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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too�� everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ”

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

#childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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house-of-laminations · 3 years ago

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I'm the anon that ranted abt their demon forms and I'm gonna just. Expand a little.

Okay, so, Lucifer's demon form- when feathers are damaged, especially if they are burned, the bones can survive this damage and become very sharp and painful. I've gotten cut by damaged owl wings before. Not to mention, wings are incredibly powerful muscles- the damage his wings could do, as well as easily being used for protection. The ridges on his horns are probably VERY sharp as well, like if you slide your finger along its edge it draws blood.

The finger boning on Mammon's wings definitely are like porcupine quills- they cut through and create more internal damage. The thumb bone, though, is like a dagger, just sharp. Mammon's horns are probably like curled double-edged sword- thick in the middle but thins out to a razor's edge on each side, and it just spirals upward.

Levi's horns definitely are rough- formed like coral, sharp and dangerous, and when they drag against your skin it just shreds it. His tail is smooth, though, which I'm kinda disappointed in (though I understand why). But I wonder if he could do like the spotted trunkfish and produce like a toxin on the skin of his tail? Maybe it's toxic to other demons but has a different effect on humans?

Satan's tail I've already talked about, but his horns are probably VERY similar to Lucifer's, but I feel like the tip would be less dull than Lucifer's (and he makes sure it stays that way)

Asmodeus' horns are definitely smooth on the inside but serrated on the outside edge. And his wings are definitely a weapon too. Those curved tips could probably catch and drag, too.

Beelzebub's horns are rough, but I think they are more for protection than fighting. His wings are definitely razor-sharp though, the sharpest out of all his brother's because they are very delicate and need to be able to cut easily.

Belphegor's horns are like Beel's, used for protection. But his tail, oof. It seems very soft, but it is like thorns laid on the tail. Also have you been hit by a cow tail's switch? It. Hurts. Now imagine it's finely serrated.

Okay that's all for now!

yes I love this so much 💛

I've been talking with @demonfamilytherapist and @elsecrytt about the ability to regrow certain demon parts - and the idea of their horns growing but also snapping off is such an interesting one in light of how you describe these differences.

I agree with all of these but it also raises the question of why? Why do they have all these features in their demonic forms? From what we've seen, their 'prey' is lesser demons and human souls - none of which require the rending ability all of these features.

So either there is much, much larger and more dangerous prey out there (presumably angels - which does bring into question how fucked up angels are if the Avatars are Like That in order to survive) or-

Demons are prey themselves and have evolved these in order to survive.

#idk im not a biologist i could be way off #ignore me making an even bigger bad out there. a predator that hunts apex predators etc etc...#obey me #obey me headcanons #i talk to a real human

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c-e-d-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Fire and Ice Day for @nessianweek Yes, I just wanted an excuse to write more hockey player Cassian. No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time. Follow up to this drabble. Hope you enjoy! :)

Nesta steps out of the English building, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. The lecture hall had been stifling, and the way Professor Matthews had droned on and on about Chekhov had her desperate for the class to end. She cuts across the Commons, heading toward the library, when she hears heavy footsteps fall in beside her. She doesn't need to look to know who they belong to.

"So about that dinner," Cassian starts.

"I don't actually recall agreeing to it."

"Well, how else am I supposed to thank you for being there in my time of concussion need?"

"You don't need to thank me. Maybe I was just hoping to see if a good thwack to your head would finally fix it. Clearly, it didn't."

"Sadly, all it did was make my two working brain cells become just one," Cassian says, putting on his best solemn tone.

The comment pulls a surprised laugh out of Nesta, and when she turns her head to look at Cassian, his smile is wide and his eyes are bright. She swears she can almost see pride swimming in those flecks of gold that make up his hazel eyes.

"So what time should I pick you up?"

Nesta doesn't respond. She merely rolls her eyes with a scoff and continues toward the library. That is until Cassian uses his long strides to step in front of her, effectively cutting her path off.

"What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity?"

"So 6:00 then?"

Nesta takes a moment to take Cassian in. He still has that cocky grin that never seems to leave splashed across his face. But she doesn't miss the way he fidgets, running a hand through his tangle of dark curls, nor does she miss the nervous pinch around his eyes. She supposes she could go for a good meal, and while Cassian most definitely gets under her skin, he's not the worst company.

"I have to meet with my group for our psychology project. 7:00?"

"Deal."

The smile on Cassian's face pulls even wider, and Nesta's pretty sure the only thing keeping him from actually cheering is the way he clenches his fists at his side. It's endearing, and Nesta bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile tampered down.

"Well, see you then," Nesta says, starting back toward her original destination of the library.

"Wear something nice, yeah?" Cassian calls after her.

Nesta flips him off over her shoulder at the comment, and Cassian's booming laughter follows her all the way across the Commons.

Luckily, meeting with the students in her group project isn't too migraine inducing. They divvy up the work and all agree on who will take which slides. When she makes it back to her dorm, she pulls a black dress out and gets started on her makeup.

At 7:00 on the dot, there's a knock at her door. She quickly slips on her heels before pulling it open, Cassian waiting on the other side. The way that Cassian's mouth drops open and the awed way he whispers, "holy shit," has a blush creeping in and settling on Nesta's cheeks.

"You clean up nice," she notes.

And he does. Cassian has on a button down, the sleeves rolled up slightly, the tanned skin of his forearms and the ink that swirls against it on full display. Both the shirt and the black slacks he's wearing are form fitting, showing off the athletic cut to his body, years of skating having done wonders for honing the muscles. And while Cassian's dark curls are loose against his shoulders, Nesta can tell he's put product in it.

Nesta waits for Cassian to make some sort of quip back after her comment, maybe for him to even comment on her, but he just continues to stare like he can't believe she's actually real. She tries not to focus on the fact that look has her heart beating double time in her chest, or the fact that warmth settles through her whole body. Instead, Nesta just rolls her eyes and steps fully into the hall, closing her door behind her. The sound seems to jolt Cassian back to reality, who blinks hard before his eyes focus properly on Nesta's own.

"Wait," he says. "Bring your skates."

"My skates?" Nesta asks confusedly. "I thought we were going to dinner?"

"We are, but bring them."

"Why?"

"Just bring them."

Nesta sighs, clearly not getting a straight answer out of him. But she heads back inside, stuffing a heavy pair of socks into her skates. She steps into the hall, skates in hand, and raises a pointed eyebrow as if to ask, 'happy?' Cassian's just answers with a wide grin.

Cassian leads Nesta down to his truck, and she's surprised when he drives them to one of the higher end chophouses downtown. Dinner is good and the conversation flows easily between them. Cassian even asks Nesta about her current book and actually looks genuinely interested as she explains it. Although, his smirk is infuriating as she tries to subtly skip over the more… scandalous parts.

After dinner, they clamber back into Cassian's truck, and Nesta's brow pinches in confusion as they pull into the rink parking lot. This explains the skate request. When Nesta looks over at Cassian, his eyes are already on her. Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, his eyes look extra golden, but Nesta doesn't miss the mischievous glint swimming in them.

"I'm not exactly dressed for skating," Nesta points out, glancing down at her dress as if to prove her point.

"Says who?"

"I'm serious."

Rather than respond, Cassian just reaches back into the backseat of his truck, producing one of the hockey team sweatshirts, which he holds out toward Nesta. Nesta hesitates for only a moment before she's pulling it on over her dress. It's clearly too big on her, but the fabric is soft and the scent of fabric softener and Cassian fills her senses.

When they get inside, the Friday night public skate is still in full swing, families and awkward high school dates milling about on the ice and in the lobby. In their attire, Nesta is sure that she and Cassian must stick out like sore thumbs. They walk up to the reception desk, and Nesta expects Cassian to ask for two passes for the public skate, but instead he and the rink staffer share a pointed look and then a key is being slid inconspicuously into Cassian's hand. Before Nesta can even start to ask what that means, Cassian is grabbing her hand, pulling her down the hall, past the locker rooms and snack bar. His eyes quickly dart around before he slides the key into the right side of the double doors, tugging Nesta inside and flipping on the lights.

"The tiny-ass practice rink?" Nesta asks, looking around.

"Bal owes me a favor," Cassian explains, pocketing the key.

Cassian grabs Nesta's hand again and leads her around to the benches. They each take their time trading their shoes for skates before stepping out onto the ice.

There's something about the way ice feels under her feet that calms Nesta in a way nothing else can. The cutting sound of her skates against it is like music to her ears. She glides easily to center ice, taking a deep breath and letting the cold welcome her into its embrace. She feels Cassian's presence behind her, warm hands settling on her hips.

"You know you look better in this sweatshirt than I ever did," he says, voice pitched low.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Nesta counters, turning around to face Cassian. "It's not my fault even hockey things look better on figure skaters."

"Big words coming from someone who needs a toe pick to stop."

"That's not what a toe pick is for."

"How about a race then? To settle things."

"Fine."

They both skate over to the goal line, getting into their starting positions. Cassian counts them in with a ‘ready, set, go,’ and then they’re off, sprinting down the ice. Nesta’s hair whips past her face, the cool rink air rushing along her cheeks, as she pushes her legs to go faster and faster still. Cassian crosses the other goal line first, an icy spray flying up as he stops hard before the boards. Nesta stops beside him, crossing her arms as she takes in his wide smirk.

"You totally cheated."

"What? I did not."

"You have longer legs. It's an unfair advantage."

"Sounds like excuses to me. Just admit it. Hockey players are better."

"Are they? Could a hockey player do this?"

Nesta pushes off the boards and settles easily into her stride. A swing of her leg and a push of her foot and she's up in the air, pulling her arms in tight as she twists and twists around. Her feet land back on the ice and she glides out of the move gracefully. When her eyes land back on Cassian, his own are wide and awed as he watches her. But then his eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest.

“Who’s cheating now?”

“Fine. Something simple then.”

Nesta jumps and does a single twist, holding her arms out when she lands and raising an eyebrow toward Cassian in challenge. His eyes stay narrowed on her, but he pushes off the boards, settling into a stride toward center ice.

“How hard can it be,” Cassian mutters.

Cassian skates a few circles, clearly trying to walk himself through the move, trying to hype himself up. Nesta has to bite the inside of her cheek while she waits. After a few moments, he throws himself into the air, spinning around once. His skates land back on the ice, and for a moment, Nesta is about to be impressed, but then his left foot is slipping out from under him. He falls ass-first onto the ice with a loud ‘oof.’

Nesta can’t help the loud laugh that tears its way out of her chest. She tries to press a hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her whole body shakes with it. When she finally calms down and finds Cassian's stare again, his face is marred with an unimpressed frown.

“I’m so glad my pain brings you joy,” Cassian says sarcastically before holding his arms up toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me up?”

“No.”

Nesta realizes she’s made a mistake. A slow smirk slides across Cassian’s face and even from across the rink, there’s no missing the mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Nesta can even blink, Cassian is on his feet and charging toward her across the ice. The rink is small with nowhere to go, so soon Nesta finds herself cornered back against the boards, Cassian’s arms bracketing her in on either side.

Cassian opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it gets lost along the way, and instead he just stares. This close up, Nesta can see the greens hidden in his hazel eyes, the way they flicker under the rink lights. Cassian’s eyes drop down to her lips before settling back on her eyes, and Nesta’s heart does a little flip in her chest.

"Can I kiss you?"

"What if I say no?"

Cassian leans in closer, and Nesta can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips, is sure that he can feel the way the breath hitches in her throat.

"Say no, then," Cassian whispers.

The silence hangs between them for only a second before Cassian closes the distance, pressing his lips to Nesta’s. Nesta practically melts into it, pressing closer as their lips slot and slide against one another. One of Cassian’s hands comes up to bracket her jaw, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist. She can feel the way he sighs against her lips, the deep groan in his chest as the kiss deepens.

"Hey, why are the lights on back here?"

They break apart at the sudden voice, Cassian taking Nesta’s hand and tugging her down so they’re hidden behind the boards and out of sight. They can hear the footsteps of the rink staffer walking around, and Nesta turns to glare at Cassian.

"I swear, if we end up arrested because of you…"

"Don't worry. I'd never let that happen. We're both too pretty for jail."

#my fic #acotar #nessianweek2021 #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

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svchengss · 4 years ago

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king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Text

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?”

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat.

Not to mention, the knife at his neck.

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways.

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying.

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself.

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears.

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.”

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard.

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him.

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked.

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it.

Right. The explosion.

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve.

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else.

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back.

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken.

You pull your knife away from him.

Nothing happens.

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials.

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut.

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s.

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up.

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm.

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind.

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do.

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession.

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak -

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when -

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge.

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?”

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either.

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…”

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist.

“I’m (Name).”

#first #five #tags #dont #work #san #san fluff #san angst #ateez san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut

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earliebirb · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I hope you are having a nice day. If you're taking any asks, may I request for a cuddly needy Steve insisting on being close to Tony all the time. Like not letting him out of bed in the morning or making Tony sit on his lap during movie nights. That kinda stuff. Please, please consider writing this one. Thank you!

Hello, Anon. Thank you for the prompt. Cuddly and needy Steve is my favorite.

Have some tooth-rotting fluff in honor of my birthday! 🎂🥳🎉

keep me warm

steve/tony, fluff, established relationship, 4015 words

Steve will take any and every opportunity to touch and be as physically close as possible to his husband, thank you very much.

(Or, five times Steve demonstrates that physical touch is very much his love language and one time Tony seeks him out for it.)

(1)

Tony wakes to the sunlight shining in his face. He groans, instinctively hiding his face back in his pillow. The light feels too warm and bright for early morning sun and a quick glance at the digital clock sitting on his nightstand confirms his suspicions: It’s ten minutes to eleven.

Upon seeing the date and time on the clock, the first thought that crosses his mind is of the numerous tasks he has to finish that day. He sighs a long, drawn-out, and heavy sigh. He hasn’t been feeling his best for the past few days and he has the horrifying suspicion that even his ultra-workaholic self is teetering on the edge of a full-fledged burnout. Between SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers, he has no shortage of work to do. This is definitely not the time for burnout. His only saving grace for the day is the fact that Pepper has allowed him to come in the afternoon.

Closing his eyes, he relishes the brief yet sweet escape from reality, pretending just for a few moments that his day is blissfully empty. The work seems never-ending. The only reason he is in bed at all is because Steve had coaxed Tony to come to bed, complaining about how cold he was and steadfastly refusing to sleep without Tony in his arms.

After a few minutes, he resigns himself to the harsh reality of a busy day and moves to roll out of bed. Except the minute he tries to do so, his body moves further back toward the center of the bed instead of the opposite. Tony blinks at the arm tucked firmly around his middle. A warm weight is plastered against his back, a puff of breath tickling his ear.

“Steve?”

He gets a short hum in reply, rising at the end in intonation.

“It’s eleven.”

Tony gets another sleepy hum and Steve burrows closer, the cold tip of his nose tucked behind Tony’s ear.

“Why are you still in bed? Did you come back to bed after your run?”

A quiet sigh, and then Steve’s gravelly voice is in Tony’s ear: “Never went.”

“What? Why?”

“Missed you.”

Tony’s lips quirk up into a small smile without his permission. “I never went anywhere, baby.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Sorry, honey. Work gets crazy this time of the year.”

Steve hums again, lips resting against the back of Tony’s neck.

“And I’m really sorry, baby, but I have to go. More work awaits.”

“No,” Steve mutters decisively, throwing a leg over Tony’s body and pulling him in.

Tony snorts, amused. “No?”

“No work. You’re mine for the day,” Steve grumbles, arm curling tighter around Tony’s stomach.

Tony strokes the arm Steve has around him soothingly. “Pepper’s going to have my head if I don’t check off at least half the things on my to-do-list today. You want your husband to stay alive, don’t you?”

“I’ve told Pepper to give you the day off.”

“You told Pepper to give me the day off? And she agreed, just like that?”

There is a period of silence, and then:

“There may have been… some flowers involved. And some cupcakes and… bagels sent to her office, along with a—” Steve breaks off to yawn. “A very sweet and carefully worded handwritten note.”

Tony pauses. Then he gasps.

