita, or at least buy her something from the store. Because she's such a good friend, who may or may not have been following Anita like a lovesick teenager for the better part of the century.

"There's food in the fridge. From McDonald's," Ligaya answers, as casually as she can.

Anita pouts as she wrenches the door open, pulling out a slightly damp container. "I prefer Jollibee."

"Take what you can get, asshole," Ligaya mutters, inhaling another puff of smoke.

"Fine. Ooh, chicken!"

"So," Ligaya asks, watching Anita swallow down fried chicken like a starved dog, which is supposed to be disgusting but instead she finds incredibly endearing, "where did you dump the body?"

"Details, details," Anita answers, barely coherent with her mouth stuffed with food as she waves around a chicken bone. "I just placed him. . . somewhere."

"Jesus Christ," Ligaya groans.

"Hoy! Do not use His name in vain, remember?" Anita reprimands, making a quick sign of the cross with the chicken dangling on her hand.

"Anita, we literally kill and consume actual, live human beings. If hell were real, we'd be in it by now."

Anita lets out a cackle of laughter, something that kids in their town said resembled that of a witch. Well. Look where they are now.

"You sound like my mother. The oil lamp doesn't help. We have an emergency lamp, Li. We're not in 1950 anymore."

"Eh, I like this better," Ligaya says, gesturing to the lamp hanging near the kitchen sink. "Besides, I love the smell of kerosene."

"Of course you do."

There's no hint of malice in Anita's words - it was almost fond, tender - but Ligaya would prefer them to be that, anything else than what gives Ligaya cascades of something strange at the pit of her stomach.

Ligaya stubs out her cigarette with the tips of her fingers, which Anita once said was cool (Ligaya wore it like a badge of honor, like she would never accomplish anything better than extinguishing fire with her various body parts). As the smoke dies out, the electricity flickers back on. She almost misses the way how the orange blaze of the fire made Anita look in the dark but it doesn't really matter - in whichever lighting, Anita always manages to disarm Ligaya, over and over again. It's pathetic.

"You have work tomorrow?" Anita asks.

"Yeah. My manager says that I'm his 'favorite employee of the month', whatever that means."

"Ooh, maybe you can get to take him."

"Or maybe he's being a total creep."

"Your point does make more sense, not going to lie," Anita says. "You heading to bed soon?"

"I'm still too worked up to sleep. I can still feel the guts of the lady I ate earlier inside my stomach."

Anita snickers, in a tone-down version of that laugh of hers, and presses a kiss on Ligaya's cheekbones, light as a feather. Ligaya feels like she could melt onto the floor of their kitchen as Anita walks to her bedroom, her footsteps getting heavier and heavier with each step, clearly tired. For whatever reason, Anita was always a morning person, not even after this whole thing happened to them.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Ligaya sighs as she leans her head against the wall, too hopeless, too dumb, too in-love. She wants to bash her head against the wall and die but she doesn't want Anita to see that image, however often they see dead people.

Anita and Ligaya are far from normal but Ligaya tries to be. She's just your usual young woman in the city trying to go through day-to-day, despite of the fact that she turns into an actual monster at the stroke of midnight. In a way, her pining over her best friend, makes her feel grounded, makes her feel more humane in some way. She knows others don't consider her as human, but if loving and hurting are all just part of the human condition, then she'd be the most perfect human to ever exist on the planet.

She's just Ligaya, a seventy-five year old in the body of someone fifty years younger, a waitress at a restaurant, has some sort of nicotine dependance, eats people on the side, hopelessly in love with another woman with the enticing dark eyes and sickening grin. Human or not, she decides, she's still living - whatever living is, she still isn't quite sure, but she has an idea. Living is what things in this world are meant to do and it's what fuels Ligaya every day.

"Hey, can you go to bed?" Anita suddenly says as she emerges from her bedroom, her face groggy and her body swamped with a huge set of pyjamas she might have stolen from a victim.

