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radiantroope · 4 years

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Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

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You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

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saffronwritings · 3 years

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C L U M S Y | S H I N S O U PT.3

S H I N S O U | P A R T T H R E E (Final)

I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again

C L U M Y M A S T E R L I S T

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: This started off shorter and then I redid one of the segments and welp here we are at 4.3k words. Oops! It’s not favoritism I promise. This is the “final” part to Shinsou’s CLUMSY series! I really hope you all enjoy! I’ll make a post asking what you all want to see next! :)

Denki couldn’t remember what time Shinsou told him to meet up with him after his training with Aizawa-sensei, so he figured he was going to just sit outside of the gym until he saw his purple haired friend exit the locker rooms. It had become almost routine for the two to have after school hangouts, mainly so Shinsou could relax after a long day. Kaminari helped fill the void that he felt without being able to see you. Though, Shinsou was guilty that it had distracted him from talking to you on occasion. While Kaminari was sporadic and chaotic, it helped ease the stress that Shinsou was constantly under.

However, Kaminari was surprised when he noticed the gym door was left wide open. Usually when he had ventured over to this part of UA, he would notice that the doors were closed. A privacy thing so that the students didn’t feel pressured or on-lookers wouldn’t intimate the said student. Had Aizawa-sensei cancelled his practice with Shinsou for the day? He was acting very strange the entire course of the day. He was extra grumpy and even before coming to check in on his friend, he had particularly felt bad for Shinsou having to deal with his sensei’s foul mood.

Curiosity got the better of the blonde boy, Denki decided to peek inside the small private gym, the ones teachers used to mentor students in, only to see Shinsou standing against a wall with his face pale and expression shocked. Shinsou had looked like he had either seen a ghost or had been told someone close to him had died. This immediately made the blonde worry for his new friend. He had looked around cautiously to see if Aizawa was still in the room. When it showed that it was only the two boys just sitting in absolute silence, that is when Kaminari decided to speak up to figure out what was going on. “Oi Shinsou, is everything-” The blonde started to say before Shinsou let out a scream of frustration. It reverberated a chill down Kami’s spine, making him flinch back.

Suddenly gym equipment started to fly across the room in haphazardly ways. His screams and shouts continued while he was heaving equipment left and right. “I’VE WORKED SO HARD.” Shinsou shouted in his fit of rage. “I HAVE WATCHED UNWORTHY STUDENTS SIT IN LUXURY.” Kaminari sat in a state of shock, watching his new friend seemingly lose his mind. He wanted to go and comfort his friend, but he was afraid he was going to lash out on him as well. He opted to just let him get all of his emotions out, even if it wasn’t in a healthy manner. “I PUSHED SO MANY PEOPLE AWAY FOR A SLIVER OF A CHANCE TO PROVE MYSELF.” He spewed again, not noticing the tears starting to stream down his face. He had thrown everything within a few feet radius as hard as he could across the smaller gym room.

He had looked over to Kaminari who was just standing there awkwardly, watching him, judging him. However, Shinsou was so out of breath he wasn’t sure if he even had any energy left to yell at the blonde for looking at him with such pity in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, dude, but maybe you should take a breather before you hurt yourself.” Kaminari spoke cautiously, trying to not provoke Shinsou further. “You don’t get to tell me when to calm down! You don’t understand, you’ve had the privilege to just BE in the hero course!” Shinsou shouted at him, his eyes filled with both tears and rage. “But, you’re doing so well with your training! You were just talking to the support class to design your new gear!” Kaminari still tried to direct the conversation in a positive manner.

The two had just discussed how he was getting one of the girls in the support class to design a vocal chord changing mask. Kaminari was super blown away with the idea of being able to change voices in order to trick their opponents. While Shinsou might have lacked the psychical strength, he was always good at diverting and making a plan for success. “It doesn’t even matter now! Don’t you get it deadbolt!? I not only lost my shot at joining the hero course but I also lost the girl I loved by pushing her away for this opportunity” Shinsou’s voice strained out, it being raspy from screaming and shouting.

The blonde’s eyes widened in shock, realizing the situation at hand in front of him. He was watching Shinsou have a breakdown because for some reason, he had lost his mentor-ship with Aizawa. “What? What happened? You were doing great with your training!” Denki had pointed out making Shinsou flinch in embarrassment from those words. “Don’t you think I know that?!” The purple haired boy cried, clutching his chest in desperate attempts to not let his heart fail him now. Kaminari had also picked up on his specific wording, the girl he loved. Had he gotten into a fight with you the night before? As far as he was concerned, the two of you were fine. You guys had plans to meet up after practice the prior day.

“Can’t you just fix all of this then?” Kaminari’s comment made Shinsou turn very angrily towards him. “If I could, do you think I would make this big of a mess and yell so loudly? Do you think I would have gone into a fit of rage, destroying the gym if i could just FIX it? I can’t, you dumbass! I screwed up big time!” Shinsou cried out more, finally admitting his defeat. His knees crashed to the ground and he fell over onto his hands. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking down completely in front of Kaminari.

Kaminari knelt down next to him, placing a gentle hand onto the boy's back. Shinsou wouldn’t have noticed though, his entire body felt numb. He felt like he was plunging into a sea of darkness, swarmed with all his insecurities and doubts that he was ever good enough in the first place for such opportunities. With each gasp of air he took, he could feel himself drowning further into the waters that flowed over him like a flooding hurricane. Everything he worked for, everything he was aiming for was now just stripped from him.

You always kept him afloat with positive words that always helped him breach the waters that tempted to drown him. Like a ripping current he was being dragged under so quickly it was hard to breath. Kaminari was full of panic himself, watching Shinsou progress in his panic attack without fully knowing what to do. He wasn’t like Kirishima who could easily bring comfort to those in states like this. The blonde was tempted to go get help from one of his other friends but he was afraid of leaving Shinsou alone.

What had he done that had gotten him kicked from the mentoring program and had made him lose you?

…

“Stop right there, Shota.” Hizashi’s voice rang from down the hallway of the teacher’s lounge. Aizawa was still steaming with fury that he hadn’t noticed how far away from the training gyms he was. He came to a halt to see the older blonde glaring at him. “You took that way too far. I don’t know the extent of what your daughter said on the phone, but hurting Shinsou that badly wasn’t justified.” He started spewing, getting angrier through his sentence. Aizawa narrowed his eyes at his friend. “He broke her heart.” The tired teacher said through gritted teeth. “You didn’t hear how upset she was over the phone. I’ve heard her get like that once and that was after the USJ incident with the league of villains.”

“Teenagers go through breakups and fights all the time.” Hizashi tried to reason with him. “You don’t have a daughter, Hizashi.” Aizawa quickly countered. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to hear your son or daughter call to you for help, sounding like they barely slept the night before.” Shota knew he was going way over the top, but if there was anything he would do, it was for the sake of his daughter.

His daughter wasn’t a planned idea, but there was nothing on the planet that Aizawa could love more. There was a reason he had made living arrangements and let little know about his daughter. The last thing he needed was for the league of villains to find out about you and to attempt to take you away from him. “No, but I know that you just crushed every hope that kid had for joining the hero course. Instead of punishing the poor kid who hasn’t been given a chance since he got here, why not help him out?” Hizashi started to try and reason with him.

“Help him out? After he hurt my daughter?” Aizawa growled through his gritted teeth. He could feel the headache forming in his temples from the day. He spent it so angrily, so filled to the brim with frustration. It was like he was getting hit multiple times in the chest with blow after blow. “You don’t even know what happened between the two! For all you know it could have been a misunderstanding. The last thing you want is for there to be no hope for your daughter to be able to make things up with the boy because you scarred him.”

For once, Hizashi had a really good point. As much as it pained him to agree with the obnoxious blonde, he knew he was right. “I’m sure your daughter would appreciate the effort set forth by you.” He continued to push, making a groan leave Aizawa’s throat. “Fine, fine. If it will get you off my back, and if you really think this is a good idea, then I’ll go make things right. If not, I will not hesitate to hang you over a pool of sharks.” Aizawa threatened, making Hizashi smile widely at him.

Hizashi treaded lightly behind Aizawa to make sure he would stay true to his word. The last thing he needed was for the man to slump over and fall asleep before missing his chance to fix things with Shinsou. He didn’t want to tell Aizawa, because he knew it would make him feel even worse about the situation, but he knew Shinsou had a soft spot for Eraserhead. The way the kid watched in admiration whenever he would explain something to the student said volumes.

Aizawa was not happy about having to be the one to confront the boy who broke his daughter’s heart. Damn that loud mouthed Hizashi for bringing his daughter into the mix. He knew he was right but that didn’t make him any less happy about the situation. In no time flat he made it back to the gym only to notice that things were strewn about. Weights were all over the place, the sparring matt was upright against a wall instead of on the ground. He noticed Kaminari next to Shinsou, kneeled over and rubbed circles into Hitoshi’s back. He almost felt bad when he heard the soft sobbing that came from the hunched over boy. Until he took into account what he had done to his daughter.

Aizawa crossed the room and pointed for Denki to leave. The electric blonde did not hesitate to question his teacher’s instruction and left the gym quickly. Aizawa squatted down to Shinsou’s level and put a hand on his back. “Get up, kid.” He said in a husky voice, before standing up. Shinsou’s eyes shot open and his head shot up to look at him. Surprise and confusion flooded his face as he wasn’t sure why the teacher of class 1-A had come back to him.

“Kaminari, if you don’t scram from eavesdropping from around the corner I will not hesitate to flunk you on your next upcoming exam.” Aizawa shouted loud enough so that his lingering student could hear. Both Aizawa and Shinsou heard shoes scuttling away from the door and down the hallway. He was about to tell Hizashi the same thing, but Shinsou had interrupted his thought process by saying, “Why did you come back?” Shota had noted his tone was defeated, and almost filled with hopelessness.

“I was too harsh, I was overcome with my own emotions of protecting my daughter and lashed it out on you. You are a bright student and one that deserves a second shot.” Aizawa started to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was your daughter? I had been dating her for well over a year. You had to know what you were signing up for when taking me on as my mentor.” Shinsou questioned quickly, obviously still very confused from the situation.

“I wanted to make you a hero good enough to protect her.” Aizawa admitted, shaking his head at his own thoughts. “I don’t know what you said to her to make her so upset she called me crying, but you need to fix it. However, being my daughter, she’s a stubborn headed mess. If I personally don’t help you, you may not have a shot of fixing it.” Shinsou’s eyes lit up with just a tad bit of hope. “You’re helping me?” Shinsou’s voice came out in a whisper. “In this regard, yes. If you think I’m going to be cleaning your mess here, you are sorely mistaken.” Aizawa said, however, Shinsou could hear a bit of playfulness in his tone.

…

You had been tempted to try and communicate with Shinsou after the blow-up the two of you had. However, judging on the last text you sent him, he had your number blocked. Even if he had unblocked your number, wouldn’t he have tried to reach out and make things better? This wasn’t the first quarrel the two of you had, obviously not to this degree. It had never gone on this long. The realization dawned on you the night before you were supposed to get together with your father, that maybe Shinsou was serious about not wanting you around while he went through his training.

It didn’t help lessen the blow in the slightest bit. It felt like someone was stepping on your chest and every time you felt like maybe you had some semblance of a grasp on your own emotions, the foot would step down harder. You felt crippled without Shinsou in your life. Your phone felt like it had less purpose, even if you had texted a few of your other friends to attempt to try and fill in the void that Shinsou had left. You had missed the late night texts, staying up video calling with him and seeing the sleep slip further from his eyes during his studies. Your grades this past week alone had slipped quite quickly as you were unable to focus on a single word a teacher was saying.

Your zombielike state had concerned not only your teachers, your classmates, but also your mother. While you tried to let it seem like it wasn’t bothering you that you had lost your best friend, you knew that your mother knew you better than that. What was worse was that she was probably keeping your father up to date on the current situation. You hadn’t informed either of your parents the details of your breakup with Hitoshi, and you hadn’t planned on it. The last thing you or your family needed was your father in jail for attempting to murder a minor.

When the weekend came around, you were half-tempted to cancel on your plans with your father. You wanted nothing more than to accept the warm embrace your bed was giving you. While it was dragging you further into your pit of despair it was at least comforting. When your phone buzzed on your nightstand you weighed the options of just going back to sleep, you knew your father was persistent and would call over and over until you woke up. For a man who was tired all the time, he didn’t understand why teenagers sleep so much over weekend breaks. Groaning, you gathered all your strength to sit up in your bed and reach over to answer your phone.

“We are still on for the movies today, right kiddo?” Your father’s voice chimed not even a second after you had picked up the phone. “I was actually thinking of maybe a rain check?” You tried to push, but you could already feel him rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone. “I know you being a teenager and you probably aren’t even out of bed yet, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s not raining.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips and you wanted nothing more than to hang up and turn your phone off. You were in no mood for his antics for the day.

“I’m just not feeling up to going today, papa.” You whispered after there was silence between the two. “I figured you would feel that way. Your mother has mentioned how you have been practically among the living dead this last week.” He recounted, making you curse under your breath for knowing your mother all too well. You had hoped that maybe, just this once she was going to keep things to herself. You should have known better. “I already bought the tickets ahead of time, and I’m not taking Hizashi or your mother.” Your father warned.

“Fine, I’ll get ready. I’ll meet you at the train station?” You sighed in defeat, knowing you would not win this battle. “Sounds good to me.” He said, before both of you hung up your phones.

…

You stood at the entrance of the train station, checking your phone a few times to make sure that your dad hadn’t texted you that he was running late. You had attempted to call him twice already and he hadn’t picked up on either attempt. A sigh escaped your lips, wishing that you had just stood your ground on staying home and sleeping the weekend away. “Y/N?” If you hadn’t been frozen in place before, the voice you had memorized locked your feet into place. Suddenly your heart was racing immensely too fast and the wind felt like it was knocked clean out of your lungs.

It wasn’t even fair, the way fate had played out for you this day. Not only did you dress in just leggings and a baggy hoodie, you had chosen a hoodie that you only now registered had belonged to Shinsou. Cursing your father for following through with your request for father daughter time, you finally looked up at the purple haired boy who seemed almost sheepish. He was wearing that cursed bomber jacket that you always loved on him, a simple t shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. In other words, he at least looked a million times more decent than you had. Not to mention your hair was thrown haphazardly into a messy bun and god knows you had dark circles developing under your eyes with your lack of sleep you had gotten last week.

“You know out of the two of us for once I think you win in the department of needing some extra weekend sleep.” Shinsou tried to ease himself into conversation with you. The tension in the air was so thick that you were sure that you were suffocating on it. You had so many questions and so many emotions flooding you at once. Your mind was swirling like you were stuck on a teacup ride that you were trapped on. When Shinsou noticed your lack of response to his statement, he returned back to his awkward state of trying to figure out how to make things go back to normal.

Anything would be better than this killer silence. He hated that it looked like you hadn’t slept in over a week and hated it even more than he was the one that caused you to be like this. His guilt was suffocating him for ever causing you this much pain for being so selfish. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and to soothe your pains away. If it hadn’t been for Aizawa he wouldn’t have even been here. He would still be in his dorm, beating himself up for ever letting this distance drift you two so far apart.

“If we don’t hurry, we are going to miss our movie.” Shinsou settled on saying, before turning to walk towards the direction of the movie theater. You whipped your head up so fast in confusion, trying to stammer out a sentence that made any sense. “Wha- I mean I’m here to meet with my dad.” You finally uttered, grabbing on his jacket sleeve to get him to stop walking. Immediately, Shinsou had reverted back to his nervous nature around you like he had once done when the two of you first started dating.

“Your father gave me the tickets and wanted me to take you out as a way to apologize for my irrational behavior. I should have never snapped at you like I did or acted as immature as I did. I can’t even begin to imagine how it was for you to just be waiting for any kind of affection on my end. I blew you off after an entire month of not seeing you. I probably made it seem like I wasn’t as excited to see you, but I was too focused on my own stupidity to realize what was right in front of me.” He blurted out quickly, stepping closer into your own proximity. “I don’t deserve any kind of forgiveness, but if I didn’t try, I’m pretty sure Aizawa-sensei would personally either kick my ass or expel me.”

You were listening intently until Shinsou had mentioned your father’s last name. “Aizawa-sensei?” You reiterated, raising a shocked eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I was surprised too when I found out. I almost lost my entire chance at getting into the hero course all together because of how pissed he was at me for hurting you.” Shinsou murmured quietly. If your jaw wasn’t open in shock before, it surely was now. Had Shinsou not been standing right in front of you currently you probably would have called your father and chewed him out for his brash behavior.

However, your heart swelled when thinking about how your father had stepped in to try and fix things between you and Shinsou. It must have been why he was so insistent on you coming to meet with him today. You had to remember to shoot him a text later calling him out on his conniving ways. “I know it’s probably embarrassing, your father stepped in on the situation, but honestly if it wasn’t for him I would have never had the courage to do this.” He said, grabbing your hand to hold in his own without hesitation. His hands were ice cold like they always had been, sending a chill up your spine.

“I wanted to be a hero that you could be proud of but instead I turned into a selfish loser-” He continued, that is until you grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled his lips into your own. The chaste kiss made the nervousness melt away from both you and Shinsou. He relaxed into your touch, snaking his arms around your waist. You kissed him like you were afraid you would never get to kiss him again. When you were laying in your bed days after your fight you wanted nothing more than to be in the purple haired boys embrace. You had feared the last time you had seen him, the month before, was the last happy memory of being together. The time he had finally told you he loved you and the last time you two brushed your lips against one another's.

Tears flowed down your cheeks when the two of you had pulled away, gasping for breaths. You felt dizzy from all the overwhelming emotions you were thrown through but you wouldn’t give anything up for this moment right here. For the boy you loved more than yourself to be in front of you. He cupped your face and wiped the tears that were escaping your eyes with his calloused fingers. “I’m here, and I am not going anywhere this time. I will fight everyday to be the hero you need me to be. I love you more than anything and I hate that I had to destroy something so beautiful to realize it.” Shinsou stated, pressing his forehead against your own. You nodded while sniffling, desperately grasping your hands onto his shirt.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into your embrace and he welcomed this touch. He ran his hand over your head and rubbed circles into your back. You couldn’t see but Shinsou had also started silently into your hoodie, getting intoxicated by your scent.

Aizawa smiled to himself to see the two of you entangled in each other’s embrace at the entrance of the train station. People were walking by without having the slightest of a clue as to what was going on between the two. Aizawa took out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you in your loving embrace. You’d probably scold him for it later, but he knew you would appreciate it later in years. He would chew out Shinsou once again on Monday, before following it up with the news of participating in Class 1-A and Class 1-B’s field training. Then warning him if he ever hurt you again he wouldn’t get off so easy. However, for now, he headed back to Heights Alliance to give you two the space you desperately needed.

To be continued...? 👀

[Part One] [Part Two]

Taglist:

@uwu-iwanttodie

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

“Return To Sender” *Part 6*

Damn y’all, this might be a short series because I’m running out of plot, I feel like it’s gonna wrap up in the next chapter! Don’t worry though, I’ve got ideas for many more series/stories. Tag List

@dumauier

@objection-argumentative

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@wanniiieeee

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

FINALE

-----

After your little blow up, it was another few days before you saw Barba trailing in behind Olivia; he stopped by your desk.

“Ah, detective. Here’s the money I owe you for that...little mishap we had the other day,” He gave you a smirk, sliding you a $50.

That did it. If you hadn’t already been pissed about the “No Kiss On The Mouth” rule, now he was ACTUALLY paying you?

“Gee thanks, counselor,” you gave him a fake smile, then immediately spun around to face your two desk mates, Sonny and Amanda.

