#cause ive been head over knees for bees

[technicallyblakebelladonna]

i just realized that i’m at 99 posts fics on my AO3 account.... and i know EXACTLY which fic imma post for the 100th fic and i think it’s super fitting and very sexy that it’s the one fic i poured my heart and soul into and that it’s the first ever fic of mine that’s being officially published and printed thank you bbzine v much i can’t wait

so as soon as those zines ship their lill wings around the world, imma be slamming that post button and i caNNOT WAIT

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Dad...I’m Bilingual

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.”

Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?”

“Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age.

When he wakes up, the first thing that Dick’s sluggish mind can latch onto is how tingly his tongue feels. His taste buds buzz like someone poured a can of Pepsi into his mouth while he was sleeping, bubbles tickling the path down. Or maybe pop rocks. Or tiny little bumblebees, their legs scritching and scratching the surface they tread. The tingling spreads outward, Dick notices as he careens toward the wakeful part of wakefulness. Mouth to neck to torso to fingers to the cement block that he is pretty sure used to be his right leg. Soda and pop rocks and bees, the whole way. A quiet, questioning groan slips through Dick’s heavy lips. He cracks his eyes open and squints, blinking against the unforgiving brightness of the room he’s in. “Mm. Bruce?” A nearby chair squeaks. “Dick? Are you awake?” Bruce’s voice is uncomfortably close, booming in the short space between them. Dick grimaces. “C’n you...back up? Your breath smells like meatloaf.” He opens his eyes fully and is greeted by Bruce’s lined face, bags sagging under his eyes. They’re in a hospital room, white walls and white sheets.

Bruce’s meatloaf breath huffs once in amusement, then retreats. “I’ll take that to mean you’re back up, then.” In his lap is a magazine laid open to a page that’s all squiggles and bumbled lines. It matches the rest of the room. Dick’s head swims.

The numbness has receded mostly now that Dick is back online, but his stubborn cement leg takes longer to reboot. “Feels like I died. Then came back to life. Then died again.” His mind churns slush and soup. “You did just get out of surgery,” Bruce tells him. “Leslie said you’ll be woozy for a few hours.” Dick frowns. “I can’t feel my leg.” He has to parse his words carefully, his mouth working slowly like his muscles have melted into molasses. “I should hope not. You just had your knee put back together.” That part sounds...somewhat familiar? Dick has mismatched memories of surfing a stop sign across Clayface’s back, then sirens so loud and so close they split his head in half. He remembers Leslie yelling into one ear while the other listened to Bruce and Steph arguing about a video she uploaded to the Batman Incorporated Twitter account. That was completely irresponsible, Bruce said, out of his Batman suit and in one of the backup outfits he has stored in Leslie’s office for nights like that one. You’re lucky he only broke his knee. That stunt earned the Bat brand fifty Twitter followers, Steph snarked back. I need a goddamn vacation, Leslie said. “Tim left to crash a jet ski in the harbor,” Bruce continues, though Dick doesn’t remember asking, “so your alibi is taken care of. Jason and Cass went to track down the pudding cart, and Alfred took Damian home to sleep.” The half-drawn curtains make it hard to decide if that’s a sunrise or a sunset he’s seeing. Either way, it speaks to long hours of sitting and waiting and hoping. “I think…” Dick licks his dry lips. “I think they cut my leg off?” It feels like it. Did Leslie take his leg away as punishment for being dumb? Is the hospital hiding it from him? Bruce snorts. “Then what is that?” He gestures to Dick’s leg, the entire thing encased in weighty layers of gauze and plaster. “An imposter,” Dick says. Duh. “They gave me fake metal parts like Vic.” Dick slumps against the pitifully flat pillow behind his head. “My brain feels fuzzy. Did they take stuff out of my head?” That would explain the foggy memories and the way all of his words swim away from him like he’s been plunged underwater. Underwater hospital. Now there’s an idea. “You’re on painkillers,” Bruce says plainly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his magazine. “Heavy ones, it looks like.” Dick can’t remember if painkillers are supposed to feel like bumblebees buzzing around inside his thoughts. Maybe they’re made of honey. “Y’know, last time I woke up all confused in a hospital room, a bullet stole secrets from my head.” Bruce looks pained. “I assure you that all of your secrets are intact this time around.” Dick hums. “You should...take the painkillers out.” “Why is that?” “‘Cause I don’t wanna spill stuff.” Bruce frowns. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Dick wonders if he spoke in Portuguese by mistake. Bruce places his magazine on the plastic chair beside him. “Well, I can’t take out the IV because you’ll be in pain, but I promise you that the room is safe. Tim checked for bugs.” Why a bug would be in the human hospital, Dick doesn’t know. He shakes his head. The front pieces of his hair fall into his eyes, but his arms are too tired to fix it. “That doesn’t work, ‘cause then...then you’ll know. And that’s bad.” “This isn’t about your secret identity, is it?” Another head shake. “I might acci-mentally tell you ‘bout how I spilled tapioca on the Batmobile’s seats.” Bruce’s eyes widen. “That was you?” “Yeah, but don’t tell Bruce, ‘kay? You gotta promise.” Bruce rubs his temples like he’s sleepy. “I spent ten minutes yelling at Jason for that. I made him clean the seats.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an asshole.” Dick huffs, blowing at his pesky bangs until Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes them back for him. “Thank you.” “I appreciate you telling me about the tapioca. We’ll talk more about that when you’re sober.” Dick makes a face. “The whole point’s that I can’t tell you about the tapioca. It’s a secret. I’ve got too many of those—a whole big fuckin’ army of secrets. And it’s too many. No fun when you can’t share ‘em.” “What about Nightwing?” Bruce asks. “‘S different. You already know that one. I can share it.” “But you can’t share the other ones,” Bruce finishes. Dick snaps his fingers. “Zactly.” Bruce studies Dick—his bundled-up leg and the clear bag hanging on the hook beside his bed, pumping drugs into his bloodstream. “I should let you rest.” He starts to get up, the action somehow guilty despite there being no inherent guilt in vacating a chair. Bruce can pour guilt into anything if he tries hard enough. “You wanna know the worst part?” Dick continues on like Bruce hadn’t spoken, words spilling freely over compromised lips. “I could tell you. I could. But I’m a scaredy cat, so I can’t.” Reluctantly, Bruce sits back down. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re very brave.” “I’m not. If I was, I’d be able to tell you, because I know you’ll still love me no matter what I am, and I’m still scared. And that’s what scaredy cats do. They run away.” When Bruce’s face wears that expression, that gentle turn of his mouth and that pang in his eyes, Dick is stricken by memories of being nine years old. He’d go out every night in the Robin suit, wearing it like a suit of armor and trusting that nothing could hurt him. Bruce would be there by his side, protecting his Robin from harm at all costs. His soul wrapped around Dick’s like a second layer of armor, and it was then that Dick started to wonder if it was possible to have two fathers. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes,” Bruce tells him now. “There is if you’re a superhero.” “Even then. Sharing a secret can be a scary thing, even when you know it’s safe. That’s why they stay secret for so long.” If Dick didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce already knew what Dick desperately wanted and didn’t want to say. But not even Batman can read minds. Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.” Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?” “Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age. Bruce leans back in his chair with an odd, bemused expression. It’s not an angry one—more like when he’s cracked a case and lets the truth soak in. What case he’s cracked, Dick doesn’t know. Puzzlement morphs into something soft. “Okay. You’re bisexual. That’s not so bad.” “Yeah. But it would change stuff if you knew.” “Not exactly,” Bruce says. “You’re still you, Dick. Nothing’s changed—not really.” “Mm.” Dick’s chest warms. That must be a delayed effect of the painkillers, surely. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, then. Later,” he amends. “When my head’s not full of mothballs.” “Sure, son.” Bruce reaches out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

[reveriequill-rai]

Shroud: Withered Soul

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while. As of right now I’ve just been uploading stories I’ve written in my newspaper club, and now that I’ve graduated I hope that can now expand to short stories generally. I’m not gonna promise that posts from now on will be more consistent, but I would like to at least speed up my uploads a bit before they actually wind down, as I imagine I will be working on more stories in the future. Everything being uploaded right now is previous work, but nothing too old--probably like, from last year tops. This was completed sometime in May, I believe. 

This is an introduction to a character I created called ‘Shroud,’ an amateur self-proclaimed ‘detective’ who exclusively investigates occult-based crimes and malefic.

Content Warning: death, descriptions of corpses, graphic descriptions of violence and pain, cults 

[My blog will usually contain PG-13 stories, and as of right now I am writing some darker content, but I will tag anything that may be especially disturbing or uncomfortable. I’ll include this warning in my bio, too.]

----------

The corpse in front of me wasn’t all that disturbing by itself. I had seen dead people before–comes with the territory. I had been dead before. Murder rates in Twilight were, naturally, much higher than any other district in New Fable–especially further south of the district where I was–considering how much wild magic was around, and not even the police force sent here from the northern district of Bastion could do anything about it. So the corpse itself didn’t bother me, all things considered.

What did disturb me, though, was a number of other things.

For one, the corpse just being there was a problem. They weren’t stopping, and they were getting far too close to home.

Its eyes were still open, for another thing, and nearly colorless, and looking at me specifically, and I can swear to you that had not happened when I first laid eyes on it. Even worse, like me, the man lying dead in front of me appeared to be wearing a few bandages like I was, perhaps just recovering from an injury.

And for yet another thing, and perhaps the worst part of this, was the connection I felt with this dead man. Something about the state he was in struck a familiar chord that only I and a select unlucky others knew. As if we were kindred spirits–undergoing the same fate, yet with (probably) different outcomes.