Ligaya thinks that she's still too beautiful, too close to perfection.

"Why?"

"I can't stay up thinking that you're not sleeping."

"I said, we're im - "

Anita sighs. "I know. Just - go to sleep? Please?"

Ligaya, like every other living creature, is a fool. And, sorry to Anita's Catholic guilt, God be damned if she isn't the biggest fool on the planet.

She nods and follows the other woman to their shared bedroom. Tomorrow's another challenge, she thinks, but tonight, she's going to let herself let loose, like her wings against the midnight sky when she's feeling ravenous for blood.

#short story #sapphic #wlw post #filipino #mythology #shall i continue this as a novel of some sort?

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born2battle · 4 years ago

Text

Experiences in High Altitude Area ---- Joshimath Sector

Soon after the conclusion of the Surrender Ceremony, we received urgent instructions from Gen S H F J Manekshaw, the COAS specifying that the POWs must be treated in accordance with the Geneva Conventions of 1949.These were amplified in terms of specific guidelines to be implemented at all levels.It was emphasised that the status of the Pakistan Army which had surrendered had now changed from Enemy to POWs. All Units & Formations were assigned their new responsibilities for various PW Camps. Consequently, our Regiment was given the task for PW Camp of Pakistan Artillery Brigade in Rangpur. Next day, we began the process of taking charge of their guns & equipment, ammunition, vehicles, stocks of rations & fuel and other military hardware.In addition, the accounting & protection of the prisoners was also our main responsibility.

Meanwhile, the euphoria of our magnificent victory as a result of the blitzkreig joint operations continued in all the Units.Our Regiment began the celebrations by conducting a Havan in the Unit Mandir. It was an act of obeisance which acted as a spiritual chord among the troops. This was followed by special Sainik Sammelan addressed by the Commanding Officer.This event held on a monthly basis provided the opportunity for the jawans to raise any issue of concern and put across their suggestions to the Battery Commanders & the Commanding Officer.It also enabled monthly review of tasks & allotment of subsequent tasks / introduction of new welfare measures.Sainik Sammelan concept has proved to be a useful method of interaction, motivation and effective man management.In this special Sainik Sammelan, our CO complimented each and every member of the Jat Balwan parivar for his dedication in achieving the ultimate mission, in an exemplary manner.He also announced the promotions and gave awards for top performers of each Trade, during the last three months.The same day, we organised an entertainment programme & Bara Khana for the whole Regiment.The programme had dance,drama & popular Ragini session put up by our talented artists.This was another method of informal interaction and team bonding within the JATs. I personally learnt quite a lot about man management from all the three events on this special day of celebrations.Besides, I felt delighted to be baptised in War & accepted with open arms, by my new Fauji family.

Next day, our CO held a conference of all Officers & JCOs and instructed us to prepare a summary of events in the last two months, as also the lessons learnt at each stage.These would be essential for compilation of War Diary for Regimental History.Thereafter, we were grouped into smaller teams to recapitulate each event & record the critical aspects. Our Team of all the GPOs and the JCOs at the Gun End summarised the following key learnings: ----------

Speedy deployment and ammunition supply proved crucial.

Fire plans had to be modified based on the situation.

Accurate fire support was the critical battle winning factor.

Team work was most important ingredient for success.

Leaders accomplished their mission by setting the example.

Simultaneously, we completed all the maintenance tasks pertaining to our Guns,Vehicles,Communication equipment and other stores.All of us also got the chance to refresh and rejuvenate, after one month of intense operations. In the last week of Dec, our CO received his posting order, as expected after two years of Command.He was regarded as a Father figure by all of us & was given an emotional farewell on 15 Jan 1972. Thereafter,we were intimated the plans for move of the POWs to PW Camps to be established in India.This movement was to be organised by trains from different stations in Bangladesh to several destinations in India.Our Regiment was responsible to provide the escort and protection till the departure of the prisoners who were in our PW Camp.This task was completed meticulously by the end of the month.