“Have you guys ever seen Pretty Woman?” You asked the both of them, as Olivia turned back around to join the discussion.

“God I hate that movie. It glorifies prostitution” She scoffed, stopping in front of your desk clump. “Do you know how many young girls turned to the streets because they thought they were going to find their own Richard Gere?” She sighed.

And there it was. Your perfect moment.

“And tell me Olivia, do they have a ‘no kiss on the mouth rule’?” The question made Barba spit out the coffee he had taken a swig of, causing the group to look at him strangely.

“....Went down the wrong pipe,” He muttered, but shot you a glare.

“I don’t know, it really didn’t come up,” Olivia raised an eyebrow, noticing the hate glares between you two.

“One did end up killing her john though when he wouldn’t ‘rescue’ her like Richard Gere,” Fin chimed in from across the room.

“Yeah well that just goes to show you: Don’t mix business with pleasure,” Olivia added.

“Oh you know that reminds me,” You went into your bag and pulled out Barba’s shirt.

“Your shirt back, counselor,” You handed it back to him without even so much as a flinch.

Every single eye turned to Barba, he was seething. But you weren’t backing down, you just gave him an evil smirk and pushed the shirt towards him.

“Shit Y/N, even me and Rollins are more discreet than that,” Carisi half laughed, to which Amanda promptly slapped him across the head.

“I...I’m not dealing with this,” Olivia threw her hands up and walked back to her office, refusing to get involved in your drama.

“Walk me out, detective?” He asked you through gritted teeth. You shrugged nonchalantly, strutting out the door with him hot on your heels.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He let his voice out loud as soon as you got outside.

“Oh, I’m sorry counselor, did you--”

“No. Don’t be cute. This is not cute. This is downright subordination,” He continued yelling, making you cackle.

“A-Are you serious right now?” You asked him. “I’m pretty sure Olivia would be interested to know how insubordinate you made me feel the other day,”

“Wha-- because I told you to leave?! What did you want to do, cuddle?!” He was practically turning purple because he was so livid.

“Because I’m not a fucking hooker!!!” You screamed, ignoring the onlookers that passed you on the street.

“Who said you were?”

“Um, YOU,” you held up the $50 bill.

“It’s for your shirt, tonta!” He threw his hands up. “You’re actually pissed at me for replacing your shirt?”

“I didn’t ask you to pay for my shirt, I didn’t ask to be your Vivian-- your whore!”

“Are you having a stroke, detective?”

“Shut up, you know exactly what I’m talking about,”

“I really don’t,”

“You’re really telling me you didn’t get your ‘no kiss on the mouth’ rule from that movie?”

“Wha--that--No!!!” He denied it, but then looked off in the distance. “...Not intentionally,” He added, like maybe he had done it subconsciously.

“Well, whatever, but YOU almost broke your own rule, and then you got pissed and tried to blame ME for it,” You crossed your arms.

“I did NOT--” He finally got his emotions under control, coughing and straightening up his tie.

“I got caught up in the moment,” He said with a poker face.

“Yeah, well it’s fine-- because it’s over,” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well clearly,” He scoffed.

“Awesome,” You shot back.

“Indeed-- are we done here then, detective?” His cold eyes stared back at you, his tone was completely monotone. He was voiding emotion just to piss you off, and it was working.

“You know what, we really are, counselor,” You stomped back into the building, tears brimming your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

--------

You walked back inside but ran to the bathroom as you dialed Hunter’s number.

“What’s up buttercup?”

“I did it,”

“...Did what?”

“I gave him back his shirt...in front of everyone,”

“You did WHAT?”

“He gave me $50, Hunter!”

“For the sex?”

“For my shirt-- but YES for the sex,”

“....For your shirt,”

“Oh come on, you know it was deeper than that,”

“...It doesn’t sound like it was, hon,”

“You TOLD me to talk to him about it!”

“Yeah, I said you needed to have a conversation about your feelings, not announce your booty calls to your entire work force!”

“Poor guy,”

“POOR GUY? Are you serious right now?!”

“Look, Y/N-- I get it. Him giving you money right when you were all sensitive about the Pretty Woman thing, you snapped. But-- I really don’t think he meant any harm. And, you kinda just blew up any kind of chance you had with him,”

“FINE by me, I didn’t want--”

“Don’t lie to me,”

“...So what, am I supposed to apologize to him now?”

“I mean I wouldn’t right now,”

“Ugh...whatever I have to get back to work,”

You hung up the phone before he could reply.

Walking back into the squad room, you saw Amanda and Sonny whispering about something; they stopped when they saw you come in.

“So….you and Mr. Barba, huh?”

“NO,” You replied angrily, tears stinging your eyes again. “There is no ‘me and Mr. Barba’-- there’s not anything,”

“Hey, listen Y/N” Sonny placed his hand over yours. “I’m really sorry, this is all my fault,”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have been reading your texts, ya know? Then he never would’ve heard anything,”

“....It’s fine, Sonny,” you patted his hand. “I should have never-- it just should’ve never started,” you sighed.

“And now it’s over, and we can all resume our regular lives!” You said over cheerfully, returning to your laptop. Sonny and Amanda gave each other a look-- they didn’t believe you in the slightest.

You glanced over and saw that Barba had left his shirt, just sitting there. You grabbed it and looked at your desk mates.

“I’ll um...I’ll be back,” You gestured with the shirt. They both gave you huge supporting smiles.

“You get ‘em, girl,” Sonny wiggled his finger like a sassy woman, causing Amanda to once again to hit him like he was her child; but she smiled and rubbed his hair; They really did love each other. You wanted that.

And you were going to get it.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #Return To Sender

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missmollybloom · 4 years

Text

Forget Me Not - Final Chapter!

Thank you for all the kind words as I shared my anxieties about writing and posting this final chapter. It’s up on Ao3 as well.

Thanks again for all who have encouraged me along the way with this fic. I hope the ending does it justice.

Mycroft was stood in the corner of Barts basement lab when she arrived, three-piece suit as impeccable as always. His umbrella stored securely at his side despite the fact there was no rain forecast that Molly knew of.

“You promised me answers,” Molly started. She didn’t want to waste the greeting.

Mycroft needed no social graces. “What do you know about my brother, Doctor Hooper?” He asked.

Molly exasperated, repeated, “Answers, Mycroft. No more questions.”

Her head was already full of questions, and had been every day since her accident in the lab.

Mycroft paced the length of the long lab-bench, his hand running along the aluminium countertop.

“The question is the answer, Doctor Hooper,” Mycroft replied, as obtuse as ever.

She didn’t want to play along with the elder Holmes’ game, but he had her cornered. She had been given no other choice.

“What do I know about Sherlock?” Molly closed her eyes, trying to recall all she’d discovered about Mycroft’s strangely familiar brother in the last week or so.

“I’m-“ she stumbled, “ I’m not sure,” she admitted.

And it was true. What she knew and what she had been told were not necessarily one and the same. But how could she explain to this man that she was starting to think there were two Sherlock Holmeses – one, the man she had just met, and another, a man with a rich history she was only just beginning to learn.

Mycroft’s eyes bore into her.

Molly continued. “I mean, I know the parts he’s told me, and what John has shared, but I can’t help thinking that I’ve only got-“

“Part of the picture?” Mycroft offered, his eyes reading hers although not with the same intensity of his brother. Mycroft never gave anything away.

“What does this all have to do with Sherlock, anyway?”

A fleeting gesture ghosted over Mycroft’s features then. On anyone else, Molly would have assumed it was sadness – but Mycroft Holmes didn’t do emotions.

“Unfortunately, I can’t provide anything more than you already know.”

Molly wanted to scream, she wanted to grab him and shake him. “But you know everything! You’re the fucking government, Mycroft!”

Mycroft nodded solemnly. “Indeed, I do know it, but what I know, I can’t share with you.”

“This isn’t the time for being delicate, Mycroft!” She was almost yelling now.

Mycroft remained his still stoic self. Yet there was something in the tightness of his mouth that hinted at a wellspring of emotion. Was the ice-man melting, Molly wondered.

“Doctor Hooper, believe me when I tell you that your mind is fragile, more fragile than you know.”

His tone was so dark, the implication so grave, she believed him.

“Since my accident in the lab,” Molly added by way of confirmation.

Mycroft nodded, but he didn’t entirely agree.

“Since the night of that incident. But you already know it wasn’t a lab accident, don’t you, Doctor?” He was using her title to draw out her analytical rather than emotional side.

It worked.

Molly had an image of the glass vial that she saw in her dream.

“I took something. Something you had given to me to use in an emergency.”

The dream, Molly was beginning to realise, was reality. “What was it?” she asked him.

“I can’t tell you what it was, but I can tell you what it does. But surely you know that, too?”

Molly closed her eyes, concentrating.

The gaps, the confusion, the fact that nothing in her world made sense.

The images, impressions and dreams of a man she had just met.

It could only mean one thing.

“It erases memories.”

“Indeed.” Mycroft nodded. One word that brought her present struggles into sharp focus.

“So what did I erase?” said to herself, rather than to her companion.

“I can’t tell you that, Molly.”

He’d never called her by her first name before, and as he said it, she saw Mycroft the man, rather than the unfeeling thinking machine.

“But, you do know?” Molly checked.

“Indeed I know. But as I said, your mind is fragile.”

“If no one can tell me what memories I’ve erased, then what hope do I have?”

“Somewhere inside of you is a keystone memory. If you find it, you will find everything.”

Molly searched her mind. How could she find a memory that had been erased?

“Nothing makes sense, I’m so sick of-“

Molly started crying, her head leaning into Mycroft’s shoulder, tears staining the sleeve of his suit.

He placed an arm awkwardly around her with the unfamiliarity of a man who had never been in such close proximity to a woman.

Which was precisely when Sherlock arrived.

---

Sherlock had told himself that he needed to check on some lab cultures, but truth be told, he was worried about Molly. The fact that her sleep had been so affected by the Elosia treatment gave him equal parts hope and concern. Hope, that somewhere in her dreams her memories were returning, but concern, because he didn’t know what might happen when she did remember.

But what he found in Barts lab was a sight he never expected in all possible versions of reality: Mycroft with his arms around Molly.

Sherlock had never seen his brother express sentiment, let alone affection, before.

The rational man would tell him it was nothing – Mycroft was no threat. But Sherlock’s newly unlocked emotional side had all the maturity of an eight-year-old. The sight of Mycroft and Molly turned the rational man into a possessive monster.

“It’s not enough to fuck up my life and mess with my-“ he caught himself, “with Molly’s mind, now you have to swoop in and be her big saviour, too?”

“Sherlock!” Molly exclaimed, pulling away from Mycroft and walking towards him, reaching out a hand in placation.

“I think you’ll find Molly came to me for some answers,” Mycroft supplied.

“I think you’d best be calling her Doctor Hooper, brother” Sherlock growled through gritted teeth. His transformation into a feral monster almost fully complete. “And what answers do you think you could possibly give her without endangering her?”

A barb from Sherlock.

“And what have you done, Brother? Other than cause her to doubt the nature of her reality?”

A riposte from Mycroft.

“And whose fault is it that her reality got so messed up?”

Sherlock’s return volley.

“And who coopted a civilian into an Mi5 operation in the first place?”

Mycroft’s back-hand.

“And who blabbed my whole life story to Moriarty, giving me no other choice?”

Sherlock’s turn, taking a step back into adolescence.

Molly had had enough with their childish games.

“Stop it, both of you, stop it!” She yelled, placing herself firmly between the brothers. One hand on each of the men’s chests – holding them apart.

“See,” Sherlock mocked his brother, “She’s had enough of you, Mycroft.”

He placed a hand on hers, “Time to go, Molly.”

He started leading her away by the hand. Molly didn’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Sherlock was hurt. He had been hurting for almost a week now. Ever since he realised his Molly was gone. But there was no excuse for what he said next.

“Oh, I see.” He said, “Serves me right for trying to take on a Goldfish.”

He spat the term at his brother.

What he didn’t realise was how much it hurt Molly, not until-

One slap. Two slaps. A third.

His cheeks stung the familiar sting of Molly’s full ire.

“I’ve done that before,” Molly said, her eyes meeting his, moments before she fell to the floor, unconscious.

---

The lab disappeared. All that Molly could see was a white, formless void and a circle of women.

“Where am I?” She asked the circle of faces that looked like her, but weren’t.

“Wrong question,” said the stoic face of a woman who wore all the hurts of her past around her like an invisible armour, and matched said hurts with a black dress of mourning.

“What?” Molly asked again.

“I think she means, there’s a better question to be asking,” came the innocent, smiling face of a woman who had a naive crush on the mysterious and sexy detective who had just started frequenting Barts.

“What’s the question then?” Molly turned to face yet another version of herself.

“Who are you?” the in-control, efficient doctor clad in white lab coat supplied.

“Fine,” Molly said, playing along. “Who am I?”

“Are you a pathologist so good at your job that you’ve had offers from all the best hospitals in the country, but you turn them down because…” The doctor trailed off.

“Because of me,” the idealistic, young Molly supplied. “Because of how much I love him. Do you love him like I love him?” She asked.

“Or are you me?” came the black-clad mourner. “Because he’s hurt me – hurt us,” she gestured to the other women. “He’s used us, disparaged us, discarded us. And we let him.”

The mourner gestured to the other two women.

“Because I love the work,” Doctor-Molly explained.

“Because I love him,” Moonstruck-Molly added.

“And I’m the one who gets to slap him when we’re fed up with his shit. So, which one are you?” Asked the mourner.

“You’ve forgotten one,” Molly said to the three women.

They looked at each other in confusion.

“Me. What about me?” Molly explained.

“You don’t exist,” said the doctor, pity in her tone.

“But I do!” Molly persisted. “I just met a man. I think I like him. I know he likes me. He’s flawed and fascinating and the whole situation is completely fucked. But don’t I get a say about what I get to do next?”

That silenced them – for a time.

---

He wouldn’t leave her side, not while they attached her to the monitors, not while they ran all the tests they could in emergency.

Brainwaves normal. Bloodwork normal. Heartrate and blood pressure, all normal.

But Molly wouldn’t wake up.

The sting stayed in Sherlock’s cheeks, a feeling too familiar, a reminder of his failures – past and present.

Misreading her invitation to coffee.

Manipulating her for morgue access.

Complementing her if it would help him solve cases.

Sabotaging every chance of success for every date she went on through a series of stinging observations.

Humiliating her on Christmas, his misplaced hatred at a man she had dressed up for, wholly overlooking the possibility it could have been him.

Placing her life in peril when he convinced her to help him fake his death.

Then the drugs, the disappointment writ large on her face as she declared how dare he throw away the beautiful gifts he had been born with.

She slapped him then. She slapped him now. She had remembered. She said she’d done it before.

What did it mean?

John joined him after a time, although Sherlock couldn’t tell how long it had been, lost as he was in contemplation of their past and how it had led to this present moment at Molly’s bedside.

Later, Sherlock would realise that Mycroft was the one who had sent for John, wanting his brother to have the emotional support that he himself couldn’t possibly provide.

“How’s she doing?” John asked.

“No idea.” He didn’t dare glance up at his friend, afraid to miss any sign that Molly was on her way back to him.

“What happened?” John asked as he sat down on the vinyl visitor’s chair next to Sherlock.

“She remembered something,” Sherlock said, idly rubbing his cheek. Hours may have passed, but it still felt raw, fresh.

“That’s brilliant!” John’s beaming smile froze when he saw it wasn’t matched by his friend’s expression. “Isn’t it?” John asked.

“She remembered slapping me.”

“Oh.” John’s face fell.

They’d both been there that morning in the lab. They’d both witnessed the intensity of Molly’s fury when Sherlock failed his first drug test in more than 5 years.

“What does it mean?” John asked.

“The treatment, it can be reversed if the patient finds their core memory, the one key event that unlocks all others.” Sherlock explained.

“How do you know?”

“Redbeard,” Sherlock supplied.

It was one word, but John knew precisely what it meant.

“Jesus! They did it to you, too?”

Sherlock nodded. John lapsed into silence while the new facts sunk in, yet another puzzle piece to explain the brokenness of his friend.

The monitors’ rhythmic beeps punctuated the passing of time between the men as they kept their vigil for Molly.

After a time, Sherlock spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question, John?”

“Anything.” John, always faithful to a fault, Sherlock reflected with thankfulness.

“When you remember Mary, what image comes to mind first?” Sherlock asked.

John closed his eyes, willing his wife back through image and recollection. “She’s singing to Rosie, holding our daughter in her arms. She didn’t know I was there, stood in the doorway, but I was, I’m so glad I was. She was so happy.”

If he believed in the supernatural, if wishes could be granted by some unseeing power, Sherlock would have given everything he had in that moment to bring Mary back.

The love between his friend and his departed wife brought the flaws in his fledgling relationship with Molly into stark contrast.

“Molly’s first memory is of slapping me. Her first impression is of a relapsed junkie. What could I possibly offer her if all she remembers is the pain I’ve caused her?”

John put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, steeling him.

“You can offer her the one thing that Mary and I don’t have.”

Sherlock met John’s eyes in silent question.

“Time. You can give her all the time you have.”

John left soon after.

It gave Sherlock more time to think.

John and Mary only had a past.

He and Molly could have a future, if she was willing.

Sherlock didn’t know how much later it was when he started talking.

“I don’t know if you can hear me Molly, but I’d like to tell you a story. It’s not your usual story. I’m going to start at the ending. Because in the end there’s only me, sitting here, hoping you’ll wake up.

But here’s the problem with endings, Molly. If you knew the ending before the story began, would you listen to it again?

I don’t want our story to end, Molly. Not yet.

When you took that pill, I think you thought we were finished. I think you thought the story was done. What you didn’t realise, what you couldn’t have known, was that for me, it was just beginning.

I wish you were awake right now, so I could tell you I meant what I said in that phone call.

I love you, Molly Hooper.”

He left then, walking the streets for hours and hours until arriving at the empty shell of his Baker Street flat.

Sherlock walked upstairs and sat among the ruins.

Soon sleep took him and he let it.

---

Molly was arguing with herself again when she heard him, his voice echoing through the void, filling every fiber of her being.

“Molly remembers slapping me,” he said.

“Do you?” the other three Mollys turned towards her in shock.

“I can see me slapping him,” she began, “but I don’t know why.”

His voice returned. “What could I possibly offer her if all she remembers is the pain I’ve caused?”

“He’s got a point there,” the mourner said.

“Shut up,” Molly, and her other two doppelgangers snapped.

“He’s still talking!” Exclaimed the love-sick Molly.

Doctor-Molly nodded. “It’s something about stories.”

“But here’s the problem with endings, Molly. If you knew the ending before the story began, would you listen to it again?” He asked.

“Yes!” Molly cried out into the silence.

“I want to know why I deleted you! Please, tell me,” she screamed so loud her throat ached with the effort of it.

His voice continued. “When you took that pill, I think you thought we were finished. I think you thought the story was done.”

Molly could feel the pain, the hurt, the red-hot rage from his latest manipulation as the phone line went dead.

Sherlock kept speaking. “What you didn’t realise, what you couldn’t have known, was that for me, it was just beginning. I meant what I said in that phone call.”

The phone call. The last memory. Fitting that in their new story it would be her first memory, too.

At that thought all versions of Molly disappeared, leaving her alone. But of course, they’d never really disappear. All of them were her.

And she could remember the call, could remember how emotionally raw she was already that day, the tenth anniversary of her father’s death. She had only just stopped crying, stifling a sniffle as she made her tea and ignored his name on the screen when it rang the first time.

But he persisted, his name appearing again.

And so the game started.

And if he wanted a game, she’d give him one. “Say it like you mean it,” she goaded.

And he did.

And now, as it all came back, she heard those words again, although not on the phone line.