I had been at this–whatever you would call tracking down cults as someone with zero prior detective experience with the help of almost no one–for…a few months now? And I’ve made a bit less progress than would be expected from someone who has seen just about everything the darker sides of magic had to offer. I did have one solid lead, though, and hopefully one that would lead me to exactly who I was looking for.

“Everyone move,” I ordered, pushing my way through the crowd.

Ignoring their complaints, I made my way over toward the body and began to examine it, hoping for any hint of who had done this, and more importantly, if it was exactly who I had suspected. There didn’t appear to be much damage, but what first caught my attention was the note tucked into the man’s pocket. I took it out and unfolded it, and immediately flinched.

Demon tongue.

Hellish whispers ran through my head, and I wasn’t sure if they were just in my head or not. It was hard to tell these days.

I honed in on the note, written on some old paper as if torn from an ancient book. The more I stared, the louder the whispers got. I ignored the throbbing in my head as best as I could–humans were not mentally equipped to engage with the infernal language at all, and I much less so. My hands shook as I read the brief message, which I must have read dozens and dozens of times already; I wasn’t counting and didn’t care to.

Some people studied demon tongue despite…well…everything, even the illegality. It probably didn’t matter to them. It didn’t matter to me, either, but someone had spoken to me in demon tongue before–though, in their defense, likely not out of their own volition–and the trembling and rapid heart rate was not worth the ability to communicate with infernals. (Nothing was, honestly.)

For these reasons–and also not wanting to be arrested or have my mage license revoked–I personally didn’t speak or write demon tongue, but I at least knew a little bit and could recognize some of the infernal runes. And those runes were enough for me to know that this was the exact same message that the abyss had been trying to send me in my last moments.

—

Can’t run home, I thought. They’ll follow me.

Just gotta run until I find a phone booth.

I ran until I finally spotted one on the street corner near a bridge. I let out a sigh of relief, taking a quick moment to catch my breath. Then, I quickly crossed the street and ran toward the phone booth, quickly dialing the police station.

“Hello?” I said into the phone as quietly as I could manage. “My name is [……………………………] I’m at the corner of Coral Avenue by the Armada IV Memorial Bridge. I’m being pursued by a group of kids in demon-charmed cloaks and shawls, please I need your help they have knives and they’re trying to kill me-“

The tears stinging at the edge of my eyes began to overflow as a human voice at the end of the line responded in perfect, uncharacteristically calm demon tongue. It was a short sentence, repeated over and over again, but with the little knowledge I *did* have, I could translate it by about the sixth loop:

“You are going to hell.”

I hung up the phone immediately, resisting the urge to yell, “I KNOW” directly into the phone.

Humans can’t speak demon tongue here. It’s illegal.

So how did an officer know demon tongue?

—

Unsurprisingly, the body was still in semi-good condition. After all, little damage was done to the body—only the soul. The only physical marks I could make out were marks around the wrist and neck, likely to restrain the victim. Couple of bruises here and there, too, but nothing was broken.

This…disturbed me, to say the least.

Cults around here were usually known to be violent. After all, a lot of them stood for violent causes–executing the ‘impure,’ plunging everyone into the dreams of a volatile eldritch creature, usurping the throne and forcing everyone to convert, rallying the youth to their bloody cause with claims that they alone possessed special powers…I had heard it all, all of them violent to some degree. But the ones that had gotten me…they seemed to worship oblivion itself. Or maybe whatever was in it. That was beyond even my knowledge.

But…even then, they still had arguably the least violent cause. The deadliest, yes–they seemed to just be destroying souls–but strangely not as bloody. Yet their means of carrying out this objective has historically been, well, bloody.

Or maybe that was just me.

Either way, this victim had certainly not gotten the worst of it. There were no twisted limbs, no bloodied nose, no wounds from blade or bullet, basically no magic-driven attacks aside from the terminating consumption of the soul…only marks of the initial restraint, bruises from the subduing, and the abyss claiming and destroying the soul.

I could almost picture it in my head: they likely jumped him in the middle of the street, kicking him around a bit to possibly weaken him, throw him off balance, but not too much as to rouse resistance, then restraining him–to the floor? A wall? I couldn’t tell, but there were no rope burns so they must have done this by hand–and calling, somehow, for their god, for lack of a better word, to devour its newest victim’s soul.

What did he see as he died? Did their eyes turn as colorless as his would become? Had they shown any sign of enjoying his torment? I doubt it; it didn’t seem like a very ‘fun’ kill. And likely not as personal as it was for me.

They were getting much better at their kills. It probably wasn’t as fun, but more precise.

And a lot less violent than I had gotten.

—

I caught a glimpse of the charm from earlier out of the corner of my eye, but just as I looked it vanished. Just then a cold breeze hit me as the door behind me opened, and I was yanked out onto the street, leaving the phone dangling by the cord. The book dropped from my hands.

The four delinquents appeared in front of me from nowhere, likely having turned off their Moonlight Shroud charms.

“Gotcha,” Ransley said, smiling as he picked up the book.

“Give it BACK!” I roared, lunging for him. Ransley hit me hard across the face with the book, sending me flying a few feet back onto the brick road. Quickly I realized that my safety was not worth keeping that book. I didn’t know where or how Ransley learned to hit that hard but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. As he and the others examined the book, I began to scurry away as Ransley gave an order to the others:

“Get him.”

An instant later, I heard something click far behind me, and a sharp pain ripped through my knee. I collapsed to the floor, letting out an agonized cry. I examined my knee, and saw a hole much bigger than a bullet hole should be. I looked up at my attackers.

A gun?!

“What the HELL?!” I shouted. “You’ve already got what you want! LEAVE ME ALO-“

Ardent appeared behind me and punched me square in the face. I held my probably-broken nose as a muffled shriek of pain escaped me. Each of them vanished and took turns raining blows and slashes on me as I tried to step back and run. They gave me almost no chance to react. My body ached everywhere; the knife wounds, though shallow, stung just as bad, if not worse, as any bee. I could barely stand. I used my remaining strength to try and push them off of me whenever I felt them, but I stumbled each time I did, giving them room to knock me around further. Finally I collapsed, and Ardent grabbed my shirt and dragged me to the bridge.

“W-wait-“ I cried, still wincing and crying from my bruises and decayed knee. “STOP IT!-”

—

I examined the bandages on my hand and knee. The ones from that night must’ve been amateurs, or at least new to the cult’s way of doing things.

Focus, Shroud.

The victim’s eyes were still open, and almost completely empty.

Almost.

The body must not be entirely empty, then. This wasn’t exactly a kill—whoever this person was, they would not be dead for much longer, or at least depending on your definition of ‘dead.’

How long ago had this attack been, then? I touched the skin—still warm-ish. This had to be recent.

By that logic, if this was meant not as a lethal attack, but as one of induction into their group…

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I at least knew it wasn’t for very long.

So…I didn’t have much longer, then.

I instinctively jerked away from the body. Would he come back? He wouldn’t be under anyone’s control, at least for the first few minutes–how long does it take to kill someone? Would it be long enough for him to kill me?–no, he probably wouldn’t go after me; I had barely any soul left for him to long for…unless he’s just that desperate enough to take scraps from a near-husk.

What would he do when he came back? Would he wander around, lost, confused, until they welcomed him with false promises of salvation and freedom from the ‘burden’ of having a judgement-tied soul? Would he be violent, as they had been to him?

Then again…I came back after one of their attacks, but with a will of my own. Did they want me to come back? Why would they want me of all people to come back?

—

“You know how much trouble you caused us, […….…]?!” Ransley shouted as he kicked me in my injured leg. “Don’t act like you didn’t have this coming, you little weasel.”

“I didn’t-“ I tried to say.

Ransley propped me up on the sidewalk, just by the edge of the bridge, right above the river. He placed his hand on my bruised shoulder, looking at me with a bone-chilling grin.

Again, I got a good look at his eyes. This time, everything except the pupils was entirely white. As I looked I almost felt like I was staring at something beyond; further, even. But the harder I looked the more I could see how much nothing there was. And yet, in spite of that, this nothing seemed to be staring back at me.

The others had the same white eyes too, looking on with a horrible satisfaction.

“What…” I barely managed to say, “…what are y-you…?”

“Free,” Ransley answered, without his usual cruelty and instead with an uncharacteristically sanctimonious tone. “And with our help, so too will you be free.”

With a hard shove, I was pushed off the bridge.

I grabbed onto the edge with my hand, barely having the strength to pull myself up.

“T-this is insane-!” I cried. “Ransley! Please! Y-you can keep the book; I won’t call the police, just help me up-“

Ransley frowned and put his boot on my hand. He leaned in as he brought his foot down harder, crushing my hand. Bone splintered and crumbled under the weight of the shoe, and I let out a shriek as a cold look crossed his face.

“You really should stop holding on so much,” he said. “That’s your problem. That’s why you’re here. Just let go, and face oblivion.”

Ransley took his foot off finally, but my hand had run out of strength. I slipped, and fell into the river.

—

Either way, I had to work fast.

“Hey, kid!” Someone from the crowd called. “What’re you doing? Leave this to the professionals.”

I turned around, and maybe it was the speed at which I had whirled around to face them, or he did just flinch.

Was it my eyes?

“The police won’t find them,” I explained. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve studied demonology for a few years.”

I went back to the body.

“You mean you know who did this?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered. “I just wanna be sure…”

I pressed down on the bruises on their shoulder and arms. Hollow. I felt no bone or extra layer of skin or muscle underneath.

Just as I suspected, I thought. Soul devouring.