Thereafter, the Regiment de-inducted and reached our peace location at Binnaguri.We began the process of settling down in our accommodation which had been locked down for almost four months.Maintenance of the Office buildings, Living barracks,Cook houses, MT & Gun sheds, Ammunition dump, Quarter Guard and the Officers Mess had to be completed on priority.PT and Games also commenced simultaneously.In mid Feb, we were surprised to receive the Move Order for the Regiment to move to Joshimath in Garhwal region & concentrate at Raiwala ( nearest Railway Station ) by 30 Apr.The instructions also specified that we will be equipped with a new equipment produced indigenously ----- 75/24 Pack Howitzers for which a Conversion training will be organised at Raiwala.

I was curious to learn about the entire process of move of the Regiment. The Officiating CO organised the Regiment into three parties ;--- the Advance party, the Main body & the Rear party. Each party was explained the outline plan & allotted the tasks to be done at the new location.Requisition was placed for Special trains for move to Raiwala.The Advance party led by a Battery Commander, with representatives of each Battery, left by mid March, since they had to be acclimatised at Joshimath, before taking charge at further locations in high altitude areas.The Main Body boarded the Special train which was placed at the railway siding on 15 Apr. Interestingly, the composition of the Train was customised to include passenger coaches,military kitchens, covered wagons & open rakes.The Regiment was given a farewell Bara Khana by other Artillery Regiments in Binnaguri , just before the departure. It took us seven days to reach Raiwala, after a memorable journey, interspersed with planned halts for every meal (meals were prepared by our cooks in the military kitchen).

At Raiwala, we set up a tented Camp in an area suitable for Conversion training.The Guns & the Instructors in Gunnery had been assembled from various Units holding 75/24 Pack Howitzers. An intense capsule of two weeks was conducted, both during day & night, before we proceeded for practice firing in Asan Ranges near Dehradun. On return, we got ready to move immediately to Joshimath.This movement was along a mountainous road and the convoy time was about 12 hours.At Joshimath, we were received by our Advance Party who briefed us about the process of acclimatisation. We spent two weeks at Joshimath itself, when we were given comprehensive briefings, at the Brigade HQ, about our operational role at the LAC (Line of Actual Control), deployment areas & terrain briefs. We were also explained about special aspects of defensive operations in high altitude areas ( over 10,000 ft ) which we would further practice in conjunction with affiliated Infantry Battalions. Snow clothing & equipment was also issued to all personnel. Next day, each Battery moved to its allocated deployment area located on a different axis, while the Regiment HQ remained in Joshimath , adjacent to the Mountain Brigade HQ.I was inter-posted from Romeo Battery to Papa Battery,to give me the opportunity to acquaint myself with the jawans of another sub-unit within the Regiment.This proved beneficial in the long run.

Lt Col R P Chadha joined the Jat Balwan family & took over as the new Commanding Officer on 13 Jul 1972. He carried out familiarisation visits to all the Battery locations and was impressed with the state of operational preparedness.He exhorted all of us to face the challenges of terrain, climate & enemy resolutely.We were also advised to complete the winter stocking, in proper bunkers in each gun position, latest by end Sep.On 01 Aug, we celebrated our Raising Day in respective locations, at an altitude of 10,000 ft !! It was yet another memorable experience.

Thereafter, we attended collective training with the Gurkha Battalion for a duration of one month. All of us noticed the traits and behaviour pattern of the Gurkhas, well known for their bravery historically. I really liked their genial nature and their persistence while accomplishing any task.The Khukri was their special possession & martial arts was a favourite pastime.At the end of training, they invited us for their Bara Khana celebrations, when we observed some of their rituals .On completion of collective training, I requested for Annual Leave since I had not gone home ever since reporting in the Regiment one year ago. My CO sanctioned my leave for a duration of 45 days so that I could report back before the beginning of snowfall.This time, I proceeded to Aurangabad where my father was transferred recently.