“I love you, Molly Hooper.” Sherlock said and in the depths of her dream-like state, she knew it was true.

---

It was early afternoon when Sherlock woke to John, shaking him to consciousness.

“Not a good place to sleep, Mate.”

“Eurus blew up my bed,” he said in his not yet fully awoken state, neck and back aching from his night spent on the floor.

“Still, a kip among the ashes won’t help things. I’ll get you a coffee.” John headed downstairs to the miraculously-unscathed kitchen in Mrs Hudson’s flat.

Sherlock stood, surveying the wreckage. It would take months to rebuild, and years to replicate his collection, if that is, the collected treasures and discoveries of his former life could ever be replicated.

He reached into the ashes and found a small red box, a Christmas gift from another time, one he’d spectacularly mis-read by assuming wouldn’t be for him.

Inside was a bee preserved in amber. The red box had kept it safe in the blast.

She was the only one he’d ever told about his love for bees.

His fingers traced the smooth, cold surface of the stone.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” came a voice from behind him.

“Molly,” was all he could manage. Molly, awake. Molly, out of hospital. Molly, with a memory.

“Fancy some chips?” She asked, gesturing to the chips in her hand.

The food soon dropped to the ground forgotten as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace.

“How?” he asked, eyes raking over her to see if it was real.

“I heard you,” she explained.

“Say it again,” she asked.

“I love you,” he complied.

“You mean it,” she said. And there was no doubt from either of them that it was true.

---

In a flat in Kensington, the man lives the same day every day. Although he created the technology, he has no idea that it now enslaves him.

But today is going to be different. Today, one man is going to set him free.

The detective had snuck in, changed the Wagner LP for something else, something that once heard will bring back the man’s homeland forever.

The clue was there all along, in the small white flours that decorated the man’s window frames.

Edelweiss.

His keystone memory.

And the moment the voice of the captain broke into song, the man broke back into the world.

Across the street, the detective watched, knowing that soon a tranche of long-awaited documents would be set free online. State secrets revealed, ensuring never again would an innocent fall afoul of Elosia.

But a greater freedom was won for the man who unlocked something more precious for the detective. Although London was Sherlock’s homeland, Molly was his home.

And without Blevins she would have been lost to him forever.

---

Weeks had passed since Molly had returned to him. They had begun rebuilding from the rubble, clearing out the detritus of the past, and making all things new, together.

She kissed him by way of greeting when he came home, a domesticity he knew he’d never tire of.

“Is it done?” she asked, knowing what mission he’d been tasked with.

“It’s done,” he nodded.

Her hand gently traced the contours of his cheek.

“You did a great thing today, Sherlock,” she said.

“No,” he said. “Only a good one.”

She smiled, taking his hand and leading him into their bedroom.

“Let’s make some new memories,” she said.

#sherlolly fic #sherlolly #missmollybloom writes sometimes

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vivpurple7 · 4 years

Text

Poison In The Dark |3| Deal

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: mafia au, 1.5k

Summary: You can’t run from your past, no matter how hard you try. The shadows are scary, but why does it feel so much like home?

Warnings for series: poly, mafia, blood, guns, violence, fighting, swearing, illicit and legal drug mentions, weapons, arson, near death, torture, smut (eventual and mentions/implied), some crack (or attempts at it)

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one kkekeeke. Please feel free to comment or DM me to be added to the taglist! Or ask me any questions/characters and I'll answer them~

Taglist: @nanie5, @geminidrawsstuff, @sami4life, @missseoulite, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @daydreambrliever

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Your head is pounding with a headache as you come to. Mentally checking your body, you already expected to be bound to a chair. The air was damp and cold and smelled of death.

“Y/N.” Your body tenses instinctually at the low commanding male voice.

“I know you’re awake.” You lift your head up slowly, squinting in the barely lit room. A man with perfectly combed back blond hair, dressed in a finely tailored suit, with dress shoes so well polished even in this bad lighting they shine, sits a couple feet in front of you in a much more comfortable looking chair than yours, lazily playing with the multiple rings on his fingers. His gaze finds yours and your breath catches. A gaze so cold that makes your spine shiver, so void of emotions, exuding so much confidence, so much power.

“Hwarang.” You stiffen at the forbidden word. Your breathing quickens and you feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Park. Seo.”

“STOP! Don’t! Don’t say it.Don't say his name” You scream, your voice trailing into a barely audible whisper.

Eternity passes. You lick your dry lips, slumping against the chair, any energy left in your body gone. “What do you want from me.”

“Good girl Y/N. I guess your father did train you very well. He hid you very well you know. An you would have been left unfound if all of this didn’t happen.” He sits up, placing his elbows on his thighs, hands entwined under his chin. “How rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m RM.” His eyes searching yours as recognition of the name dawns on you. “Leader of Bangtan.” The leader of the largest mafia in control of the city for years now.

“What a good little girl Y/N! Yes, you are correct. Leader of Bangtan, sitting across from Hwarang’s princess. Who would have thought?” His dark chuckles echos off the damp walls, taunting you further. You grit your teeth at the pet name you loathe. “What do you want, RM.”

“I want to offer you a deal. Work for me.”

“What’s in it for me. I don’t really see a deal here.”

“Work for me, and I’ll give you what you’re due. You can do what you love. I know you miss the shadows baby. I’ll make sure you’ll have a blast with us. I’m offering you the chance to do what you were raised to do. It’s in your blood.”

Your blood is boiling. You hate it. You hate all of it, every word that spilled out of his mouth. You hate what you felt when you couldn’t rip the burglar into shreds yourself. You hate how you loved the feel of your body making Redhead bleed and bend over in pain. You hate how you spit and smile and say, “deal.”

“Welcome to the team!” Dr. Kim hands you a bag of ice as you walk up the stairs back up into where you had the little spat. You thank him timidly as you take the bag of ice and hold it to the back of your head. “Everyone. Meeting in 5.” RM leads the way to his office while you trail behind him, taking in your new home. A spacious living room with comfy looking couches is situated across a beautiful modern kitchen, and to the right of the kitchen you manage to spot the dining room. The stairs lead to a long hallway with multiple doors that are all closed. You assume that they are the sleeping quarters for the guys, as well as RM’s office.

He opens the only grand double wooden doors on this floor and leads you inside to his office. He points to the couch, where you quietly situate yourself, nursing your throbbing head. RM sits himself behind his desk, as the boys file in. Dr. Kim comes in first, flashing you a wink as he takes his seat to the left of RM. Redhead and Suit guy come in next and sit next to the doctor, followed by a boy who looks much too young to be in this profession. He gives you a shy bunny looking smile before taking a seat next to Suit guy, followed by a guy who literally is dancing his way into the room. His brown locks with blond highlights bounce with his fluid movements as he gives you a wide smile and dances into his seat next to Bunny. Lastly, a pale, scrawny looking guy with mint hair looking like he would rather be in bed than here shuffles to his seat on the right of RM, completing the circle. The couch you're sitting on isn't part of the circle, but the seats were maneuvered slightly so that you were somewhat in between Dr. Kim and Redhead.

RM clears his throat and instantaneously the room falls quiet. “A little introduction is due for our newest member.” He glances you way before continuing. “As you know, I am the leader of Bangtan. I go by RM, or Kim Namjoon in this house. This.” He makes a gesture towards Dr. Kim. “Is my right hand man Kim Seokjin, also known as H during missions. He’s the face of the Kim Enterprises which Bangtan uses as a cover, handles the press and police authorities when things get.. messy, and also the strategist. Next we’ve got V, or Taehyung who specializes in arson. He’s a little insane, but that’s how we like it here. Especially when interrogating people. Then we have Jimin or M, our top assassin. He’s your guy if you want someone dead, or to disappear. He gets his way, always.” Jimin flashes you the most charming smile your eyes have ever been graced with before he sits back in his seat, face serious. “JK, or Jungkook is our muscle. His looks might be deceiving but that works in his favor when his fist meets your face when your guard is down. In a pinch, he’s your guy. Next we have Hoseok, or Hope. He knows every gun or weapon on this planet and how to use it. He’s all sunshine and guns. He knows all the in’s and out’s of underground dealing. You need something, he knows where to get it.” Hoseok gives you the piece sign with a matching bright smile. “Lastly, we have Yoongi or Suga. He’s our top hacker and intelligence gatherer. No secret is safe from him. Now. Y/N, care to say a few words about yourself?” The entire room’s attention turns to you.

You gulp before you awkwardly remove the ice from your head and onto your lap. “H-Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m a pharmacist.” Not sure where to go next, Namjoon speaks up again. “You may or may not know her. She’s the daughter of-“ you tense up again, squeezing your eyes shut to brace yourself to hear the name you despise. Namjoon notices. “She’s the hidden princess of Hwarang.” Curious eyes filled with shock take a closer look at you. You let your held breath out, but wince at the petname. “Y/N, also known as Poison, will play an essential role in using her knowledge to our benefit to allow us to better capture our targets. We have a few days off, take this time to familiarize with each other, work with each other. Dismissed.” Namjoon looks down at his paperwork, signalling he’s no longer interested in us being in his office. The boys shuffle out and you’re the last to follow, throwing one last glance as Namjoon, who never once looks up as you close the double doors.

Your mind is reeling before Hoseok’s face pops in front of yours. “Y/N! I’ll show you your room!” He’s hopping from foot to foot as he leads you down the hallway. “I’m so excited that you joined the team! I didn’t know how it would go at first, but I think you made the best choice! I can’t wait to see you in action!” He rambles on as you follow slightly behind him. He stops suddenly, and spins around to face you. “You can call me Hobi if you want, everyone calls me that here! This is your room! I’m next door, and the other neightbor is-“ Hobi is pointing at the other door when it opens and you see Jungkook. He stares at you before he comes to his senses and slams the door closed as he jumps back into his room. “He’s….a little shy around women. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll come around soon. I’m so excited to finally have a badass chick to work with! It’s just been full of guys and it get’s really testosterone-y ya know? Anyway, it’s been a long day, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight Y/N!” Hobi waves at you even though you’re in such close proximity as he heads into his room next to yours.

You cautiously open the door and walk into what is now your room. The room is decently sized, with a comfortable looking bed with simple sheets, a set of wooden drawers for clothes, and an en suite bathroom, in which you spot a bathroom as well as a shower. Without a second thought, you strip and fill the tub with water and finally, finally, you enjoy that bath that you’ve yearned for.

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achtung-attitude · 3 years

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CHAPTER 45: Gangsta’s Paradise – Part 3

Shizuka concentrates, and the impossible triangle in her hand expands.

A flash of light shines throughout the mirror world, this time originating from the palms of ACHTUNG BABY, as something from within its user’s mind is released. As the fading light subsides, Shizuka opens her eyes, and her smile widens.

What was once an endless void of mirrors has been transformed into a series of winding stone staircases leading through all sorts of impossible angles and ways, leading from one platform to the next, going in any and all directions. A structure pulled straight from the mind of MC Escher. Within the stairways, the mirrors of GANGSTA’S PARADISE remain, but what was once an enclosed prison cell is now an expansive complex, full of twisting corners, stretching vertically through eternity. In the center of it all, GANGSTA’S PARADISE hangs above. Brother Dust’s voice emerges, a rumbling whisper.

What…?

Shizuka ignores him and approaches one of the stairs. Cautiously, she takes a step on it. To her complete shock, it supports her.

“Ha… Hahahaha!! I can touch it!” She skips up the steps two at a time and dances at the stop, laughing the whole time. “ACHTUNG BABY’s illusions are made of light! They can’t be touched by human hands! In the normal world! But we’re not in the normal world, are we?! GANGSTA’S PARADISE flips everything on its head, and because of that, my illusions have become real! Thank you, Brother Dust!” Shizuka shouts, pointing at the Stand. “It’s all thanks to your power that this is possible now! You said that you alone held sway here, but I’m here to usurp your kingd-AAAH!!”

Her feet sink through the stone and she slips completely through it. Shizuka throws her hands up and catches the edge of the landing before falling. Before her eyes, the stone becomes gradually transparent, and her fingers begin slipping through. Shizuka concentrates, and the ledge’s solidity is restored, as she clambers back onto it.

“Ah…!” Shizuka realizes. “Of course it’s not that simple! I have to concentrate on maintaining this place! Boasting won’t get me anywhere… I need to focus on reaching Dust…!” Her determination renewed, she starts running skyward.

In some secret corner of the warped dimension, Dust looks on at the Joestar princess, sneering at her as someone might regard a child throwing a tantrum in a supermarket.

“Petulant girl…” he thinks. “You believe you have an ounce of control here? Ridiculous… the true horror of GANGSTA’S PARADISE has hardly begun.”

In his secret corner, Dust flips through his Bible and begins reciting anew.

No matter how high Shizuka ascends, GANGSTA’S PARADISE remains in the exact same position, hovering overhead, never getting closer.

Then, suddenly, an ominous voice returns.

If you fully obey the Lord your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. All these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God:

At the sound of Dust’s voice, GANGSTA’S PARADISE pulsates and Shizuka’s stairs begin moving, forming new staircases out of mirrors and leading into cryptic archways. Frowning, Shizuka halts and grimaces. ACHTUNG BABY waves its hands and the stairs grind in place, struggling like wild steers lassoed by cowboys as the Stand tries to force them back to the way they were.

“Damn, he’s messing with my control of this space,” Shizuka grumbles, sweat beading on her forehead.

You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country. The fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock--the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks.

“Between keeping my illusions solid and under my control, and trying to find the preacher… Damn it! He has me pulled every which way! That old priest has to be hiding somewhere! As long as I keep this world in shape, I can still win!”

Your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed.

She grits her teeth and shouts, “And it would be a whole lot easier if you could just STOP THAT DAMN PREACHING!”

She shouts, but she might as well be squeaking. No echo emerges. In fact, she can't be sure whether her voice even left her mouth, but instead remained caught on the end of her tongue. The preaching goes on, unabated.

You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out.

Shizuka pinches the corners of her eyes, gritting her teeth in frustration. Blinking, she looks upward, seeing the chandelier that is GANGSTA'S PARADISE hanging over her, far over her head as the ceiling appears to stretch upward.

“Why’s he moving the stairs? What advantage does that give him?” she ponders aloud, focusing on strategy to drown out the preaching. “He’s trying to get me lost, obviously. But why? Where’s he trying to lead me? Or rather… What's he leading me away from?”

She grins narrow-eyed at the jellyfish-like Stand above. “No matter what,” she declares, “The rules are the same. If you wanna defeat the Stand, you have to defeat the user. And by extension…!!!”

With that shout, Shizuka reaches her hands out, and ACHTUNG BABY mimics her. They both hook their fingers, and her Stand’s power takes hold of the Escherspace and pulls. The entire complex descends to Shizuka’s position, pulled like a fisher’s net, and taking GANGSTA’S PARADISE with it. She releases, and at last the jellyfish Stand is removed from its fixed position and floats level with her.

“If you defeat the Stand, you defeat the user too! You said zero destructive power, right…?!” she shouts exulted, sending ACHTUNG BABY forth to grab hold of the jellyfish. ACHTUNG BABY is not a physically powerful Stand, but neither is GANGSTA’S PARADISE. Just as the doll in magenta robes is about to grapple it, however, Dust’s voice thunders all around Shizuka.

THE LORD WILL GRANT THAT THE ENEMIES WHO RISE UP AGAINST YOU WILL BE DEFEATED BEFORE YOU. THEY WILL COME AT YOU FROM ONE DIRECTION BUT FLEE FROM YOU IN SEVEN.

The entire dimension shakes, as ACHTUNG BABY recoils, Shizuka trying her best to keep the ground beneath her solid, as the jellyfish chandelier to retreat back to its position above.

An image of Dust appears in each of the mirrors surrounding, still holding his precious Bible in his hands. His lips aren’t contorted in a shout, but rather his lips barely move. He is whispering, and by his Stand’s power, the volume of his voice is amplified.

THE LORD WILL SEND A BLESSING ON YOUR BARNS AND ON EVERYTHING YOU PUT YOUR HAND TO. THE LORD YOUR GOD WILL BLESS YOU IN THE LAND HE IS GIVING YOU. THE LORD WILL ESTABLISH YOU AS HIS HOLY PEOPLE, AS HE PROMISED YOU ON OATH, IF YOU KEEP THE COMMANDS OF THE LORD YOUR GOD AND WALK IN OBEDIENCE TO HIM.

“AHHHHHH!” Shizuka instinctively covers her ears with her hands, only to remember that the intent to do so makes the volume worse, like a megaphone is being blasted right next to her. Her frustration mounts, and she glares at the sneering faces of her enemy’s mirror images.

“So, you whisper, and then your voice comes out super loud? That’s it?! Anybody can do that! Once you figure it out it’s no big deal...!!”

With a deep breath, Shizuka begins to sing in a low voice. To her immense satisfaction, these tones echo throughout the Escherspace. With the confidence of practice, she opens with a smooth, soul-infused chorus, then the thick, pseudo-staccato lyrics accompanied by a heavy beat, provided by Shizuka’s steady clapping.

KNOCKING ON THE DOOR, LOST THE KEY TO THE KINGDOM SEARCHING FOR A SONG FROM UP ABOVE, A TALE OF LOVE

The images of Dust grimace, as his sermon is partially blocked, but he continues anyways.

THEN ALL THE PEOPLES ON EARTH WILL SEE THAT YOU ARE CALLED BY THE NAME OF THE LORD, AND THEY WILL FEAR YOU.

THE HEART IS BEATING - BUT WHERE IS ALL THE BLOOD? SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THESE YOU KNOW I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WOULD

THE LORD WILL GRANT YOU ABUNDANT PROSPERITY—IN THE FRUIT OF YOUR WOMB, THE YOUNG OF YOUR LIVESTOCK AND THE CROPS OF YOUR GROUND—IN THE LAND HE SWORE TO YOUR ANCESTORS TO GIVE YOU.

SHINING DIAMONDS, BLINDING THE KILLERS & QUEENS UNDERCOVER, FALSE LOVER, LEAVING ALL THE SUCKERS SEEING THINGS LIE IN WAIT, THE HAND OF FATE DESCENDS FROM ABOVE BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS, THAT'S WHAT SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF

THE LORD WILL OPEN THE HEAVENS, THE STOREHOUSE OF HIS BOUNTY, TO SEND RAIN ON YOUR LAND IN SEASON AND TO BLESS ALL THE WORK OF YOUR HANDS. YOU WILL LEND TO MANY NATIONS BUT WILL BORROW FROM NONE.

I'M A DREAMER, AND I'M DREAMING TODAY OF A BRAVE NEW WORLD, FOR WHICH THE HOLY MEN PRAY ACROSS OCEANS, TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH, ON A MISSION FROM GOD, BOY, YOU GONNA GET HURT

THE LORD WILL MAKE YOU THE HEAD, NOT THE TAIL. IF YOU PAY ATTENTION TO THE COMMANDS OF THE LORD YOUR GOD THAT I GIVE YOU THIS DAY AND CAREFULLY FOLLOW THEM, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE AT THE TOP, NEVER AT THE BOTTOM. DO NOT TURN ASIDE FROM ANY OF THE COMMANDS I GIVE YOU TODAY, TO THE RIGHT OR TO THE LEFT, FOLLOWING OTHER GODS AND SERVING THEM.

BUT WHAT'S IT MEAN, WHEN YOU LIVE FOR A DREAM WHILE SATURN EAT HIS BABIES AND THE WITCH KING SCREAMS? YOU WENT AND LOST THE MOST IMPORTANT THING A CONSTANT STATE OF FEAR & MISERY, WHAT KINDA SONG YOU GONNA SING?

WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT GARBAGE YOU KEEP SPOUTING?!