My only question now was, how much of the soul was left?

—-

The bridge wasn’t particularly tall; just enough for any small cargo ships to run under. But the fall felt much longer than it had any right to.

I never hit the water. I was swallowed by something but it certainly wasn’t the river. It was as cold and sharp but nothing wet ever touched my skin or clothes.

I did not fall into water. I fell into something foreign, something dark, something alive, something evil.

Its eyes were beady and attentive, focused, eager, and it had long rows of sharp fangs. It appeared to smile at me, expecting me, welcoming me. Whispers in demon-tongue surrounded me, and I overwhelmed myself trying to find a single word I could understand. The only thing I could catch was “going to hell” again…was this it? Was this hell? What circle was this?

I was immobile, unable to look away from the creature in front of me, unable to scream as it opened its fang-filled mouth. I couldn’t even let out a scream of protest; no, not against this, as it brought down its jaws and took a large bite out of a deep part of me even I could never access. The pain from my bruises and wounds no longer burned; only ached, as if the pain had been there forever.

I was hollow. If there was anything left, I barely even felt it. My wounds glowed a hot white color and became shallow. I felt nothing but an aching nigh-emptiness that seemed to have no origin I could place; no past; only a present and a long future.

I didn’t know how long I was in that void. But as much as I despised that thing for robbing me of my life, I was grateful that it chose to let me go.

—-


I took out my pen from my pocket and a couple of mini-candles from my satchel. I flicked a lighter and lit the candles, surrounding them at different points around the body. I began to draw an evocation circle around the body. I’m not sure what had stopped this cult from performing forced evocations as opposed to beating everyone into submission until they blacked out enough to face the abyss and have their soul devoured, but I wasn’t about to find any sense in a group of people who literally worship the abyss.

I took my time with the intricate webs of the circle, carefully connecting whatever remained of the soul to the points where I would draw in the runes, and connected those to the candles.

I then drew in symbols in the language of the spirits at the different sub-points that would draw up souls from the afterlife, adding a desperate prayer in each pen stroke that I evoke the right thing and not something unwelcome. I had to steady my hand as I did this, reminding myself that this was merely a human soul who was recently killed, so the chances of him having ended up in hell – was he that kind of person? – were slim; they had to be, of course they were; there was no need to panic so stop panicking. Yet knowing I was drawing the same symbols, the same webs, lighting the same candles as the deadly evokers around town who would break into people’s houses and draw evocation circles under their beds to call up who-knows-what from the pits of hell to torment the living…to think I was drawing the same circle that I checked for every night when I went to sleep…

The pen snapped in my shaking hand against the concrete, getting ink all over my hand. I swore, and rubbed some on my finger tip so I could start to finish the circle.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!” someone cried, making me jump. “You’re tampering with evidence! That’s illegal!”

“You’re gonna screw up the investigation!” someone else shouted.

I steadied myself from being startled.

“This…this is the investigation,” I replied bluntly.

“Wh–okay…? Are you a detective or something?” the first guy asked.

I shrugged.

“I think so,” I said.

“You think-”

I could hear further shouts from the crowd as I turned the body over to draw the rest of the circle underneath, but I held up my hand to stop them from getting closer.

“Just let me work!” I cried without looking back.

That’s when I noticed some of the rapidly-decaying skin near the shoulder and side of the ankles. The skin had withered and given way to bone, the effect cutting through flesh and muscle. Even the bone had begun to decay.

Well, so much for minimal damage.  

I unzipped the victim’s jacket and pulled back the shirt just slightly to get a better look at the damage. The withering had spread further—the entire shoulder seemed about ready to decay. I took a camera out of my bag and took a picture of the decaying wounds.

With the remaining ink, I drew another sigil on the bandage of my injured hand, a heart-shaped eye-like symbol with two lines running up my index and middle finger. It was a painful process and I was just careful enough to have the pen not tear through the bandage, and I placed my shaking hand on the decaying shoulder and closed my eyes. I saw all of the injuries on the man’s body, including where he had been injured–he had a broken arm that had almost finished recovering, and a fractured foot that was also healing, but wasn’t as near completion as his arms. Either way, both of these had stopped healing, and had actually gotten worse, with the bones beginning to decay in both areas.

What was the point of beating people up, breaking them, letting them decay, and then expecting them to join you after you had broken them? My attackers probably went through the same thing as this man had–as I had, if this cult was larger than them. So why do the same thing to others?

But that was just it, though, wasn’t it?

They knew what it was like to be soulless, and only they knew not only how to recover from the injuries suffered, but how to disguise themselves as living to avoid trouble with the law.

I looked again at the bandages on my hand, and unraveled it slightly, careful not to let the crowd see. There, too, did my flesh begin to decay. This was the primary issue with not having a soul: without the very essence that gives us life, our bodies aren’t capable of self-healing anymore. Any injuries are permanent unless fixed by a doctor, or if we tend our own wounds.

Fortunately my bones—at least in my hand—hadn’t completely withered away. I managed to revive just in time, fortunately.

Just in time.

——

I don’t remember much about the day I woke up. Just the excruciating, aching pain.

What I did know was I had washed up on the shore of the city, and I couldn’t stand up for a very long time. A burning sensation enveloped my entire hand and knee, and I felt a throbbing sensation in both areas. The bruises from the beatdown stuck on me like a leech, but most vividly, my chest felt hollow. And it hurt. The emptiness gnawed at the inside of my chest, and it, too, burned and ached. Like a stomach ache in the wrong place.

With my good hand I crawled my way off of the shore until I found a lamppost. I grabbed onto it, and propped up my good knee. I swung my arm toward the lamppost, grabbing onto it with my bad hand, shocks of pain running through my body. I tried to haul myself up, but the weight of my body caved my knee in, and I collapsed. That’s when I got a good look at my hand.

Bits of skin had completely come off, seeming to have withered away. Pieces of bone underneath had chipped off.

I grew nauseous and I felt the blood drain from my face. I let out some inhuman noise that I reckoned was some attempt at a scream but came out as a cross between that and a moan of agony.

How had this happened?

It was a horrible sound, but at least I had been found. Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened?

Or who else would’ve found me?

——

Finishing the circle grew tricky as my hand trembled, though I was unsure if it was from the injury or from the reality of the process itself.

“Kid, we don’t even know who you are,” the guy from earlier said. “Are you even a licensed detective?”

I ignored him and wiped some of the ink from my pen on my hand, pressing my hands together to activate the circle. As the soul fire candles flared, what little color was left in their eyes drained slowly, and a small, glowing, deteriorated wisp of a soul rose out of the victim’s body.

This was all that was left…

Somehow this dead man was just the same as I, who could still breath, still walk, still talk, still live—but only just.

What had this man’s soul seen before it was decimated? If, in fact, the same people who killed me are responsible for this, did he, too, see the same grinning face in the abyss that I had? Was he as afraid as I was? Or did he accept this as death?

I took my mage’s license out of my pocket and showed it to the crowd.

“I’m a licensed magic user,” I said, “is that enough?”

“…that’s not a detective license,” the same guy said. “I’m calling the police.”

“Great!” I said. “Tell them the Brotherhood of Abyss Walkers did this.” At this point it was all but confirmed.

“The…what?”

“The cult that keeps tormenting this forsaken town,” I explained. “The one behind all the unexplained murders.”

The guy—along with the rest of the crowd—stifled a laugh. Some of them couldn’t hold it in.

“There’s no cult in New Lumanore,” someone else said. “Our security’s airtight; no way they would’ve been able to form a guild without a license.”

“Just call the authorities, Aaron,” a lady in the crowd said. “This kid isn’t worth persuading.”

“W-wait-“ I said before letting out a resigned sigh. I packed up the candles and pocketed my pen, and took off. I knew who the culprit was. What the police had to say didn’t bother me.

They’ll believe me when I put the culprit behind bars.

—————

In previous investigations I managed to pin down the general area where the Abyss Walkers operate. Prior murders took place at least within a mile’s range of Eclipse Avenue, an area further south of New Lumanore. It was a relatively quiet and empty area; there were quite a bit of shops and buildings of unknown function that no one ever seemed to go into, not even during the day.

The entire place screamed occult activity.

Sure enough, just as I hit the corner of the avenue I caught a glimpse of a Moonlight Shroud charm, pinned to the outwear of a hooded figure. They were walking along the other side of the street, hanging close to the bare wall of a wide building.

Once they were some distance along I crossed the street quickly and began tailing them.

Confrontation wasn’t new to me, just…unfavorable. Is that why I trembled? Either way I knew the procedure: Walk with the same beat. Same path, same pattern of step. Stop when he stops. Walk like this until the shadow is close enough for contact.

Once I did I took out a capsule from my coat. It contained shadow ink, allowing me to either create my own shadow, or to hide within someone else’s. I didn’t have enough of a soul to perform any magical feats on my own–whatever I could do would probably just come out as sparks–so this was the best I could work with. Unfortunately the capsule was nearly empty, and I made a mental note to contact my supplier after I was finished. In the meantime, I used what was left to lather my hand in ink as I silently crept behind the lone cultist, and pressed my hand against his shadow. I latched on and eventually got pulled in. Inside the shadow realm, I had a black-and-white view of the street from inside the wall. I couldn’t breathe, though, and I couldn’t hold my breath for very long so I knew I had to jump him sooner rather than later.

I took a coin out of my pocket and tossed it outside behind the cultist. He stopped and turned around, as expected, and I took the moment to lunge out and grab him by the throat.

—————

The cultist narrowed his eyes, and an amused smirk came on his face.

“Hey…” he said. “I know you.”