Turning around in Steve’s arms to take a proper look at him, the ends of Tony’s lips are tugged upwards in a disbelieving grin.

“Did you— Did Captain America commit an act of bribery?”

Steve frowns, squinting at Tony, sleep still heavy in his eyes. “It wasn’t bribery. It was… a gesture of appreciation.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. Steve stares back at him.

Eventually, Steve sighs in defeat. Tony’s grin widens.

“Fine,” Steve grumbles, shuffling closer to bury his face in Tony’s chest, “it was bribery.”

Tony chuckles, running his fingers through Steve’s soft blond locks.

“Captain. What would the people say?”

When Steve speaks, his muffled voice comes out rough and near incoherent, speech slurred groggily. “Captain America condemns bribery.” He lets out a content sigh, body melting further into Tony’s. “Steven Stark-Rogers, on the other hand, is not above bribery to get his husband a much-needed day off.”

Tony grins helplessly at his husband’s unfairly adorable antics, leaning down to nuzzle the top of Steve’s head fondly.

“What a menace you are, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

His husband lets out another noncommittal hum that Tony feels against the bare skin of his chest.

“Go back to sleep, Mr. Stark-Rogers,” Steve mumbles. Tony closes his eyes obediently, slipping back into slumber with ease, a smile on his lips and a newfound lightness in his bones.

(2)

The sun is shining brightly up in the clear blue sky. The farmers market is bustling with life, with people visiting various tents stationed along the long stretch of road, each offering a variety of fresh produce as well as various finger foods and cold beverages.

The road is also lined by trees on either side, their towering height allowing their leaves and branches to form a natural canopy high up above, effectively shielding people from the sun’s scorching heat. There is even a gentle summer breeze that blows every now and then.

All in all, it’s a wonderful summer day, perfect for an outdoor date.

Now, if only Tony’s husband would stop ruining the day by being a stubborn bastard.

“Steve, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?”

“Give me a bag!”

“You have a bag.” Steve nods at the bag of red apples Tony is carrying.

Of course, that is nothing compared to the four bags of produce Steve is carrying. He even refuses to distribute the weight evenly between his two hands, insisting on carrying all four bags with one hand and using his other hand to hold Tony’s instead. He tries to reach around Steve in an attempt to grab one of the bags, grunting in frustration when Steve moves the bags beyond his reach. “Steve, your arm’s going to fall off. Just— Give some to me.”

“Tony, your shoulder just barely healed.”

“It’s completely healed. It’s fine, Steve. Just—”

Tony reaches for the bags again only for Steve to catch his arm and bring it back down. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. I’m a supersoldier.”

“You do not get to pull the supersoldier card right now.”

“Why not?”

“Steven, let me hold some of the bags.”

“You want something to hold? Fine, I’ll give you something to hold.”

Steve reaches for Tony’s arm and secures it around his own waist. Tony glares up at his husband and removes his arm from said waist with a sigh.

“Come on—”

Letting out an abrupt grunt and doubling over dramatically, Steve clutches his own waist and fakes a pained expression. “Oh, why is my waist suddenly so heavy?”

“Steve, that doesn’t even make any sense—”

“Oh, God. So, so heavy. If only my husband were around to help me hold it—”

Tony rolls his eyes, slipping his arm back around Steve’s waist.

Pulling Tony closer so that he is pressed flush against his side, Steve beams at him, smile bright as the sun. “I feel a lot better now. Thank you.”

He leans down to kiss the tip of Tony’s nose. Tony wrinkles his nose, but he is determined to not let his glare falter.

“Ugh, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

(3)

“Tony.”

Steve’s face falls the second he sees Tony walking into the study. Somehow, Steve has managed to infuse an impressive amount of frustration into the two syllables making up Tony’s name.

Tony freezes after having taken a few steps into the room, wide eyes blinking in bewilderment and a mug of hot tea in his hand. He racks his brain to figure out whatever sin he has committed to make Steve’s face crumple up like that—sandy brows furrowed and the edges of his lip tugged down into a displeased frown.

Coming up with nothing, he pads over quietly to the desk and sets the mug of Steve’s afternoon tea down on an empty space between a wooden penholder and a Stark Industries memo pad. Looking up at Tony from his seat in the plush leather office chair, Steve’s frown deepens.

Tony takes a few steps backward, hands raised in surrender.

“Whatever it is I did wrong, I’m sorry, and it’s one hundred percent my fault. Look, I even brought you a peace offering. A cup of tea to make you feel all warm and cozy?” Tony flashes him a wide, placating grin, gesturing to the mug sitting on the desk. Never mind that Tony has been bringing Steve his tea everyday for years now.

Not even sparing a glance at the mug of steaming English Breakfast, Steve stands up wordlessly.

Slowly, Steve begins walking toward him, eyes on Tony and frown still in place.

“What? I said I’m sorry.”

Steve continues to walk toward him and Tony continues to walk backward until he feels his back hitting the wall.

“Honey, please—”

Slumping forward, Steve buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck with a grunt, hands coming to rest on Tony’s waist.

“...Honey?”

“How am I supposed to get any work done if you walk around the house dressed like this?” Steve whines.

“What—” Tony blinks, looking down at his own attire—or rather, the lack thereof. Having just woken up from a nap, he is dressed only in his boxer briefs. A laugh bubbles up his throat, his entire body shaking with it. “Steven.”

“Don’t you ‘Steven’ me,” Steve grumbles.

“I don’t walk like this around the house all the time. I just woke up, honey.” Tony chuckles, hand coming up to bury his fingers in Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. “Go and finish your paperwork.”

“You can’t expect me to get any work done after seeing you like this,” Steve says, almost mournfully, nuzzling the delicate spot under Tony’s ear and sending a shiver down Tony’s spine.

“Shut up, you sweet talker. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Also, you have to finish your paperwork. We have dinner plans, remember?”

“Can we cancel dinner?” Steve asks hopefully. He runs his index finger along the boxer briefs’ elastic waistband and Tony squirms, ever ticklish.

“We can’t, darling,” Tony says, soft and apologetic even as he grins. “We’ve cancelled on Carol and honeybear twice already. They’ll kill us if we cancel on them again, especially if the only reason we’re doing it is because you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Your fault for walking around naked.”

“I’m not naked.”

“I can get you naked.” Steve slips his thumbs under the waistband and Tony grabs his wrists, stopping him before things can truly escalate.

“Nope,” Tony says with a breathless giggle, squeezing his eyes shut and resolutely ignoring the delicious curl of heat in the pit of his stomach. “Dinner plans.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh, stepping back with a pout. “I hate it when you’re being responsible.”

The sight brings a fond smile to Tony’s face and he hooks his fingers under Steve’s chin to drag him into a soft, languid kiss.

“Please,” Tony says before planting another kiss on his husband’s jawline, “you love me.”

“I do, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, blue eyes gazing down at him softly. “I really, really do.”

(4)

When Tony walks into the art studio and sees the floor littered with paintings of different shapes and sizes, he whistles.

“Look at you go, Picasso.”

Steve turns to him, brush in hand, face lighting up like a Christmas tree. There’s a streak of blue paint across his cheek that Tony is tempted not to tell him about.

“Picasso?” The sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the studio illuminates the entire room. From the doorway, Steve’s blond hair gleams golden.

Tony winces as he steps into the room. “Sorry, did I miss the mark completely? Art’s always been more of Pepper’s thing.” Steve grins, easy and bright. “I know.”

Over the years, Pepper and Steve have cultivated a monthly routine of sorts. They have a standing date—sans Tony—whenever Pepper comes over to visit. Bonding over Tony’s antics and the intricacies of fine art, they get along pretty well, much to Tony’s surprise and delight.

Tony tiptoes cautiously around the studio, taking extra care not to step on any of the paintings Steve has laid out to dry. When seen from up above, the wooden floor of the studio would probably look like some rendition of abstract art, the vibrant colors on the different paintings lying on it coming together to form another picture altogether.

He finally manages to make his way to where Steve is sitting, stationed in front of an easel carrying a piece of stretched canvas which has been painted with streaks of red and gold. He looks around and frowns at Steve. “There’s no place to sit. There’s barely any place to stand.”

Steve looks around to confirm Tony’s observation and laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, guess I got carried away.”

The art studio is always in some state of disarray and it drives Tony up the wall sometimes, if he were being honest.

“But there’s always a place for you to sit, sweetheart,” Steve croons, voice all soft and honey sweet. He curls an arm around Tony’s waist and draws him closer, fingers stained with dried paint of different colors resting on the small of his back. Steve nuzzles his stomach and plants a feather-light kiss on the spot just below his sternum. He looks up at Tony with a child-like grin. “Come sit on my lap?”

“Sap,” Tony remarks, but proceeds to sit down sideways on Steve’s lap, his legs perpendicular to Steve’s. Spotting the smears of colorful paint staining the floor and the painting supplies scattered all around the studio, Tony clucks his tongue in disapproval. “You know this is going to take forever to clean up, right?”

Steve’s grin widens and he starts trailing kisses along the column of Tony’s neck. “Maybe this was all part of an elaborate plan to get you to sit on my lap.”

Tony snorts.

“I highly doubt that.”

(5)

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” Tony’s eyes are glued to his armor as he circles it to inspect the damage from all angles, the suit looking slightly worse for wear. Nothing that a little tinkering and a new paint job won’t fix, but the real problem lies within. He had experienced a brief glitch with his right repulsor mid-battle and he is hoping that he will be able to pinpoint the source of the problem immediately after JARVIS finishes running diagnostics.

“Come here for a second?”

Tony walks to where Steve is lying down on the workshop couch, long legs stretched out comfortably along its length. He beckons Tony closer.

“Come here, I need to tell you something,” he whispers, like someone who is about to divulge a monumental secret.

Tony bends down obediently. Steve reaches up to cup Tony’s cheeks in his hands, leaning close until their noses are brushing against each other.

“You look really good in a tank top.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth jerks upward in an amused smile. “You just called me over to say that?”

“Well, no. I also wanted to do this.” Steve promptly hooks his arms and legs around Tony and pulls him down.

Letting out a surprised yelp, Tony lands on top of Steve’s body. Steve grins smugly before tilting his head to growl playfully in his ear. “Caught you. You’re trapped now. Good luck escaping.”

Tony tests Steve’s hold. Steve’s limbs tighten their hold in response. Hiding a smile in Steve’s chest even as he sighs, Tony says:

“Steven, darling, love of my life. As much as I’m enjoying this, I’m afraid that my broken armor isn’t going to fix itself.”

“Shhh,” Steve whispers into his hair, “you look tired. You deserve a break.”

“Baby—”

“Okay, okay. And maybe, I just wanted to hold my husband for a moment. Can we stay like this for a while? Give me one minute.” Steve plants a kiss on the top of his head. “Please?”

“...Okay. One minute. Start the countdown.”

“Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…” Steve begins.

Tony allows himself the luxury of melting into Steve’s arms, relishing the way the solid warmth of Steve’s hold squeezes the tension out of his own muscles.

“Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight…” Steve’s warm breath tickles Tony’s forehead as he continues to count down.

“Forty, thirty-nine, thirty-eight…” Eyes closed, Tony focuses on Steve’s voice and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

They stay like that for a while, both of them calm and content, Steve’s hushed voice counting down the seconds the only sound in the room. Time passes by slowly and too quickly at the same time, and the next thing Tony knows, Steve has reached the final ten seconds.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…”

Then Steve turns quiet. Tony waits, but when Steve doesn’t continue the countdown, he looks up. His husband is already gazing at him, face looking deceitfully innocent.

“Honey?”

“Hm?” Steve says distractedly as he caresses Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb.

“You stopped counting.”

“Oh. Did I?” Steve asks, still maintaining his ridiculous charade. “Sorry, sweetheart. You know how forgetful I am.” His thumb migrates down to Tony’s bottom lip, as does the gaze of his blue eyes. “I am a centenarian, after all. My memory is just not what it used to be.”

Tony sighs fondly. “Continue the count, please.”

“Will do, sweetheart.” Steve smiles. “Thirty…”

“Five.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You stopped at five.”

“I did?” Steve’s smile widens, leaning forward to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss.

“I know what you’re doing,” Tony says against Steve’s lips.

When Steve leans back, his face is all confusion. His blue eyes, however, are teeming with mischief. “And what is it that I’m doing? I told you, sweetheart, I’m just a very forgetful person.”

Tony rolls his eyes before resting his head back on Steve’s chest.

“Let’s go, soldier.” He pats the side of Steve’s thigh. “Start with five.”

“Sir, yes, Sir. Five, four, three and a half, three…”

“What the—”

“Two and a half, two…”

Tony pokes him in the side.

“One and three-quarters…”

Giving up, Tony breaks into laughter. “Honey.”

“One and a half, one and a quarter, and…”

“Uno. Okay, good job, Captain. Let me go now.” Tony tries to wriggle his way out of Steve’s hold, but Steve’s limbs remain unyielding.

“Shhh. Zero,” Steve whispers. And then:

“Minus one…”

“Steve, no!”

Laughing gleefully, Steve finally releases Tony. “Okay, okay. I’m letting go.”

Tony extricates himself from Steve’s hold. Steve glides his fingers along Tony’s arm as he does—determined to get his fill of physical contact until the very last second—and it ends with him catching Tony’s wrist just before Tony is about to stand.

His warm blue eyes hold Tony’s gaze as he brings said wrist to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the pulse point. Something warm unfurls in Tony’s chest at the way Steve’s every movement screams of his reluctance to let Tony go.

“Meet me for dinner later?” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Of course, baby. Wouldn’t miss date night for anything,” Tony promises.

With that, Steve lets Tony’s wrist go with a sigh before throwing an arm over his own eyes.

“Now go. Before I change my mind.”

Tony leaves, snickering all the while at his husband’s dramatics.

(+1)

“I need a hug. And a kiss. And I need you to tell me that you love me.”

It has taken years for Tony to be entirely comfortable with asking for affection in such a blatant way, but over time he has learned that doing so—actually communicating his needs and wants—has actually done wonders for their relationship. He desperately needs some loving at the moment—the end-result of a long day of all work, no play, and the worst of all: no Steve.

Plus, there is also the fact that Steve always turns all soft and happy without fail whenever Tony does ask for some affection.

Steve blinks and turns his head around from where he is crouched in front of the oven, waiting not-so-patiently for his mac and cheese to finish baking. At the sight of Tony sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs swinging lightly and eyes staring back at him expectantly, a slow smile blooms on his face. He stands up and makes his way to Tony.

Enveloping Tony in his arms, Steve presses his lips to Tony’s temple. Tony scoots forward and wraps his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders, locking his ankles around his husband’s waist like a koala on a tree.

Pulling back slightly to plant a kiss on the corner of Tony’s mouth, Steve cradles his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheek affectionately. “I love you, sweetheart. So much.”

Then he pulls Tony close again, gently placing Tony’s face back in the crook of his neck. Steve rests his head against Tony’s and sways their joined bodies together slightly from side to side, humming a slow love song that Tony knows he has been listening to repeatedly for the past week.

Tony inhales and lets Steve’s comforting scent fill his lungs, a mix of his coconut-scented body wash and the laundry detergent they share together. It smells a lot like home.

For the first time since he woke up in the morning, Tony’s day is finally looking up.

“This is nice,” Tony mumbles tiredly into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve hums sympathetically, gradually stopping their swaying. His hand comes up to massage the back of Tony’s neck. “Rough day?”

“Something like that.”

“You did a great job today.” Steve’s fingers are still pressing into his neck in slow, circular motions. “You worked very hard at the office. I love you.”

Lips brushing Steve’s neck as he speaks, he says, “You don’t know that. You weren’t there.”

“There are some things that I just know. For example, my husband worked hard today. My husband did an excellent job today.”

Tony snorts.

“Here’s another example. I didn’t see you at all today, but I knew, I just knew that my husband looked beautiful today.” Steve pulls back, cupping Tony’s cheeks and looking down at him. “And would you look at that,” Steve says, voice hushed with something akin to awe, “I was right after all.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “You are so corny,” he says, in the hopes that his remark would distract Steve from his burning cheeks. Years of being married to Steve and the man can still make Tony blush like no other. He just doesn’t understand how Steve can make all these sappy declarations sound so sincere, so genuine. Like he’s just stating an indisputable truth.