I returned after well deserved leave & reported to the Adjutant at Joshimath. I had to undergo acclimatisation again before moving to my Battery location.I was thrilled to see the snow covered peaks in the Himalayas for the first time. The ambient temperature had dropped to minus 5 degrees Centigrade already.Some of the roads/tracks were covered with snow but our Gun pits were still clear of snow.The winter stocking had been completed as per the SOP. A Helipad had been constructed in close vicinity of our Gun position, to enable evacuation of casualties in case of any emergency. We used this helipad for a grand celebration of Diwali, in first week of Nov.I was told that every festival was celebrated in the Balwan family jointly ---- in a Home away from Home!! As expected,the intensity of snowfall increased in Dec/Jan and the temperature plunged to minus 20 degrees Centigrade, due to the wind-chill factor.We took extra precautions to maintain our fitness during these extreme conditions ---- wearing of winter clothing,use of Bukharis/ kerosene heaters, snow clearance around the bunkers, regular jogging & games such as Volleyball & Basketball, snow skating etc.We improvised the process of obtaining water by melting the snow in diesel barrels.This water was then used for cooking,washing & bathing purposes. The electric supply was provided by the generator but was restricted only to the CP, living bunkers and cook house. There were several occasions when the road movement was disrupted due to land slides, which had to be cleared by the Border Road Organisation. Air drop of supplies had to be resorted in some remote areas.The situation improved only in Apr, when Badrinath shrine opened after a closure of nearly six months. I availed the opportunity to visit the Temple before the rush of pilgrims.Incidentally, Badrinath was just 45 kms from Joshimath.

On 12 Jun, I got a call from the Adjutant asking me to report urgently at Regiment HQ next morning. I thought about the possible tasks which may be assigned to me but could not guess any likely task at this short notice. I left my Battery location at the sunrise, so as to reach Joshimath in time.I reported to the Adjutant who took me to the TIGER immediately. I was ordered to Take Post & the CO gave me a total surprise by putting on the rank of a Captain on my uniform.This was the first step on the ladder, on completion of two years of service on 13 Jun 1973.Every promotion is important but the very first promotion had greater significance!! Later in the evening, I hosted the promotion party in the Officers Mess.Next day, I gave a separate party to all the jawans of my Battery.

In the last week of Sep,, I was detailed to attend Regimental Signal Officers Course & had to report at MCTE,Mhow on 25 Oct.The short notice was a challenge since I did not have much time for pre- course training,which would have provided a good start during the Course. However, I put in extra efforts to grasp all technical aspects taught as per the curriculum & finally attained Alpha grading. I returned to Joshimath after two months, with renewed confidence and was appointed the Signal Officer responsible for all communication aspects.This implied that I would be posted as the RSO in the Regiment HQ and remain at Joshimath .We celebrated the New Year eve around the camp fire & resolved to further improve our professional standards in 1974.

In Mar, my CO detailed me for leading a Trekking expedition to Hemkund Sahib, located at an altitude of 4600 metres. The Trek had a total of 30 jawans , with representatives from all the sub- units. The Trek commenced from our Regiment HQ & had a brief halt at Govind Ghat. The next part was trekking upto the Base Camp at Ghangaria, which was 14 km away.Then ,we had a night halt & began the steep climb of 6 km upto the Gurudwara. It was an exhilarating experience to be cherished as as we paid our respects at this famous shrine. By next day, we were back at Joshimath, full of Josh & lovely memories.