I flinched. How?

He kicked me off and stood up.

“You…you’re the kid we got that book from!” He chuckled. “You don’t quit, do you? This is really what you chose to do after death? Vigilante work?”

I felt the blood drained from my face.

“…what are you talking about?” I lied. “What book?”

“The demonology book, stupid,” he said. “The thing damning you to begin with. You forgot already? Or did you lose your memories alongside almost all your soul somehow?”

I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to charge at him again. I couldn’t take him in a head-on fight. I was too weak for that.

“Tell me,” he said. “How’s it feel? Being so close to freedom, so close to ridding yourself of that moral creed weighing you down…no fear of rapture…just your life and your…well, I suppose now broken…body, and your heart and mind.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“Good thing you came back, though. We’ve been slacking on our initiations recently…Ardent went a little too hard on too many people. We’re behind on our quota.”

“Wait a sec…” I took a step back. “What do you mean ‘too hard?’ Aren’t they supposed to come back?”

“The idiot decided to use magic to slow the initiates down,” the cultist explained. “As if that wouldn’t damage the soul at all. I’m sure you of all people know. You’ve taken enough beatings form him, right, D–“

I punched him in the face. The second I made contact I realized I had used my bad hand without thinking. Bone snapped, collapsed, and even shifted through the hole in my hand. I let out a far-too-loud shriek of agony as I recoiled and caressed my hand, trying to relocate the bone.

The cultist looked at me and laughed, and I raised a finger on my good hand and threatened him:

“Don’t try that again,” I said. “I’ve still got one—ahh…—perfectly functioning hand.”

“Fine by me,” he replied. “You hit hard for a dead person…”

My hand still ached from the punch. I imagine it probably hurt me way more than it hurt him.

“Do you mean to turn me in, Shroud?” the cultist hissed. “Just try it. I know who you are. They’ll find out you’re undead and investigate you to hell and back. Whatever decimal of a soul you have left won’t save you. Not even close.”

“I can’t trust you with that information even if I let you go,” I said. “But even if you do…I’ll know sooner or later if you’ve said something. You best not try it if you don’t wanna die twice.”

The cultist grinned.

“I’m shaking,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll just come back again.”

“What, are there no revival limits in your little group?”

“Nope. He’ll bring us back again and again as long as he needs us.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, you’ve only been resurrected once, you big baby,” the cultist said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not joining you.”

“You have no reason not to,” the cultist said. “We can fix your broken body; make you look and seem as alive as the next person. Those remnants of a soul may not matter to the police, who’ll mark you as soulless anyway, but you know who it does matter to?” He pointed at the sky and at the group. “Them. Someone like you, who’s spent hours learning about heaven’s enemies…you think you have any chance of reaching heaven? HA!”

I fell silent. Just when I thought being registered as ‘dead’ to everyone you know meant they wouldn’t bother you about being a (rookie) demonologist anymore. That reminder worked my last nerve, yet every time it was brought up I could never muster up a proper defense.

“…I’m aware,” I mumbled.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re just livid at the police, who never caught who got you. I’m sure you’d like your vengeance against them for failing you…we can help you out with that, if you’d like. After all, why should we fear death, or judgement, from this life or the next? Like I’ve said, we’ve got no soul to weigh us down to heaven or hell. No death, no judgment. Just you, whatever you wanna do, and a welcoming oblivion who’ll spit you back out as many times as needed. As long as you keep it fed, that is.”

“It doesn’t matter if the police know or if they don’t know,” I said. “I know. And I’ll know more than they ever will. Besides, why the hell would I trust you to give me closure about my death–the death YOU caused?!”

The cultist frowned.

“And that’s just the trouble, isn’t it…you’re just about soulless, and the only soulless person New Lumanore who isn’t with us and…for what? You lose nothing by joining us!”

“First of all,” I shouted. “I am not soulless. Your stupid demon didn’t take all of it.”

“Yeah. Still not sure why that happened,” the cultist replied, “but who am I to question the great abyss–”

“Oh, shut up. And second of all–just in case you forgot–YOU KILLED ME! I don’t owe you loyalty, or gratitude, or mercy…I owe you nothing.”

“You may be upset now,” the cultist said, “but you’ll learn to thank us later.”

“I will not.”

His frown turned into a scowl. He took out a small cylinder from his pocket.

“I was gonna use this the day of the attack,” he said, “but I didn’t see any point. Seemed like the others were doing just fine without the staff.”

Sure enough, the cylinder popped open into a metal bo-staff. He walked towards me, twirling it through his fingers.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong thing, Shroud,” he said. “You think you need vengeance, but what you really need is security. We all know what being soulless is like. You’re weaker, you can’t heal your wounds, you can’t do magic, and it’s pretty obvious when you’ve just come back from the dead. I don’t care what three-percent of a soul you do have; it’s nowhere near enough for you to enjoy all the privileges of being fully human. Face it. You’re basically the same as us.”

As I stepped back, he stopped spinning the staff and instead gripped it with both hands.

“So you can either let go of those remnants you have the audacity to still call a soul, then come with us and let us give you the safety you so desperately need,” he said, rearing the staff back, “…or we’ll just break you further and let oblivion do what it wishes with your remains.”

He started to bring the staff down.

“WAIT!” I yelled, bringing my hands to my face.

Surprisingly enough, he actually froze, the staff a couple inches from my face.

“Okay…I get it…” I said. “You’re right. I won’t turn you in. Just…promise me you won’t tell anyone who I am.”

“What’s stopping me?” the cultist asked, cocking his head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“Look. I didn’t turn you in,” I said. “You owe me.”

“No I don’t. I’m not tied to anything but oblivion.”

I let out an annoyed huff.

“Like I said. I’ll know if you exposed me,” I reminded him. “I don’t care if that scares you or not, just…let me go.”

“Let YOU go?! You jumped ME!”

“And I had—I…thought…I had the right to. Look…I’m backing down. You go about your night. I go about mine. We don’t speak of this.”

The cultist hesitated, then put the staff away.

“Fine,” he said. “But we’ll still come back for you. Whether or not your initiation goes smoothly is entirely on you.”

With that, he pulled out the same charm he had on the day of the attack, and vanished.

“See you around,” he said.

That was the last I heard of him that night.

Once I thought I was safe, I let out a loud groan of annoyance.

I had him. He was literally a few feet away. If I *just* had more shadow ink that would’ve been it for him.

But…he was right. I was at every possible disadvantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I shouldn’t have jumped him. I should’ve just taken note of his appearance and went from there. That was foolish on my part.

But…I did have his appearance now.

But he had my identity.

I still wasn’t at a complete advantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I had to lay low, and rebuild. My hand was wounded and I was lucky I didn’t get my skull bashed in. There was no way I could have recovered from that. But I wouldn’t give up. I had a lead and I wasn’t letting go of it.

I didn’t care about their ‘freedom’ or ‘not being tied down’ or anything like that. Fact of the matter is, they were hurting people, and their demon lord had more control over them than they’d realize.

They were beyond redemption. The demon didn’t bind them through any soul manipulation or contract–it was some weird combination of free will, gratitude, and the threat of permanent death.

These cultists had to go, and quickly. They had to pay, and dearly.

I know I’m weak, but once I’m back up and running I would do as much damage from the shadows as humanly possible.

They weren’t bound by any rules, so why should I have to be?

I didn’t care how many times I would get hurt. They ruined my life, and I was going to pay them back tenfold.

[theamberwriter]

Burned by You [ProHero!Shoto Todoroki]

Pairing: Pro Hero! Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Word Count: 1805

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: He’s probs a lil OOC, sorry ^^”

Something was wrong with Shoto. You couldn't place it, but he'd been acting out of the usual. Though he vehemently denied it every time you asked him what the matter was. You had a theory, but you weren't sure.

Shoto didn't talk about his home life much. His life before becoming a pro. But you knew about his burning hatred for his father. You also knew he had run into him recently. You had a feeling they'd fought. Even if Shoto was a pro now, it didn't stop Endeavor from being well - Endeavor. In fact, it made him even more insufferable!

You felt it was time to talk to your boyfriend. You'd been tiptoeing around him for a week. You just wanted your boyfriend back. You wanted to be able to comfort him. Show him that you were there, no matter what.

The opportunity presented itself that night. Shoto was home on a rare day off. Your day had been fine. But you could tell he wasn't completely over whatever it was.

"Shoto?" you started warily. He was washing the dinner dishes, his back to you. You walked close enough to touch him. You held out your hand but didn't lay a finger on him. "I know you're upset. You can't hide that from me. Is it because of Endeavor -"

Shoto's side immediately erupted in flames. You'd never seen that happen before. He whipped around to face you with fury evident in his eyes. "Don't you ever say his name -"

You weren't sure why you screamed at first. You only caught sight of Shoto's fire going out, his eyes growing wide. He reached for you, uttering something. But his words were muffled. Then, the ringing in your ears started. Following that, there was pain. Searing, burning, angry pain from your neck, over your shoulder, down your arm to your elbow. It stung, like a thousand bees stabbing themselves into your skin.

You fell to your knees, clutching that arm to you. Tears blurring your vision before you even knew they existed. Shoto knelt in front of you, a cold hand reaching for you. The relief that hand brought as a thin layer of frost coated the burn was heaven. But, inside, you recoiled from his gentle fingers.

"[Name]," Shoto's voice was weak. "I'm sorry - I didn't - I didn't mean to -"

You sobbed. Fully realizing what happened - for the first time in the four years you'd been dating, Shoto burned you. He hadn't ever used his quirk on you, unless you asked. Ice a sprained ankle, warm a bath - but never ever in violence. He was normally so good at controlling his temper. Controlling the bursts that followed seeing his father. 