“I am also so very right. You are beautiful.”

“Corny.” Tony keeps his eyes shut.

“Beautiful,” Steve whispers in his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. A fleeting kiss is planted on Tony’s cheek.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. Hesitantly, Tony opens his eyes. He is greeted by the sight of Steve bending down slightly to meet his eye level, hands planted on the counter on either side of Tony, eyes looking straight into his.

Steve’s smile turns lopsided when Tony meets his eyes.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

Tony punches Steve’s shoulder lightly in protest and buries his face in his hands.

“Jesus Christ, stop. I will hurt you.”

“Hm, feisty. I like it.”

“Please just go check on your food or something,” Tony mumbles miserably, voice muffled by his own hands. “It’s probably burning.”

Chuckling lightly, Steve finally lets him off the hook with a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you, sweetheart. Go shower, dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Tony hops off the counter and makes a hasty escape, lest Steve continue torturing him with more saccharine words that make him want to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

His husband can be so ridiculous sometimes.

(He wouldn’t change it for the world.)

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #my birthday fic #anonymous

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pi-cat000 · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (6)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / PREV / NEXT

As predicted, the day following the seal’s application is miserable. His chest is tight with almost anxiety, pins and needles run up and down his arms making his skin itch, and he is increasingly lethargic. All symptoms of a chakra imbalance and to be expected when one’s normal chakra replacement rate was thrown out. The sensations would pass once his body adjusted as they had with his sharingan.

He is eating three square meals a day, doing the bare minimum when it came to exercise routines and avoiding excess chakra use. It had been literal years since he had had this much bed rest. If he were ever going to slap a chakra collecting seal on himself, this was a perfect time. Okay, so maybe he should have steadily increased the chakra drain over the course of a few weeks for a smoother adjustment period. Hindsight and all that.

What mattered was that he would be fine, and he just had to wait it out. Bright side? No one had commented on the seal yet. Oh, he has definitely noticed serval people throwing the odd confused frown at his shoulder, but that was as far as anyone had gone in acknowledging it. His oh so clever strategy of acting like nothing was wrong worked so much better when he wasn’t surrounded by other shinobi and medic-nin.

“Your blood pressure is still too high. Are you sure you haven’t been experiencing any additional fatigue or other symptoms? Is something about the hospital causing additional stress? If there is something wrong, we should work on strategies to fix the problem.”

Well… it worked on everyone who wasn’t Wada. The man was irritatingly persistent in his doctoring. Apparently, the pressure of adjusting to an increased chakra drain wasn’t doing his body any favours.

“Maybe it’s a part of my quirk. High regeneration. High blood pressure.” Kakashi shrugs loosely not bothering to look up from HEROES and HEROINES May Issue. Unlike his previous reading material, people gave him odd looks when they saw him reading these magazines which immediately upped their entertainment value 100-fold.

Wada undoes the compression sleeve he had been using to measure Kakashi’s blood pressure, lecturing as he goes, “From what I can tell your cells produce more energy-rich molecules, ATP, NADH, then is typical, increasing cellular functions. Where your cells are getting the energy to produce these molecules, I have no idea seeing as you eat about the same amount as any baseline human. What I can safely say is that it should not influence your blood pressure. If anything, your blood pressure should be a bit lower than average. Now don’t dodge the question.”

He pauses, waiting for Kakashi to cave and suddenly confess. Kakashi, an old hat at dodging medical questions, continues reading unperturbed.

“I’ve been at this for over 30 years. An attack like the one you suffered is understandably traumatic, not to mention the stress of severe amnesia. I’m sure, whatever is bothering you, I’ve heard it before.”

Kakashi very much doubts that. “I feel fine.”

Wada huffs, unconvinced, “Young men. You all think that admitting you have a problem is a sign of weakness. High blood pressure can damage your heart and lead to problems later in life so finding the cause is important.” Good thing a shinobi life spans tended to max out around 30. The odds of him making it to an age where he’d have to worry about the long-term effects of anything were pretty low. He doesn’t voice this opinion, continuing to read.

Wada continues talking with greater gusto, “No matter, I’ll prescribe you something for stress hopefully that’ll help with your blood pressure. However, this is no replacement for healthy habits both physical and mental. You should consider professional therapy.”

Kakashi snorts. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you,” Wada makes to grab HEROES and HEROIENS and he lets the doctor pull the magazine free from his hand. It gives him a good view of the man’s irate expression.

“No, of course not.” Kakashi attempts to placate and gets a light smack over the head with said magazine for his troubles.

“There is no shame in pursuing a healthy mind!”

“Weren’t we going to test my quirk today?” He complains to derail the current line of questioning.

“I have half a mind to put it off and have you rest another week,” is threatened before Wada’s stern expression relaxes, “Lucky for you, I’ve booked you into serval tests that can’t be rescheduled.”

Kakashi breaths out dramatically. He thinks Wada might have made a good medic-nin if he had lived in Konoha. Sure, he is a little too trusting, but he was also not above pestering his patients into taking better care of themselves. Sakura would approve.

The doctor, with the assistance of an attending nurse he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, helps Kakashi out of his bed and into a wheelchair, ignoring his protests about his leg being all but healed.

“You’re to avoid putting weight on it until you start physical therapy,” Wada snaps at his continued complaints, “You’ll need to be careful, extended bed rest and surgery can leave your muscles weakened. Also, leave that magazine behind. You’re doing eye tests when do you think you’ll have time to read!”

Kakashi doesn’t push the matter further, resigning himself to being wheeled down the hospital halls like the invalid he was pretending to be. It is not like Wada knew about his frequent excursions to the roof or the fact that he has been running through strengthening exercises on his own time for several weeks now. Best he keeps that information to himself.

Partway down the hall, he pulls out HEROES and HEROIENS from where he had slipped it into his shirt, enjoying Wada’s exasperated expression. Of course, he stops reading when the doctor threatens to start lecturing again. The man could definitely talk when given the chance.

Wada and the nurse take wheel him to a set of double-door elevators which take them down several floors below the ground level. The hallway they exit of a mirror of every other hospital hallway. Grey and white walls, pale blue lino floor and bright fluorescent overhead lights. The only difference is that this hallway is lined with heavy-looking metal doors. From snooping through patient files, he knows that all quirk tests are carried out in specially designated underground ‘safety rooms.’ That doesn't make him any more thrilled about being several stories underground. It cut down on his escape roots.

“These are some of the more secure recovery wards in the hospital,” Wada explains as their little group stops at a small reception desk where the doctor taps away at a computer screen, “they’re mostly for treating patients with unstable quirks.” Kakashi maintains a neutral expression, accepting the explanation.

Wada wheels him up to a steel door, swiping his ID card which also doubled as a key to many areas of the hospital. The heavy door is automated and slides open. A lot of the doors in the hospital operate this way and always made sneaking around slightly more troublesome.

Inside walls and floor are plain white and there is an odd number of tables and chairs pushed to one side out of the way. Everything stinks of disinfectant. On the far wall is a single solitary painting of a tree in a field, the only splash of colour in an otherwise depressingly sparse room. A poor attempt at living up the space. The opposite wall sports a rectangular, reflective surface which was probably some sort of observation booth. Well, if being underground hadn’t put him on edge, this obvious confinement room definitely did the job. Kakashi eyes the space. Worse comes to worst, he could use the kamui and remove the adjoining hallway wall then climb his way out through the elevator shaft. There are only two other people in the room with him and one woman at the reception desk, all were most likely unenhanced with quirks unsuited to combat, easily removed. He doesn’t let his body language reflect his unease. He is just a little on edge because the new seal is messing with his body’s natural homeostasis. If this is a trap there would have been other signs of deception before now.

“Yes, I know it might seem like a whole lot of fuss just to run through a few flashcards,” Wada comments, oblivious to Kakashi’s poor mood. He waves to his assisting nurse who wheels over and lowers one of the metallic tables so Kakashi doesn’t have to move from his wheelchair. “But it’s a standard safety procedure when an unknown quirk is involved. Trust me, this is a lot easier than travelling to an external testing range.”

Wada stops to give Kakashi a once over, frowning, “How much do you know about your quirk sub-type?”

Kakashi shrugs, “Nothing much.”

“Ah,” The doctor’s frown grows, and he grimaces, “Of course you don’t.” A sigh.

“Typically, ocular quirks will act to enhanced sight in some way or improve base level memorisation and recall ability. It is also common to have a replicating function, allowing the user to produce some sort of copy of things they see. In rarer cases, ocular quirks result in precognitive abilities.” Wada explanation falters, “They can also have a line-of-sight emitter effect, such as laser vision, optical blasts, a few instances of mind control and other mental effects. These can also be incredibly dangerous if the user isn’t in control. There have even been instances where whole buildings have been levelled.”

“I see.” He supposes Wada's irritation at this private 'quirk' testing made a bit more sense. A doctor faced with an unknown and possibly dangerous ability would be annoyed if said patient went about experimenting without taking safety precautions.

“I should have checked whether you knew the dangers instead of just assuming. Apologies. That is my own error.”

He peers at Kakashi, almost guilty now, “and you don’t have a phone either so there would have been no way for you to research quirks yourself.”

“Ah,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head not likening how torn up the other man seems to be seeing as Kakashi had ever been in any real danger. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures.

His reassurances land flat, the doctor still frowning, “I’ll see if I can get you access to the internet somehow.”

Privately, Kakashi adds 'research' to the list of functions ‘phones’ apparently provided and 'internet' to his growing list of terms to investigate.

Wada sighs again. “Regardless, let’s get these tests done first.” He places a thick folder labelled National Standard for Registration: Kit Type 3 alongside one of those portable keyboard-less computers the doctors tended to carry around. “Hold on, been a while since I’ve done one of these. Need to find the rights files. Ah, here we go. First, these rooms are monitored, and all tests are recorded. The data collected is confidential, accessible only to the patient and physician unless doing so causes the patent harm. Information regarding quirk function and use is shared with the Registry Office. You have a right to stop testing at any point. You got that?”

Kakashi grunts, his already poor mood souring further. He is not sure he wants the hospital - or anyone - keeping records of anything sharingan related.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wada continues unperturbed, a testament to his serval weeks of trying to doctor Kakashi, “remember to let me know if you’re experiencing any discomfort. Don’t want you busting anymore blood vessels.

Kakashi lets out a tired breath, “Sure.” The sooner they left this room the better.

“We’ll test memory and vision first to compare to your baseline, then we’ll run through the replication and precognitive tests just in case.”

The nurse, who had been on the opposite side of the room waves, “All ready over here.” There is now a large poster with letters of varying sizes hung on the wall. He recognises the chart from his previous eye tests.

“Okay, let’s start with just uncovering it. Make sure you’re looking away from me as a precaution.”

Kakashi resists rolling his non- sharingan eye at the obvious instruction, shifting his attention to the poster on the wall. He flips his padded eyepatch up with his index finger so it partially rests on his forehead. All the letters, no matter the size, immediately snap into sharp focus. Nothing spontaneously combusts under his gaze. When he glances at the painting of the tree, he can now see a lack of brush texture, suggesting that it wasn’t a painting but a print of some sort. With that useless information now forever etched into his memory, he turns back to examine at Wada.

The sharingan picks out all the wrinkles and pores lining the older face. It focuses in on minuscule muscle movements as the man’s expression shifts from professional and accommodating to curious. The doctor’s fingers twitch ever so slightly over his computer. Most likely an unconscious habit. The man’s breath is slightly uneven like his chest can’t smoothly expand, suggesting some sort of lung problem. A past smoking habit perhaps? Nothing threatening is revealed.

“Doctor.” Kakashi prompts when Wada spends a little too long staring back at him. The sharingun did have a weak hypnotic effect, encouraging extended eye contact to help catch targets in genjutsu. Kakashi rarely uncovered his eye in the presence of civilians so he doesn’t know if the effect is more pronounced or if Wada is just curious.

Wada blinks, “Well…I certainly see where the ‘wheel’ description comes from.” He spends a second more staring then turns to start writing notes and tapping away at his computer screen. “I wonder if those spinning tomoe are purely cosmetic or if they have some other function because they are certainly fascinating to look at. There is also faint bioluminescence to the eye which is a common feature of ocular quirks…”

Honestly, the blatant eye contact is weird. Even his closest allies tended to avoid looking at his sharingan out of habit - expect for Naruto who was an outlier in almost everything - for understandable reasons. He thinks the people here would also exercise caution if an ocular abilities included mind control or exploding a person through eye contact. But no, Wada just goes right ahead and stares. A few seconds later and the unnamed nurse is also looking curiously at his eye. … …

Aside from redoing a standard eye exam, Kakashi runs through a marathon of flashcards to test both his memory and then precognitive abilities. The tests are done with lights on then in the dark and Kakashi is given a perfect 20/20 and an enhancement score of ‘15 grades above average’ for both. There are also several pages worth of words and numbers in progressively complex arrangements to test his information retention. Of course, everything is easily remembered with the sharingun active.

“Well, it seems to give general across the board vision enhancement alongside perfect recall and retention,” Wada finally concludes as he records all Kakashi’s results, “Of course, we’ll have to re-test retention in a few days so see if the information degrades over an extended period and we don’t know whether your quirk effects your long distance eyesight, but, for now, this appears to be all. The link between your quirked eye and the regenerative side-effect is still unknown. Odd that we couldn’t trigger any ‘copy’ function considering the quirks name though ‘copy’ could also be a reference to memorisation. If any other features do reveal themselves make sure you alert a medical professional.”

… …

Kakashi despises the process of getting an MRI with a heated passion. He hates having to lie prone in a loud confined space. It is the height of discomfort, making him tense up and clench his jaw. It is only the fact that Kakashi had researched and mentally prepared himself for the experience that stops him from accidentally snapping someone’s neck.

“We’ll have the results back in a few days,” Wada informs once the trying ordeal is over with, “From there we’ll update the Registry so you’re properly in the system. Speaking of which, have you made any progress on remembering a surname? I need something for the forms.”

“Hatake,” he grunts, too irritated to bother evading - he just wants to return to his room and wait out the side effects of his seal in peace- the question like he had every other time the man asked, “I think I prefer Kakashi though.”

It wasn’t like the name meant anything here and, who knows, maybe someone would come looking for him. This way they would have a trail to follow.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #boku no academia #CrossOver #kakshi hatake #dimension travel AU #fanfiction #my hero academia #more hospital stuff #probably a bunch of medical inaccuracies #quirk biology #quirk stuff #world building

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coldsoupbowl-blog · 4 years ago

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For The Sake Of Better Times (Ler Hawks/Lee Dabi)

This has been a long time coming bruh. Hope you like it Eevee my heart and soul was poured into this. Love you and everything that you do <3

When you see big bad villains on TV or on the big screen, you usually see them in the midst of an incredible battle. Guns blaring, fiery explosions, big declarations of their victory over the hero. All of these big productions of turning the world into something that fits their own worldview, even if that worldview is broken and demented. One often wonders what's going on behind the mind of someone who has that worldview; one who sees a perfectly fine place as disgusting and corrupt. Because they've been through the disgusting and corrupt, and they know that not everyone's glass walls have been shattered as theirs has. The big explosions and wide killing sprees and wild maniacal laughter of a textbook villain is nothing compared to the wild currents blurring their mind and storming their heart.

The League of Villains, a villain organization made up of powerful quirk abusers and double agents had no current agenda as of today. Most of the patrons that made up the alliance were residing in their hideout, a hollowed-out building that was restored to resemble a bar service. One of the villains that participated in the League, Dabi, occupied a bar stool and watched the latest news intently from the flat screen in the corner of the room.

A new interrogation method against villains was being proposed by the Hero Commission, the spokesperson reported, an interrogation method that would take a sensitivity-heightening quirk and develop it into a mass-produced serum. This serum, once administered, would take the subjects five senses and heighten them to make nearly any stimuli incredibly uncomfortable. Using this, tools and extra manpower would be unnecessary seeing as how the subject would be sensitive to almost anything that would be thrown at them.