Thereafter, we participated in local training exercises in Apr/ May, in our respective locations. We left for Dehradun in first week of Jun, for Annual Practice Camp including practice firing which was conducted in Asan Ranges .This activity has tremendous importance in the Regiment of Artillery and is a final test of all training in the Training Year.The Regiment returned to its operational locations by mid Jul. We celebrated yet another Raising Day, in our traditional style on 01 Aug. Soon thereafter, we received the move order for the move of the Regiment back to Binnaguri ----- much to our surprise, since we had moved to Joshimath from the same location two years ago!! Move was to be completed by 30 Sep 1974.By coincidence, our CO also received his posting order at the same time.He was given a farewell by each Battery due to dispersed deployment & a final emotional send off from Joshimath on 07 Sep 1974.

#indian army #joshimath #fauji #fauji life

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readbeneaththelines · 5 years ago

Text

Repentance Pt. 7

Please read all warnings!

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: suspense (is that even a warning?)

Word Count: 2394

Jimin was a skilled hitman in one of Gwangju’s notorious Mafia families. When tragedy struck him personally, he began to regret his lifestyle. He was haunted in his dreams by the lives he took and the families he destroyed. Setting a plan into action that would change everything, he went into hiding. Can a mysterious young woman who showed up at his hideaway doorstep convince him to change his mind?

WARNING: THIS FIC HAS MENTIONS OF SUICIDE. IF THIS IS A TRIGGER, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. ALSO IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS, AS IT IS NSFW. DON’T THINK WE WON’T KNOW IF YOU DID, WE HAVE OUR WAYS

mmmmmm!! sweaty hot Jimin! cr. to gif owner

“It’s a deal. But you have to put in the effort too. You can’t fight me at every turn. Promise me.”

“I promise” Jimin walked away from the closet and sat back down on the bed. Lifting the covers, he crawled back in and immediately wrapped you in his arms.

��This is the first thing that proves you have changed. Letting someone get close to you.” You peered up at him through damp lashes.

“That’s not fair, I wasn't ready for that.” He laughed lightly into your hair before pressing his lips to your head.

“Hey. I got pull out all the stops. I have something riding on this deal.” you smiled at him as he gave you a quizzical look.

“What’s that?”

“You.” you kissed his jaw, then closed your eyes, sleep overcoming you in mere minutes.

Morning came to quickly, and you were awakened by the aroma of food cooking. Getting out of bed, you walked to the kitchen, watching him cook as he hummed a tune. You leaned against the door frame, smiling to yourself when he turned around and saw you.

“Morning sleepyhead. Breakfast is ready. Go have a seat.” You took a seat on the couch, thanking him for the food when he handed it to you. “I was thinking that since we have another week here, we need to get some more food. How, I don’t know yet. I can hunt for some meat, and there is a creek near here that I can get some water from. As for the other stuff we may need, we’ll either have to do without or figure out a way to get them.”

You were suddenly consumed with worry. You hoped that he wasn’t planning on going into town. You were being searched for, and who knew if he was on a list now or not with being gone for so long already. Plus you didn’t have a phone and his was shut off. The generator was getting low on fuel too. That would mean that you were going to have to rely on good old fashioned wood for fire and and heating water for baths. The water supply would get low too if there wasn’t any rain coming soon.

“You can hunt for meat, I can search around here for wild berries and nuts. We need to bring some wood in to dry.” you were rambling off thoughts as he just sat back and watched you take over. A bemused smile crossed his lips and you paused when you caught it.

“What’s so funny?” You cocked your head, smiling back at him as you looked at the little wrinkles that came up around his eyes as he smiled.

“Just laughing at you. Taking over like every other woman. It’s amusing, that’s all.” He sat up leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. “We need to get gas for the generator. If we have a fire in here, someone will be sure to see the smoke. The less to attract attention to us, the better. I can go at night, when I’m less likely to be noticed.”

“Jimin, you can’t go into town! They are probably still looking for me. On top of that, they may be looking for you too. We will just have to mae do with what we have here.” You looked around the small cabin. There wasn’t much space, so it might be possible to stay warm without a fire for a week.

“I have kerosene in the storage shed out back for the lanterns and lights. The generator has another day, two tops, of gas left. After that, we won’t have much to keep things warm.”