But he'd never turned a hand to you.

"What the hell?" It was all you could muster. "Shoto, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Shoto's hand dropped. Your shoulders were shaking, your breath starting to come in pants. Your sobs were painful, raking hiccups. Shoto didn't know what to do. 

"I didn’t mean to...we need to get you to a hospital,” Shoto stated as if it was so obvious. 

You didn’t want him getting in trouble. You didn’t want to know what the headlines would say. PRO HERO SHOTO ATTACKS PARTNER IN THEIR HOME, PARTNER SUSTAINS THIRD DEGREE BURNS AND PERMANENT SCARING. It wasn’t like that. He was angry and, for just a second, had a lapse in control. You just happened to be in the way. Shoto wasn’t like that. Wasn’t abusive, wasn’t angry.

You grabbed his shirt sleeve, not saying a word. But you hoped the look in your eyes would get him to think about this. About his reputation. About how all his work could come crumbling down, because of an accident. It only took one misunderstanding to topple the delicate tower he stood on.

Shoto shook his head. You pulled his shirt again. He gingerly took your hand, looking into your eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not worried about that...We can say you slipped with a pot of boiling water if you’re that concerned. But you’re going. - This is my fault. I’m going to fix it.”

Shoto pulled you up with him as he stood. He couldn’t look at your arm. At what he did. But he was quick to find antibiotic ointment and gauze. He grimaced as he wrapped you up after putting on the medicated cream. Then he took you out to the car.

It was a quiet ride to the hospital. Shoto’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tight, you thought that it’d snap. But it sustained for the whole twenty-minute ride. Shoto’s face remained angry, focused. His eyes aimed straight ahead of him. 

The front desk workers stood immediately as the two of you rushed in. Shoto fed them the line about the boiling water. They swept you back into a room. Before you could blink, you were sitting on a hospital bed in a gown. Your burned arm was uncovered because you shrieked in pain when they tried to cover your bandaged arm.

Shoto was sat rigidly in the chair beside you. Still, he couldn’t look you. After a few minutes, he shot out of his chair and nearly sprinted out of the room. Leaving you alone. You tried not to focus too much on the pain. Instead trying to peer out of the clear walls. Watching as people walked by.

When the doctor came in, Shoto still hadn’t appeared. You gave him the line about the boiling water that Shoto’d given the nurses. But, when your wound was unwrapped, your doctor had a sharp eye.

“Are you sure these burns weren’t caused by fire?” he asked. He lifted your arm, examining it. Watching as pain flickered across your face when he moved it. 

You swallowed hard as he allowed your arm to rest. “Yes. - I’m just a little clumsy. That’s all.”

“Well, look what we have here.” You knew that voice. Endeavor appeared behind the doctor. What was he doing here? And why did he look so smug? “Looks like my quirkless future child-in-law.”

That word stung you more than any of Shoto’s flames could. Endeavor had looked down on you since the first day you were introduced. You were a pathetic, useless, unworthy bug in his eyes. He thought you were distracting Shoto from the purpose Endeavor created him for. And Shoto’s hatred for his father had grown more since you two were together. 

“Did you finally get a taste of my Shoto’s flames?” he asked smugly. “Do you finally see how useless you are? How much of a distraction you’ve become? You couldn’t even defend yourself. It’s disgusting -”

“You.” That was Shoto’s voice. And it dripped with more hatred and malice than you'd heard from any villain. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You’d never seen the sort of hatred in his eyes. He said he was over this. Over him. Over Endeavor treating him like a tool. But that look - you knew it would never truly be over. 

“This is your fault!” Shoto cried, one side of the room coating with ice. He was losing it. His control, which was always amazing, was slipping. His temper tipping into a scale you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t know Shoto was capable of such rage. All because of Endeavor. What happened last time he saw him? “What did you say to them? What did you say to [Name]?!”

“Nothing of consequence,” Endeavor said, turning to face Shoto. “Just seeing if your little pet had had enough. This -” He waved his hand towards you. “- isn’t my fault. You shouldn’t blame your weaknesses on others.”

“[Name] may not have a quirk, but they’re a better person than you will ever be.” Shoto’s eyes were wild. Scary even. “Bribing me to break up with them. That’s a new low, even for you. You have nothing you could possibly offer me. I don’t need you. - Now get. Out.”

Endeavor gave Shoto a look that could’ve killed. “When your quirkless pest gets in the way again. - Because, one way or the other, they will - you will have no one to blame but yourself, Shoto.”

Endeavor left without another word. Shoto silently defrosted the room. Then cut a sharp look at the doctor, who turned back to you. You were treated for intense burns. The whole thing being kept under wraps, in the way that happened with heroes. They kept you overnight in the burn unit. 

Once the doctors did their final tests, and you were given your second IV full of antibiotics, it was just you and Shoto. He was quiet. You were have thought he fell asleep with his eyes open. But you knew better. Especially with the way he was gripping your hand. It almost hurt.

Shoto tenderly kissed your fingers. “I’m so sorry about all of - this. About him.”

You sat quietly, going over the earlier fight. You swallowed hard. “He tried to bribe you. To break up with me?”

Shoto sighed as he nodded. Anger etched onto his face as it’d been all day. “There’s not a thing in the world that could get me to let you go.”

“But,” you choked before you could stop yourself. “What if he’s right? What if, because I'm quirkless, I hold you back? What if I get in your way? What if I’m captured by villains, but I don’t have a quirk to save myself? What if -”

“Stop,” Shoto said sternly.

“But -”

“No -”

“But -”

“[Name]!” Shoto finally shouted. You jerked your hand away, half afraid he’d set it ablaze. You supposed he saw the fear in your eyes. His expression changed into a pained one. He leaned back in the plastic chair. “He will never be right. He never has been. - No matter what comes, I will face it. With you. Nothing he says will ever change my mind on that. Do you understand?”

You knew that look. That determined, fearful look. You’d seen it on TV as you panicked watching the news. Crying and throwing yourself into his arms when he came home. This was the man you wanted your future with. And he was right, nothing - not villains, or fights, or Endeavor, or this - was going to come between you two.

You nodded. You could see Shoto relax, a small smile forming on his face. 

You two would power through this. Just as you had through everything else. You would push passed every flinch and hesitant touch that followed. Push passed every stare your burns and scars received. Ignore every question that came about how you got burned. You didn’t forget what happened. But learn from it. It made you two that much stronger.

And, you knew for sure, if you got through this - you could get through anything.

[wthzoe]

chapter 8 - kiss away those tears goodbye

‘lift your head, baby, don't be scared

of the things that could go wrong along the way

you'll get by with a smile

now it's time to kiss away those tears goodbye’

series masterlist - here

previous | next

a/n: i finally fixed it. it’s actually exam week rn but i refuse to study lol. also, ive been seeing posts about writers not being inclusive enough when writing x reader fics. i do hope mine is as inclusive as i hoped it to be, i left y/n’s appearance, job and college course unstated so u could get to imagine them yourself. did it work? also, enjoy! xoxo

tags: @crayonwriting​

-

People say time can heal all wounds, perhaps, no matter the size. Whoever said that first was absolutely right, you thought. It may seem fast to others but to you, those few years were more than enough suffering. There’s no benefit to dwelling in the past, once you’re stuck in it, you wouldn’t see the way out.

Thank goodness for your baby boys, your boyfriend and your late grandmother who had set you up to make up with your parents, though you wish she were there with you. At first you felt guilty every time you had fun without her. Celebrating achievements, birthdays and occasions. Then you reminded yourself (with the help of your beloved boyfriend, Kuroo) that she would not be happy at all that you keep yourself from being happy because of her.

Years have passed since then and you were finally a senior together with Kuroo. It’s only a month until your graduation and you were as busy as a bee, though Kuroo is busier than you were with him being part of the volleyball team and all that. Due to you and Kuroo’s busy schedules, both of you barely had time to spend with your boys which prompted your parents to hire nannies for them. You all learned the hard way that one nanny was not enough for your rowdy children, their first nanny quitting the moment you came home with Kuroo on her first day. You remembered how your boys sheepishly smiled at you when you asked them what they did.

You sigh, the triplets were not the only boys you’re unable to spend much time with. There was also Kuroo, who you only see for a brief moment when he accidentally wakes you up while getting in bed and for a little bit more in the morning. He wasn’t in your shared classes most of the time which only made things worse for you. To say you miss him was an understatement. You swear the next time you see him you’d tackle him to the floor and never let go.

While you were there stressing about how much you miss Kuroo, your boyfriend was stressing about which ring to buy. He’d decided to bring Bokuto and Akaashi with him to help. The latter was doing the best he could with all the information he obtained via the internet when Kuroo asked for help. But Bokuto? He was there goofing around, trying out the gold necklaces with gigantic pendants such as dollar signs on them. The store was filled with Bokuto and Kuroo’s banter as the latter yells at him to focus on the task at hand. Akaashi took it upon himself to apologize to the staff on behalf of his boisterous friends, thank goodness they were the only customers there.

“Dude, we seriously have to pick a ring now, there’s only like a month left.” Kuroo whisper-yelled to his owl-like friend after seeing how stressed out the staff were.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Well, what do you wanna get?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know!”

“Why don’t you get one that reminds you of her?”

Kuroo stared dumbfoundedly at his friend. “I- wow, that actually helps.” He grips his chin with his index finger and thumb, thinking of words that could describe you and his love for you perfectly. Minutes passed with Akaashi, Bokuto and the store staff watching Kuroo think silently. A few minutes later and Kuroo wordlessly approached the displays, intently scanning each ring. Finally, he stopped and pointed at one.