Shizuka freezes, punctuating the final line with a resounding clap. All she did was sing to herself, but the song cancelled out the ruinous wavelength of Dust’s preaching, rendering it inert.

She smirks and picks her ear with a pinky finger. “Don’t tell me you never heard it before. That's ‘Dreamer’s High’, by C-King. It’s a platinum hit, man, it's everywhere. Don’t you even listen to the radio?

I’ve never heard such godless filth in my life. If this is what counts for music these days, no wonder you’ve proven so difficult.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #shizuka joestar #achtung baby #Gangsta's Paradise #ch45

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bucciarati-pizza · 5 years

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[ Fic ] - Jumpin’ Jack Flash: Chapter 1

SO IM FINALLY POSTING THIS AFTER DANCING AROUND IT FOR AGES ///

me and my jobro @justjuliainc have been developing this AU fic together. it is a slow burn bruabba where Abbacchio remains a cop, his partner lives, and Bruno is a fisherman along with various other character swaps. and well, without saying much more, I hope you all enjoy the start of this bizarre adventure ;))

A blaring police car spun around a corner then ground to a halt at its final destination. The rain made it hard to make anything out.

“I’m searching the north wing, you do south!,” an officer yelled over the sound of crashing thunder and lightning. Two sets of shoes splashed through the mud the police car was now in. “Got it!,” the other replied back, turning on a flashlight. “You think they’re armed?”

The first officer was already pulling the gun from his belt, answering his question.

Then came the screams. Muffled like someone had covered their mouth, but still clear as ever. They echoed throughout the entire building and out into that terrible rain.

A shudder ran down both their spines. Children’s screams. This shabby abandoned looking cement building on the outskirts of town happened to be an orphanage.

They frantically ran towards the double doors.

“No one, over my dead body is getting away with this shit. Not tonight. Not ever.”

The officer that spoke had a fierce glint of gold in his eyes, illuminated by his partner’s flashlight. He wore a shade of lipstick that nearly matched the stormy night sky.

“Abbacchio.” The man turned to the sound of his name. “I second that, with all my heart.” He kicked the door in with a determined grin, his hat tipping slightly to reveal short brown hair. “Let’s put an end to this!”

Abbacchio nodded, barely having the time to reply, “I’m counting on you too, Michele!” before blindly racing up the stairs.

The sound of screaming got louder the closer he got to the top. His heart raced. The police had been investigating a strange series of kidnappings for weeks now, with no trace of the culprit. A 911 call was made from the orphanage just a half hour before now. Yet no other information was disclosed, both Abbacchio and his partner knew deep down inside exactly who it was. The same one responsible for all the recent crimes. And this time, said suspect had gone too far.

The hall seemed to never end. Abbacchio never questioned why the door he needed to burst in as soon as possible was getting further rather than closer away. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. He never questioned why the floor beneath his feet seemed to warp into otherworldly shapes when weight was applied. He didn’t look down.

It seemed like forever when he finally made it. Panting, he tried the door and it was unlocked. The crying ceased the instant he opened it. He had a sudden sinking feeling. “Where are they?” The sinking feeling got worse. “Where the hell are they?!” He pointed gun over flashlight across the small room and found nothing but empty beds.

Impossibile...

Not even a window was open. Just what was going on?

While searching under beds, Michele ran through the door. “I-I didn’t find a thing. I searched every room on the way here too,” he said wearily. “There’s not a single person in here.”

Abbacchio pulled himself out from the bed he was under. “I don’t understand,” he began, shaking slightly.

“Something bizarre is going on. This is the room most of the screaming came from. They were in here”

We’re too late.

His partner turned his head at another sound. It caused them both to shudder. More desperate screaming filled the dark halls of the orphanage.

They both shared a knowing glance and cautiously started for the source of the noise, covering each other’s backs. It was only two doors down. Once again, it seemed to be getting further. It took a few minutes to reach it. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of madhouse?,” Michele hissed, terrified and confused. He looked down at the floor and gasped.

“No clue, but I’m going in!,” Abbacchio replied as he charged through the door.

“Wait, Abbacchio!”

All he saw was a flash of light before the wind was knocked out of him and he fell to the hard wood floor. He lie there for a few seconds trying desperately to catch his breath, vision blurring. Two bodies tumbled over each other, in the corner of the room, one spitting out rows of curses.

“I’ll fucking kill you! Right here! Agk- I’ll...“

Abbacchio didn’t recognize that voice. Not good! He began to force himself to stand up. A gun went off.

Abbacchio’s heart skipped all it’s beats.

A gun went off and something clanked to the floor.

Abbacchio’s feet moved before his body.

“Michele! Michele!!!”

His partner was hunched over another man, unmoving. A pistol had been slid across the floor. There were bullet holes in the bookshelf in the other corner. Wait.. didn’t that mean..

Michele was only still because he was straining to hold the man’s writs down.

He missed!

“Abbacchio, I’m— sorry I had to push you out of the way so hard. I realized we were being stalked when there was a third shadow on the ground. Somehow, this bastard was behind us and was about to attack you.”

Abbacchio had no words. He panted speechless before them.

“Agh!,” his partner suddenly exclaimed.

“You thought you could catch me that easily?,” the pinned man seethed. He had taken the opportunity to spit in Michele’s eyes. “How do ya like that, eh?” He chuckled maniacally. He nearly got his hands free, when in one swift movement, Abbacchio took over, keeping him held down.

“Cazzo. Don’t dare underestimate us.”

Michele hummed in dissatisfaction once he wiped his eyes, brushing off his jacket. Abbacchio took a moment to look around the room with narrowed eyes.

The thug beneath him was scrawny, yet surprisingly strong, his blonde shoulder length hair tangled into disgusting mats. He looked to be about 30, but was probably a lot younger. He sounded hoarse when he spoke. He managed to kick Abbacchio’s leg hard, trying every mean possible to distract them and escape.

The silver haired cop had enough and roughly put both wrists into handcuffs.

“...Where are they?,” Michele wondered out loud, still looking around.

“Ow! Take it easy on me would ya?! And what the hell do you wanna know?”

Leone gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat.

“You know damn well! What happened to whoever was in this room? There.. there was screaming,” he said the last part half to himself.

The man remained silent, glaring between both of them for a second before bursting out laughing.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you! You think I’m the answer? You think you little heroes are doing society a favor by coming here?,” he shook his head, still chuckling while both officers looked on distraught.

“Well, you have no idea what you get yourself into,” he continued voice turning deep and gravely again, “When you stick your nose into places it

doesn’t belong.”

Something about the man’s words gave them both an uneasy feeling about the future. Yet, they couldn’t afford to let it bother them now. The man was eventually taken outside and shoved in the back of the police car. His gun was seized along with him and they would use that too in their upcoming investigation. They were going to get answers.

Neither Michele or Abbacchio really knew what happened that night or even how to explain it.

But a few things were hauntingly certain:

Hundreds of orphaned children had somehow vanished right under their noses.

There were no signs of the caretakers and whoever made the phone call either.

The man they captured wasn’t the ringleader in all of this. If he was, there would’ve been a much bigger show.

Abbacchio’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

And he believed that there were strange forces about.

....

“Idioti!”

Both officers jumped slightly when the hand of their chief slammed down on his office desk.

“Pardon?,” Michele asked, taken aback. Abbacchio looked just as confused.

They had been called into Signor Polpo’s office early in the morning to “discuss last night’s endeavor.”

Polpo was a sight to behold. Morbidly obese, he had to have a special chair made just for him to sit in. He towered over practically everyone at nearly 7 feet tall. No one had ever seen him without a hat, even when on a break from duty. His eyes people say, became so void of a soul that the sclera began to turn completely black. No matter what the reason was behind it, this was somehow true. Bright green irises were surrounded by a beady black that made anyone who met his gaze shiver.

Signor Polpo was the kind of man that made Leone’s blood boil.

“Did you not understand what we reported to you?,” Abbacchio asked slowly, tone dark.

The obscenity hummed briefly, looking between the two like they were mere ants beneath him before replying.

“You both became some of the force’s brightest pupils in a very short amount of time. You flew through training as if it were nothing, and I knew right away I could depend on you to... protect the streets of Napoli.”

The chief’s voice boomed throughout the tiny room and he ended that last sentence with a chuckle.

Abbacchio and Michele didn’t like this one bit. What the hell was he getting at?

“Yet...”

Polpo’s brows were furrowed.

“You had to go on and pull a stunt like this?!”

Abbacchio’s quick temper was about to show. “Wh-“

“No backup. No means of communication. Going to a useless abandoned orphanage by yourselves only to catch a petty street thug. I simply thought I knew you better.”

What?

Michele got a terrible feeling. Abbacchio saw red.

“Abandoned?..”

Polpo didn’t skip a beat. “I think you two are forgetting who decides what you get to look into and when,” he continued pointing a finger right at Leone.

Abbacchio didn’t look up. His fist was clenched at the side of his chair and his jaw was tight.

His partner looked speechless for a few seconds before trying to ask again.

“Abandoned? It.. it was an obvious kidnapping!”

That among various other things.

Abbacchio knew it was no use to bombard the chief with questions when it was already apparent what was going on.

Polpo remained poker-faced.

“I didn’t order you to go there, did I?”

“No, Capo,” replied Michele, looking away.

Abbacchio remained silent, biting his lip to keep from exploding. “They paid him off. He accepted it. They paid him off. The fat fuck is actually in on this,” was all that raced through his head.

“Did. I?,” pressured Polpo, his chair creaking as he leaned closer to Abbacchio’s face. And now he couldn’t even argue.

The officer with short grey hair looked up, his eyes furious but tone neutral when he finally answered.

“...No, Capo.”

Polpo stared at him for a few additional seconds before adding, “Good. I’m glad we can all come to that understanding.”

Abbacchio’s brows twitched. He and Michele had risked their lives continuously for the people. Last night, one or both of them could have died. Came very close, in fact. All the victims of a crime that had yet to be investigated were probably never going to be seen again and any evidence of something gone wrong would be erased. Yet, the whole time, his own chief was in on it? He knew Polpo took bribes and negotiated with criminals. He hated him for that. But this? This was way too far.

The room was dangerously silent.

Polpo narrowed his eyes. “You must understand the certain contradictions that come with this job. It’s how this world works. I expect you to await my command before even putting on your uniforms in the future.” He leaned back in his chair, upturning his long nose. “I’m only looking out for your safety.”

Michele glanced over at Leone. Uh oh.

He knew that look. Wide, twitching eyes. Biting his lip and shaking. If they didn’t get out of Polpo’s office soon, something was going to happen that would end with him beating the shit out of someone. Michele had much to discuss with his partner that wouldn’t dare be brought up in this room.

“Oh and one more thing,” Polpo started with an eerie smile. “You’ll leave this little meeting with your mouths zipped shut. What we just discussed is a secret between you and me. I can trust you... right boys?”

Silent nods.

“Excellent. You’re dismissed.”

Michele bowed customarily. Abbacchio just glared at him, such passion in his ombré eyes that Polpo read it as a warning.

Once the door was shut and their footsteps got further away, Signor Polpo picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number.

“Send me backup. They’re getting too smart for their own good.”

.............

“FUCK!,” Abbacchio yelled throwing his hat off once he and his partner got onto the street and turned the corner into an alley. “FUCK. FUCK..” He kicked it in frustration, in complete rage by now.

“I’M TIRED OF THIS,” he kicked again, “STUPID... SHIT FOR BRAINS,” more kicks, “FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF THE POLIZIA.”

Michele stood there with a hand on his shoulder, not quite sure how he should try to begin to calm him.

“I’M TIRED OF IT. I’M,” his movements slowed and he threw himself against a wall, defeated. “..tired of it.”

He slid down against it, pulling his knees to his chest. Lost and vulnerable.

“Leone..”

His partner sighed and bent over to pick up the hat and brush it off before joining Abbacchio against the wall.

“Leo.. it’ll be okay..”

Abbacchio’s gaze remained downwards, staring blankly at the ground between his legs. He hadn’t even registered there was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You know what? You know what this feels like, Michele?”

The other officer remained silent for a moment before asking, “What?”

“It feels like we’re in the goddamn mafia.”

Abbacchio looked up.

“I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to push it to the back of my mind. But I can’t... because it’s true.”

Michele took his hat off.

“The way things are going, I have to agree with you... but..”

Abbacchio looked at him hopelessly.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do something about it, right?”

“I don’t.. know what to do. No one is going to believe us over that pig Polpo. But I can’t let the victims die. I can’t... let these crimes continue to happen while the rest of the force sleeps on it.”

Michele nodded.

“It will be stopped. Don’t ask how, but I know.”

No words were spoken for at least a few minutes.

“Coffee?”

“Fuck, do I ever need coffee.”

“I doubt anyone will care if we stop at Libeccio before we get grounded.”

Michele smiled, helping his partner up. Abbacchio’s expression lit up. It was the name of his favorite little restaurant and it had been ages since he even stepped foot in it. He brushed himself off and put his hat back on.

“Let’s go.”

Michele did the same.

“That’s the spirit.”

....

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peachyteabuck · 5 years

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ceo chronicles. pt ii ~ loki

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each charcter is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue.

fic summary: after treachery within his company leads to a major dip in stock prices, loki's not exactly in the mood to “make love”

pairing: ceo!loki x sugar baby!reader

words: 1,745

trigger warnings: i talk about economics which is terrifying in and of itself, lack of foreplay, angry fucking, squirting, cum play.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Loki isn’t happy, but he never truly is when he first comes home from work.

Every day he comes in seething about this person in accounting and that person in marketing, grumbling about this thing that went wrong and that thing that went wrong. Every day he steps into the house with fevered steps, ready to fuck you over the surface closest to wherever he finds you in his large penthouse. You’re what he looks forward to at the end of each grueling day, why he hasn’t forced himself into early retirement. If he stepped down he’d receive quite a pretty retirement package, but he still wouldn’t be able to hunt for you in your home at the end of a long work day.

Wherever he finds you, he’ll fuck you then and there. Sometimes it’s the kitchen counter, the bathroom next to the sink, your bed, the couch, the floor. Loki does not like to mince words, doesn’t like to prolong the inevitable. He’s short, to the point, both in business and in pleasure.

Despite this, Loki’s never harsh (or, never stays harsh), when he fucks you. No, he holds you like you’re made of precious porcelain, something unique and valuable and breakable; like you’re some museum piece kept in archives for fear of sun damage.

There are rare times he lets go, just takes you in some feral, wolfish way. These are his even scarcer days off, or those particularly serious times when really fucks up. It’s then, on those notable, raw occasions that Loki holds you down, props you face-down ass-up in the middle of your California king on your perfect one-thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and pounds into your dripping cunt until you’re bruised and screaming and begging for something – whether it be for him to cease immediately to continue until the end of time unknown.

As Loki steps into the door with his teeth barred, slamming it behind him before throwing off his coat, it’s obvious that tonight is one of those times. It’s regular that you’re caught off guard by this change of pace, but this time you saw it coming. The last few nights you’d woken up at two, three in the morning to the other side of the bed void of warmth and the sound of Loki’s strained voice on the phone with his CFO coming from his desk on the other side of the room.

You’d seen it on the news, too, unable to turn off the alerts fast enough to hear the news: there’d been a leak in the product manufacturing department, and a prototype had been leaked to a company rival. A mere days later, what Laufeyson Co. was known for they’d now become second best. They were now an underdog in a world where they’d previously held a monopoly, a long way to fall for such a successful startup.

This tumble down the Fortune 500 latter meant many, many things, including the plummeting of stock prices. This loss of money, especially due to such a heinous act as treachery, puts Loki on an edge you’ve never seen him before.

He finds you in the kitchen, carving a chicken you roasted yourself. As the sliced bits fall down onto the large, dark brown cutting board, it becomes obvious to Loki that they’re meant to be plated with the with potatoes and asparagus resting in the pure white bowls to your right.

No matter, he thinks as he unbuttons the top of his pristine white button-up and unzipping his pants. That’s what ovens are for.

The second your lover comes into view, you understand; you understand what you are to do and what you are to do.

Wordlessly, you wipe your hands on your apron before untying it, running to the closest item of furniture as you peel away the t-shirt of Loki’s you had been wearing. The deep oak dining room table, sans its centerpiece and any cutlery, provides the place for what will surely be the beginning of an eventful night.

Loki’s the first one to speak, moaning as he spreads your folds with his thumb. “Oh God, baby,” you mewl as he avoids the most sensitive parts of you, instead basking in the heat of your soaked center. “You’re so soaked for me, aren’t you?”

You whine out something that vaguely resembles a yes, and Loki grins. He loves seeing you like this, all desperate and dripping and all so quickly, as if seeing him triggers some Pavlovian response in your pussy.

Loki’s, never being one for prolonging his own pleasure, quickly shoving two fingers into your already-soaking cunt. The sharp inhale of break turns into a deep moan as his other hand moves to your clit, rubbing expert circles over the sensitive nub.

“Loki-“you gasp, and immediately your cheeks warm at the sound of the desperate, high-pitched sound. Before it was just a whisper, but now your cries sound so much more pathetic.

He catches on immediately, understanding what you want; what you need. “Oh, my little girl…you’re already so desperate, aren’t you? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already whining like the little cock slut you are, begging for me to be inside of you”

You can feel your wetness drip down onto your inner thighs as you hear Loki undo his belt and free his aching cock. He just barely teases the tip of it against your entrance, an unexpected action that nearly has you tearing your own hair out from the tenderness.

But before you can push back, he’s got a hand wrapped in your hair and is pulling you against his front. His crisp, shirt acts as a frustrating barrier between your bodies, your skin, and you near beg for him to take it off to feel his skin against yours, to feel him so close in such a moment.

But, before you can even open your mouth, Loki shoves his entire cock into your pussy.

“F-fuck,” you moan. You can feel your hands go numb as you grab at the edge of the table, partially for leverage and partially to give yourself something to cling to – as your nails fail to find purchase on the smooth wood.

Loki just smirks, wide and wicked as he pounds into you. “You like that, baby?” He bites at your neck, his hips snapping into your violently. “You like it when I fuck you this hard?” He waits several beats for you to respond, but nothing but gaspy breathes leave your unpainted lips. Loki, angry at your disobedience, slaps your ass so hard tears immediately begin to flow down your cheeks. “Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy,” you cry out, hoping your lack of following orders doesn’t make him stop. “Yes, I love the way you fuck me.”

Still, Loki isn’t satisfied with this minor retribution. He pulls out of you, ignoring your incessant whining as he flips you over. He then slips three fingers into you and wraps his other hand around your throat. You’re so close you can feel the buttons on his shirt, the necklace he insists on wearing with both of your initials carved onto a sleep bit of silver. “Speak, you little slut,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Tell me how well I fuck you.”

You’ve got both palms grabbing at the arm threatening to restrict your breathing, anchoring him to you. Quickly, words tumble like rocks down a steep cliff. “I love the way you make me feel, Daddy, I fucking love how I can’t walk or think or talk after you fuck me, love how your cock feels in my pussy and throat and ass and hands. Loving feeling you come in me, on me- “

Loki growls. “Tell me you worship my cock, tell me you worship me.”

The pad of his thumb circles your neglected clit, and you cry out as his fingers crook into the spot that always makes you see stars. It makes all the breath leaves your body as you try and obey. “I worship you, Daddy!” You cry out. “I worship your cock, I worship the ground you walk on! I worship your every word!” Your eyes roll back in your head as the coil low in your abdomen tightens like a python stealing the oxygen from your organs and muscles. “Please, please let me come, daddy, please I’ll do anything!”

Loki just smiles and bites at the shell of your ear. “It’s okay, baby girl, let go.”