“We have each other.” Your smile tugged at his heart. He hoped you weren’t getting your hopes up, but he didn’t want to bring you down.

“Yeah, we do. But, after the generator goes out, how are we going to cook any food? “ You came and joined him at the small table. He was right, without the generator, your diets would be drastically dwindled. Mulling the choices over, you had come to the conclusion that a diet of berries and nuts was, literally, for the birds. Jimin watched as your expressions changed, almost as fast as traffic changed lanes on a speeding highway. First he recognized curiosity, the contemplation, then finally disgust.

“Y/N, I really need to go into town. I promise that I will be safe. You have to remember, hiding is part of my job, or at least was.” the way his eyes closed to the memories had you aching physically. You want to wrap your arms around him and tell him that is was going to be okay. That what he did, he did because of survival. You longed to tell him that, even with his past, he was a good person at his core.

“I still think we can make do without you risking getting seen. You owe me a week, Jimin.I am not going to let you run the chance of getting out of our deal. We will be fine after the generator goes out. We are in the woods, there is cover here. We can fish, gather nut and berries. We can cook over a small fire.” You were on a tangent, and no signs of stopping. Jimin placed his hand over yours on the table. You sighed deeply, your head lifting to meet his eyes looking at you.

“If it really bothers you that much, then I won’t go. We will figure everything out.” He let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. How is it that a stranger could change his plans in such a short time? How is it that you, with those soft lips and doe like eyes that were currently staring back at him, make his resolve waiver? Didn’t he deserve the same fate he dealt his victims?

He knew what his wife would of told him.

Jimin, you deserve the best life has to offer. You deserve to be happy.

“We had better get things going. We have less than two days to gather, prep, and cook as much as we can for when the power goes out.” He stood up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. You followed suit, rising to your feet. You watched as he placed his gun in his back pocket, grabbed the hunting knife from the counter and headed for the door. Grabbing the handle, he turned to you.

“Don’t leave this cabin, under any circumstance. Do you understand? Lock the door behind me. If I am not back by dark, there is a hidden hideout. The opening is under the couch. Take a lantern and get in there.” He pointed to the couch, and you had to stoop down to see where he was directing you.

“What if you don’t come back? How long am I supposed to stay in there until I know for sure your not coming back?” The look of desperation etched in your features made him want to pull you close in his arms.

“I will be back, what I told you is just for ‘in case’ im late. I’m just going hunting for some meat to make into jerky while we still have the stove. Lock the door, Y/N. Don’t answer for anyone.” He waited for you to join him at the door. He ran his knuckles over your cheek, trying anything to calm you down.

“How will you get back in?” You leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation in case it would be the last.

“Don’t worry about that, okay. Just do things around her to get prepared. Chop of vegetables, was clothes in the sink, just something to take your mind off of worrying.” With that, he turned the handle and was out the door. You quickly locked both deadbolt locks then turned to look around. You had plenty to do and, hopefully he was right, it would occupy your mind long enough until he returned.

You brewed some coffee in the french press, savoring the warmth it gave you. The nights were beginning to cool down, beckoning to the arrival of Autumn. You gazed out the window wondering which direction Jimin had headed. You remember there being a small creek to the left of the cabin you had passed coming there that first night. You mind recalled the past few days. In such a short time, you had become fond of Jimin. After a few hours of initial hours of despising him, he finally dropped his tough act and allowed you a glimpse of who he really was.

You took your coffee and went into the small bedroom. Checking out the small wound on your side, you removed the dressing then took a quick shower. You hurried as fast as you could, not wanting to waste too much water. Redressing the healing wound, you rummaged through Jimin’s closet, in search of something to wear. You found a white T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants in a duffle bag. Slipping the clothes on, you had to chuckle to yourself. You had to pull the drawstring tight to keep his pants from falling off your hips. The shirt fit loosely, making you look even smaller than you already were. Tying a knot at the hem, you set about straightening up the bedroom first.