“This one, please.”

The day was finally over and all you could think about was cuddling with your boyfriend as you get your much-needed sleep. You trudged down the hallway, your bag being dragged on the floor. The sound of the television pierced through the door as you opened it. The triplets were running towards you in no time, Kuroo not far behind.

“Mama!” They yelled. “Welcome home!”

“Hi, boys. Did you enjoy your day?”

“Yup, we watched a movie with Papa.” Kazuo exclaimed.

“That’s great!” You turn to your bed-headed boyfriend and gave him a peck. “Hi, baby.”

The five of you enjoy a hearty meal cooked by none other than Kuroo with the assistance of your baby boys. It wasn’t particularly the best but it wasn’t bad either. You made sounds of approval here and there as you chow down on the food to show your boys that you appreciate their effort (though they could tell it was a little bit too exaggerated). After the meal, Masao asked both you and Kuroo to play with them as they had missed you. The need to rest left your body right away when you saw three pairs of puppy eyes looking up to you.

Not even an hour has passed when Kuroo noticed your slightly nodding head out of exhaustion. He softly chuckled to himself before clapping his hands twice, catching the boys’ attention quickly. He motioned to your half-asleep figure and they got the message quickly.

“Alright, boys, let’s go wash up. Mama,” he placed a hand on your shoulder, “go to bed first, I’ll tuck the boys in.”

You mumbled a small thank you to him before trudging to your room and plopping yourself on the bed, immediately falling into deep slumber. The feeling of the bed dipping due to Kuroo’s weight woke you up, eliciting hushed apologies from him. Without a word you snuggled close to him and went right back to sleep as you feel his arms wrap around you.

A month passed by in a blink of an eye and you swore your soul will leave your body had college gone on longer, which is a mood. The triplets were at your parents’ as per your father’s request. Something about giving you time and space to prepare for your graduation ceremony, he said. So, there you were, fixing your hair for the nth time and checking your makeup. Kuroo entered the room clad in formal wear, clearly struggling with his tie. You wordlessly approached him and began fixing his tie. He watched you with a loving look in his eyes and a tender smile.“Baby,” he started. “You look breathtaking.”You felt your face heat up. “T-thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” He chuckled.“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The ride to the venue made you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the thought of having to walk down an aisle with people watching you. Yup, that’s definitely it. What you didn’t know was that Kuroo was going to ask of you something where you have to do just that. Go, you. Kuroo grabbed your hand on your lap, giving it a squeeze. He must have felt how nervous you were.

Maybe graduation wasn’t that bad after all. You didn’t know, your mind was blank as you walked to the stage. All you wanted right now was to be reunited with your boyfriend but something tells you he’d already exited the venue right after you got separated by the crowd.

You catch your breath when you finally stepped out of the venue. Now to find Kuroo and his friends. You were walking around aimlessly, feet aching because of your heels, when you hear your sons’ familiar voices calling out to you. When you turned to the direction of the sound, you notice them hiding something behind their tiny little bodies. Not thinking much about it, you smile widely as you approach them.

You were stopped on your tracks when Kazuo revealed the cardboard he was holding. ‘Will’, it said. Then, it was Takeo’s turn to reveal his. It had ‘you’ written on it but it was held upside down, making you chuckle. He abruptly fixed it before Masao revealed his. It said ‘marry’. Then, out of nowhere Kuroo walked into your vision, holding a cardboard which had ‘me?’ written on it.

Oh. Oh. Now you got it. You were honestly so distracted by your cute babies causing you to set aside deciphering the message they were trying to tell. Warm tears rolled down your cheeks, finally wrapping your head around what was happening. Kuroo got on one knee in front of you, showing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

“So, will you marry me?”

Having been rendered speechless, you nod your head yes. Kuroo grinned before slipping the ring onto your ring finger. He stood up and gave you a tight hug. Suddenly, you heard people cheering. You totally forgot that there were other people there. You buried your face on Kuroo’s shoulder, embarrassed. The triplets’ ran to the two of you cheering. Then you saw Bokuto and Akaashi emerge from a tree, the latter holding a camera. They congratulated the two of you, acting like you didn’t just see them jump out of a tree. Kuroo grabs your attention,

“I love you, a million times more than there are cells in a human body.”

You laughed, “I love you, too, nerd.”

[philipsgaiamemories]

Soulmates

Fandom: Kamen Rider Zero-One

Relationship: Fuwa Isamu/ Hiden Aruto

Summary: Fuwa never thought he would find his soulmate

Rating: Teen-ish

Notes: Not the happiest with this fic, but I want to write something shorter before I finish the other fic Ive been working on~ Hope you all like!  

He couldn’t believe it…it wasn’t possible… Was it?

After all these years, Fuwa Isamu thought that he would be alone all his life.  By his age, it was expected that he would have found his other half, his soulmate, fated to be with him from birth.  

But, day by day, Fuwa went through life, his whole world gray and dull like dirty film over a lens. While all around him it seemed like everyone was finding their perfect match, color being breathed back into their lives.  At first Fuwa felt almost envious of those couples, randomly finding one another in the street, meeting for the first time like those trashy romance novels teens read. Well…almost.  Now, he just let the gray numbness take over, better to not feel than to get his hopes up.

That is of course until that faithful day.    

-*-*

The dark haired cop found himself at Hiden Intelligence, with an easy job of babysitting their CEO. Running his fingers through his dark hair, Fuwa sighed, the noise of the lobby like a grating static in his mind. The young CEO was supposed to meet him first thing in the morning before going to some important meeting, and since Fuwa was early, he just decided to linger in the open area.   Sliding into an empty seat, the dark haired boy crossed his long legs, his eyes glancing over the crowd.  He felt totally out of place here, surrounded by all these educated, expensive suit wearing business people.  And for all Fuwa knew, the CEO was just like that, surrounding himself by only other suits and important people.  

“Oh, is that President Hiden?”

“Mm?” Fuwa’s ears perked up, hearing the hushed whispers of a pair of women standing close by. Sitting up slowly in the chair, the boy’s dark eyes danced across the room looking for his newest ward.  

“Tsk, I hope he doesn’t tell one of those bad jokes!” The ladies continued to whisper, “He always tells those bad jokes!”

‘Bad jokes?’

A small commotion coming caught Fuwa’s attention, his gaze finally landing on a small group of businessmen walking towards the center of the lobby. Tilting his head, the dark haired bodyguard wondered which one of the suits was the president of the company. As they got closer, he could hear the small crowd groaning together, their faces completely unamused at whatever was being said.

“Eh?...”

Suddenly the sounds of the lobby faded away, replaced by what Fuwa could only compare to the jingling of silver bells.  The dull suits parted just slightly, allowing the bodyguard to see a grinning young man between them, dressed in a suit jacket with a bright hoodie underneath it. The lean brunette eyes sparkled, as his lips parted, and there it was again, that wonderful, beautiful sound. But it wasn’t really bells of course, but the sound of the boy laughing that caused a stir within him.  Fuwa suddenly found himself staring at the boy, at that beaming smile, and those flushed full cheeks.

Wait…it couldn’t be…?!

Fuwa felt the breath being knocked out of his throat, unable to deny that everything suddenly felt different.  His brain was short circuiting, suddenly the noises were now louder, the bright sweatshirt that the CEO was wearing even brighter than before.  It was as if the whole world turned up its intensity by 10!

“Ah!” Sitting up straight, the bodyguard felt his heart thundering his chest, realizing that businessman suddenly turned towards him.  Fuwa’s whole body tingled like it was struck by lightning, their eyes meeting across the space.  Their gaze never broke while the CEO’s full lips parted, speaking to the men next to him before parting ways.  

‘Shit…’ This was going too fast, the lean brunette was making a bee line towards him, ‘He’s coming this way…!’

Fuwa fight or flight instincts suddenly kicked in. He wanted to run off, knowing full well what all of this meant; but at the same time, his body felt heavy underneath that bright curious gaze. He was stuck to the chair, easy prey for the young CEO as he walked up.  

“H-H-hey…”

That voice immediately made Fuwa’s chest feel warm and tight, nervousness filling him.  Normally the man had no problem speaking to people, (they may not like what he had to say of course), but the moment the brunette spoke, the boy felt his mouth go dry.  The words died in his throat, as he took in the boy standing in front of him, staring shamelessly as his mouth gaped.  The young CEO’s bright eyes danced underneath his brunette hair, his plump boyish cheeks flushed from his earlier laughing.  

‘…Cute…’

The boy’s lower lip stuck out, his eyebrows furrowing in distress with Fuwa’s silence, “Hey…you ok?”

No. No, Fuwa wasn’t ok, not in the very least.  How could he be when even pouting, the CEO was just…irresistible?  

Taking a deep breath, the boy finally managed to murmur, “I-I’m ok…Hello Mr. President.”

That frown immediately turned right side up, his whole face beaming with the soft words.  Shaking his head, the brunette chuckled softly, the sound of silver bells dancing in Fuwa’s ears.

“…Aw come on…don’t be like that!”  

Sparks shot down Fuwa’s spine as the lean boy reached down wrapping his petite warm hands around his own. Giving it a gentle tug, the bodyguard was coaxed to his feet, letting his grip linger a little longer before letting go.

“…You can see it too right?! Everything is…brighter? You’re it huh? My soulmate!” The boy eagerly said, “I’m Hiden Aruto! What’s your name?!-“

“Sir?”