And so you do, liquid gushing out of you and onto the table. It drips onto the floor, the sound of it puddling erotic as you collapse on the wood – warmed from your body and breath. Air fills and escapes your lungs as a pace your heart nearly can’t keep up with, and you’re left to recover on your own as Loki quickly brings himself to release over your ass.

He collapses next to you on the table, pulling you into his chest and maneuvering you around so that you’re laying lengthwise on the large tabletop. It’s uncomfortable, especially with Loki’s cum still smeared on your ass and your slick still gathering between your legs. Still, it’s hard for your eyelids not to flutter at the sound of your lover’s beating heart and the smells from dinner still wafting from the kitchen counter where you left it.

It’s silent for a while, both of you quiet as you catch your breath and reality settles over you both like a fire blanket. For a moment you’re tempted to move, tempted to fix him a plate or make a sly comment about buying a new table, but it soon passes as Loki’s familiar ringtone blasts from the device’s place on the marble countertop next to your bowl of asparagus ends. You think he’s going to answer it, but instead he allows it to go to voicemail – a rare occasion.

“Aren’t you going to-“ you begin, worried that something truly heinous had happened.

“Nah,” Loki says, eyes shut and breathing even. “I’ll let my assistant handle it when whoever’s calling eventually phones them. For now, I just want to lay with you on this uncomfortable table.”

And so that is what you do, falling asleep on your kitchen table, in the middle of your penthouse, with him still in his dress shirt and you completely naked. It’s nice, you think. To spend time with him alone. Wishing to savor the precious moment, you remain quiet, hoping the peace never ends.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #lukis writes stuff #ceo chronicles: loki #ceo chronicles

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 5 years

Text

Deacon St. John || Phantom in the Night [3/5]

A/n: Honestly, this short series might end up having 4 or 5 parts instead of 3. Not sure yet, but if it does, I'll make sure to fix the other parts.

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

Hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! •••••••••••••••••••••

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

***** Prompt: With the chaos of the Ripper attack subsiding, you make the hasty decision to leave Lost Lake and head to Crater Lake. Fortunately for you, you won't be alone on the upcoming ride through Hell. *****

~3rd Person POV~

It felt like hours had passed by in a flash during the attack. (Y/n) had watched the Rippers terrorize the entire camp from far away, her heart aching as she heard the terrified screams of those who called the camp home. She ended up biting the tip of her thumbnail, pacing back and forth impatiently. If she rode into the camp, the Rippers wouldn't hesitate to grab her and take off.

A few minutes passed and (Y/n) saw the Rippers were retreating. Once they were out of the camp, she hopped onto her motorcycle, placed the mask over her face, and crossed the bridge, unable to wait for Deacon any longer.

Bodies littered the ground of the encampment, both Rippers and the people of Lost Lake. Their painful cries rang in her ears as she drove up to the lodge and dismounted her bike. Stepping through the front doors, she immediately heard arguing.

"Mike, you know I did it to protect us!" (Y/n) recognized the voice from anywhere. She peered around the corner, watching Skizzo fall to his knees in front of Iron Mike. "(Y/n) is Phantom and if we just hand her over, Carlos and his fuckin' followers will leave Lost Lake alone!"

Before Iron Mike could even respond, Deacon used his handgun to hit Skizzo in the face. "Maybe we should give your sorry ass to them instead."

"Enough!" Mike shouted, causing (Y/n) to flinch. "We are not giving anyone to the Rippers, got it?!"

"You're just gonna let him get away with this?!" Deacon yelled back.

"He will have a fair trial like everyone else!" The older man bellowed, scowling at the drifter. "We knew this attack was coming regardless of who's fault it is."

(Y/n) stepper around the corner, making her presence known. The sound of her boots against the hardwood grabbed all three men's attention. Skizzo reaches for the pistol by his side, but Deacon stomps on his hand before he could grab it. "Don't even think about it."

"(Y/n)," Iron Mike calls out.

The woman removed her mask with a sigh. "Mike, can I speak to you in private?"

"Let's head outside," Mike responded. (Y/n) followed behind the old man, not sparing Deacon a glance. She could feel his eyes on her back as she left the lodge with Mike. They walked down to the banks of the lake and decided to talk. "Is this about the attack?"

(Y/n) swallowed nervously. "Yes, it is."

"It is not your fault they attacked. I just want you to know that before you make any rash decisions."

"How long have you known I'm Phantom?"

"The first time I met you three months. The mask was peeking out of your backpack when you rode in with Deacon."

The woman couldn't help but laugh. "I really need to remember to zip that thing up."

"I want to thank you for all the help you've done for this camp. Taking out hordes, marauders, Rippers... Never thought I'd see the day where one woman would face a horde on her own," Iron Mike smiled warmly at her.

"I'm glad I could help," she smiled in response. "And now that you've said that, this next part is gonna be difficult to say."

The old man crossed his arms. "You think it's best to leave, don't you?"

(Y/n) nodded slowly. "Yes. The Thielsen Pass. I've been to Crater Lake plenty of times before I met Deek. If the Rippers want me, let them come. They won't make it far with the Deschutes County Militia prowling the region. It'll keep everyone here safe."

Mike glanced back at the lodge before meeting (Y/n)'s gaze. "You plan on going alone?"

"That's what I was gonna say next. It'll be difficult to leave without having Deacon follow, but I'm hoping you can distract him for an hour. That'll be enough time for me to gather my things, buy some ammo, and get the hell outta Lost Lake."

Mike respected her decision to leave and agreed. "Alright, I'll keep him occupied. Be careful out there, (Y/n)."

She smirked. "Always am."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Goddammit..." (Y/n) muttered as her bike's engine sputtered and smoke rose into the air. She hadn't even made it to Iron Butte before her engine burnt out. "Should've asked Buzz to look over the bike before I left."

Hopping off the motorcycle, she pushed it down the road until she reached a small house. She pushed it into the driveway and searched the house for anything useful. She discovered a couple dead in their bed in the bedroom, both individuals covered in blood and dismembered. By the carved skin and the three letters etched into their foreheads, she knew it was a band of Rippers. "I am gonna miss killing their asses when I leave," she grumbled, leaving the bedroom.

(Y/n) searches the remainder of the house. In the kitchen, she found a few pieces of scrap and a couple of rags. When she wandered into the living room, the sound of an approaching motorcycle. She peered out one of the shattered windows and saw a familiar bike approaching. "Shit, Mike... Guess he figured it out."

(Y/n) watched Deacon pull into the driveway next to her smoking bike. Without reservation, she hightailed it to the guest bedroom and hid in the closet. She sat down, hugging her knees close to her chest in hopes he wouldn't find her. "This is a stupid idea," she whispered, remembering how Deacon has amazing tracking skills. "He's gonna find me." She scooted into the darkest corner of the closet, but she still knew the drifter was going to find her.

From the closet, the woman heard Deacon's meter the house without a single word. By his footsteps, she knew he'd found her trail. (Y/n) rested her chin on top of her knees, waiting to be discovered. There was no point in escaping since her ride needed repairs and there was no way she could possibly outrun him.

Deacon's footsteps echoed from the hallway and (Y/n) looked out the slits of the closet door to see if she could spot him. When he rounded the corner and entered the guest room, she watched him stalk towards her hiding spot. The drifter slowly slid open the closet door and their eyes met. The woman raised her hand and weakly waved. "Hey, Deek. Didn't expect to see you here. I guess you figured out Mike was stalling you."

"Yeah, well..." Deacon sat down beside her, reclining against the back of the closet. "Mike never rush his mouth that much. I figured something was up. And besides, you still got my cut."

"Ouch. And here I thought you liked me. Guess that kiss was to just shut me up." (Y/n) released her knees and stretched them out in front of her. "Your cut's in my backpack. I'll get it for you and you can be on your way." She stood up and left the closet.

Deacon flew to his feet, disbelief written all over his face. "You're out of your goddamn mind if you think I'm gonna let you go that easily."

(Y/n) leered at the drifter as she stopped and turned to face him. "As much as I love you, I'm not dragging you along with me. You might be wanted like me, but at least Rippers weren't gonna wipe out an entire camp just to get to you." She turned her back to him, making her way through the living and to the front door.

Hearing the four letter word baffled the drifter since he hadn't heard it in years and never expected to hear it in the midst of the apocalypse. After meeting the woman and coming to terms with Sarah's death, he never thought it'd be (Y/n) to fill the void in his heart. He lunged forward and grabbed ahold of her hand before she could walk out the front door. "I'm not losing you like I did Sarah."

(Y/n) snapped her head around, her heart skipping a beat at the declaration. Even though she loves him, something kept gnawing at her on the inside, telling her to leave him behind. "I am not dragging you along through shit you didn't sign up for. Crater Lake is not like the other regions, trust me. The minute we're seen, the fucking militia will either kill us or force us into their ranks."

"You're not leaving without me," Deacon declared.

"What about Boozer and, and—"

"He'll be fine without me."

(Y/n) yanked her hand out of the drifter's and crossed her arms. "Not so sure about that. He just lost his arm, Deek. He needs you more than ever!"

"That's not what Boozeman said," he retorts.

"You," she grits her teeth and smacks him on the chest with both of her hands. "Are a hardheaded, persistent man. Your tenacity is annoying sometimes."

"Sorry to disappoint, but you're stuck with me."

(Y/n) turned her head to hide her smirk. "Guess I am. There's no way I can make you change your mind and head back?"

"None," Deacon replied.

Unable to change the drifter's mind, the woman sighed and gave in. "Fine. You win." She walked over to her bike with Deacon on her heels.

She searched through her backpack for his cut, but he stopped her. "Hang on to it for me."

(Y/n) was confused at his request, but she didn't question him. "Alright. That would be for the best, especially where we're going. After all, bikers are supposed to be dangerous criminals and only care about themselves, right?" She teased.

Deacon saw the teasing expression on her face and found it mesmerizing. He couldn't help but play along. "Oh, yeah. A hundred percent."

Her smirk morphed into a gentle smile. "I'm just glad I'm no longer alone in this hellish world." The drifter met her gaze, flabbergasted at her words. (Y/n) was the first to look away, eyeing the smoking engine of her bike and promptly changing the subject. "Um, do you think you could help me with this?"

"Yeah."

<—————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<

Once (Y/n)'s bike was repaired, the two departed from the house. The (h/c)-haired woman led the way to Crater Lake through the Thielsen Pass. They had encountered Rippers when they entered Iron Butte, but they were able to avoid their gunfire and maneuver around the adversaries without confrontation. Their main goal was to reach Crater Lake safely and wouldn't allow anything or anyone stop them.

"So, what's this "militia" like?" Deacon asked as they carefully navigate through a tunnel.

"Let's just say if you aren't one of them, Freaker or human, they won't hesitate to kill you. But there is a chance you can join their ranks. Colonel Garret, the man pulling all the strings, is a complete nutjob. Carlos is normal compared to him."

"Well, shit," Deacon sighed.

"I've never met the man, but I was following a group of men he sent to take out a few squatters near the visitor center. I overheard him on one of their radios. Apparently, he favors lynching people he deems as murderers, rapists, and thieves." (Y/n) fell silent before remembering something Deacon had told her a few days after they took out the Ripper camp in Black Crater. "You were in the military. Did you meet any batshit crazy people who were in charge?"

"Weird people, yeah. Crazy assholes, no."

"I just hope we don't end up getting sucked into the militia," she muttered to herself, gripping the handlebars tightly. A foreboding feeling blossomed in her chest as they reached the Thielsen Pass and rode up the snowy path through the light snowfall.

Entering Crater Lake, they encountered two men being attacked by a Rager. (Y/n) skidded her bike against the snow and hopped off the moment it came to a complete stop. Grabbing her IDF Pup, she unleashed the entire clip into the mutated bear's body. It growled, releasing the man who was trying to climb onto the roof for safety. The Rager roared as it charged towards the woman.

(Y/n) quickly reloaded and pulled the trigger, killing the creature with half a magazine left. "I hate Ragers," she sighed, lowering her weapon. "Fucking annoying and persistent."

Deacon was amazed at the feat, his mouth agape as he dismounted his bike. "Wha—What the hell was that?"

The woman slung the firearm across her shoulder, kicking the dead bear in the side. "A Rager."

"That's not what I meant," Deacon scoffs.

"You know what I'm capable of and this is the one feat you're astonished by?" She huffs with laughter. "You saw what I did to that horde at the sawmill. I'm a dangerous woman."

"I can see that," Deacon shook his head with a faint grin.

"Holy shit!" One man shouted as he jumped down from the roof, stalking over towards the duo. "Oh, Jesus, lady."

"Yeah, I don't know what we would've done without you, miss," the other man sighed in relief.

He reached out to pat (Y/n) on the shoulder, but Deacon quickly inserted himself in between them before he could touch her. "Hey, okay. It's dead. It's cool."

"I'm Russell," the man in the booney hat introduces. "Glen Russell. This is Private Mullins," he gestured to the man in the orange camouflage shirt.

"Goddammit..." (Y/n) hissed under her breath at hearing the rank.

"Rick," the man in the tacky shirt greets.

"Hey, Rick. Uh, I'm Deacon St. John and this is (Y/n) (L/n)," the drifter gestured to the woman behind him. He fell silent for a split second before checking to see if he heard Russell correctly. "Did—Did you just say "Private"?"

"We're fucked..." (Y/n) groaned loud enough for only Deacon to hear.

Russell nodded. "Yeah, yessir—Deschutes County Militia. You two aren't from around here. You come over the pass?"

Fortunately, (Y/n) didn't need to tell Deacon to lie. He had already formulated a perfect one in such a short time. "Uh, no, no, no. We've just been, uh, drifting. We came over the, uh, Salt Flats, east of Silver Lake."

"What—What the hell are you both doing out here?" Mullins inquired, causing (Y/n)'s body to tense up. "How'd you get across the 97?"

The taut woman went to respond, but luckily Russell interrupted his companion. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—Jesus, man."

Mullin glanced towards Russell with a shrug of his shoulders. "What?"

"This girl just saved your freakin' life," he replied, pointing towards the woman who stood behind Deacon.

"The colonel told us to look out for anybody enterin' the territory, north or south. The—"

"Freakin' slow your roll, man," Russell raised his hands, gesturing for his partner to calm down. "We'll let the captain deal with that, okay?"

Mullins reluctantly nodded. "Fine."

Russell gestured to the animal corpse a few feet away. "She just killed a freakin' Rager, dude." He turned and faced the couple with a gentle expression. "Come with us. We got a camp just by Diamond Lake. Get you both three hots and a cot—least we can do."

Deacon glanced behind him at (Y/n), who was desperately trying to hide her disdain about how they were already becoming wrapped up in the militia since they've only been in Crater Lake for nearly an hour. When he knew he was t going to get an answer from her in her furious state, he sighed. "Okay, yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/n)'s jaw dropped to the ground. "Wha—There's no way in hell—!"

The drifter grabbed her arm and forced a small chuckle as he looked at Russell. "Would you give us a moment?"

"Uh," the man glanced between the two. "Yeah."

Deacon tugged (Y/n) around to the back of the cabin and released her when they were far enough away from Russell and Mullins. "I know you want to shoot my ass for saying that, but—"

"Oh, hell no! There's no "buts" in this situation! I told you we shouldn't get ourselves mixed in with the fucking militia! These two might seem normal, but Colonel Garret is a man who's unhinged and missing plenty of screws. The moment he finds out we're here, we'll be on his radar and he won't stop until we're either dead or have joined his damn army!"

"Just trust me, okay?" Deacon begs.

(Y/n) inhaled deeply through her nose and sighed through her mouth. She folded her arms, hugging herself and trying to fight off the chilly breeze. "Fine. But so you know, I'm not completely on board with going to Diamond Lake."

"Already knew that by the look on your face." Deacon placed both hand on the side of her head and pulled her closer, pecking her on the forehead and swiftly releasing her to return back to Russell and Mullins.

"You stay here. I'll come back with some fuel," the couple heard Russell talking to Mullins.

The man in the hunting cap shook his head furiously. "No!"

Russell reassures his companion, trying to also calm him down in the process. "You'll be fine."

"I'll stay with him," (Y/n) offers. "It's better to not be left alone out here."

Russell smiled and gestured to her. "There you go. You won't be alone."

Deacon glanced at (Y/n), skeptical of her decision to remain with Mullins. She nodded with a reassuring smile before he went to his bike. "Just try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "Just get going. I'll be here when you come back."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Deacon followed Russell to Diamond Lake.

#days gone #days gone x reader #deacon st john x reader #deacon x reader #female reader

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anodyne-sunflower · 7 years

Text

Love me like you do (Part 26)-Balem series

A/N: I know, it’s been like 2 weeks lol but the last update took a month…so progress 🤷🏻‍♀️ haha. This chapter is more Balem-centric, so apologies for lack of BalemxReader interaction. But, as always, essential for my plot. Thanks for reading.

MOOD MUSIC: Take it all by Ruelle

***

Faint whispers and screams, both in pain and horror, was all Balem could hear within distance. The soft cover of smoke and the brief sparks from the harvest pods coming into view as he gazed his surroundings. Nothing seemed clear at first, his head pounding from the fall and the noise seemingly loud enough to destroy ones eardrums. In the back of his mind he vaguely remembered the resounding boom of an attack. The crumbling of his refinery and perhaps worst of all…losing ahold of you.

“Little bird…” He choked out, the dust settling and giving him a chance to gain his voice back. He felt no sense of your presence, but beneath the destruction he only hoped he found you safe. With whatever strength he could muster, he lifted his injured body from the ground, using a pod to keep his balance. There was nothing left of the throne room at this point. The windows were nothing more than shards and metal, the steps that led to his throne a pile of marble and dust. The envy of the universe was reduced to a pathetic scene of downfall, disrupted by the vengeance of a single man. If Balem could get his hands on Titus now, he would be sure no life was left in those eyes.

“Little-“ Balem fell back to the ground, clutching his side that dripped a steady stream of blood. It appeared his injury from the last attempt on his life reopened, adding an unnecessary issue to his already mounting problems. If he had the strength left, he’d yell for his advisor and guards, because every minute wasted was just another reason to feel concern for you. “Ah!” He screamed, the last of his reserves pushing through the pain. His hand slammed against the pillar, slipping weakly along the smooth marble as he pulled himself up. He had to press his shoulder into it, adjusting his weight to keep himself up and steady. If he took one more step forward he’d fall through the pit, the gravity hull taking him along with the debris already flying by. It was possible you had fallen through, and he wasn’t ready to entertain that assumption. Smart as you were, surviving that fall and speed was not something the human body could be accustomed to.

But, he had to find you, his mind and willpower were set on retrieving you back into the safety of his arms. He could not protect you so far away, and the thought of you lying injured somewhere below was adding to his stress. Before he could call for you once again, he heard the trail of footsteps coming from above. The hole in the throne room led to his location, and for a moment he believed Titus had sent some soldiers to finish the job. Fortunately, his brother wasn’t as thorough as he believed himself to be.

“Lord Balem!” His advisor’s voice broke through the sound of lasers and explosions in the backdrop of the city below. For once in his lifetime, he was content to see the splice standing above him, concern for his lord written clear on his mousy features. “Lord Balem, you’re alive!”

“Of course, I am, you fool!” Balem bit back, licking away the trickle of blood on his lip. He was in no mood to waste his energy on pleasantries. The pressing matter was finding you, and the sooner that happened the sooner he could deal with the threat of his family. “Where is she?” He harshly spoke, grunting as he fell back into the pillar and slid down. His battered body, in spite of the regenex that flowed in his veins, could not recuperate itself quickly enough.

“My lord-“

“Where is she?!” He hadn’t the time to entertain Mr. Night’s conversation, and the more the advisor skipped around the question the angrier it made him. “Where is she?!”