Dabi rolled his lidded eyes at this. What a pathetic way of saying that the Hero Commission couldn't handle the enemies as they came, they had to power them down as well as they could to get the upper hand. Taking advantage of the villain's five senses just for interrogation purposes seemed inhumane. Another patron to the League of Villains, Himiko Toga, didn't have the same reaction to this news, however.

"Ehehehee!~ Doesn't that sound so thrilling, Dabi-Kun? Being unable to resist anything the interrogators decide to do to your unwilling body, whether you liked it or not? What if the interrogator is cute, all of your forced reactions will be the product of their actions against you! Ooooh, my heart is pounding!~" Toga smiled dreamily and twirled around like a princess, although Dabi didn't know any princesses who wielded knives with dried blood crusted over the blade. Toga threw herself onto Dabi's shoulders and pinched the spikes that his onyx hair naturally made when it was tousled like this.

"Say you agree with me, Dabi-Kun~ We can be freaks together!" Toga's voice dropped to a seductive mutter in Dabi's ear, but this had no effect on him. The villain wasn't attracted to girls like Toga, or girls of any nature, now that he was finding out. He was about to reply, surprisingly, before he felt a finger slide down his side. He felt the pressure end at the top of his hip, but to this, he only gazed at Toga's hand to make sure the blonde villain didn't pull anything. Toga visibly pouted when the male villain didn't give her the reaction she wanted.

"Dabi-Kun! You're not ticklish? Why nooot? No tickles for big bad Blueflame?" Toga's fingers started to wriggle over Dabi's left side, but he simply watched. Watching the fingers slide over his cotton shirt made a memory flashbang in his mind, but the vision soon slid away once he thought about it. The bored villain slapped away his partner's hand and signaled the barkeep, Kurogiri, for a drink.

"I don't have time for kid games like those." He said simply. This caught the attention of a certain personality in the room, a personality that not everyone was excited to see, but his presence was necessary nevertheless. The number two hero on the Pro Hero Charts, Keigo Takami, or Hawks, peered up above the couch he was seated on to get a glimpse of the onyx villain. The double agent's amber eyes shone in the dim lighting as something that the villain said piqued his interest.

"Oh boo. You and Shiggy-Kun aren't ticklish like I want you to be. This place would be so much cuter if you were! Maybe I can steal a few of those serums from the Hero Commission and turn you into my little-" Toga daydreamed out loud, but a swooshing sound interrupted behind her, like a pile of feathers were thrown onto a chair. In a sense, they were. The double agent Hawks had selected a barstool to sit in next to Dabi, which Dabi groaned at. Hawks gave Toga a warm smile despite their different lines of profession.

"Himiko, Shig-Man needs to see ya in his office. Said it was urgent, and you know he hates to wait. Maybe he overheard your serum idea and wants to play a prank on Twice." At this, Toga swooned and gave a girlish squeal of excitement.

"Oh, how exciting! I already know the table I want to strap him into!~" The blonde villain skipped out of the room, humming a sweet song despite her knife scraping up the plaster on the walls as she ran past. Hawks watched her leave and shook his head, turning back to see Kurogiri handing Dabi his drink.

"So, Staples, when you say that you don't have time for certain kid games, what exactly are those kid games? Are you saying that you played different games when you were a kid?" Dabi threw the conniving man a sideways glance as he finished the sip of his darkly colored drink.

"Staples? The hell kinda name is that? It's Dabi, and nothing more. Secondly, you don't get to know the kid games I played when I was younger. Because I didn't play any of them." Dabi's tone was quiet but forceful. Sometimes that was scarier than being loud and upfront. Hawks, or Keigo, drummed his fingers over the wooden barkeep. Dabi's response didn't scare him, not this time anyway; it riled him up. His crimson wings were puffed up and clearly agitated like an upset bird.

"So what did you do over the course of your childhood then? You didn't pop up in the gutter at 24 years old and just start blowing shit up." Keigo was needling for something; he didn't know what it was exactly, he just wanted to get any indication that Dabi had been happy at least once in his life. Maybe happy with a childhood friend-

"Let it alone before I turn you into a burnt chicken wing," Dabi growled and shoved his barstool back to stalk out of the room. Kurogiri watched silently. Keigo's left leg bounced as he thought up an idea to look inside Dabi's past. There was something that the blonde hero was looking for, and maybe with enough pressure, Dabi would give it up. Keigo sniffed and looked up to the television, the Pro Hero Eraserhead speaking on the panel about the developments of the sensitivity-heightening serum.

"-serum is now being trial-tested against our own strongest participants. This project will put an end to cruel and unusual interrogation methods. The Hero Commission recognizes that these villains are wicked, yes, but they still deserve to be treated with a level of dignity and respect that these new developing methods will offer. Thank you very much for your time." The tired hero stood from his chair and bowed towards the reporters who were all asking their questions at once. Keigo's wings suddenly perked up with an incredible idea.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Yeah, Shig said he wanted us in the conference room. Something about this sensitivity-heightening serum has him rubbed the wrong way." Keigo relayed onto Dabi, who was walking right next to the conniving hero. The hero's heart was racing. Two days after the incident at the bar, the number two hero had pulled some strings with the scientists creating the serum and had them form it into a gas. He had them make it under confidential means. It was the chloroform gas that was the hard part to set up-

"Whatever it is, let's get done with it. I got shit to do." So short and to the point with him. Keigo was jealous of Dabi's straightforward demeanor. Alright, the room was almost here. Just a little bit further before Dabi realized that they were needed in the conference room that was on the other side of the building.

The golden double agent and the onyx villain walked into a decontamination hallway, the doors on either side locking and bolting shut. Dabi looked visibly confused before it was replaced with his usual bored expression. The villain turned to the hero for an explanation. Keigo shrugged nonchalantly.

"You know the boss. Every precaution is not nearly enough..." Dabi had turned his back on the hero as he narrowed his eyes towards the chambers that held the decontaminating spray. There were black nozzles screwed onto the chambers that hadn't been there before. Dabi's cyan eyes flew open as a thin vapor began to seep into the chamber. Keigo had just clamped a mask over his own mouth and nose as Dabi was already losing consciousness, his knees striking the floor and his hands sending out small defensive flames. Keigo relished a quick moment of pride as he watched the hardened villain choke on the powerful gas, his head already rolling to the side in defeat.

The hero knelt down beside Dabi and held his cheek; the insane murderer looking almost innocent in his peaceful rest. "Poor Dabi. You'll realize soon enough that I'm doing you a favor. You and I both need to find out what happened to Touya Todoroki.."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

The room was cold, freezing even, as if the cold air were needles sticking into his skin. He was too aware of his surroundings even with his eyes closed; the biting leather strapped over his arms and legs, his soft cotton shirt now a lead weight on his chest, his soft aerodynamic hair now a dense mat on his forehead. It was incredibly bizarre and uncomfortable; it was like he was feeling everything all at once. And not just feeling; The dim lights in the room were bright enough to him that they stabbed into his shut eyes, he could taste the acrid gas that had knocked him out on his tongue despite it being hours since that had happened, the low buzzing of the generator outside of this holding cell was a high enough frequency to give him a headache. The skin stitched between his scarred skin and pale skin were like live wires sparking against his nerves.

"Sensory overload, must be absolute hell. I can't imagine what it must feel like. Then again I'm not really interested in finding out. Oh, and don't try to get yourself out with your flames. Not only will it hurt like hell against your sensitive skin, but your quirk has been canceled out anyway. I totally didn't have some guests over while you were konked to help me set this up...and take pictures of you." The voice that was speaking to Dabi sounded like he was fighting back a laugh. It was also damn loud and obnoxious, more so than with this sensitivity-heightening serum coursing through his veins.

Dabi's lidded eyes opened with a furiousness in his pupils so honest that Keigo swallowed nervously. Dabi had his arms strapped outward on either side of him, his palms face up and clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leather straps were pulled tight over his biceps, forearms, and wrists. A belt laid dangling by the side of the table in case his midsection needed restraint, and his legs were held down at his thighs, above his knees and his ankles. Keigo couldn't help but look him over a few times; the villain looked like he was made just to be on this table and in these restraints.

"Let. Me. Out. Before I set your skeleton on fire." Dabi growled, and pulled on the restraints. They were tight and unforgiving, no wiggling room here. Whatever was in that serum also made sure to sap him of his strength; the once strong villain felt as if he were made of liquid. Keigo shook his head and tsked, walking over to place a hand on Dabi's belly. The hero's light hand felt like a five-pound weight on the sensitive villain. Dabi watched the hero's every move, although it didn't feel like nearly enough to prepare him for what was to come.

"Tsk tsk, little blueflame. You really think I'd set you free after everything I've done to get you here? Not to mention," Keigo's luminous golden eyes looked up to Dabi's cyan ones, a hardened seriousness in the pupils, "that you're a convicted child abductor." Keigo removed his hand from Dabi's chest, and Dabi took in a deep breath once Keigo had looked away. The villain felt as if a weight had been removed from his chest. This serum was horribly effective; it almost made him sick.

Keigo turned back to Dabi and cracked his knuckles. Dabi started to sweat; he had no idea just how elevated his nerve endings were and how they would receive everything, but he felt like all of his nerves were standing on the edge of his skin, just underneath the surface. Despite his anxiety, Dabi cleared his throat and shook his head.

"I'm no child abductor. That brat from UA was Shigaraki's project. I knew the kid was bad news from the start." His voice came out evenly, thank God. But this didn't convince Hawks. Keigo walked back over to Dabi and inspected his restraints. The fun must be about to start, Dabi involuntarily thought in his head. He took choppy breathes, wondering what torture would be first on the docket.

"Nah ah ah, not Bakugou. I'm talking about Touya Todoroki. He's been missing for about 10 years now. He came from a loving family with siblings and friends alike...but he suddenly disappeared. And you were the last one to have been seen around him." Dabi's heart flipped at the name. He didn't know why, he's never heard the name before. But something settled in his stomach like a fluttering of butterfly wings. Keigo placed his hands flat on the table on either side of Dabi, the warmth of his skin was even felt against Dabi's hypersensitive nerves.

"You're gonna tell me what you did to Touya Todoroki, even if I have to force you." Dabi looked at Keigo like he was a crazy person. He's never taken a kid named Touya, but his body felt like it remembered the name even if his brain didn't. Dabi cleared his throat and hardened himself before looking back up at Keigo.

"Whatever you do won't get the truth. You have the wrong guy, and even if I did have any idea what you're talking about, I wouldn't give you shit." Keigo chuckled darkly at this and set his bare fingers up to Dabi's triceps and traced along the muscled lines in his skin. Keigo hardened his own expression, flat gold disks looking into even blue plains, and smirked at Dabi's immediate reaction. The villain had twitched and jolted in his chair, his fists balling up and his muscles flexing underneath the leather straps.

"We'll see about that. Oh-ho-ho, we'll see." The blonde hero kept his smirk on his face as Dabi tried to worm away from the alien sensations; Keigo lightly tracing his fingers underneath the villain's twitching arms. Dabi hasn't felt a sensation this light in years; he's completely forgotten anything could feel so gentle and tingly.

"Ya know Stitches, this sensitivity-heightening quirk caught my eye for a reason. The scientists who developed it reported that nerves the subject thought had gone dormant years ago were suddenly reawakened, like the kindles of a dying fire bursting into bright flames in a split second." Dabi's fingers knuckled, his breath hitching as Keigo's fingers skittered nearest to his open armpits, but scuttled back at the last second. Dabi shuddered and let out his breath silently. Keigo however, soaked in every delicious reaction with a sadistic hunger.

"At first I thought, "There's no way hardened lowlife criminals could be so sensitive to such small stimulus. Bright lights, loud music, gross smells-" Keigo took both of his pointer fingers and circled them around the outer rim of Dabi's armpits, which made Dabi's eyes fly open and suck in his breath. The damn tingles were climbing in his arms and fluttering in his chest, like there was a swarm of butterflies caged in behind his ribs. "-light touches~ Oh don't tell me these light touches are doing anything for you, are they? They're already drawing out such animated expressions from the most stoic man I've ever seen stalk this earth."

Dabi's stomach was jumping, like he was going uphill on a rollercoaster, just waiting for the descent. The onyx villain's fingers relaxed, however, once Keigo drew his own fingers away from the sensitive spot. Keigo quirked his lips and held his chin, in a thinking pose before the restrained criminal. The blonde hero resembled a butcher standing over a cow carcass, wondering which part of the animal he was gonna slice up first. Dabi swallowed in a dry throat as he chose his words cautiously. As he opened his mouth to speak, Keigo pointed a finger to the ceiling as he thought up what he wanted to say with a delighted grin on his face.

"Of course. There just so happens to be a word for this phenomenon, these light touches that feel like they're taking over your body~" Keigo suddenly swooped in close to Dabi and layered all ten of his fingers onto Dabi's raised individual ribs. Dabi's eyes stared right into the double agent's unreadable expression as the fingers started to press in.

"It's called 'tickling', the kid games that you were dissing earlier. Looks like we have all the time in the world to play them now, right little blueflame? And you're just sensitive enough to enjoy them this time with me~" Keigo's fingers shook into Dabi's ribs, each finger taking up a bone and vibrating into it. Dabi winced instinctively, but instead of pain, he found maddening consistent tingles. Ungracefully, the villain let out a snort and started letting out frantic giggles. His muscled arms pulling on the restraints and his legs hitched up to try and curl into a ball.

"Pffmmt- H-Hahahawks! S-Stohohop thihihis nahahahaow!" Deep baritone laughs rumbled out from Dabi's chest without his consent. There was no restraining or trying to keep back his giggles. Keigo's fingers were like lead weights scribbling on his hypersensitive skin. Keigo had a proud look on his face; he was half-expecting for something like this to simply not work on Dabi. But it seemed the exact opposite was true. This was working a little TOO well; with the hardened criminals face bright and squinted in a look of happiness.

"Mmhmm... If you wanna tell me what happened to Touya Todoroki, I'd be more than happy to help you. On the other hand, though, it looks like you're missing some ribs there, kid. Wouldn't want ya walking around with half an empty ribcage, now would we~" Keigo narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face as he started from the top of Dabi's ribcage and made sure to scritch each bone and count loudly enough for the villain to hear.

"Ooone...twooo...threee-" "Keihehehego stohohohop!" "Mmmm...I don't think 'stop' is an acceptable number, I'll have to start aaaall the way back at the top~" With Dabi's arms spread on either side of him, every time he bucked to rid himself of the sensation just pushed the hero's lead fingers into his sensitive skin. His skin felt as if Keigo's fingers were actually about to reach inside of him and count the bare bones of his skeleton.

The blonde hero took a moment, stilling his fingers, to watch Dabi's reactions to his stimulus. A bright smile infused with mirth was spread across his face; his eyes already glittering over with tears, and his fluffy hair crowned his head to make him look like a bashful giggling kid. His cheeks were dusted over with a light pink from all his hard chuckles. Keigo bit his tongue to keep back the truth; he wanted to blurt it all out for Dabi so they could hurry up and reminisce together.

The hero covered up his torture stopping by becoming all business and suddenly gripping Dabi's chin to force him to look up into his golden eyes. Dabi was woozy from his lack of oxygen, a dumb smile still plastered across his face. It made Hawks' heart do kickflips, but he couldn't speak to that now.

"Touya Todoroki was declared a missing person 10 years ago on October 25th, 2010. What did you do with him? Is he still alive? When is his birthday?" Keigo threw all of these questions at once at the dumbfounded villain. The villain tried to jerk his head out from the hero's grip but the hero held on tight.

"I told you already you fucking dumbass birdbrain! I never abducted any kid! The squirt probably got hit by a train or was bullied to death by some bastard schoolkids!" That last yelp of desperation left his chest without him realizing what he said. Bullied to death....bullied? Something about that doesn't feel right. Like...it's true. Maybe the kid was bullied. It's almost as if... I've experienced it-

Dabi's thoughts were suddenly scattered with his own bouncing cackles; Hawks' fingers gripping his slender sides and squeezing into them. Hawks made sure to hold onto his bottom ribs and taze them while his thumbs squished into the criminal's skin. Dabi jerked on his leather restraints as the cords of his neck stood out on the surface of his skin from his insane laughter.

"GAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAP!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW SHIHIHIT!! I SWEHEHEAR!!' The criminal's eyes screwed shut tightly in his laughter, the vibrations so deep and pronounced that it felt like it was inside of him. Dabi's knees pulled up and slammed back down on the table in an attempt to do anything to get out of this situation, but his restraints were too tight. Keigo had a VERY amused look on his face at this recent development.

"Swearing already?~ That's cause for celebration, isn't it? Bravo to our modern scientists for creating something so malicious that it made our hardened criminal swear within the first five minutes~ Although, it doesn't answer my question. Where is Touya Todoroki? What color is his hair? What outfit was he wearing on the day you captured him?" Keigo threw nonsense questions at Dabi to see how he would react to them. Of course, Keigo already knew all of the answers, in part anyway, but he wanted to see how this villain would crack under the pressure. The hero's fingers vibrated in Dabi's lowest ribs as his thumbs massaged in two places on his lean belly. Keigo tried not to look for too long at the villain's contracting abs.

Dabi's limbs were restless in their quest to try and weasel their way out of this situation; his legs and arms squirming and wrestling against the restraints. Dabi's fists balled up to try and fight the maddening tingling sensations, and his hips bucked up like the bronco he was only to slam down on the table once more. Keigo felt like he was tickling the riding bull you find in dive bars and the like.

"I SAHAHAID I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW THE FUHUHUCKING KID!! YOU GAHAHAHA!-" Dabi's deep rumbling laughter soon turned into high pitched hysterical giggles. Keigo's crimson wings had accidentally fluttered over the criminal's belly as he had shifted in his place. Keigo looked back at his magnificent wings and soon had a horrible look shadow over his face. The hero's fingers stilled once more as he plucked a feather out from his own wing. Dabi's cyan eyes were rolled to the back of his head as he laid limp on the table; his mouth open and sucking in as much oxygen as possible.

"I don't think that's gonna cut it, Patches. I want real answers, not this tippy-toe bullshit you keep pulling on me. I'm gonna get what I'm looking for even if it means I have to kill you." His voice was deep and serious enough for Dabi to perk up and look at him. Dabi didn't care about dying; he even welcomed it at this point just to get out of this damn table. Dabi turned sharply towards his collarbone and coughed into his shoulder. A regular cough wouldn't hurt unless it was a virus, but Dabi's hyper-sensitive insides made this cough burn up his parched throat. The villain looked back with a newfound seriousness and tried not to look too terrified at the slim wiggling feather in the hero's hand.

"Ask the multiple personalities dude or the blonde psycho bitch! They're always up to some random bullshit that doesn't involve me. I only live by Stain's ideologies and live up to the expectations to make the future he wanted to be realized. Child abduction isn't gonna make that future happen!" Even Dabi could hear the desperation in his own voice; he wanted to kill Hawks for making him so vulnerable. Especially while the hero was looking down at him with that damn lazy smirk, like this was all too amusing for him.

Keigo took a long breath and twirled the feather in between his fingers; his lips quirked in that thinking look once more. Dabi's eyes couldn't tear away from the hypnotizing piece of tickling equipment. The blonde hero could tell that Dabi was getting shrill, and distraught at that. He was getting there; with just a little more pushing Keigo could possibly unlock Dabi's memories and make him see that HE was Touya Todoroki himself. That's what all of this was.

"Mmmm... not convinced. Sorry, when it comes to child abduction cases like these, pointing fingers won't help when I know YOU'RE the child abductor. Just a matter of time until you wanna admit it to me. But hey, at least it's fun torture and not a messy one, right? A few things I have to do before we get started up again though-" Keigo stepped forward and tucked his feather in the crest of Dabi's ear like he was holding a pencil there.

"Hold onto that for a second," Keigo said simply as he lifted Dabi's thin cotton shirt and lifted it up over his head.

"As soon as I get out of these restraints, you're bones are gonna be liquefied inside of your damn disgusting body." Dabi hissed, while Keigo wasn't paying attention to that and staring directly at Dabi's impressive toned six-pack. Dabi followed Keigo's gaze and blushed deeply at the realization. Keigo suddenly snapped out of it and reanimated himself.

"Oh, well, in that case. I'll just put more on you so that doesn't have to happen!" Keigo flashed Dabi a squinted smile and took the straps that lay on either side of Dabi's hips. Keigo pulled on the leather belt tightly so now his midsection couldn't buck in any direction. The belt also helped pull Dabi's diamond navel taut. Dabi's belly and entire torso were unmarked with his scars; the scars only curving over his sides and disappearing under his pants. Keigo also noted that Dabi's hips were deep and indented, like someone pressed their thumbs into them. They must be really warm and hopefully very sensitive at this rate-

Keigo cleared his throat and stole back his feather with a wink while he was face to face with Dabi, to which Dabi attempted to headbutt the birdman. It was then that Dabi realized that with the belt now strapped just above his belly button, any wiggling room that he had before had just evaporated.

"Realizing just how fucked you are? And the effects of the serum don't start depleting until the victim's body has cooled down. The victim's body cooldown tells the serum that the job has been finished and the Hero's have the information they're looking for. Until then, it lasts as long as it needs to." After Keigo's helpful explanation, Dabi then noticed just how hot his body actually was, like he was running a high fever. Which meant that the serum was probably running at it's highest potent capacity to keep him horribly hyper-sensitive to any and all touches. Keigo watched the realization play over Dabi's face as he stepped forward and started circling his wiggly feather over Dabi's belly button.

Dabi jerked immediately and clamped his teeth down to prevent any giggles from slipping out. Keigo watched with a newfound sadistic hunger; he watched with the sudden drive to make this man shout his lungs out and regret ever forgetting about his childhood best friend.

"This can all stop if you just tell me where the kid is. Just give me a location and I'll send the heroes on their way. I got a phone right here. I got heroes at my disposal. We're just waiting on you, Patchwork." Keigo continued to circle and even started sweeping his feather across Dabi's strip of belly like he was dusting a piece of furniture.

Dabi shook his head and kept his laughter caged in his chest. The single feather was so tingly that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I mmph- I t-tohold yohou! I- grrmmph- I-I don't knohow ahahanything about the kid! I never heheard his nahame before!" Dabi involuntarily thought back to Touya Todoroki's name, the damn kid that he was being tortured over. In Dabi's haze, he thought he remembered the Bakugou brat having a friend named Todoroki-

"Wahait wait wait! I-I-I remember something! I reeheemehember sohohomething I promise!" Dabi pleaded, Keigo taking immediate pity and stopping his red wiggly feather. Keigo pointed his feather like an accusing sword towards Dabi's face.

"If the information is bullshit, you're getting a second dose injected right in your belly button. Imagine that hell burning in your stomach. Think about this wisely." Dabi swallowed what felt like cotton balls in his throat. He didn't know if Keigo was bullshitting or not, but he also didn't know if he could trust his own memories. He's never been able to remember too much of anything past his twenties... Dabi's shaking fingers hardened into fists as he hardened his resolve to get out of this table.

"Okay okay... The Touya kid has a brother right? Todoroki? What's the half and half kid's name? Shoto? Yeah, it was Shoto. Go fucking torture him for answers instead of me you damn prick! He knows more about his own brother than I do-" At the sound of the repeated use of the word 'brother', a flash of red hair jumped past Dabi's vision. Keigo shook his head and was starting to step forward to tickle the criminal's belly once more before Dabi hurriedly stopped him. "Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, hold on, hold on! The Touya kid had red hair! Instead of half and half like his brother, he had all red hair." And white hair with red strips, and blank white hair like the snow- Dabi involuntarily remembered this as well, but before he could grab onto it, it slid away.

Keigo had a pleased look on his face, however. Dabi was starting to remember bits and pieces of the past, and that's what Keigo wanted. Just a little bit further, and hopefully he would remember who he was.

"Finally, we're getting somewhere. Unfortunately, no cookies for you. We know Touya had red hair, his family comes from a line of gingers. We need to know where the kid is, Dabi. And you're the only one with the answers. So let's hear 'em." Dabi fought the urge to protest as Keigo willed about six of his feathers to detach from his wings and dust over Dabi's belly, while Keigo's fingers gripped his sides and scribbled his manicured nails into them. Dabi pulled on his restraints and cackled loudly into the sound-proof room.

"CHRIHIHIHIST!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOHOW AHAHAHANYTHING!! LET ME GOHOHOHO!!" Dabi's eyes screwed shut as his mouth was agape with his hysterical laughter. Both Hawks and Dabi were unaware that the reserved and quiet male could produce such sounds. Dabi's veins stood out like cords against his neck as his chest heaved in with his laughter. Such small stimulus is driving him insane, Hawks thought to himself. Six of his feathers from his crimson wings were dusting over his belly and his navel, while his fingers scratched and scraped over the villains pronounced ribcage. Sure, maybe it was a little intense in terms of tickling, but he thought that this would be too easy for the hardened villain. Apparently not; Hawks could see that Dabi was fighting for breath already.

"HAHAHAHAWKS I SWEAHAHAHAHA-" Dabi cut his own laughter short with a hard snort. One of the fluffy crimson feathers had started twirling itself into Dabi's stretched navel. There was nowhere that the villain could twist on the table to escape its feathery clutches. Hawks cracked half a smile. Even if he were to take his hands off the villain's ribcage to halt his fingers tickling, which he did; Dabi still produced the same amount of crazed hysterical cackles from just the feathers tickling. The double agent stood with his arms folded and watched his childhood best friend laugh an insane amount.

The villain had tousled his onyx crown all over his eyes; the once fluffy hair now a dense mop against his forehead. Dabi's smile was agape enough that Keigo could see his glinting incisors. His biceps flexed and struggled; the sweeping of the crimson feathers not ceasing for a moment. They traced over his waistline, the deep cavernous dips of his hip indents, fluttering over the small pinch of skin underneath his navel. Keigo stood fascinated by the scene, while Dabi's eyes started rolling in the back of his head.

"-AHAHAHAP!! I'LL-I'LL TAHAHAHAHALK I PROHOHOMISE!" That roused Keigo out of his stupor. He forgot that Dabi was in an extremely sensitive situation. The agent quickly halted his feathers and lifted them up from Dabi's belly. The feathers had worked so fervently that the villain's hypersensitive skin was a baby pink on the surface of it. Dabi sniffed back his tears of mirth and heaved in delicious clean oxygen. It was ice cold in his lungs, but the villain much preferred it over the sweaty ticklish hell he was just subjected to.

"Alright, Staples. Get to talking then, or there's gonna be a lot more feathers where that came from. You don't want these puppies all over you in the situation you're in." Keigo flapped his wings and shook them out to showcase his entire wingspan of crimson ticklers, all individually flowing and wiggling delicately in the air. Dabi gave him a death glare, but even the feathers made him gulp. The villain flexed his fingers as he tried to think up of something that this douche didn't already know about the kid. Keigo could see the villain's brain working to think up a bullshit story just to appease him. That just meant more tickles for-

"He-He was 15 when he went missing. His father had abused him when he was young and he was shunned by his siblings. His mother tried to protect him but-" But she was crazy. And no one protected him. He was the forgotten one, the one who faded into the background. And no one had a problem with that.

Dabi choked on his words, clearing his throat and clearing his mind. Keigo watched with interest as Dabi had spilled all of this information from thin air. Even the villain looked confused, he didn't know where this revelation came from.

"Mm-hmm, quite the truth serum this stuff is, isn't it? Just a little bit more and you can get off this table and get yourself an ice cream." Dabi shot his gaze up to Keigo's eyes and pulled on his restraints.

"N-No! No more I can't handle it! It's too much! Don't do this!" For some reason Dabi didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. Maybe because even he knew that no matter how much pleading he tried, he wouldn't get out of this until he coughed up more information. Keigo looked quite amused by the display, however. That fox's grin was back on his face.

"Come on now, it can't be that bad, little patch~ It's just some tickling afterall." Dabi's heart stopped when Keigo walked up to him and gently placed his fingers on Dabi's waistline. "Little kid games, right Blueflame? You can handle it." Keigo suddenly gripped Dabi's right hip and squished his thumb inside, making Dabi curl up and giggle like a schoolboy.

"Gahahahad! Hahahaha-Hahahaow mahahahany tihihihimes?!" "How many times what? How many times do I have to tickle tickle tickle you before you get the gist of your situation? You're not getting out of this until I get my answers, kid. So cough 'em up, before you cough up a lung." Even holding Dabi's hip like this made the villain squeal out. His hips bucked and shook in their binds, which only drove the hero's thumb in further to his divet.

"I dohohohon't knohohohow anything! I-I cahahan't rehehember!" Hawks could see that Dabi was actively trying to remember something, he wasn't lying in a situation like this. And Keigo wasn't wanting him to remember his childhood trauma or to relive it in any way, he just wanted his childhood best friend to remember him. Hawks took a deep breath in his lungs and decided to up the anty. Hawks sent four crimson feathers up to Dabi's stretched armpits, the wiggling plumes fluffing over the villain's soft divets. Dabi started to shriek, but Hawks suddenly slid his hands down to Dabi's thighs and squished into the soft material.

Dabi must have unlocked a second quirk along with his Cremate abilities, because Hawks had never heard such an unearthly howl thrash itself from Dabi's chest. Keigo winced from the piercing sounds from the villain as Dabi's eyes were screwed tightly in hysterical cackles with tears budding in the corners of his eyes. The feathers twisting and fluffing in his stretched armpits along with Hawks kneading up and down his toned thighs had the villain in tears. Dabi didn't know which way to buck, to twist, to jump on the table. He was stuck either leaning into the fluffy feathers for more relentless dusting, or to literally push himself into his captors hands for closer and more effective squeezing.

"Looks like you're in a pickle, bud. I say just cough up the information and be done with the whole thing but, to each their own, right? If you like it, you like it. I won't judge, I'm having way too much fun~" Keigo had his thumbs fixed to the villains inner thighs as his other eight fingers splayed out as wide as they could stretch to squeeze and grip the skin underneath Dabi's jeans. Dabi wanted to tear his hot tingling skin off with how insane the sensations were.

"SHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUCK-GAHAHAHAHAD!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!!" Dabi was screaming at this rate, the man's throat parched and raw from the yelling. Keigo rolled his eyes at the exclamations of his victim when something silver flashed in his eye. Keigo thought it was probably just the restraints glinting off the light in the room, but it was Dabi's stitches that caught his eye. Keigo suddenly had a stroke of curiosity and reached behind him to pluck a feather from his wings and swiped the fluffy appendage across Dabi's silver stitch.

It was liked the criminal was electrified, his body jolting like it touched a live current and his insane cackles jumped an octave with the single swipe. Dabi's stitches had already been sensitive to touch even before he had the serum in his body. Now the nerve endings underneath the stitch felt like it was intertwined with the silver itself. Keigo bit his lip at the torture that was to come. Watching Dabi writhe on the table with the feathers in his armpits, Keigo sent six feathers to every visible stitch on the mans body and let the appendages fluff and dust and wriggle all over him. They were twirling in his ears and driving in his collarbones; they were doing figure eights in his armpits and dragging up his triceps; they were skating down his sides and writing nonsense with their quills down the lines of his abs.

"GOHOHOHOD!! SAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEE!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! I-I'M DHYHYHYHYING!!" It was a horribly dramatic thing to exclaim that Keigo should have listened to, but the way the bird saw it, if Dabi still had breath in his lungs to shout, then he should be fine. Keigo's never seen such a contorted face on anyone before. It was a mix of childlike happiness and mirth with pure anguish and torture. But, whatever gets the truth out, Keigo supposed. It was only a matter of time before Dabi choked on the truth. And Keigo could never get enough of the sight of Dabi's abs contracting with every giggly laugh harvested from his chest.

"KEHEEHEEHEE-KEIGO!! KEHEHEHEEIGO PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! STOHOHOHOHOP!! I-I REEHEEMEMBER!! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!!" Dabi suddenly erupted his confession once Keigo neared his bucking kneecaps with his own fingers. Keigo's feathers and hands suddenly halted; the villains heart bursting through his ribcage. The poor captured man had aching ribs and a sore stomach, and his limbs were irritated from pulling on them for so long. Hawks stood with his hands on his hips. His entire body shivered with flashes and icicles, his searing hot sweat sliding down his icy back. It was complete hell, but the stimulus was enough to break the barrier of his lost memories. This was it. Dabi just needed to remember where he came from and who he used to be. Maybe he'd be more cheerful, or at least a little more...anything, at this point.