The two looked up, realizing that a dark haired girl with one of those humangear headpieces appeared next to them.  Their moment suddenly ruined, Fuwa broke his gaze, taking a small step away from the lean boy. Biting his lower lip, the boy felt overwhelmed with emotion, a mix of annoyance and relief filling him.  He hated that this stranger broke into their private conversation, but at the same time it gave him a moment to really take in what was happening.  

Hiden Aruto…was his soulmate?…

“The meeting.”

“Ah yes! Um, Fuwa-san…”

His name on the boys lips, sent a shudder down the bodyguard’s spine, as if a fingertip dragged gently down his back.  He turned his gaze back to Aruto, who looked at him with these impossibly wide and curious eyes.  The CEO looked like he wanted to say so much, but with the girl there next to him he dropped their conversation entirely.

“Of course Sir, please let me lead you to the car.”  And Fuwa decided it was easier to just let it go too.  

Escorting the young CEO to his car was easy, but the moment they got into the enclosed space of the vehicle Fuwa knew he was in trouble.  The brunette sat in the center of the backseat, the bodyguard forced to sit next to him. It was still too soon for the dark haired bodyguard, so he turned his gaze out of the window and the passing cars.

Gods, was why was it so warm in the car?! And what was that delicious scent?!

“Ah! Sorry!”

Turning his head, Fuwa felt something bump up against his shoulder as the car turned a corner. Looking over, he watched as Aruto sat up straight, his head lifting to slyly meet Fuwa’s gaze.  Locking their gaze, the boy blushed hotly, wondering if was the only one who was feeling this way.  It should have been obvious, that the light scent of lavender filling his nose, and the warmth was coming from the lean boy next to him.  The gaze was so overwhelming Aruto’s dark eyes sparkling with unspoken words, that Fuwa had to turn away, pretending that something interesting was happening outside the window.  

Fuwa could almost feel the anxiety, mixed with just a rush of jumbled emotions that made his chest tight. Was this what being soulmates felt like?!

The car ride took forever, and the business meeting much longer.  Fuwa was no stranger to boring meetings that seemed to last forever, but this one was especially unbearable.  As the stuffy businessmen talked and attempted to negotiate, the bodyguard stood in the side watching everyone with practiced disinterest.  But disinterested was far from what the dark haired boy was, his eyes lingering on the lean brunette at the head of the table.  He noticed sunbeams pouring into the room from the window bouncing off the boys hair, giving it a warm caramel look.  And every second that passed the bodyguard could feel the young businessman’s emotions radiating from him like the sun. Fuwa could tell he was getting impatient, the boy’s voice carrying an edge to it, even though he continued with his energetic and polite conversation.  Could no one else hear it?  Could no one tell he was growing impatient with the meeting?

And how did no one notice those stolen glances he was sending Fuwa out of the corner of his eye? Secret looks that just screamed, ‘get me out of here’.  Not to mention that impossibly endearing blush that crossed his face when Aruto noticed Fuwa watching him.  

Finally after what felt like hours, the young CEO completed his contract with those stuffy businessmen, providing them with humangear for their company.  It was a successful trip for the boys company, so he chatted with his secretary in the car, giving her instructing her on their next steps. Fuwa was relieved though, because that meant Aruto’s attention wasn’t on him.  

It was already bad enough that he could feel the boys knees brushing up against him, reminding Fuwa how achingly close Aruto’s warm body was.  And how the brunette’s voice caressing his ears, as if the boy was right against them

Ugh, how much longer?!

Fuwa was beginning to get anxious by the end of the car ride, being in such close proximity to the other driving him crazy.  Aruto’s inviting warmth and scent taunted him, filled all of the dark haired bodyguard senses.  He had to resist, all of this had to be a mistake, the brunette was a CEO, and all he was…was a bodyguard.

Yes, if he just ignored it…it might just go away…

“Sir, we’re here!”

Sliding out of the expensive car, Fuwa turned to bow at the businessman before excusing himself, hoping to quickly leave.  If he was able to get away, maybe he could get away from the irresistible calling of the soul bond.

“Fuwa-san…“

Damn, Fuwa felt his heart tighten, Aruto’s voice causing him to stop right in his tracks.  Running his fingers through his dark curly hair, the boy tried to sound calm and composed.  “Yeah Pres?”

“Escort me up to the office?”

“Eh?” A soft surprised noise fell from Fuwa’s lips, his eyebrow lifting at the sudden request. “Oh…yeah… sure.”

With a few soft words, Aruto dismissed his secretary before motioning the other to follow him. Unable to resist the two walked through the lobby in silence, an air of anxiety between them as they entered into a special elevator after the CEO swiped a card next to the entrance. Motioning the other to follow him into the small space, the two entered Aruto’s private elevator.  

‘Shit…shit…’ The whole day, Fuwa was able to avoid having this conversation but Aruto was not giving him much choice. “Pres. I-“

“Let’s talk in my office…” Aruto cut him off, a bright smile crossing his face. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day, and no one will disturb us there!”

Biting his bottom lip, the bodyguard shifted anxiously in place, the soft humming of the elevator filling his ears.  Fuwa didn’t want to be left alone with the CEO though, the whole day he had been trying to deal with these new emotions and now the has to face them head on. Finally, a soft ding alerted the two that they reached their destination.  As the door slid open, Aruto exited first, leaving Fuwa to follow in his footsteps right into the spacious office. The whole place was bright and sun filled, giving it the same warm feeling that Aruto emitted.  Simple yet elegant couches filled the space, and in the middle was an expensive looking desk covered in a mix of paperwork and…toys?

“Fuwa-san?”

Suddenly, small hands took hold of his jacket sleeve, forcing the bodyguard to turn his attention back to the lean brunette.  Their eyes locked, and suddenly Fuwa forgot how to breathe, those brownie eyes searching his. Aruto’s body was once again too close, making Fuwa’s heart rush in his chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day…can’t you…feel this?”

Fuwa’s lips parted, a soft noise escaping his throat; of course he could, how could he not?!

Aruto gave the fabric an insistent tug his eyes widening, “I never thought I would just meet my other half just like that! I mean…isn’t it just fate?!”

The boy kept babbling, going on and on about how everything felt different now, and how he finally understood what it meant to find your ‘soul mate’.  It was all too much, all too fast!  

“Pres!”  Fuwa’s voice came out a lot like a bark, cutting Aruto off. “Pres, just…stop.  This can’t be right!”

Reaching down, the dark haired boy took the CEO’s soft hand gently pulling it away from his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath, Fuwa tried to ignore the electricity that ran through him with the simple touch before letting go. Gods, his hands were so soft, reflecting his gentle work, nothing like Fuwa’s, dotted with rough callouses from his job.  

“Pres…this can’t be right…I…” Running his fingers through his messy hair in irritation, the boy grunted, “I am just a bodyguard, and you’re-“

“I’m Aruto!” The boy stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, emphasizing his name. “Hi-den A-ru-to. It doesn’t matter that I am some CEO, what matters is…what matters is that…I…”

Aruto’s face flushed the most wonderful shade of pink, before murmuring, “…want to…kiss you…”

“K-Kiss?”

Fuwa almost felt his legs give out underneath him with that admittance, the breath knocked out of his lungs.  He…wanted to kiss him?  His face immediately felt hot with the thought, a shameless noise escaping him. Unable to control himself, Fuwa’s dark eyes lowered down, once again glancing at Aruto’s full lips.  Just watching the young CEO shyly shifted in place, his eyes wide waiting for Fuwa’s response, made him weak.  It was unfair how charming it was, and how easy it was for Aruto to cause such an intense reaction in the bodyguard.  

Fuwa had never wanted to kiss someone so badly as he did at that second.  

“I…” Fuwa’s mouth was dry as he struggled to form the words, “I…want to kiss you too…”

The bodyguard barely got to enjoy Aruto’s bright smile, before he felt petite hands cupping his face. Suddenly electricity shot down his spine, soft lips now pressed up against Fuwa’s in a clumsy kiss.  The bodyguard’s mind short circuited, gods, Aruto’s lips were just as soft as he imagined!

“Mm…” Unable to control himself, Fuwa’s hands found themselves clutching onto the boys colorful sweatshirt pulling their bodies closer.  A soft hiss escaped the bodyguard, feeling Aruto shudder against him, the CEO’s small arms wrapping around his neck.  It was all fuel for Fuwa, urging him on as he greedily savored the taste of the boys lips.  Had kissing always been this…good?!

No…It wasn’t as if the dark haired boy kissed a lot of people, but this…this was different. Even though they had just met, the two kissed like their lives depended on it.

The moment Aruto’s lips parted, Fuwa took advantage, aggressively sliding his tongue against the other.  And with every pass of his tongue, the bodyguard was reward with soft gasps and whimpers from the brunette.  He couldn’t get enough of the boys taste, the noises, and the sweet way his fingers curled into Fuwa’s curls.  It was all so electrifying, that the dark haired boy subconsciously pulled at the boys hoodie even more, trying to urge Aruto closer.  In the distance, Fuwa could hear things being knocked around, but he couldn’t seem to be bothered with it. Especially since the young CEO didn’t resist the slightly rough treatment, melting against the other kissing the other with just as much fervor.  