Mr. Night looked away in shame, knowing he hadn’t the answers to give the Primary. He prided himself on being the best advisor, the only one capable of dealing with a lord like Balem. Only now he felt useless in the task set for him. “My lord…we’ve only just found you. I’m afraid the soldiers were occupied with-“

“I do not want your excuses!” The Primary attempted to get up, ready to destroy whatever and whoever stood in his way. But, his body failed him once more, causing him to fall pathetically onto the floor. The weakness he felt, the vulnerability of losing you, it all fueled the ferocity growing inside. “Mr. Night-“

The advisor beckoned some guards over, the glint of the fires outside Balem’s alcazar shining ominously against their armor. He had them rush down the dilapidated throne room, traversing the edges along with him as they made their way to the Primary. They were met with rage, Balem angrily glaring up at them like the entire assault on his livelihood was in their hands. Mr. Night hadn’t expected any different, but the added disappearance of Balem’s little paramour surely did not help matters.

The guards tried to help Balem up, gripping at his forearms and lifting, but he refused them both. “Find her. Now.” He threatened through gritted teeth, the icy glare in his eyes making the men and Mr. Night grow increasingly uncomfortable. Death was a constant sentence when working around Balem, and none of them wished to be victim to it.

“My lord we-“

“FIND HER!” Balem roared, grabbing his advisor roughly by the collar and seething in his face. Whatever patience he did hold, was now void. “If you don’t,” Balem whispered dangerously, staring over the splice’s features with a hint of passion at the idea of finally ending him. “I will personally see to it that you take your last breath.”

Mr. Night trembled in his hold, nodding meekly as Balem released him from his intimidating grasp. “As..as you wish, my lord. I will send whatever men I can to search the alcazar and the outlying area. If she is in this palace, we’ll find her.” There was very little assurance he could give, and deep down he felt your survival was unlikely. The attack had already increased the casualties of Balem’s army, and even more were missing somewhere beneath the chaos. None of this was including the dead among the city below. He could not comprehend the obsession the Primary held for you, but it was doubtful Balem would be willing to let the matter go.

“See to it that they do!” Balem scoffed, turning his gaze to the pillars lining the floor. Somewhere beneath all of that, you may be in there and the lack of action towards searching for you weighed heavy on his mind. He would not rest easy until he held you in his arms, and should he never be able to partake in the pleasure of that again, he would rain hell upon Titus. And he’d find joy in seeing his little brother beg for his pathetic life, a mercy Balem was never going to give him.

“My lord, you’re bleeding we must-“

“Find her for me, Mr. Night. Or I will watch you all hang from what is left of the refinery.” There was no emotion in his words, even though it was evident how great he felt for you within his eyes. But, he would never show that to the men before him. Not outright. But, he would make sure they did their duties. “Go.”

The soldiers glanced reluctantly at one another, debating on whether leaving Balem to bleed out would come back and haunt them. “GO!” But, at his insistence, they quickly made their way through the rubble, taking direction from Mr. Night who skeptically looked towards the fallen Primary.

***

Time couldn’t go any quicker for Balem, who sat upon his bed and grimaced at the slight pain of his wounds. The medic dabbed as gently as they were able over the reopened slash, knowing the slightest slip of their hand could cause Balem to fall into another fit of rage. He was teetering on edge as it is, adding more pain to that equation would no doubt end him.

“I’m afraid there’s no sign of your brother, my lord.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Balem bitterly spoke, giving Greeghan an annoyed glance before he hissed in agony. The medic pulled away for a second, checking to see if it was okay to continue. Thankfully, the Primary seemed more preoccupied with other troubles. “He’s not going to stay behind and gloat when he can be miles away celebrating his victory!” He grabbed the healing spray from the medic, throwing it harshly to the side and pushing the man away. As far as he was concerned, there was no longer a need to sit and be fussed over. His entire business laid burning on the ground, the threat of his downfall and now your disappearance. He wasn’t ready to find peace, not until he remedied one of those situations.

“Of course, my lord. There is one other matter-“

“Then speak!” Balem leaned into the window, gripping the metal molding tightly as the soft breeze came rushing into his chambers. The cracks and breaks in the glass were still an eyesore for him, but it was the heavy scent of oil and smoke that turned his stomach the most.

“There is still no word on where she…”

Balem already knew the end of that sentence, and each word that left the sargorn’s mouth only brought a greater sense of dread over him. How long was he to go not knowing your fate? For there was little else on his mind than seeing you. If this was punishment by the higher gods, he would not sit idly by and accept it.

His fingers dug roughly into the metal, nearly cracking the edge of his nails in his anger. He’d kill everyone in this alcazar if he possessed the strength to do it. There was no reason behind it, besides needing to vent the heated passion boiling intently inside him. “Keep looking.” His voice trailed into a small whisper, the emotions seeping in him finally mixing over the only way he knew how to handle unwanted situations: rage and turmoil.

“But, my lord we-“ Greeghan shut his jaws, humming a meek growl when the Primary turned to look at him. In all the years of being his guard, the glare the Primary exhibited now was unlike any he’d seen. There was a glistening to his eyes, as if the pain he felt was finally spilling over. Only the typical response to one’s grief being comfort, was not quite the reaction Balem had a need of. In spite of his display of anguish, the unhinged aura Balem let off was frightening. Even for a creature of his stature, Greeghan had felt fear grip his heart. There was a promise of death in Balem’s eyes, an unspoken deal that if he came back into this chamber empty handed or otherwise questioned him again…he’d kill him. Without hesitation.

“Right away, Lord Balem.” The Sargorn bowed, stomping his way out of the room before Balem had decided to end it now. The Primary watched him go, eyes now falling to the medic laying on the floor still. It took just a stare for the man to realize it was his time to leave now, and he eagerly scrambled away from Balem right behind Greeghan.

Balem was left in the silence of his horrific chambers, falling deeper into his grief while the grand clock ticked away. It was like every shift of the clock mocked him, giving him reason to believe that it counted down to the moment he’d no longer have you. At this point he wasn’t sure what was the worse outcome. If Titus held you, there was very little he could do to convince his brother to free you. Nothing short of his surrender would end that battle. And if you were dead…the very thought spun him into an episode of rage he never thought himself capable of.

“TITUS!” Balem screamed into the night, slamming his palm hard onto the broken glass and ignoring the shards that embedded themselves into his skin. He was losing himself. The will to remain calm and collected, to fight through this and come out victorious in the end no longer a possibility in the desolation of his mind. He was not equipped for loss, even in regards to the very woman he loathed every day. His mother was a smear upon his life, but he regretted much about their relationship. He could not handle the idea of regretting yours.

Balem leaned desperately against the window, bare chest heaving as he felt his power slipping slowly from his hands. He needed you here with him, by his side and perfectly well. He could not pinpoint the moment he fell for you, not exactly, but he desired nothing more than to fall into your arms and regain the last shred of peace he had in his life. Without you, he found that familiar isolation of life returning to him.

“My lord,” Mr. Night came rushing into the chambers, two guards once again in tow. Balem didn’t bother greeting them, he stayed silent in his position. Still contemplating the end results of all of this. It took the splice a moment to gauge the Primary’s mood, but the sullen demeanor was enough to alert him of the dangers. Treading carefully was the only option now. “I-“

“I sincerely hope for your sake you have good news for me.” Balem placed his bloodied hand on the large glass still intact, not even flinching when the shards dug deeper into him. It was as if the madness he nursed inside was a productive form of medication. It just fueled his adrenaline, giving him that push to figure out his next step.

The advisor dropped his gaze, inhaling his worry and shifting uncomfortably as Balem’s presence grew ominous. “I’m afraid we could not locate her. I understand you instructed Greeghan to keep looking but, I fear,” Mr. Night held his hand towards the guard behind him, retrieving the item they found in the basements below. “This is all that was left…”

Balem paused briefly, staring at the balcony before bringing himself to turn back. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and truth be told he had an inkling Titus had taken you from him. But, seeing that necklace dangle from his advisor’s hand, it was another hit to his bruised psyche. He recognized the jewelry immediately, knowing it was the same one he had given you not so long ago. You were wearing it before all of this, hidden beneath your white dress he greatly admired. The green of the gem stood out to him, reminding him of you amidst all this chaos. Beautiful and elegant in its own right.

Balem pushed off the window, gravitating towards his advisor and holding his hand out. The splice dropped the necklace into his open palm, cautiously awaiting the next demand of the Primary.

“I am sorry, my lord…”

“Titus.” Balem muttered, earning a confused stare from the others. They were aware of the person behind the attack, but they weren’t up to speed on the plotting of their own master. Balem seemed rather taken with whatever idea he had, that familiar glint of animosity apparent in his eyes. The two guards weren’t on the same page, thinking it’d be best to hold off on any further military planning. Mr. Night could see this, but he hoped they were both wise enough to simply take orders in stride.

“Get my ship ready.” Balem turned away from them, keeping the necklace safe in his grasp as he pulled his shirt on. He adjusted the leather sleeves, expecting all of them to continue on instead of dawdle about. But, they lingered there, going so far as to ignore Mr. Night in his attempt to move them away. It was frustrating enough to handle the tantrum of a younger brother, but to be subjected to the insubordination of his guards was the last straw. “Did I not make myself clear enough?” Balem spoke to them with asperity, keeping his eyes trained on the outside world as they continued to stand still behind him.

The soldiers eyed one another closely, trying to decipher the lengths to which the other was willing to go. They knew defying the brooding Lord was a risk, but so was leaving those docks. It was all a matter of how death should come that they faced a decision. “Lord Balem,” one spoke up. His tone was already a mix of fear and defiance, though you’d be foolish to think him brave. “The docks and ships aren’t accessible.”

Mr. Night shut his eyes in exasperation, lips pursing under the uneasiness he felt. There was no turning back from that disrespect, and he only had to wait until the soldier faced the full extent of Balem’s wrath.

“Not accessible?” Balem questioned him, though the malice in his tone was evident. The Primary scoffed at the statement, grabbing for his collar before facing them all again. He kept his domineering gaze on the soldier, bringing his gold collar up and locking it into place around his neck. He disliked his demands being threatened, even more when it came from a person inferior to him in every way. “I’m to understand Titus managed to destroy every last ship and the docks?”

“No, the damage done is-“ The solider began, feeling less confident in his argument when Mr. Night and the other guard started backing away. It was like being left to the enemy, abandoned by your comrades and left to the elements. Only in his case, Balem was a more frightening foe than Mother Nature herself.

“Are the ships destroyed?” The Primary circled the soldier, playing with the necklace in his hands. He dangled the chain around, letting it slip delicately around his fingers as he eyed the jewel within the silver casing. His mind often ran to you, even through the judgement of his guard he felt only the desire to have you by him. The necklace seemed so insignificant to most, and he could easily purchase more. But, this particular one hung from your neck, perfectly sculpted against your smooth skin he adored to touch. There was nothing like it, but he wasn’t above sending a statement. And if he could get his hands on his little brother, with you safely back with him, then he could always gift you with more. The more he thought on it, the less significant the item became. Because, nothing in this wretched world would ever compare to the perfection he saw in you.

“My lord, I-“

The soldier’s voice cut off, a strangled cry coming from him when Balem sneered and wrapped the chain over his neck. He didn’t allow the fool to press him with further insults. Time was precious now, and lacking good help was not a hindrance he’d put up with. If they had to learn their lessons through the deaths of others, he’d gladly demonstrate the power he held.

The soldier gasped weakly, clawing at the Primary’s hands for air only to have him tug harder on the chain. Balem could hear the soft snaps of the metal links, but they meant little to him. The reddening face of the soldier, and his weakening stance was enough to see the fight was at an end. With a harsh pull he tugged the soldier into him, whispering proudly against his ear as he struggled in his hold. “I have lost the one thing I care for in my life,” Balem stared down, watching as the soldier gurgled and dropped his hands to his sides. His will to live was stretched to its limits, and even if Balem allowed him a second chance it was too late by now. “And you fail to find her for me. And then you have the gall to deny me the chance of finding her myself.” At this point it was impossible to tell if the soldier could even hear him anymore. But, for the sake of his own pride he continued on. “When I say to get my ship ready, I mean for you to do it without question. Bow, and then leave me. It’s a simple thing to follow…and you’ve only yourself to blame for this.” He released the necklace from his hold, coldly staring down as the soldier fell in a lifeless heap on his chamber floors. That darkness he was so often plagued with was in abundance, and all he felt was satisfaction at seeing the threat of his plans diminished to nothing. “Would any of you like to add to this foolishness?”

Mr. Night and the other soldier stared in dismay, frozen in place by their own fear of the lord. His advisor had expected nothing short of death, but witnessing the extent of Balem’s anger was an entirely traumatizing experience. It occurred to him how at ease the Primary was with you, because the last few months had been shrouded in a relatively quiet comfort. The outbursts had lessened, and for once in his life he didn’t feel under constant stress from his position here. Unfortunately, now that peace was mired in conflict. “N-No, Lord Balem…I will see to it myself that your clipper is prepared and the soldiers units are ready for deployment.”

Balem ran a hand through his hair, fixing the fallen strands back into place before considering the splice’s words. At this point he was ready to begin this journey into looking for you. His brother was no doubt expecting him, but it was the chase Titus was fond of. And with the vastness of space it could take a while to pinpoint your exact location. “Then do not waste my time further. And you,” Balem glared at the other soldier, motioning towards the body of his comrade. “Clean this up.”

Mr. Night bowed respectfully, giving the soldier a nasty look that begged for no more screw ups. There was much to prepare before departure, and he wanted everything to run smooth before whatever patience Balem had was spent.

***

His eyes traversed the outer edges of his city through the throne room windows, or what was left of them, observing the smoke that rose from the damage already done. By the day’s end his workers managed to put out the fires, leaving much of the city below a charred mess. The high rises and shops were left in disarray, the planet he once prided himself on now a mess of scattered debris and bodies. He could stand and lament over his loss, but in this moment he cared little for it. It occurred to him how deeply he had fallen into despair without you. Over the months he had grown fond of you, life had seemed easier to journey through. Now he was fully aware of the lack of patience and joy on his part. Even the hours since your unfortunate run in with Titus, he found himself growing more furious.

“Your clipper is ready to deploy my lord. As are the fighter ships.”

Balem glanced to the side, not bothering to fully turn and face his advisor. He was irritated, loathing the time spent away from you and not knowing what Titus had planned. The thought of him touching you, it only increased the discomfort he felt. If he found you so much as harmed, he’d not hesitate to rid his life of that worm of a sibling. “Did you locate Titus?”

“He may be using some form of cloak-“

“Do not placate me with your words, Mr. Night.” Balem turned back to him, cape slipping over the broken steps. He fidgeted mindlessly with his gold bracers, cold glare still focused on the gates up in the sky. “We’ll depart for Cerise. I’m sure Kalique will be more than helpful.” He spat her name with contempt, knowing she was aware of Titus’ little plan. If she did not cooperate, he feared tonight would end with one Abrasax still alive.

Mr. Night bowed in respect, though his expression conveyed the apprehension he felt. It was plain to see how unsettled Balem was, and as wise as the eldest Primary could be, irrational behavior was something he could be prone to. He feared retaliation would only further this feud between brothers, and if it ended with your death…well, Balem would no longer be easy to console.

“My lord is this wise?”

“Understand this, Mr. Night…I will lose everything,” Balem’s eyes casted over the broken windows, jaw tightening into an expression of unbridled anger. He could stare outside towards that large rotating gate above, and know he’d never see you again unless he took action himself. He would not sit by and allow the blatant disrespect to befall his alcazar or his heart’s desire. “Before I lose her.”

*** A/N: Was it boring? Lol Writing it felt a tad boring…hope it was worth a read though. I’m looking forward to the next one way more! ❤️

#balem abrasax x reader #balem abrasax #balem x reader #balem #balem abrasax x you #balem x you #jupiter ascending #eddie redmayne #lmlyd

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

“You could never be a burden, [Keith], when all I’ve wanted to do is care for you.” Klance with Keith being stubborn idiot not wanting to burden Lance. Thank you!!! :)

(Ooh my first sick keef fic!!! Also anon when u said stubborn idiot I really did give u a stubborn idiot lol..also this is short for now while I try to get back into the swing of things!!)

Keith could not have had a worse day.

He feels like the whole world, an entire galaxy, the entire universe is on his shoulders, and it’s so so heavy and weighing down on him. Keith doesn’t think he’s strong enough. He can feel it tip, tilting and about to fall away. Because he’s not strong enough.

Keith doesn’t want to be a leader, he never asked for this. He finds it hard to connect with other people and downright just speak to them, let alone lead them to protect the entire universe.

He is beyond stressed, losing himself within the depths of his own mind as he desperately tries to calculate and process this all. In the process he just loses himself, detached from his own body as he floats away from everyone else.

In the midst of his haze he hasn’t even realised that somewhere in the middle of all of this, he’s gotten sick.

Keith doesn’t get sick very often, he’s had a strong immune system all his life, but he’s still (half) human, so naturally, he gets sick. Especially when the universe throws this overwhelming duty upon him that he has no interest in bestowing. He feels a little woozy, a bit off and there’s a tiredness looming over his entire body that weighs him down. He feels heavy and warm in the most draining way, and also feeling so bitterly cold it nips at him, leaving his body trembling.

Keith only realises he’s sick as he fails to dodge a shot from one of Lotor’s goons at the Black Lion. He groans in frustration, wondering why he wasn’t in his A game, why he couldn’t just snap out of it, and it finally hits him.

As the beam of light hits black, his head overlords with sensory stimuli and it pierces deep into his head. Keith grunts in pain, teeth clenched as his headache intensifies. He winces as the light blinds him, and Black slows down. A wave of nausea hits him and he is rendered useless for the next few moments, and that is a big enough window of time for Lotor and his goons to disappear into the fog.

“Keith? You alright?”

Keith hisses in frustration, his grip on his controls tightening in anger as he realises his mistake.

“I’m fine, Lance! We’ve lost Lotor, c'mon, we’ve got to go after him!”

“Uh, Keith? I’m detecting some sort of unknown elements in the fog and I really don’t think it’s a good idea!” Hunk warns worriedly.

“We’re fine,” Keith hisses, his headache probing at him repeatedly and blazing with fury. Lotor is not going to get away, no one else is going to get hurt, he’s going to end this once and for all. He is not going to fail. He won’t let anyone down. Not anymore.

He charges Black forward at maximum speed, making a beeline for the dog where Lotor disappeared. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t know if that’s his fever or if that’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. He can feel his heart racing and pumping blood into his veins, his headache reaches a blinding peak, and all he can see is forward.

“Keith! Don’t do this!” He can hear Lance yell.

Keith charges on, he keeps heading towards the fog until it engulfs him completely.

“Keith, stop it! STOP! KEITH!!”

Then everything stops all at once.

Everything goes numb and everything is so light. Black tilts, and everything goes silent as she begins to free fall towards the ground. She’s losing strength, and everything is so hauntingly peaceful and quiet that Keith cant feel anything. He’s falling into a void, a vacuum, the epitome of a nihilistic state.

He’s falling.

Falling into nothingness. It’s hauntingly beautiful, this way. Keith would take feeling nothing over everything. Because prior to this Keith could feel everything and it was too much.

It’s peaceful as he falls.

He can faintly hear distressed yelling and Keith is so feverish he’s not even sure if it’s real. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore, if he is. He can only feel the lightness of his fall, the fear ablaze in his heart mixed eerily with a ominous sense of calm. A strange acceptance.

Then suddenly he feels a violent crash, a flash of red colliding into him and pushing him into a cliff, breaking his fall.