Dabi's head was laid back on the table, his body slightly curled up in the small defense he had. His eyes were rolled up to the whites in exhaustion. But in the swirling chaotic blackness behind his eyelids that he was used to, he saw something new. Something he hasn't appreciated in a long time.

Summer, the scalding heat on the back of my neck, the taste of ice-cold popsicles, the sand inbetween my toes. Being the kid with the dad who pushed them the highest on the swingset. My scraped knees and elbows patched up by the smiling boy. The summer festival and the exploding fireworks in the infinite sky above me. My best friend who stood there to watch when nobody else would. Keigo, my best friend. His toothy smile and his squinting eyes; his untied shoelaces and messy hair. He never left my side. But I left his.

Suddenly I don't feel so heavy. I don't feel so alone, so burdened with this weight on my chest. Because I know Keigo is there. He always was.

"And I always will be, Touya." Dabi slowly looked up to see Keigo with a gentle smile on his face. Dabi hadn't realized that he was speaking aloud. Hawks turned to Dabi's right arm and started setting free his aching wrist. But after this newest revelation, Dabi didn't feel hurt anymore. He felt like a completed puzzle; the lost piece that made him whole was finally inserted. Dabi held his wrist to his chest and rubbed over his tingling body to rid himself of the leftover sensations.

"T-Trauma's a bitch, huh? It...Itmade me forget my best friend, the only one who was truly there for me. I'm...I'm sorry about that, Keigo." Keigo shook his head, his bangs swaying back and forth. "Please, don't be sorry. It's your dad that should apologize. I just wanted you to remember everything that was bright in your life, and not live in this bleak purgatory. You have friends and people who care about you. And you used to smile all the time, you know. I know it's not your fault that you forgot who you were and you forgot how to smile. But now at least, maybe you can put your past to good use in the future."

Dabi nodded, understanding Keigo's words better than he would have thought. Keigo extended his hand out to Dabi to help him off of the table. Dabi hesitated for a moment, a good second passing before he grabbed it and hopped off the table. Dabi was still slightly curled and hunched even as he walked, his defenses still not lowered after that episode.

"Don't worry, it's all over. No more tickles, I promise. Unless you kinda liked it, then I can give you more. I thought I saw you leaning in for some more now and again on the table. You also remember how ticklish you used to be and you still are, right? I mean, I thought something this childish was gonna work on ya dude, but your vocal cords must be thrashed-"

"Yeah, you know what, Keegs, I think I remember just how ticklish you used to be as well when you were a kid. Care to test it out?" Dabi picked up one of the syringes off the table filled with the swirling blue sensitivity serum with a horribly antagonizing look in his eyes.

Keigo gulped and ran for dear life.

#icanttellyouhowlongthistookme notcomplainingthoyoudeserveitbabe hopeyoulikeitmerrycrimin

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Fifteen ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3995

Warnings: None

A/n It may be late on Monday (10:51pm to be exact) but it’s still Monday! Happy reading :)

I find little rest.

My night is plagued by worries over Cosima’s state and Rumil’s ominous—and ridiculous—warning.

Around five in the morning, I can bear it no longer and throw myself from bed, showering and dressing quickly. Before I know it, I’m on the second floor, rounding a corner that will take me down the hallway that leads to Cosima’s room.

Her door is ajar.

Despite the early hour, I hear animated voices coming from inside — it seems Baranor is visiting, just as he promised. Upon hearing Cosima’s laugh, I breathe a sigh of relief. She sounds much better than she did yesterday.

With a new relaxation in my shoulders, I hover in the doorframe, knocking on the wood while I wait for permission to enter. Cosima’s eyes—surprised but alert—meet mine and she smiles warmly. I feel my lips return the gesture automatically.

“Ah, good morning, Haldir,” Baranor welcomes. “I came to check on Cosima before my shift and, to my surprise, she was already wide awake.”

Cosima giggles guiltily. “I’ve been up since three. I guess when you fall asleep when it’s still light out, that’s to be expected. Haldir, you can come in.” She waves me in and I cross the distance between the doorway and the foot of her bed. I stand there, arms crossed over my chest, and examine her face more closely. The brightness has returned to her eyes, color once again tints her cheeks, and there’s not a trace of pain in her features.

Thank goodness. “You are feeling better?”

Her smile softens and she looks down at the blanket before meeting my eyes again. “I am. I’m sorry I scared you.”

I shake my head quickly. “No, I’m thankful I was there. And I’m even more thankful that you’re better now.” I tilt my head in Baranor’s direction. His frightening words from last night have not left my mind. “She is better?”

He hesitates only a fraction of a second, but it’s enough to send a searing path of anxiety through my chest.

“Yes. Her symptoms from last night are gone.”

I raise my chin, fighting the urge to more visibly react. Baranor has noticed something’s still wrong with her fæ, then. But there’s no reason to worry Cosima with this — yet.

But if Elrond can’t fix it…

I attempt to push that thought from my mind. There will be something to be done. She will get better.

I turn back to Cosima. “Have you eaten?”

She shakes her head then rolls her eyes, presumably at my disapproving look.

Thankful for the task to redirect my nervous energy, I push myself towards the door. “I will return shortly with food. Baranor?”

He takes the hint and wordlessly follows me out, pausing at the door to smile at Cosima in farewell. As soon as we are clear of the hallway and her human hearing, I turn on Baranor.

“What?”

He sighs. “No, come with me. Elrond will want to hear this, too.”

I quicken my pace to follow him through the estate, but my frustration spikes. “Is it so bad that you cannot tell me now?”

He huffs, avoiding my eyes. “It is not ‘bad,’ per se — it’s just a new development. Elrond might be able to help us understand. There’s no point in leaving him out of the discussion.”

Thanks to our pace, we arrive in the archway into Elrond’s study in a matter of minutes. He stands, seeming unsurprised by our presence.

“What did you learn, Baranor?”

Baranor exhales heavily and meets Elrond near his desk. I follow on his heels, anxious for some answers.

“Her fæ is better than when I checked on it after the orc ambush,” he begins.

I crush down the temptation to hope. If it were that simple, Baranor would have told me immediately.

“But it is different,” he continues. “Many of the previous injuries are in various states of healing — some scarred, the smaller tears are nearly invisible now. But, well, there’s a new tear that wasn’t present before.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Her fæ shouldn’t have a new injury.

Elrond levels us with a steady look. “But the other wounds are healing?”

“Yes, like I said, she is making progress,” Baranor allows, “but something has caused another deep cut — the edges are serrated, almost like it was slashed with a knife.”

“Hm.” Elrond frowns. He turns his thoughtful eyes to me. “Baranor mentioned you were with Cosima when she became ill? What happened leading up to that?”

I blink, trying to follow Elrond’s reasoning for changing the topic. “We were talking normally. I was telling her of a personal memory, one from my childhood, and her health took a turn.”

Elrond purses his lips. “Interesting…I had a meeting with her human companion yesterday, Alexander, and he mentioned a similar experience. He’s noticed that any gain in memory is often accompanied by an ache in his head. What we previously attributed to a head injury might actually be related to something else. Is it possible Cosima remembered something and did not mention it?”

“It is possible,” I allow, though I wish I could deny it. If what Elrond is suggesting is true, then every time Cosima remembers something, she runs the risk of suffering through horrible pain…the thought makes me feel ill.

“On the other hand,” Elrond continues, “perhaps that very restoration in memory is an indication of healing. I think it is quite possible the fæ injuries, the return of their memories, and the headaches are all somehow related. There is still much to learn…But overall, they are both making progress,” Elrond declares, expression settling into one of serene neutrality. “I will spend time with both Cosima and Alexander and attempt to help them find their way to more memories and address any side effects that may produce. Baranor and I will monitor their fæs and see if the healing continues or if new wounds arise. That will help us gather more information and then we can proceed with a more knowledgeable plan.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “And if the memories cause new wounds to appear?”

A note of pity entered Elrond’s eyes, and I am momentarily taken aback. Pity for Cosima and Alexander…or pity for me?

“I will do all that I can. Though, I suspect your Lady will have more wisdom on this subject than I.”

I bow my head in acknowledgement of his commitment, though I agree. If anyone can help, it will be Lady Galadriel.

Baranor darts his eyes in my direction. “Should we tell them?”

Elrond shakes his head. “I would prefer to do so, if you do not mind. I expect it will lessen their anxiety if we can begin what I hope is treatment immediately after I alert them to the issue.”

Fair point. I square my shoulders. “Understood, thank you both. Please alert me if there is any change.”

Both agree to my request and I leave them to their discussion, seeking out the kitchens so I can procure food for Cosima and myself.

I try not to dwell on what Baranor’s discovery could mean. Cosima seems to be healing, but with this new wound and the possibility of more in the future…will it be enough? Can her already fragile fæ handle all this damage?

Eru above, I pray so.

When I return to Cosima’s room, I find her in a rose-colored tunic and dark leggings, her long, wavy hair damp from a shower. She smiles brightly, taking one of the plates from my hands.

“Thank you! Want to sit?”

I accept her offer and sit opposite her in the small seating area, resting my plate on the coffee table that lies between us. I try to study her inconspicuously. She looks fine. Kind, dark eyes alternate between meeting mine and looking at her plate. The shorter pieces of her hair near her face brush against the arch of her neck as she shifts in her seat, stretching forward to reach her glass of water. She has a small freckle below the left edge of her bottom lip. I’ve never noticed it before.

Amused chuckles disrupt my inspection.

I blink, my eyes leaving her mouth to meet her gaze. “What?”

“You’re staring at me, stop it,” she laughs, fiddling with her hair.

I narrow my eyes. Oops. “You’re sitting right across from me, what else is there to do but stare at you?”

She rolls her eyes, though it’s clear she’s only teasing me. “I guess I have no choice but to stare back.” She makes a big show of resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, setting an unwavering gaze upon my face.

I raise an eyebrow. “You know it is my job to watch? I spend days in the trees watching for movement or something out of place. This is not a competition you can win.”

“Oh yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow of her own. “Watch me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

She purses her lips and my eyes are once again drawn to that little freckle that somehow escaped notice for so long. Her lips twitch in amusement and my eyes follow their curve.

I tear my gaze away. Clearing my throat, I reach for my water. Cosima leans back into the couch, popping a blueberry into her mouth. “Ha!”

“Yes, congratulations,” I mutter, throat going dry despite the water.

She furrows her eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course.” I turn my attention back to my food. “Are you feeling well enough to begin training today?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yep, as long as today still works for you.”

“It does. I am meeting with my brothers to formulate a plan for Elrond’s guard, but I should be done by this evening. Can I come by then?”

With a smile, she agrees. We pass the remainder of breakfast easily. I keep a tight reign on my “staring” as she called it. There’s no reason to do that.

{***}

“What are you going to teach her, exactly?” Rumil lengthens his stride to keep up with me.

I look at him from the corner of my eye. “The basics.”

“Would you like my assistance? I could join you.”

He hasn’t let his misguided notion from last night drop. I quicken my pace. “No, thank you. If you want to help with something though, you could convene with Glorfindel and get the name of every member of Elrond’s guard.” There. That should keep him distracted tonight.

Rumil huffs, evidently displeased with my request, but doesn’t argue. “Alright.”

He sidesteps to enter the hall to our room but I continue, taking the stairs that will lead me to Cosima’s room. Rumil gives me a look but says nothing, keeping to his path.

I knock on the closed door — humans are so funny with their distrust of others to respect their privacy — and Cosima quickly opens it, welcoming me in with a smile. She shuts the door behind me.

“I pushed the furniture back to give us more space.” She gestures to a corner of her room where the plushy seats and wooden table are gathered near the wall.

I nod. “That’s good, thank you. And you feel alright?”

Her smile softens. “Yes, I promise.”

“Good,” I exhale. With that reassurance, I can get down to business. “If you could stand here.” I direct her to a spot in the middle of the room. “And move your feet a bit wider than hip width apart, like this.” I show her, and she mirrors the stance. “A little wider.” I step forward and nudge her right foot with my own, showing her how far I want it to move. “Now bring your dominant foot back a little. And lean forward slightly at your hips.” She follows the instructions, hinging forward as directed. “Like that, good,” I approve. “Now this is known as your fighting stance.” Cosima looks up at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain. “It is not realistic to be able to keep this during a fight, but it should be your default, something you can get to automatically. A fighting stance allows you stability to keep from falling and gives you an anchor if you need power to wield a weapon. As a general rule, you should always attempt to attack or defend from this position.” She nods seriously.

Before she has a chance to register the movement, I shove her shoulder. Predictably, she stumbles backwards, arms flailing in an attempt to catch herself. Before she can fall, I grip her forearms, pulling her forward and steadying her.

With my hands still locked around her arms, I pause.

Were I training one of my wardens, I would have let them fall — why didn’t I let her fall? I should have. It’s an important lesson — if you don’t do something perfectly, you could get hurt.

I glance between Cosima—who looks at me with narrowed and confused eyes—and the stone of the floor. The foundation of the bedroom is solid rock, she could be seriously injured if she collided with it. An elf would be able to fall unscathed, but a human…

“What?”

Cosima’s voice brings me back to the present. My hands are still gripping her arms.

I quickly release her. “Nothing, just thinking.” Before she can investigate further, I hurry to move on. “Your stance should be solid enough to allow you to be immoveable. I should be able to push you and you stay upright. Now that you’re expecting it, let’s try again.”

It takes a few attempts, but eventually, Cosima learns how to hold tension in her core and ground her feet so it’s more difficult to push her over. Of course, if I really used my full strength, she wouldn’t stand a chance, but there’s no need to discourage her this early. And, by the amused twinkle in her eyes, she already knows.

Once her stance is satisfactory, we move on to blocking. I step back, taking a moment to analyze. She’s shorter than me, smaller than me, which automatically gives me an advantage. I have thousands of years of experience while she has about half an hour’s worth. Again, advantage me. She relies too much on her dominant side — if I struck at her unguarded left, I could knock the wind out of her and then, while she’s distracted, pull a weapon and strike a fatal blow between her ribs.

I’m surprised by the resistance that rises within me. My mind shouts that I am not going to do those things, that I would never cause her harm. The thought of striking her or hurting her is unthinkable, repulsive. And all the while she looks up at me with trusting, curious eyes, not at all thinking that I’m currently running through a list of different ways to kill her.

I take a deep breath. This is just training. In order to better train someone, you have to get into the mindset of their opponent so you can plan for and strengthen weak spots.

I try again to study her analytically, distantly, as I have done countless times before with countless others, but the emotions still cause my gut to tighten every time I identify yet another weakness I could exploit.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to push past the mental block and continue. She is leaving her left side unguarded. I start there.

Like most inexperienced fighters, she sees my slowed-down strike coming towards her left and grips my wrist with both of her hands, stopping my progress. I raise an eyebrow, easily pulling my arm back and her with it, sidestepping as she pitches towards the ground. I catch her before she can make contact, wrapping an arm around her waist and immediately releasing her once she’s righted. If you ever take this outside, let her fall then, I remind myself.

She looks up at me, wide eyes blinking rapidly.

I clear my throat. “If someone is attempting to hit you, don’t grab their arm to try and stop them — they can use that to their advantage, as I just did. Instead, you want to use your stance—remember to stay on the balls of your feet—to move out of the way before they can hit you. If you move quickly enough, your opponent is likely to stumble forward since they expected to make contact but now have nothing to stop their momentum. Ideally, you will spin or maneuver so you end up at favorable angle and counterstrike while your opponent is disoriented. Let’s try that.”

She bounces on the balls of her feet and nods, resetting her stance. I raise my arm once more, slowing down my movement so she has time to plan. Just before my fist makes contact with the curve of her waist, she sidesteps, twisting so she ends up behind me. I smile, guessing her next move. I’m not surprised when she pushes firmly between my shoulder blades and, for her benefit, I stumble forward. When I turn around, she’s grinning broadly. The smile doesn’t leave my face, either.

“Good,” I approve, turning to face her so that we’re reset. “Do it again.”