After you picked up dirty clothes and made the bed, you took the clothes to the kitchen and set them on the floor by the sink. You cleaned the dishes from breakfast, drying them and putting them back the cabinets. You then filled the sink up with hot water, setting the dirty clothes in. You used the castile soap to wash them best you could. Once all of the articles were washed and rinsed, you headed for the back door to hang them to dry. Peering out through the small window, you made sure no one was around. You stepped out into the sun, the warmth enveloping you in its light. You laid out the clothes on the railing of the small porch. You gave yourself a few moments to enjoy the feel of being outside. The air was heating up, the aroma of nature filled your nostrils. Scanning your surroundings, you ventured out a few feet into the woods, eyes focused on the ground for anything that could be edible. Untying your shirt, you gathered some berries in the makeshift pouch. Heading back inside, you laid them out on the counter, popping one in your mouth. It was sweet and a bit tart. You savored the juices that swirled around your tongue.

The day was past halfway over, and still no sign of Jimin returning. You willed yourself not to start worrying, yet. You sat on the small couch, pulling your feet under you. You wondered how Jimin could stand being here alone. The silence set your nerves on end, your fear making you jump with any sound from outside. With each minute that passed, your fear heightened.

After another hour passed, you noticed the sun was starting to descend. The couch you were sitting on was over the hidden safeplace. Getting up slowly, you strained to listen to the sounds coming through the thin windows. There was no evidence of Jimin, so you rose from the couch. Leaning down, you put your hands on the front of the couch, pushing it backwards. You took your time, moving an inch at a time. Clearing the distance, you rolled back the worn rug. You had to look hard, but you finally spotted what you were looking for. Hidden among the hard dirt and wooden planks, there was a dip. Sweeping away the dirt, you noticed a dark metal latch. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw the sunlight had faded into dusk. Rushing to the small table, you picked up one of the lanterns, flicking the power button on to test if it worked. Satisfied when it immediately turned on, you carried back. Lifting the makeshift door, you lowered the lantern down, seeing that there was enough space for, at the most, three people. Setting your light on the dirt floor, you reached back through the opening, you pulled the rug back over, letting it hang over the raised door. Lowering it all the way down, you settled down, pushing your back against the cold dirt wall. You placed the lantern between your legs, dimming the already pale light. Time went by at a snail’s pace, the seconds ticking away one by one. You were startled by the sound of the front door rattling, the two deadbolts holding it closed tightly. There was quiet, then the sound of the back door being jostled.

Shit!

You suddenly recalled that you didn’t lock the back door again after you placed the clothes outside. You immediately turned the lantern off, the darkness engulfing you in a shroud. Heavy footfalls echoed overhead, a shiver running down your spine as you covered you mouth to muffle your breathing. The footsteps halted but you couldn’t tell where the person was in the space above. A few moments later, they began again, first getting more distant then coming nearer. You held your breath, time standing still as you heard the footsteps come directly above you. Your lungs burned and ached, begging for your body to give them relief. You exhaled slowly, inhaling sharply through your nose in an effort to make less noise. There was a sound of something raking across the floor above. A rattle of the door made you bite hard into you bottom lip, a metallic taste in your mouth telling you that you had drawn blood. Tears formed, blurring your vision. Your body shook, your racing heart beating audibly in your ears. You kept your eyes fixated overhead, no visible sign of light along the perimeter of the opening. You heard a light thud, suspecting it to be the rug being throw back. A sweeping sound drifted into the small space you occupied, goosebumps making the hairs on your arms and at the back of your head stand on end. Without a warning, the door was flung open, a dark figure crouched over and looking in. You screamed out, unable to contain the terror that filled you.

“No!”

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi@holy-yoongi@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518@rosiemilas @karri570

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#jimin x reader #jimin fic #jimin angst #jimin smut #au!jimin

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