Keith gasps at the sudden change in atmosphere and braces himself for the impact as Black scrapes against the rocky surface. He opens his eyes when he believes the worst of it is over and gasps to see the Red Lion drop and lose function. Black goes offline shortly after.

Red then opens up and Lance comes running out, red faced and eyes wild with fear and worry.

“Keith!” Lance screams worriedly, running towards Black.

Keith hisses in pain, unable to help the strangled whimper that escapes his throat as his headache reaches a blinding peak. He bangs his head against the control panel, gritting his teeth. He’s not sure if it’s out of frustration at the pain he’s feeling or having burdened and let down Lance like this. He can’t burden Lance anymore than he already is.

Keith picks himself up off of the chair and staggers out of the Lion, trying to seem as normal and not in pain as he could. When he meets Lance’s eyes he sees that they are wild and blazing with worry.

A pang of guilt and resentment for himself shoots throughout Keith’s body, realising what he had just done. He had failed again, he let everyone down. Keith wasn’t good enough.

“Keith! What was that?!” Lance exclaims worriedly as he runs towards him. Keith’s fever somehow makes him misinterpret Lance’s genuine concern with belittlement.

“I know I messed up, Lance!” Keith hisses defensively, pushing Lance away when he gets close to him.

Lance’s face falls, and his eyes go dark and his open arms drop to his sides as he freezes. Keith hates the way the light in Lance’s eyes flicker dangerously and how his bottom lip is slightly quivering.

But Lance picks himself before he can fall apart and he’s tensing up defensively. He straightens and tries to look stronger and put together but Lance can’t find the way his hands still shake from Keith.

“I was just worried for you, Keith, forgive me for trying to look out for you,” Lance grunts defensively as he backs away from Keith and tears his gaze off of him. Lance starts to look everywhere but Keith’s eyes and slumps down on the ground, crossing his arms.

Keith feels awfully guilty, but he needs to stay cold so he can’t burden Lance with this illness, “You can’t just sit there.”

Lance huffs, “Well, what do you want me to do, mullet? Our lions are both clearly offline and we can either wait for the others to find us or wait til’ they come back online. Sitting here is all I can do.”

Keith sighs and feels an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit him. He’s far too tired to deal with any of this, and he sits down next to Lance in defeat. He keeps his distance though, he’s feverish and sick but he has his pride.

His shoulders slump lifelessly as his hair falls over his face, his body trembling with chills. Keith’s eyes feel heavy, drooping and yearning for sleep. He feels unbelievably weak, like there’s a huge weight weighing down on him. Like this responsibility is whats making him sick in the first place.

Keith’s body trembles, and lets out a series of soft, but congested little coughs into his shoulder. His chest feels sore and achy as he coughs. They have a hoarse, barking timbre to it and it leaves a soreness behind in his chest and leaving him more exhausted than he is. Keith brings his knees up and hugs them to try and warm himself up, anchoring to himself in fear that his body would fail on him and collapse if he let go.

“That was really stupid,” Lance says suddenly, Keith doesn’t even know if Lance is speaking to him, his voice low and dull. He doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“Yeah yeah, I get it Lance, I know I screwed up. Hell, I don’t even know where the others are, and this is all because I made a bad call, I’m sorry okay?!” Keith exclaims, but he’s strained and exhausted. He’s too empty and weak to fight anymore.

“I’m not talking about that. And the others are fine,” Lance says tiredly.

Keith doesn’t respond, mostly because his brain can’t compute anything and he’s far too tired and exhausted. He just wants to sleep. He shudders, an itch blossoming in his sinuses that rip out a throaty sneeze out of him, which he barely covers with his elbow.

Lance is suddenly alarmed, turning his head to view his state and his eyes widen.

“Jesus, Keith, you’re shivering. You need to go back inside–”

Keith can’t handle this, he’s in so much pain and he feels so guilty, he feels so sick and weak and exhausted and he doesn’t want any of this. His brain is overloading and he’s so overwhelmed, his breathing picks up slightly as tears begin to prick at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore.

“Why do you even care, Lance?! Since when do you care?!” Keith hisses bitterly, and his words stab icy daggers into Lance’s heart because Keith can see it happen. He’s such a fuck up. He can’t do anything right.

“Since when, Keith?! Since when?! In case you didn’t know I came after you when you fell into the fog! I came after you when everyone was yelling it was too dangerous because I care, Keith! I care!” Lance yells, clearly very upset. Tears prick his eyes, and the volume is too much for Keith’s sickened mind. It’s all too much.

“I’m so upset that you would even go so far as to imply that I don’t! I came after you because I made a promise to myself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, because I care, dammit!” Lance cries, a few tears spilling from his eyes. He aggressively wipes them off of his face and turns away from Keith again, seething in anger and betrayal, breathing heavily.

Keith can’t compute this.

His head hurts so so much, he feels so sick and weak, and the whole world is spinning. It’s spinning too fast and Keith can’t keep up. He’s overwhelmed by the prospect of being taken care of, when he’s spent so many years alone he’s forgotten that he’s a person who can be cared for. He was so sure that no one would ever care for him and Lance was turning everything around, making him reevaluate the safe thick walls he’s built for himself.

He can’t take it.

Keith bursts into tears, his entire body racked with sobs. His body convulses as strangled sobs tear their way out of Keith’s threat. He buries his face in his hands as the tears spill from his face and into his hands.

“Keith?!”

Lance inches closer to Keith, and he reaches out to hold him but hesitates.

“Can I..?”

“Please,” Keith cries out, reaching out for Lance desperately. He needs this. He’s been so alone for so long he just needs someone to tell him it’s going to be alright.

Lance is at his side in an instant, taking Keith into his arms and letting Keith bury his head into chest. He embraces him with so much love and care, whatever it takes to make this all stop. Lance can’t take this. He rubs his back soothingly, kissing the top of Keith’s head. Lance hesitates for a moment.

“..Keith..you’re sick,” He realises, as he feels the heat pouring off of the boy.

“I’m sorry Lance, I don’t want to burden you, I’m so sorry I got us into this mess,” Keith cries.

“We can fix it, it’s okay, Keith. And you’re not a burden, if you’re a burden, what am I?” Lance says without a thought, and suddenly they’re both freezing up as they both realise the weight of what was just said.

The silence is agonising.

“…We’re both pretty screwed up, huh?” Keith finally says.

Lance manages a shaky chuckle at that, “..Yup. But Keith..I’m so sorry I blew up at you like that..I didn’t know you were sick..”

Keith lets out a shaky exhale as he tries and regain his composure, “..I’m sorry too..I just..short circuit when people care about me..ask Shiro when he comes back..I just..i’m not used to it, and it’s..just too much for me.”

Lance sighs softly and tightens his embrace, “You’re going to have to get used to it then, because I’m going to make it my life mission to make sure you are filled with so much care every day. I care about you so much Keith, and I hope you know this.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Keith whispers, voice cracking.

“You could never be a burden, Keith, when all I’ve wanted to do is care for you.” Lance whispers lovingly, nuzzling his nose into Keith’s soft hair.

Keith relaxed under his warm, loving embrace. He felt safe right here in his arms, and the world which seemed so big just moments ago suddenly seemed very small in Lance’s arms. Maybe it was because Lance was all he could see now, and that was a world Keith certainly did not mind living in.

"You’re going to be okay, Keith, I promise you once we get back I’ll take care of you. I’ll do it right, and I’ll make you sure you’re never alone ever again,” Lance promises softly.

Keith can only nod, he doesn’t know how much time has passed because with Lance all time seems to stop but the lights of a familiar Yellow Lion near them and he couldn’t help but sink further into Lance’s arms knowing that they would be just okay.

With Lance beside him the weight of the universe lifted off of his shoulders and he felt a lot lighter with Lance sharing it with him. Lance was someone Keith didn’t really mind sharing the universe with.

He was much stronger with him by his side. Lance kept him grounded, holding him steady and this time Keith was sure he wasn’t float away.

#keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #klangst #voltron #whump #vld #voltron legendary defender #vld keith #vld lance #laith #sickfic #fever #hurt/comfort #prompts #hunk garrett #prince lotor

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the-ego-fic-train · 7 years

Text

Shadows (Pt 12)

Pt 1

(This is the Shadows finally! It’s extra long for you darlings, and I’m going to post twice tomorrow because of my absence lately!)

((Oh, and to add this will also be the last part of the Antipocolypse series. So everything with more than 2 parts up to now is a part of the Antipocalypse, but we will be moving on to the current time along with some other ...tricks.))

They had created a plan.

It had many flaws, but that’s what they were counting on.

The way Mark’s egos had viewed the Empty before was like the basement. There was never any real reason to go down there, so they only did when they had to.

But Sean’s egos saw it as a sidewalk. It was the sidewalk that lead from Mark’s void to Sean’s, and that was all they needed.

The only problem was in order to get in the Empty, one must commit an act that is... out of character.

This was also a problem with the plan.

As they were sitting and talking about different ways to get in, Jackie and Silver began whispering to one another. After quite a while the others started to notice the constant mutters.

Everyone’s heads turned.

“What are you two brewin’ up over there?” Ed questioned.

They glanced at one another, then Jackie began talking.

“We were thinking,” Jackie suggested, “That we could do what we did to get here, but we could do it near enough to the Empty that we won’t be affected by it.”

The whole room face palmed themselves.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Wilford said disapprovingly.

“But...” Tim muttered, “Who’s gonna go save Sam?”

“That’s really the only problem, you’d have to yank them out of there somehow.” Silver explained.

The room stayed quiet. Everyone sat and scratched their chins.

“I have to go.” Henrik announced, “I’m the only one here who has...” He stopped himself. “Experienced it.”

“I’m going with you, Henry.” Chase put a weak hand on his shoulder. Henrik was confused by the nickname, but he didn’t dare question it.

“Chase, you have not committed anything on the level that myself or Anti has. You can not!” Henrik insisted.

“Then let’s do it.” Chase’s fists balled. “Let’s do something... bad.”

Everyone in the room shot glances at one another.

“Sean?” Chase asked. He faced away from the group.

“Yeah?”

“How willing are you?” As Chase turned ever so slightly, Marvin saw something disturbing in his smile.

“Very.”

“Good.” Chase walked towards Wilford with his hand out. “Give me one,”

“One of what?” Wilford chuckled.

“You know what.” Chase pressed on.

Dr. Iplier understood immediately.

“Chase, let’s talk this over.” The Doctor stood up and put his arms out calmly. “Wilford. Don’t.”

Warfstache’s moustache curled, and his brow furrowed.

“Come on, Wilford.“ Chase persisted.

Wilford reached into his bottomless pockets and pulled out a small knife. He handed it to Chase with little hesitation.

Chase nodded and turned to Sean.

“How fast are we going to be able to do all of this?” Chase asked.

“I estimate the entire process would take less than ten minutes to go through with. If whoever goes into the Empty exits immediately after they retrieve Sam they should be out quickly.” Google informed. Bing shot him an aggravated glance.

“Good.” Chase neared the couch. “Sean stand up.” He demanded.

Sean pulled his hand away from Signe’s and stood. Chase lightly grabbed his shoulders and moved him a few feet to the side of the couch. Then Chase took Signe’s hand and placed it in Wilford’s. Wilford gave a nod.

“The Host is curious as to what Chase Brody is doing.”

Chase didn’t answer.

“Chase?” Bim asked, “What are you doing?”

Chase looked at Bim with nearly dead eyes.

“What needs to be done.”

“Chase don’t--!” The Host cried out.

Chase plunged the knife into Sean’s stomach, reopening his wound.

Sean collapsed to his knees. He could taste blood.

Wilford was holding Signe back with all he could. He poofed them away into his room in a pink wisp. He was going to have to bring her back out of the void.

“Let’s move it!” Chase commanded. He carried Sean over his shoulder.

Sean’s vision was becoming blurred. His adrenaline was taking over.

All of the egos raced to the wall and frantically began pressing on it. They quickly made a gap big enough for Sean, Henrik, Grayson, Chase, Marvin, and Jackie.

Chase handed Sean over to Marvin and Grayson while he and Henrik stood to the side.

“What do we do with him when we get there?!” Jackie asked in a panic.

“Get him in control. No matter vat the cost!” Henrik told them.

Jackie, Marvin, Grayson and Sean raced ahead.

Bim looked into Chase’s eyes. They were empty and bottomless.

Henrik grabbed Chase’s hand and began opening a small vein into the Empty from their already formed path.

As Henrik’s fingers spread out on the wall, he felt cold. He felt so cold the hairs on his arms stood on end.

His eyes began to turn the same black color as Chase’s, and as they held hands their bodies began glitching. They phased into the Empty.

Chase felt like he was on a new level of high. His senses were so enhanced they felt dull, but the only thing he searched for was green.

He saw them.

His legs raced as quickly as they could, and with each step he got faster.

He yanked Sam’s hand and dragged them away. It didn’t matter where to, they just needed to go away.

Henrik saw they were together, and he too began running back.

Everything was hazy.

“You are so stupid,” A voice echoed throughout the void, “Do you know what you’ve done?” Anti’s voice rang out as clear as day.

As he continued speaking, running became difficult.

Sam, Henrik, and Chase all felt as if they had cement bricks tied to their ankles. It was like someone had grabbed on tight and was not planning on letting go. Breathing began to become a struggle.

“And now you’re bringing Sean right to me!” Anti giggled, “Perfect for me to finish your dirty work, Chase!”

Everything was in slow-motion except Anti’s voice.

“What is it like, hm? To bear the guilt of having to tell your kid what you just did to their real creator?”

Chase felt tears welling up in his eyes.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to let every single insult and demeaning phrase soar out of his mouth until he could no longer taste his own tongue.

The only thing that came out of his mouth was a tiny “Help,”

Jackie stopped dead in his tracks. He swung around and went back.

“H-hey! Wait up!“ Marvin called out.

“Guys! Where are you going?” Grayson was left with Sean on his shoulder.

“Just get him back there before we come back!” Marvin called as he chased after Jackie.

It felt like the walls were closing in on Grayson and Sean. But they kept running. Sean’s adrenaline was beginning to deteriorate. He was slowing down.

“Come on!” Grayson told him, “All the way, man!” He said through gritted teeth and panting breath.

Sean nodded and struggled forward.

They could feel Anti’s electricity in the air poke at them. But they kept running.

Jackie began punching at the wall. Marvin began getting worried. Until his hand glided through. Jackie pulled his body up into the Empty. He could feel a certain part of him melt away as he did. Marvin slithered through beside him, and they both put their arms out as far as they could.

Chase and Henrik grabbed on tight,

They dragged them through,

And they ran to Sean’s void as quickly as they could.

#the-ego-fic-train #fan fic #shadows #shadows pt 12 #jacksepticeye #markiplier

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

Text

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 8)

“Two BIG, important things to remember before you go spelunking into all the hidden nooks, cramped crannies, and holes that may go on for miles, kiddo, and that’s Gravediggers and Geists. I know, I know: you know how to fight them both, and every other kind of Grimm out there—this isn’t going to turn into another series of ‘Things And People That Almost Fucked Grandpa’s Shit Up,’ don’t worry.

“And though you may have already figured this bit of advice out, it never hurts to say it anyway, just to be sure: if you ever find yourself fighting both a Geist AND Gravediggers at the same time, just run.”

The grave lord and the petra gigas started throwing punches and slashes at each other, the cavern shaking and quaking as each blow connected, bits and pieces of both of the creatures’ armour flying off, forcing the four huntresses to dodge or be crushed, brained, or crippled. As they tried to run back the way they came, the petra gigas hit the grave lord with an uppercut, sent it staggering backwards and in the huntresses’ path.

They dove and dodged, narrowly avoiding getting crushed underfoot, watched in horror as the grave lord slammed into the wall, chunks and rubble raining down and blocking their exit.

“The manuals call it a ‘perilous, chaotic, and oftentimes lethal situation for hunting parties of any size or experience level,’ but if you ask me, that doesn’t don’t do it justice—on the extremely rare occasions that these two run into each other and choose to tango, it’s always a complete, and utter cluster-fuck, and getting out alive, period, is a good sign you ought to be investing in lottery tickets pretty soon. You’d think the fact that they hate each other more than I hate Jackass would be a good thing, but when these two get going, there is no stopping until one of them gives, and unlike me and Jackass, literally bringing the roof down over their heads is just a minor inconvenience.”

In the poor light of their lamp, the team started hugging the walls, trying to look for any holes or exits that lead up to the surface or away from the fight, but if they hadn’t been blocked before they got there, the grave lord and the petra gigas dueling and crashing into the walls made it impossible for them to climb in and escape—not without risking it collapsing while they were still in it.

“And so help you and whoever else was unlucky enough to be with you if the rat-faced fuckers have a grave lord. It’s like calling your grandma cute AND fuzzy in the same sentence: a recipe for Complete Fucking Disaster.

“It’ll only take a miracle or a hell of stroke of luck to save you then.”

The grave lord pinned the petra gigas to a wall, its claws grabbing onto the massive boulders that were its opponent’s fists. The grave lord roared, the petra gigas slammed its main body into its head, sending it staggering; the grave lord’s hind claw sank into the tunnels its fellows had made earlier, it tripped and fell onto its back.

Thoom!

The huntresses shielded their eyes from the resulting shockwave of dust and debris, struggled to keep their balance as the cavern shook and it rained rocks and debris once more. The petra gigas climbed on top of the grave lord, started wailing at it, punching it deeper and deeper into the crater it had made.

“Does ANYONE have any ideas, sans the order with which we’ll all attempt to commit suicide?!” Diana screamed as rocks and debris rained down all around them, the cracks under and around the fallen grave lord began to spread and get closer and closer to the walls.

“The Shiny Rod!” Akko cried. “We can take it right now if we just work together!”

“And are you sure that’ll help?!”

“What other choice do we have?!” Weiss screeched.

“Fair point!” Diana said, before they started shouting at each other and forming a plan of action.

Busy pounding away at the fallen grave lord, watching out for any counterattacks, the petra gigas barely paid them any attention, didn’t see Weiss forming glyphs from their corner of the cavern, didn’t care care as Ruby fired Crescent Rose and sent herself and the others sailing right over it, ignored Diana’s spear burrowing into its back, and Akko burying her shotgun-axe higher up soon after.

But when she wrapped her fingers around the Shiny Rod and started pulling, the four huntresses witnessed what seemed to be a Grimm screaming in absolute terror.

The petra gigas slammed its fists into the ground, stood up and started flailing about, trying to knock them off its back. It reached back to smash them into a paste, the grave lord caught its fists, burrowing its claws into the boulders, pulling back with so much strength the petra gigas’ telekinesis couldn’t keep up.

The grave lord lunged and snapped its jaws around the petra gigas’ main body, its teeth burrowing into the rock, cracks rapidly growing and spreading. The petra gigas looked at the gaping, black hole that was the grave lord’s maw, felt the huntress still trying to pull out the Shiny Rod from its back, and made a decision:

Flee.

The geist shot out of the boulder it was possessing; without its power, the rock exploded into chunks and rubble. Akko cried out in glee as the Shiny Rod finally broke free from the rock and into her hand; she started screaming as she realized she was falling straight into the grave lord’s mouth, its jaws smashing together over and over again like a rock crusher from Hell.

On opposite sides of the cavern, Weiss and Ruby could only watch, scream her name as the cavern continued to collapse all around them.

Diana gritted her teeth as she turned in the air, pulled out the grenade from one of her bags, and threw straight it down the monster’s throat.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Rocks were smashed into a fine dust between the grave lord’s teeth, those that fell through disappeared into the void that was its throat. Akko saw the flashing, beeping red grenade sail past her; her eyes widened and her screaming turned a pitch higher, she crossed the Shiny Rod and the Shooting Star in front her chest.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The grave lord’s crushed the grenade between its teeth, rupturing the casing in an instant, the sparks igniting the red dust.