We practice variants of this strategy for a long time, speeding up or slowing down as her progress dictates. I teach her how to effectively duck, to use her stature to her advantage, how to quicken her pace so she stays out of her opponent’s reach.

I lurch forward to grab her, but she spins away at the last second, emerging at my right. As my fingers brush her side for the millionth time, I begin to worry. Does she notice how much I’m touching her? She hasn’t said anything, but she’s certainly not making as much contact with me as I am with her.

That’s because you are mainly on the offense, it’s your job to get close. In hand-to-hand, you cannot strike from a distance, I remind myself. And her job is to try and avoid you. Besides, I continue, allowing her a blow to my shoulder before lightly pushing her in an attempt to throw her balance, this is just normal training. I’m following the same protocol I would with anyone else I train.

Cosima ducks from my outstretched arm and attempts to sidestep, but I switch tactics and block her path. I wrap my arms around her and lift her over my shoulder, her surprised yelp ringing through the room. As soon as my point is made, I set her back on the ground.

She huffs. “You didn’t tell me you were changing it up.”

I give her a dubious look. “Yes, an orc is likely to announce its plan of attack. Forgive me.”

“Oh, all right.” She rolls her eyes. “So what do I do?”

I feel my gaze intensify, wanting desperately to communicate how important this is. “If someone gets their arms around you, they have complete control of you — in the case of someone as inexperienced as yourself, it’s over. Do not let them get their arms around you. Duck out of the way if you can, try to kick them and throw off their balance, elbow them, attempt to get behind them, whatever you need to do. Just don’t let them grab you.”

She nods seriously.

I hope she is never in a position where she will have to use any of this training. The trip home will be dangerous, yes, and obviously I would rather her have the training just in case, but I have no plans of leaving her to her own devices. No, I intend to keep her by my side as often as I can, and when I cannot, I will entrust her care to one of my brothers. She will never have to fight for her life by herself. And once we are in the heavily guarded borders of Lothlórien, which I myself am responsible for securing, she will be well away from danger.

But still, it is important for her to learn…just in case. At any rate, it will hopefully help her feel better about the second pass through the mountains. I know she still suffers from some anxiety due to her attack.

I repeat my movement from before, slower this time. She sees my arms coming and extends her leg, pressing her shoe against my shin.

I drop my arms. “What was that?”

“A kick.”

“You barely tapped me.”

She huffs, crossing her arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I roll my eyes. “You could not hurt me.”

Her mouth drops open. “Rude!”

“It’s a fact.” I narrow my eyes, trying to determine if she’s taken real offense. I think not — there’s a teasing lift to the edges of her lips. So, I continue. “I’ve been a soldier for milennia, one tiny kick from a human woman is not going to send me to the ground in pain.”

Her gaze hardens. She shifts her weight. I crouch in time to wrap my hand around her ankle, stopping her attempt to kick me. I look up at her, unimpressed. An ellon with a day of experience could have seen that coming from a hundred miles away.

She grumbles and bends her knee, shoving it in the direction of my chest as her hands come to press against my shoulders. Before she can make contact, I release her ankle and stand, gripping her elbow and whirling her around. She stumbles, disoriented from the unexpected movement, and I lock one arm across her stomach, the other around her shoulders.

She freezes.

The silence of the room rings in my ears.

“Good instincts,” I mutter, my chest nearly brushing against her back. I stand stiffly, incredibly conscious of that tiny sliver of space. If either of us took even the slightest step…“But I guessed your intention and now I have you in my arms.”

Her breath quickens.

Perhaps I’ve pushed her human stamina too far for one day.

I pull my arms away from her and step back, giving her space to turn around. She does so slowly, swallowing and blinking up at me, looking a little dazed. Guilt creeps into my stomach. She was nearly sick last night, I should have taken it easier today. It is probably time for her to rest.

I clasp my hands behind my back. “I will show you how to avoid that position the next time we meet.”

She brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. It’s in that peculiar style again — a bun, she called it, and I note with surprise that she still uses the hair tie I gave her on the road here. “Okay, sounds good. I uh, have a lesson tomorrow night with Baranor and Alex.”

I nod. “I can come the day after?”

“Good, yeah, that works.” She avoids my gaze. “Thanks.”

I furrow my eyebrows, examining her closer. She doesn’t look ill like she did yesterday. “Are you feeling alright? Did the headache return?”

“Oh, no.” She smiles and waves away my concern. “I think I’m just hungry and tired — I woke up too early.”

Good, she’s not sick, then. I nod. “Understandable. Do you want to go down to dinner?”

“Uh, I think I’ll have it sent up, actually. I want to study before my lesson tomorrow.”

Ah. I take a step in the direction of the door. “I will leave you to it, then. Enjoy your night.”

“You too,” she calls back. “And thanks again.” A much more natural smile graces her lips then, drawing my attention once again to that curious little freckle. My mind begins to drift, remembering the feeling of her in my arms, closer than she’s ever been before. The desire to hold her again makes itself known.

I practically bolt from the room.

A/n RIP Haldir’s sanity, honestly. Thanks for reading!! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my absolute DAY!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x oc #haldir x ofc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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fanfic-collection · 4 years ago

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Loki x Reader: Apocalypse - Ch 9

I'm running out of chapters that I've written, uhoh. Looks like I have hunker down and really write again.

You looked at Loki, then back to Tony, then did a double take and winced, “Surprise?”

“Honestly, this would happen to me.” Tony shook his head. “Really. I was having a relatively normal day in the face of an apocalypse, and now my cousin shows up with one of the Asgardians. Great. We haven’t seen Thor in ages, and just, boom. Out pops Loki. That is absolutely what I needed.” Tony started nodding as he spoke. “So what are you doing here Rock of Ages? Are you behind this weather? Global conquest, being a little shit, just ruining humanity’s day, killing for fun,” Tony held out his hand towards you, “What is that thing on his neck, did you capture him? Why are his eyes covered? Good job if so.”

“Well if you took a minute to stop talking, he could answer you.” You replied coolly.

“Is that thing on his neck the reason you wanted the cutter? Because nope, no thank you, whatever it is, it’s staying on. It looks like it’s,”

Loki stepped forward and pulled off the gauze. It wasn’t a normal step, it was a threat.

Tony looked at him and his Ironman gloves came on, hands at the ready, “Back off, I will shoot.”

“Has it occurred to you,” Loki sneered, “that things have not changed between myself and humanity since we last saw each other?”

Tony blinked taking in Loki’s eyes, “Uh, what’s up with,” he waved his hand in front of his own eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.” Loki replied, his voice colder than the outside, “I can’t see.”

“That’s part of why I asked you to come.” You piped up timidly.

Tony looked between the two of you, confusion scrambling his features.

“Please can I have the cutter?” You asked, reaching your hand out towards Tony, “look at him, those spikes are digging into his skin, he’s bleeding constantly.”

“Maybe he deserves it.”

Loki rolled his red eyes. “Oh yes, my loving father, torturing me continuously, I’m sure you would agree given your history with your oh so wonderful father.”

Tony clenched his jaw, “What do you know about my father?”

��I know a great many things about all of the Avengers. You will recall my time on Midgard when…” Loki paused and picked at his hand, “I was not quite myself.”

Tony laughed sarcastically, “Yea, we remember.”

You interjected, “And we also remember how you heroically died trying to kill Thanos.”

Loki looked up from the vague direction of his palm where he had bowed his head slightly, his blank eyes searching for your voice.

“And all the other Avengers are no saints by their own standards either, they’ve had their crimes they’ve committed in order to do good, or to come back from it and turn their lives around. Surely everyone deserves a second chance, no?” You elbowed Tony.

“He’s had his second chance.” Tony grumbled.

“When he died stopping dark elves from invading earth?” You offered.

“Ok, hello, since when are you so knowledgeable in all things Loki?”

“I talked to him, you should try it some time. When he was recovering, asked him about his life. You know, when you ask people about what they’ve been through, really listen, sometimes they share things. You could stand to learn a thing or two about people around you.” You narrowed your eyes at Tony.

Loki stood there unmoving.

“Fine! Fine! Throw in with him, betray humanity, I’ll have nothing to do with it. Take the damned cutter, but we’re hunting you down as soon as I leave. This is the last we speak.”

Loki sighed, “You really are an imbecile, Stark. Is your pride so great?”

“What?” Tony rounded on Loki, pointing a finger at him, though it had no effect.

“The monsters you humans need fear are frost giants. Those are what are hunting you in droves, and if I would stand to guess, I imagine they brought some of their beasts along as well.” Loki replied, crossing his arms.

Tony looked at you then back to Loki.

“That’s the information we were going to give you in exchange for the cutter.” You said, holding your hand out palm up.

Tony slowly set the cutter in your palm. “Expand.”

“Your cousin and I were attacked in a produce store by three of them. I am… not at my best at current, and they got the jump on me. They are also enhanced by some means, their weapons are different than normal Jotun weapons.”

“Which means?” Tony asked.

“That even if I were at my full power, healing my vision wouldn’t be a possibility. They’ve used ancient magicks, magick that goes back into the depths of time. It is very difficult to learn such techniques.”

You furrowed your brow, “Why didn’t you learn it?”

“Surely Doctor Strange would know it then?” Tony asked.

Loki sighed, “I’m very young, it takes centuries to learn and master, one has to commit fully to it. I have been working on other magical practices, so such things fell to the side.”

“You got a physics degree instead of a mathematics?” You offered.

“Essentially.” Loki turned in Tony’s direction. “That half rate sorcerer would not even know of such magick. What he knows is from books, and mostly books on Midgard. No, you need to travel the cosmos to learn this, even if he still had the time stone he would need to know where to travel, where to look, who to ask, what to seek.”

“Oh.” Tony leaned over towards you and muttered, “he’s still arrogant as hell, you really let him sleep with you?”

“Fuck, Tony, we shared a bed, and he can hear you.” You cried out, shoving Tony away. Though you were too busy to notice the pink on Loki’s face.

“Ok so fine, fine. What’s the creepy collar thing for then?” Tony asked.

“I’d rather not say until it’s off,” Loki paused, “If it can be taken off.”

“Fine, god of lies. Have at it, cousin.”

You stepped forward and gripped the collar carefully, looking at Loki’s face intently. Unbidden, Loki’s hand reached up to grip your arm. You could feel his warm breath on your face as you looked up at him. Your eyes lingered on his thin, pale lips, his square chin and sharp nose and cheekbones. Trying not to bite your lip, you whispered, “Do you trust me?”

You could see Loki swallow before he replied, “Yes.”

Pressing the cutter on, you held it to the metal. A thin beam of energy passed between the two prongs at the end of the red tube. The cold metal hissed and screamed as the energy beam pressed against it, your hand vibrating dangerously. Loki reached up and gripped your hand, steadying it.

“Easy, love. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.” Loki murmured, the disappointment evident in his voice.

You pressed against the metal harder. The tool screeched and shook violently, threatening to slide up and down the metal columns of the collar but you held fast with Loki’s help. Your heart pounded in your chest, you knew it was going to give, you just knew it, and you knew if you pressed in on the metal too hard, it would give and your hand would fly through and strike Loki in the throat.

Pulling your hand back, you tried to keep it in place, just enough that the beam would eat through the metal but not move forward. The beam was so bright, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t, you had to be sure you did this right.

One final ear-wrenching screech and your hand shot forward. Lightning fast, you snapped the tool off, succeeding in only grazing Loki’s throat and leaving a mark resembling a small hickey.

You let out a soft gasp of relief.

Loki pulled his hand away from yours, feeling the broken metal. He had cried out softly at the burn but compared to other pain he had felt, it may as well have been a curling iron. The tool cooled fast for safety reasons. Loki touched the cut part that slid down, one side no longer digging into his throat. With a mixture of giddy relief, he laughed.

Tony leaned around and saw the cut metal, “Well not bad me.” He squinted at the mark on Loki’s neck.

You narrowed your eyes and held up the cutter.

Tony opened his mouth to say something.

You cut him off with an angry look and mouthed, “Don’t.” Then you turned back to Loki, “How are you feeling?”

“I believe as long as it’s on me it’s going to keep working.” Loki sighed, “assuming taking it off even works.”

“Well, hey, even if it doesn’t help, at least you’ll be able to move.”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so the process continued, this time with the one by his chest. You wanted to delay the one under his chin as long as possible since it was so close to skin. Even as fast as you moved, that one would burn the bottom of his throat in a long strip before you could turn it off.

“Can you put like any nanites or something to protect him, Tony?” You asked as you struggled with the lower bar. “The last one is going to be nasty if not.”

“You know? I probably could.” Tony said thoughtfully. “But you owe me.”

“I assume you want to know what this contraption does.” Loki replied dryly.

“Bingo.”

“It makes me mortal.”

“Wait what?” Tony blanched, “Woah now, cousin, wait a minute, I don’t think cutting that off is the right idea.”

The lower bar snapped, the cutter shot forward and just in time you managed to only lightly singe Loki’s armor.

“We had a deal, Tony.” You growled.

“Nonbinding contract, oral agreements aren’t technically legally binding.” Tony replied.

Loki narrowed his eyes, looking slightly to the right of Tony. “Even without my sight and powers I am plenty lethal.”

“Yes well, I like my odds way more if you can’t go around using magic and surviving explosions and like fifty foot drops.”

“Tony! We had a deal!” You slapped Tony’s chest.

Tony looked at you stunned. “Did you just hit me?”

“Loki has been nothing but kind to me throughout the entirety of me knowing him.”

“Minus the murder of eighty-six people in a SHIELD bunker and two-hundred fifty or so people in New York plus billions in property damage.”

“As I recall, the SHIELD bunker was your director’s doing, he was the one playing with the tesseract, attempted to bury me in a last ditch attempt to stop me from escaping, failed and blamed it on me. And while I did hurt some people in New York, I do apologize for that, I wasn’t quite myself but that is neither here nor there. How is your Hulk, did the civilians he traumatized appreciate him? And the chitauri which you by now know wasn’t me. In fact, if the Hulk hadn’t shown up, you might have been better off, given the sheer amount of damage he added to the wreckage.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth pointing a finger at Loki.

“I assure you, whatever gesture you’re making at me is wasted.”

“Fine, you can use my nanites.” Tony grumbled. “You fell hard for this guy, huh?”

“That is none of your business and neither here nor there.” You huffed. As you turned back to Loki, a lingering ghost of a smile stayed on his face.

Then the nanites were on his throat and you began to cut.

#loki x reader #reader insert #ficbit #multi chapter #loki fanfiction

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killian-whump · 4 years ago

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Game Night! [Liveblog #4]

I’m gonna try to finish up the last game and the end of the video in this post, so we better get right to it!

The last game they’re going to play is called Quiplash. Okay, they’re going to be given a prompt... and whoever finishes the quip in the funniest way wins. Kat warns that she’s a master at this and that everybody’s going down. Colin seems impressed by her bravado, but incensed to win nonetheless. “Here we go,” says Sam unenthusiastically 😂

AND THE GAME IS ON!!!

...or it’s meant to be on. Sam’s not joined the game yet. Seems to be having some sort of technical difficulty. “You scared of losing, Sam?” Colin asks helpfully. “All the rest of us got in pretty easy...”

Sam has joined. His name is now Colonislosin 😂 It’s hard to see exactly how it’s spelled. I don’t think any of them can see it that clearly, either. Sam has to tell them what it says.

“We’ll see,” Colin says. “We’ll see.”

The game begins. “It’s more like Col-on is losin,” Sam says. “Col-on.”

The audio is breaking all up in this segment, and Josh even comments on “Low internet signal. We’re doing great.” Hmm. I paid $10 for this, you damn well better find a stronger internet signal.

ROUND 1! The first quip is: We can all agree that... The two answers are: “Covid sucks” and “Josh... is... hairy” “Covid sucks” wins ~ and Colin gets all the points.

The second quip is: A terrible name for a funeral parlor. The two answers are: “Happy Times Palace” and “We put the Fun in Funeral” “We put the Fun in Funeral” wins ~ and Kat gets all the points.

The third quip is: “Knock Knock” “Who’s There?” The two answers are: “Me DUH” and “Get the fuck away from my door” “Get the fuck away” wins and Josh gets most of the points. Colin gets some too, I think, for his answer, because Sam voted for it.

The fourth quip is: “Something that would make a creepy replacement for the horses on a merry-go-round.” The two answers are: “Mini Josh’s” and “Creepy Princes” AREN’T THOSE THE SAME THING?! 😂 “One and the same,” says Sammy. “You don’t want to sit on a mini Josh, do you?” Sam ponders. Josh forgets to even vote, and Sam gets points for “Mini Josh’s”

At the end of Round 1, Sam is in the lead, with Kat and Colin tied for second.

I wanna take this moment to apologize for how BORING this post is so far. During the games, all five people (the three stars, Josh, and Sammy the producer) are in these miniscule windows on the far right of the screen. You can barely even see them. And during this game, there’s little to no conversation going on between/during the quips. As much fun as this game might be to play, it’s not a lot of fun to watch. The last one was better, but even that tended to DRAG for the audience at home. Josh really needs to work on the games he’s having stars play if he plans to keep charging $10 a month to watch this stuff. Also, the audio keeps breaking up in this segment, so even when they talk, some of it’s hard to decipher.

“I respect that Colin is doing this instead of reading bedtime stories to his children tonight,” Josh says as everyone’s entering in their answers for Round 2. “[That’s] how committed I am,” Colin replies. Kat says something that is so broken up, I can’t even begin to figure out what it is. Something about bedtime stories and Colin’s kids. It’s probably funny. 🤷‍♀️ I’m getting mad about my $10 gift card being gone again.

Alright. Round 2.

Quip #1: It never ends well when you mix ___ and ___. Answers: “poo and oatmeal” and “Sam and Josh” Okay, that second one is gold. Who did that? Apparently Colin did “poo and oatmeal” and Kat did “Sam and Josh”. Bless her. Colin gets the points with more votes, though.

Quip #2: The worst car feature that ends with “holder” Answers: “penis” and “diaper” Sam is just blinking rapidly. Now he’s laughing. “How does that work?” he asks. No one answers. “But I wanna know,” he says. “How does it work?” Josh wins the points with his “penis” answer - which Colin voted for, by the way - but no one cares now. “Does it move?” Kat asks. “Or does it just-” “Don’t ask too many questions,” Josh says. “What kind of size is it?” Sam asks. “Is it stationary or is there a motor feature?” Kat asks. “Maybe it’s a good idea...” Sam concludes, as Josh laments the kind of dreams he’s going to have now.

The third quip is literally happening in the background now, as everyone talks about the penis holder. Colin is noticeably silent on the topic XD

Quip #3: Something upsetting you could say to the cable guy as he installs your television service. Answers: “you smell like fart” and “want to see my murder room?” I’m sitting here going, “don’t be Colin, don’t be Colin” while simultaneously knowing 100% that Colin absolutely typed “you smell like fart” into his phone and... Yeah. Yeah, I’m right. That was him 😂 And he got 0 points. “Oh, boooo,” says Colin. Honey... Honey, I’m sorry, but that was bad.

Quip #4: The name of the reindeer Santa did not pick to pull his sleigh. Answers: “ohdeer” and “tipsy” Neither of these are very good. I hate this game. Kat gets the points with “tipsy”.

OH WOW, YOU GUYS. The final points are tallied and...

WHAT IS THIS TOMFOOLERY?! Colin is LOSING?!?! I mean, I know “you smell like fart” was bad, but this is unbelievable! I call shenanigans!!!

Colin is literally sitting forward in his chair now, lmao. The determination is intense, you guys. I once again cannot handle him right now. I wish he wasn’t in the teeny tiny window so I could show you guys better, but look at him getting his fucking game face on:

This man is a peanut and I love him with every fiber of my being. Look at him being a competitive little somesuch in last place. I can’t, you guys. Bury me here, etc, etc, I’m just a goner for this ridiculous man.

O’DONOINTENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last Round: Quip: Strange side effect to hear during a drug commercial. Answers: “cream cheese will come out of your butt” “seeing double horowitz” and “the screams of baboons” - there’s only three because Kat didn’t get her answer in before the time was up. Aaaaaaand the sound’s breaking all up again 😣 Josh is wondering what the point is of voting, if all you’re doing is giving points to your competitors. “Do you have to give all three votes?” Colin asks. “See,” Josh says. “Colin is thinking strategically, like me.” “Well, I’m not entirely sure the other two, I think, deserve any more than one point.” But it’s... it’s the WAY he says it, OH MY GOD, lol. Lemme... I gotta... Okay, I screen recorded it for you guys.

That O’Donosass is actually almost worth $10, you guys.

Which is good, because the audio is getting worse and worse on this and it’s starting to piss me off. Anyway! Everybody’s got a lot of points, because those were ALL good answers (Colin’s was “the screams of baboons” which I quite like). Let’s see the final tally...

Josh is the winner! But Colin managed a come-from-behind close second, so I’m really proud of him :D Sam mentions how Josh invited them all there to play games and then BEAT them. Josh is closing out the show, saying he hopes everyone enjoyed it... “I enjoyed it,” Josh says "But maybe that’s just 'cause I won at the very last second.” “No, well, you won ONE,” Colin cuts in. “You won ONE game.”

SERIOUSLY. BURY ME RIGHT THERE 😂😂😂

“Colin won the first round,” Josh says.

“...and then we have these two other people.”

Incidentally, I wish everyone’s webcams were as clear as Kat’s.

Anyway, now there’s some sweet summing up... and Josh hawking everyone’s current projects... (gee, it’s like this is promotional content or something) and the show closing down and-

“Can I win next time?” asks Sam Heughan.

~ The End ~

I hope you guys had fun reading this. I gotta say... this one video isn’t worth $10. I can see if you’re a huge fan of Josh’s or really into celebrity culture, $10 a month might be a fine price to pay for a bunch of this kind of content... but for a one-time video when your fave happens to show up on his channel? Nah. He really should have a “one time access” fee available for individual videos that’s a LOT less. Like, I’m talking, like... $1 or 2. This is literally a zoom call... and as such, the quality’s only as good as his guests’ webcams and audio and everyone’s internet connections. Also, I found the game format enticing... but ultimately boring due to the games chosen. The Would You Rather was the most fun of the three, because we actually got to hear from the stars and get some banter going. The games relied too much on the stars interacting with their devices instead of each other or anyone really engaging the audience. Honestly, if it was any of my faves other than Colin in this video, I might not have even watched the whole thing. Colin’s adorable competitive streak and eagerness to win play games is what kept me watching. The idea is cute, but it needs some work. And the price is too high - especially with the audio issues in the last ten minutes or so. That’s my final verdict.

#colin o'donoghue #game night #liveblog

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twelvedy7 · 4 years ago

Text

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs).

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe. This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences.

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it.

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions.

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure.

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to.

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives.

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder.

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses.

“Yeah. See you.”

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon.

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard.

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together.

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes.

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed.

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time.

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___

“Takano-san!”

...

“Takano-san!”

Who was it?

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo.

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed.

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow.

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling.

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips.

“Takano-san can you hear me?!”

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions.

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was.

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.”

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him.

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.”

He felt absolutely miserable.

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…”

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder.

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch.

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.”

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull.

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”.

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him.

Now Ritsu would need him.

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.”

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted.

#sekaiichihatsukoi #Sekaiichi Hatsukoi #junjou romantica #Ritsu Onodera #Takano Masamune #yokozawa takafumi

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

Note

Imo there is enough to support the possibility of a romantic relationship, but you are writing full on narratives with impossible specificity. You know what confirmation bias is but some young impressionable people dont yet . Forgive me but misleading with ' alt facts' can hurt someone even if you dont mean it. I think you are a good person not looking to hurt anyone. But the way you postulate without any evidence makes your actions a little but like those of a charlatan. Peace and kindness

All these kind words you spew...

It feels more like an advice than a question so I'm not sure how to respond to it...

Let me just say thank you? I never quite understood what the brouhaha was about with my posts but after talking to a few people, 'on the other side' lol and reading your Ask, I think I'm starting to get a better sense of what the problem is.

Something about young impressionable minds or people?

Let the council of elders know, those are not my audience please. I cater to a much more mature audience- at least so far. The people that I interact with and engage with on my posts on and off Tumblr are very mature and not impressionable at all.

They are People with brains who can tell an opinion from fact and can engage in deep complex controversial conversations without throwing up, shedding tears or cussing through to the heavens.

If there are 'impressionable people' reading my blogs- they do so at their own risk. If you know any such people or they run to you with my theories kindly point out to them it's just theory because that's what my opinions are.

I think the best thing you can do is to advice such people to grow up if they are going to sit at the adult table or not read my posts at all. I think you need to learn to hold the right people accountable for their actions.

The best I can do in this case- to hold myself accountable, is to put up a disclaimer on my posts to let people know what it is that they are reading- something I do quite often. But I will make conscious efforts to put up those disclaimers each time henceforth. Thank you.

That I write full on narratives with impossible specificity:

Is this Latin for, 'you write fiction get the fuck outta here?' Chilee.

I don't even know what you mean by this exactly so I may not be able to respond to it to your satisfaction. Bare with me.

So what if I write fiction? What is wrong with writing fiction? Do you hate fiction writers? I don't get what the hate is with these complaints honestly. Do you want me to put up a disclaimer stating my blogs are fiction? Would that help? I would glady do it.

If it helps you sleep at night think of my blogs as fiction- a rose by any other name. I've been keeping up with Shakespeare. Lol.

I don't think it's that deep. Listen, you gotta understand that just because we both 'ship' Jikook don't mean we are on the same team...

Most alt shippers I know and who read my posts and engage with it are not even Army to begin with, for your information. They could care less about these shipping politics of yours. Have you thought about that?

Some simply ship JK and JM and support them because they believe they are members of the LGBTQ plus community not because they are part of BTS.

There are different communities out there who are also into Jikook- for very different reasons. You gotta respect that.

To you, Jikook is just a ship within BTS that may or may not be real, but to some of us they have very much outgrown that description...

They are a brand of their own, a power couple and members of the LGBTQ plus community- Gay Icons extraordinaire. I think we take very different stock in Jikook. So stop trying to fit us all into one box.

It's disrespectful to try and control the way that people perceive their OTP and support them. Jikook don't just belong to Army Jokers, they belong to different communities outside Army. Are you aware of that?

And please don't confuse the intersect. I am an alt-shipper yes but I just so happen to be an Army too. But if I wasn't an Army, I'd still pretty much 'ship' and support Jikook- make no mistake. There are quite a few of us running around these streets, you know?

So you have every right to want to gatekeep your Army Jikook- but you have to do that without infringing on other rights of other 'Jikook communities.'

Throughout my blogs I have tried to shed light on what altshipping is because I thought it would help bridge the gap but clearly that hasn't worked. Sigh.

Misleading alt facts

Do you not know what it means or you are just being ironic?👀

Why is it ok for you to believe and proclaim that JK and BigHit lied about JK dating the Tattoo artist but it's not ok for me to believe JK is telling the truth when he says he didn't date her and that BigHit saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone- hence why they didn't press charges against the shop for breach of privacy like they had said they were going to do. Instead, they had asked the shop to keep calm till the scandal died down on it's own?

You start your piece off with the whole, 'there is enough evidence to support a romantic relationship' between JK and the tattoo shop lady- I assume.

For context, this Ask by this anon is in response to my recent post/ answer on the tattoo girl scandal where the topic of discussion was on BigHit, JK and the tattoo artist and not Jikook perse.

A statement that is in direct conflict with JK's statement, BigHit's and the lady in questions, all denying that there was a romantic relationship between her and Jungkook- and somehow I am misleading who- who now with my theory??? Chileee.

Do you see the problem here? Double standards- the hallmark of bigotry. Lmho. You are literally doing the very thing you are accusing me of. Making confident assertions and claiming you know more about JK and the Lady's relationship and even have 'enough evidence' contrary to BigHit, JK and the Tattoo artist's statements denying the rumors- at least when I theorize I admit I'm being delusional. What's your excuse? When you say charlatan are you referring to yourself? You must be. Lmho.

Now I'm confident in my comprehension skills and intelligent enough to know when you make an assertion like this- it is your opinion and you are just stating your opinion. If you are not then honey you'd be opening yourself up to some serious litigation... goodluck I guess. Lol.

You are allowed to form an opinion about a topic. There is nothing wrong with that. If to you, JK and this person dated that is fine. I am not going to cyber bully you, stalk you, throw slurs at you, harrass you, dox you, slid into people's Dms to spread hate and lies about you just because I don't agree with your opinion. And for the record, I don't agree with your opinion. Hehehehe.

I have stated my opinion on the matter. I said I think JK and this person did hang out, go on dates but that there was no romantic sexual relationship between them because I believe that would have had much serious consequences and effects on Jikooks dynamics no matter how much they tried to keep a cool facade. Whoever felt cheated on would have acted more insecure than usual post the incident- how does this make me a charlatan? Are you saying it's wrong it have an opinion? Chileee.

Now if you can produce 'evidence' of them having sex or even kissing, then I will gladly change my mind on the topic and not sweat it.

Jikook have done way worse questionable things in 7 good years and people still don't believe they are dating. Jk hangs out with a female friend a few times in less than a month and suddenly he is dating her? Lmho.

You don't need me to tell you people are more eager to accept a heterosexual relationship than wrap their heads around the fact that two male idols are gay and in a gay relationship with eachother. Don't you just love it when homophobia meets heteronormativity and stinks? I do. Lol.

I mean this is a fandom that thinks JK is 'too touchy' and doesn't respect his boundaries- they practically swear JK is cheating on Jimin with every member any time he hugs, kisses, wings at within the group. You think they will be 'objective' about JK hanging out with a girl? Even if it happened once?

You said something about confirmation bias.... I will not touch it. Lmho.

This is not the first time JK has gone on a date with a girl. This is not the first time he has 'dated a girl', he has hand girls on his laps or whatever- what is a back hug? I think people need to stop defining Jikook's lives by their own standards. If a backhug is intimate to you. Thats you. If you think a grown ass man cannot hang out with a female friend, that's equally you.

You think if he thought it was inappropriate and risky he would do it 'in public?' Get with Kpop Idol dating culture. Lmho.

Do you know the lengths they go through to keep their relationships a secret? Especially non celebrity girlfriends? Chen from EXO got married and where is his wife? They keep their flings tighter than Trump keeps his toupee on his head. Lol.

They hide them not out of shame but out of love and the need to protect their loved ones. These idols have family members who have their restaurants and businesses shut down because they want to keep their privacy.

You think JungKook's girlfriend would- on her own, issue a statement regarding a scandal that Jungkook's agency had specifically directed her and her shop to keep quiet about and lay low till it blew away on its own? And later, started liking couple posts about her and JK? If they were dating, certainly JK would have dumped her after that move. In my opinion.

You think JK would let his fandom drag the person he is in a relationship with to the extent she loses her Job- when in his Itaewon gay pub scandal BigHit referred to the issue as his private affair immediately it happened? They could have kept the same energy with her, no?

They handled his gay pub scandal much better, with much respect and consideration for his privacy- if he dated her sorry but she mustn't have meant much to him at all. And if I were her I would have dumped him for that shit and not stay liking couple posts about us. Damn- But do you.

Taehyung was in a scandal with a girl too- did you see her liking posts and shit and going out of her way to do the most? Did you see how BigHit handled that scandal?

Nothing wrong if JK is 'dating' her or had 'dated' her and whatever person he decides he wants to be in a relationship with I will support him- that's why I support Jikook.

But your opinion is equally valid my guy. Just don't call me a charlatan for mine. You believe they dated, I believe they didn't- and to your impressionable young minds, I hope you are not selling them anything contrary to BigHit and JK's statement. That would be very irresponsible of you. Lol.

What else did you say?

Oh postulating without evidence...

Next time I write a theory based on my observations about Jikook, remind me to break off a piece of my brain and attach it to it- I guess that way people would finally understand when I say things like 'I think' 'in my opinion' 'I feel' 'I believe' that these are just my thoughts and opinions and not facts.

Let me leave you with this:

Peace and kindness. Namaste.

Signed,

GOLDY.

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