Thoom.

Flames exploded out of the grave lord’s mouth like a cannon, what rocks weren’t instantly incinerated becoming missiles, flying out and exploding on the walls and the ceilings.

Diana, Weiss, and Ruby shielded their eyes as the cavern was suddenly lit up in bright, blinding fire.

Akko glowed bright gold as the flames engulfed her, rocks shattered on her back, the weapons in her hands began to shine with their own light.

The grave lord screamed and spewed fire from its mouth as it thrashed about, the flames rapidly spreading all over its body. Weiss, Diana, and Ruby watched as it rapidly burrowed back into the ground, smothering the fire and making its escape. As the grave lord disappeared and the cavern went dark once more, they all turned their eyes upwards and looked at the faintly glowing, golden figure embedded in the ceiling, slowly falling off.

Weiss, Akko, and Diana ran to the center, making their way over the shattered remains of the ground, held out their arms and braced themselves as Akko fell, the Shiny Rod in her hands glowing and pulsing like a beacon. They cried out and fell to the ground as they caught her, yelped and shut their eyes as the Shiny Rod flashed and exploded in light.

Weiss was the first to open her eyes, squinted from the radiance emanating from Akko’s lap.

“Holy shit...” Ruby whispered.

“Is that… is that the Shiny Rod…?” Diana asked.

“I… I think?” Akko asked.

Weiss slowly opened her eyes again, found Akko holding up the Shooting Star—only the Shiny Rod was fused with it, the back of the shotgun-handle the same material as it, its seven crystals dotting the barrel, the golden arch above it now the edge for the axe-head.

“Wait, I got it!” Akko said as she stood up, proudly holding the glowing weapon up in the air. “It’s not the Shooting Star, or the Shiny Rod anymore—it’s become The Shining Star!”

Ruby squealed as she pushed herself up. “Oh my gosh! That’s so cool! This is the first time I’ve ever seen or even heard of a weapon spontaneously fusing and completely modifying its entire structure just like that! What do you think it can do now? Do you think it can defuse and go back to being two separate weapons? Do you think it could combine with Crescent Rose, or Myrtenaster, or Gwragedd Annwn?” She gasped. “What if it could combine all of our weapons into one giant super weapon?!”

“Was this what your huge gamble was all about, Akko?” Diana asked.

“Ah, actually—I didn’t even know it could do this!” Akko said.

“… So you mean you just risked all of our lives on that stunt, which we just barely managed to pull off, and survived through sheer circumstance, luck, and quick thinking AND YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW THE SHINY FUCKING ROD WAS SUPPOSED TO HELP US?!”

Akko cowered, Weiss stepped up and touched her shoulder. “Diana, please calm down--”

“NO I WILL NOT FUCKING CALM DOWN!” Diana screamed as she wrenched Weiss hand off. “WE JUST GOT EXTRAORDINARILY LUCKY HERE—AND EARLIER, IN THE CAVES, AND THE CASTLE, EVEN!

“THREE TIMES!” she screeched, her voice cracking and growing hoarse. “THREE TIMES I ALMOST FUCKING DIED TODAY, AND ALL THREE TIMES I WAS READY TO JUST ACCEPT MY FATE BEFORE WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THESE FORSAKEN HILLS DECIDES TO THROW ME A BREAK, LET ME CATCH MY BREATH BEFORE IT THROWS ME STRAIGHT DOWN TO HELL IN A HELLBASKET ALL OVER AGAIN!

“I NEED TO FEEL AT LEAST SOMEWHAT IN CONTROL OF OUR SITUATION RIGHT NOW, NOT THAT SOME SORT OF TWISTED FATE OR SADISTIC DEITY IS SCREWING WITH US BY PLUNGING US BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN BOTH EXTREMES OF FORTUNE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES!”

They all stopped and looked at Diana as she coughed and hacked, waited as she pulled out her canister and took a long, much-needed drink of water.

“You okay now…?” Ruby asked.

Diana nodded as she screwed the lid back on. “Sorry...” she croaked.

“It’s okay...” Akko said as she reached into one of her satchels. “Pickled plums?”

Diana was about to reach out and take some, before they all heard the sound of rocks and boulders shifting behind them, undeniably not the cavern crumbling and breaking all over again. The four of them readied their weapons as they saw the geist from earlier had possessed a new boulder, taken advantage of their short break, and all the cracked and broken earth laying around to form a body even bigger and more dangerous than the first one.

Sharp shards of cracked earth like claws and spikes adorned its hide and fists. Rubble and smaller formed a second layer over its hide like armour. More pieces levitated above it, the prime shape and size for throwing and crushing them from a distance.

“You still good to fight, Diana?” Akko asked as she loaded a grenade into the Shining Star’s chamber.

“Yes...” Diana grunted.

“Let’s just get this over with, and however much more shit we’ll go through before we can all leave this hell, one way or the other...” Weiss muttered as she started summoning glyphs.

“Any plans, or do we just make it up as we go?” Ruby asked.

“Let me fire off a grenade with the Shining Star first—I want to see what she can do!” Akko said.

“Go right on ahead,” Weiss said, Diana and Ruby nodding in agreement.

The reformed petra gigas started shooting rocks at the four huntresses as it thundered across the cavern.

Weiss blocked them or deflected them with her glyphs, Ruby shattered a larger boulder with precise shots, Diana smacked away the larger pieces that got near them, Akko took aim, and fired.

All five of them stopped and watched as the grenade that went flying out of the Shining Star wasn’t the usual bright, ominous red canister, but instead looked like a glowing, white hot ball of burning matter, not unlike a miniature meteor or even a teeny, tiny sun arcing across the air and towards the petra gigas.

They all braced themselves as it started to pulse and go supernova.

Meanwhile, top-side, the situation was getting super-heated for a completely different reason.

“Fuck you, Amanda!” Yang cried as she stomped her feet, her fists violently shaking as she held them in front of her. “I am not leaving this place without Ruby!”

“Don’t you get it, Yang?!” Amanda screamed back, her green eyes raging with a fire to match Yang’s. “You saw how many fucking Grimm were swarming that castle, how much smoke was pouring out of the fires that were still burning, the cliff and the drop to oblivion they built it on—do you really think there’s a still chance we’re going to find them alive?!”

“Yes!” Yang screamed, tears streaming down her eyes.”Ruby’s ALIVE! I know she is! And so are the others! Why the fuck else would we have been spending the past hour looking for them, huh?!”

Amanda scowled. “Guess.”

Yang turned to the others. Constanze and Sucy looked down at the ground in remorse. Lotte and Jaune suspiciously whistled and facing everywhere but at her. Blake looked at her with sad, remorseful eyes. Jasminka reached into her many pockets, pulling out a candy bar and holding it out to Yang.

“Do you need some chocolate…?” she asked.

“… Oh...” Yang said, her voice hollow. “Oh. I get it now. None of you think Ruby or the others are still alive, huh? You all just told me that so I’d go tag along, while you go search for your artifacts for initiation.”

Blake stepped up. “Yang: I’m sorry, but the odds are--”

“FUCK THE ODDS!” Yang screamed as she swung her arm through the air. “AND FUCK ALL OF YOU, TOO! I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I FIND RUBY, AKKO, DIANA, AND WEISS, AND TAKING THEM ALL WITH ME OUT OF THIS PLACE, EVEN IF I HAVE TO DO IT ALL BY MYSELF!”

They all stopped as they heard a massive, catastrophic rumbling in the distance.

Constanze blinked, pressed a button on her charm. “What the fuck?”

Blake held out her hands. “Everyone, stay calm; me and Amanda will go investigate--”

“FUCK THAT!” Yang cried as she thundered through to the sound, blasting through and breaking down any trees and rocks unfortunate enough to be in her way.

“YANG!” Blake cried, before she groaned. “AFTER HER!”

Soon enough, they found themselves stopping at the edge of a freshly formed sink hole, watching Yang desperately dig through the rubble with her hands.

Blake cupped her hands over her mouth. “Yang! Yang! YANG, GET BA—oh forget it...” she muttered as she began to walk away. She stopped as Constanze suddenly thrust her scroll in front of her, four glowing dots surrounded by a bubble of energy on what looked like a map of the immediate area. She looked up, saw the robotic arms of her backpack holding up radar dishes and all manner of scanners.

“Are you saying they’re alive down there?!”

Constanze frantically nodded her head.

Blake smiled, before her face fell in horror. “Shit—we need to move, fast! Everyone, get ready to start digging!”

“Actually, I have just the thing that can help: anti-gravity grenades.” Sucy said as she held them out.

“What the…?!” Blake spluttered. “How did you--?”

“You really shouldn’t have trusted Jaune to hold my bag,” Sucy said. “I could have stolen all my stuff back AND found a way to keep it hidden from the rest of you with how many opportunities he gave me. Anyway…?”

Blake cast a glare at a sheepish looking Jaune, before she turned back to Sucy, held a finger up to her. “I’m only letting this go, because you’re our best shot at saving them. Now let’s move!”

The others joined Yang in the crater, took an anti-gravity grenade and ran to where Constanze and Sucy were telling them to, or prepared themselves for what Grimm might come out from the rubble or come jumping in from the forest. As the grenades all went off at once, they all held their breaths as the rubble and rocks lifted up into the air, they they saw a snow white glow peering through the gaps.

“Ruby!” Yang cried as she and the others jumped in and started digging, or knocking the floating rocks out of the way before the effect wore off. Soon, they saw Ruby, Diana, Akko, and Weiss inside a protective dome of glyphs, the last sweating and shaking, her eyes shut as she concentrated and tried to keep the barrier up as long as possible.

Ruby was out first, Yang pulling her out by Crescent Rose, before she wrapped her arms around her in a crushing hug. Diana went next, pulled out by her spear; Jaune and Jasminka helped out Akko and the now unfused Shiny Rod and the Shooting Star; Blake and Constanze worked together to get Weiss out, a make-shift pulley system with their weapons and backpacks sending them rocketing up as the glyphs shattered, the rocks crumbled and crashed underneath their feet.

They laid Weiss out on a flat section of rock, Lotte kneeling on one side of her, nervously switching between her and the contents of her pockets for anything that might help, Akko kneeling on her other, holding Weiss’ between her own.

“Weiss! You did it! We’re alive!” Akko cried, her voice trembling, a shaky smile on her face. “You saved us! I’m so sorry, I had no idea the Shining Star was going to be that powerful, but at least... Weiss...?”

#rwby #little witch academia #au #and the awrd goes to #fanfic

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avengerdragoness · 7 years

Text

Trauma and Healing: Pride [Jason Todd x Reader]

A/n: Ch. 6! Sorry it took a while to get it out and I hope you guys like it! I loved writing it because I haven’t written for this series for a while. I hope you loves love it! Let me know what you loves think! Enjoy!

Italicized = Flashback

Warnings: Mentions of rape and assault, hearing whispers, mental illness, flashbacks to abuse

Tagging: @cherryignacio @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @keepjasontoddsafefromeveryone @aworldwideapart @just-a-girl-maybe @bat-lakota @sad-horchata @miraisnotavailable @comicbookworm @kazuha159

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Alternate Ending

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Ch. 6 Pride

After they left that night you stayed on the roof, finishing your cigarette while watching the city lights. Listening to the voices whispering in your ears. Blowing out a puff of smoke you took in the feeling of the warm breeze tickle your skin. Letting out a breath you snuffed out your cigarette. Thoughts of the day rushed through your memory, shopping with Kori, getting samples with Roy, the bookstore with Jason. Is this what it’s like to have a normal life? Hanging out with your friends and enjoying life? You’d never enjoyed your life until now.

Taking a deep breath you took in the scent of the city with a hint of the ocean which was just a few miles away. Sighing you relaxed against the ledge, thinking ‘everything’s going to be alright.’

Saying goodnight to the city lights you turned around and headed to the fire escape. Climbing down you slipped in your window, closing it behind you and flipping the lock. Looking into the empty apartment a familiar, haunting, feeling of loneliness appeared in your heart. You hadn’t felt this in months, not since you were saved by Jason, Roy, and Kori.

Walking in the kitchen you chuckled at what was at the counter. Jason had left a note reminding you to eat and that there are leftovers in the fridge. “Such a worrier” mumbling to yourself before grabbing some left over chinese from the fridge. As it warmed up in the microwave you grabbed your book you had gotten earlier with Jason and flipped it to the first page. Reading the opening line aloud: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Hmm, ‘want of a wife.’” Repeating before the microwave went off. Setting the book aside you took out the food and grabbed a fork. Leaning against the counter you held the book in front of your face with one hand while the other scooped food up on the fork and into your mouth. Finishing up you tossed the dishes in the sink and marked your page before heading into your room to get ready for bed. After changing and brushing your teeth you nestled into your bed sheets. Missing saying ‘goodnight’ to Roy, Kori, and Jason. Along with the way one of them would always check up on you before the lot went to bed. Who where you kidding? They’re all worriers.

Falling asleep you had a dreamless night. Feeling as if you had just fallen asleep minutes prior, but light was peeking through your window, telling you it was morning. Slipping from your bed you found the apartment still empty, checking each of their rooms to find them abandoned. When checking Jason’s room you found some papers pertaining to the mission they were on now. Flipping through the pages you skimmed the text and pictures, though looking deeper into the pictures, it brought back terrifying memories.

“Would you restrain the little bitch already?!” A man yelled, your lungs burned from screaming. You felt belts tighten around your wrists and legs, strapping you to a chair. Your screaming continued until one of the men slapped you across your cheek, silencing you long enough to put tape over your mouth.

Seconds later a metal door was heard opening and slamming shut. A large man with dark hair and cold grey eyes appeared in front of you. A smirk that showed his yellowing teeth played on his vile features. “Well aren’t you a pretty one? My names King and we’re going to have some fun today princess.”

Your stomach turned at the way he eyed you and you felt the need to be sick. He walked over to a table with a bunch of tools. His hands hovered over them. “Now you can listen and behave, or you can be in a whole world of pain.” Tears streamed down your face as you watched him. You nodded as if saying you would behave. Smiling he removed the tape from your mouth. Crouching in front of you, his hand resting on your thigh, making you flinch. “Please” you begged, “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.” His other hand held your chin before moving down your chest. That made you fight your bonds yelling “No! Stop! Don’t touch me!” His smirk dropped at your fighting. “Hard way it is” he growled before grabbing a prod and plunging it into your side, it sending electricity through you.

The jolt brought you back to reality as you jumped away from the pictures of the place where they break the girls and boys they kidnap. Break them to do their bidding, to be bought and sold. Breathing felt like the hardest thing on the planet, hands running through your hair before your knees buckled under you. A sob escaping your throat, your hand covering your mouth to muffle it. You weren’t sure how long you were crumpled on the floor, time seemed to stand still as your demons and nightmares came flooding back.

Not snapping out of it until hearing the apartment door open. Quickly, you wiped your cheeks and eyes. Composing yourself before walking out of the room. “[F/n]!” Kori cheered before tackling you into a hug. “Welcome home” but your reply was flat and void of any emotion. Kori looked at you quizzically but you shook it off. “Did you guys take the place down?” Asking as you walked away from her.

“Um we were just surveilling last night. Tonight we’re taking it down.” Jason answered. You turned to Jason, “I’m going with you.”

They all were shocked at your outburst. “No, nope, not gonna happen.” Jason shook his head. “Why not?!”

“[F/n] you’re not ready” Roy interjected. Your blood began to boil, “I’m going and you can’t stop me!” Yelling at them all. “It’s too dangerous” Kori put a hand on your shoulder of which you swatted away. “And I can handle myself! I’m going!”

“You’re not” Jason shook his head with his arms crossed. “And who's gonna stop me? You? Going to put a bullet in me? I’m used to it.” At that you turned around and pushed the window open, in desperate need of a smoke you climbed the fire escape.

Kori, Roy, and Jason exchanged a look. Sighing Jason went after you, slipping out on the fire escape. When he met you on the roof you already had a lit cigarette between your lips. “[F/n]” calling as he met your side. Looking at you, he waited for answers.

Sighing you turned to him, not meeting his eyes. “I just… I just need to go Jason. I have too.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You scoffed, meeting his blue hues with your own [e/c] ones. “Because… Because those bastards raped and tortured me. I want to be the ones to beat them to a bloody pulp, to break them the way they broke me.” You growled through grit teeth. Your tone was dangerously low and your fists were clenched so hard your knuckles turned white. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think he was looking at some complete other person.

Jason stared at you, recognizing that look, that anger, he knew this was important. “Fine, but one condition. You’re with me the entire time. You never leave my side, understand?”

You nodded and his shoulders relaxed. He leaned against the ledge, “Got anymore of those?” Chuckling you handed him the pack. Turning he faced you, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. Handing you the pack back you returned it to it’s hiding place on the roof, walking in front of him you held your lighter to his mouth. Your eyes flickered to his after lighting it, just now noticing how close you both were.

His eyes were trained on your lips before his flickered to yours. Both looking in each other’s eyes for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the ledge. You looked back out at the city, “I.. I didn’t mean to go off on you. I just, saw the pictures on your desk and recognized the place.” Shrugging before taking a drag of your cigarette.

“That’s where they break the people they kidnap?” He asked, looking over to you. You nodded in response, not having the courage to look over at him. “They did terrible things.” Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper, remembering the flashback you had. “I’m so---” He tried to say but you cut him off. “Please, don’t.” He nodded, before sighing. Snuffing out his cigarette, “If you’re coming we have to prep you.” You turned to him and followed his action of snuffing out the cigarette. “Let’s do this.”

Jason lead you back into the apartment. Roy and Kori were on the fence about allowing you on the mission but once you told them about what happens there, they understood. They briefed you on everything they had learned the prior night and Jason showed you the route you’d be accompanying him on. That lead all the way up until it was time to leave.

You were nervous, heart pounding while staring at your reflection in the mirror. The whispers ever so slightly in your ears. Your suit was black with [f/c] highlights. A domino mask covered your eyes and your hair was tied out of your face. A gun lay in a holster on your hip in case of emergency and a knife in the holster of your boot. You looked like a hero. Someone completely different. A new person entirely, someone stronger, more powerful, someone who could make a difference. For the first time in your life, you felt pride.

Nothing tore you out of your state or silenced the voices until a knock resounded on your door. “[F/n], you ready?” Kori asked as she came in the room. You nodded turning to her, “Do I fit the part?” She smiled and nodded, “[S/h/n] is going to be a force to be reckon with.” Kori’s encouraging words made the pride swell in your chest more.

Kori gestured for you to follow her and with a deep inhale and exhale you did, walking out into the living room where Jason and Roy saw you for the first time as [S/h/n]. “Whoa [F/n], lookin’ good.” Roy complemented soon after receiving a glare from Jason that went unnoticed by you. Looking at Roy you thanked him but your attention diverted to Jason, “What about you Jay? Good?” gesturing to yourself.

“Uhh” his mouth all of a sudden became dry and his two other teammates snickered. “Yeah, yeah you look great [F/n]. Really great.” You smiled at his words and nodded, that’s when Roy stood up. “Alright, now that we’re done fawning over [F/n]...Jason” He coughed, earning another glare from the marksman. “Let’s go kick some ass” Roy grinned and jumped out onto the fire escape. Kori close behind him.

Taking another calming deep breath, you went to follow. Though you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry, you can handle this.” Jason said as you turned to him. A small smile was quirked on his lips, and his eyes held a sort of adoration. “You’ll do great, just stay calm and focus. I’ll be right beside you.”

Grinning you gave him a confident nod, “I know, thanks Jay.”

“No problem, now let’s move out.” He gave your shoulder a light squeeze before heading out the window with you close on his trail. A smile adhered your features, they really believe in you.

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