“Ah…”  The sound of panting rose between the two as Fuwa was forced to pull away from Aruto’s lips.  But he didn’t fully want to let go of the kiss, so unable to help himself from gently sinking his teeth into the boys soft lips. Softly gasping for breath, the dark haired bodyguard forced air back into his burning lungs before slowly opening his eyes.  “Ah…”

Shit…

When his eyes finally focused, he was met with the warm brownie gaze of Aruto, now glazed over from their intense kiss.  The CEO’s face was flushed a beautiful pink, lips parted, wet and swollen, giving Aruto a wonderfully ravished look.  The long eye flashes of the brunette fluttered closed as the boy silently inviting the other to continue.  Fuwa’s immediately wanted to take Aruto up on the offer for the kiss, and draw out more of those cute noises he was making, but something was off…

Fuwa’s mind struggled to pull itself out of the fog, focusing enough to figure out what was wrong. Instantly the boy knew what was wrong; the young brunette was now not at eyelevel with the bodyguard.  How did-…

Oh…

It finally dawned on him, what exactly happened while they were kissing.  The two had moved blindly around the office until they were at Aruto’s modern desk…with Aruto somehow now perched on its edge.  Fuwa’s cheeks burned, finding himself nestled in between the lean legs of the brunette, hands pressing into his sides, pinning him to the table.  It was becoming painfully obvious that those sounds that he had heard, was from Fuwa lifted Aruto and unceremoniously placed the CEO on top of his desk; shoving everything else out of the way.

“Pres-…I…” The dark haired bodyguard’s mouth dropped slightly, embarrassment washing over him.   “I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me!”

Fuwa tried to move away from the CEO, but the boy kept his grip around the bodyguard’s neck keeping him still.  

Aruto tilted his head, brunette hair falling into his darkened eyes.  “…Why are you apologizing…”

Swallowing hard, the hot-headed bodyguard felt heat pooling within him, the CEO’s voice now breathy and soft.

“…Fuwa…please…you’re my soul mate…”

The words sent a shiver down the bodyguards spine, his heart skipping in his chest feeling the need radiating from the lean CEO.  

“…Don’t reject me…” Aruto whispered, “Please…”

He should know better, Fuwa’s mind screamed at him that the brunette was a CEO, and that he was just a bodyguard for hire with nothing to offer…that it couldn’t be possible that they were meant to be… but…

Fuwa leaned in, his fingers tightening around the boys clothes before roughly capturing Aruto’s lips, wrapping himself in the warmth of the boys arms.  A sudden swell of defiance rose within in, so what if he had nothing to offer and they wouldn’t make sense? He couldn’t deny his body’s immediate reaction to the cute CEO, every kiss sending sparks of lightening down his spine.  The bodyguard had never felt such a need to be so close, to touch and explore another person like this before.  

In between kisses, Fuwa softly whispered, “…If…you want me Pres…”  

‘I’m yours…’ His heart ached with the thought, unable to form the words with his lips.  

A sudden thrum of warm emotion emanating from Aruto pulsed through the bodyguard, the CEO smiling against Fuwa’s mouth.  It was almost sweet how easy it was to read the cute brunette, every kiss screamed his need for the other.  

He couldn’t believe it, they had just met this morning, and already the dark haired boy could feel the other’s emotions as clear as his own.  

Aruto…Aruto the CEO…was HIS soulmate.  Was his, and he was never going to let him go.  

[imagine-lcorp]

Mustang Ride (Part XII)

A/N: Okay okay, i know, i know, it’s been a while but my life rigth now is kinda crazy, good news we’re still here!!!! Also here is to all of you who have been waiting for the continuation of this series, you’re great, love ya guys!!!!

Lena Luthor x Shapeshifter!R//Word Count: 1,348

#Mustang Ride Series: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI - Part XII - Part XIII (WIP) -------------------------------------------------------

"How?" You whispered as Jeffrey walked around your bed. He smiled with a hint of pride and malice in her eyes and you felt a cold shiver down your spine.

"It took me a while, you know, finding you." He took a seat on a chair that stood in the corner of the room and made himself comfortable.

For a moment, the panic you started to feel around Jeffrey was replaced with anger. You remembered him from your younger years and the way he used to be didn't seem to have changed at all. He had always been annoying, believing himself the king of the playground, finding some sort of delight preying on other kids he had considered weaker than him. This time, however, the anger came from something more, the suspicion that he had been the reason you were there, trapped and chained.

"How?" You repeated.

"You remember that day in the woods, don't you? I had never seen someone do what you did that day and, I admit, you left quite an impression on me. It was the first time I ever felt truly...terrified." He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned his head towards you.

That last day of school before winter break came again to your mind. The late afternoon when Jeffrey and his friends had put their hands on you and dragged you into the forest. The useless screams that came from your mouth, the pointless fight you had tried to put against them, the monster they had forced you to become.

"But no one believed a word of what I had seen. You had disappeared after that day and I had no further evidence to proof what monster you were." His eyes reflected nothing but resentment as he looked at you. "I was the fucking boy who cried wolf."

"If that's all you wanted, hunting me, why am I here?"

"Well, things are a bit more complicated than that now, considering this is the second time I had to go after you." The corner of his lips lifted in a devilish smirk as your eyes opened in shock.

"Y-you..."

"Oh, yes. You may not know this but back in the day my family was in the hunting business. They were bounty hunters, to be more accurate. So when I took over the business, I made you my first mission."

According to Jeffrey, he had spent a good couple of years trying to track you down. All his searches had been useless until he met Roulette and she had offered a deal he couldn't really say no to. He would hunt aliens for her and in exchange he would receive a considerable amount of money, with an extra if the aliens he brought her were also good fighters. It keep going for a couple of years until Roulette asked him to go after an specific person.

She had talked to him about this alien species capable of changing its form to whatever it wanted. The problem was that she had never found one until she heard the rumors about you. So she sent him on a quest to find you and, even with the little information she had about you, he did it.

"I would have loved to just shoot you the moment I saw you but the idea of watching you get beaten by a bunch of aliens was much more compelling."

You tried to move once again, pulling yourself up with your arms, but it was useless and painful as the ache in your back and the dizziness of the sedatives hit you again. You fell back in the bed with a couple of sweat drops forming in your forehead from the effort and noticing your restrains were also doing its job at keeping you there.

"Oh, you're not getting out of here so easily. The doctors are not done yet toying with you."

"What are they doing with me?" You growled.

"I can't believe you haven't figured that yet. I guess your brain doesn't work like it used to after all the shit they have been injecting you." He smiled once again.

The door of the room opened a second later, Lillian entered with Henshaw following behind and pushing a medical cart full with medical instruments, ampules and test tubes, all shapes, sizes and colors.

"Well, I see you already came to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hex." She said and turned to look at the medical instruments. "Unfortunately, your time with our guest here is over. I must ask you to leave so we can continue with our work."

Jeffrey stepped out of the chair with an annoyed expression and walked to the other side of your bed, facing Lillian and Henshaw.

"I would like to see it, if you don't mind. I wanna be prepared to what you gonna be doing with me too." He said.

"There's no need, Mr. Hex, and I assure you we're going to be more gentle with you, if that's what you're worried about." Lillian directed him a death stare and you were confused as to why they would be doing the same to him. You were not against it if it meant making him suffer for a while but you couldn't think of a reason why they would be doing this to him. "Now, I wouldn't want to ask my partner here to escort you out of the room."

Henshaw left the cart near Lillian and stood like a sentinel, looking at Jeffrey with a death stare. "You should go."

"Have fun without me then." He said and started to walk to the door as Lillian followed his stride.

You watched the scene unfold with a frown, still confused and shocked about what Jeffrey had said. It wasn't enough that you were trapped like a lab rat in an unknown place at the mercy of Lillian Luthor and her cyborg guard dog but now Jeffrey was part of the equation.

Everyone there had a reason to keep you where you were and it wasn't easy to imagine why. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda about you. If Roulette wanted you back on the ring then, why was Lilian keeping you? If Lillian only wanted you as her test subject, why keep Roulette and Jeffrey around? And if Jeffrey wanted to mess up with you, why did he need any of them?

"Do you know the story of  Periclymenus?"

"Who?"

"He was a Greek prince. His grandfather Poseidon gave him the ability to transform himself into various animals. A lion, a snake, a swarm of bees." She pulled away, back to the medical cart. "Unfortunately, he was murdered by Heracles when he invaded his kingdom. They fought but, of course, Heracles was stronger. Periclymenus couldn't escape him and he inevitably died at the hands of the invader."

Lillian returned her attention to you and then at the medical cart. She took a syringe from it and walked towards you, to inject its content in your IV bag.

"What do you think was the cause of his defeat?" She said pulling the syringe away and not expecting a real answer from you. "If you think about it, Heracles only had his strength against Periclymenus' gift. So, how did Heracles manage what he did?"

You started to feel numb.

"Because it was still the strength of one man against the force of one that felt like a thousand." She declared. "I like to think, if Periclymenus had possessed the same strength as Heracles, he would have succeeded instead."

"I guess we will never know." It was becoming difficult to stay awake with your body feeling broken and your mind spinning.

"Oh, but we will and you're helping us it."

"What are you doing with me?" You asked once again.

"Our kingdom is at war, (Y/N), and we need a new champion. One bred from the blood of the gods, old and new." She smiled at you. "This time, I'm going to make sure we conquer." She said and all the light faded out.

[thepeterfuckinparker]

miss. thompson — peter parker smut

Summary: Miss. Y/N Thompson is Flash’s step-sister, one of the queen bees and a popular girl around the school. One day, she’s feeling bold when Peter Parker is her chemistry partner.

Notes: ive had this idea for such a long time, but like a fanfic for it on wattpad (FOLLOW ME ON WATTPAD: @/angryfangirl) bUt im a dirty girl so i turned it into smut oops,, i GOT SOME CUTE ASS LINGERIE ON, GOT SUM DICK TODAY, THOUGHT ID UPLOAD THIS LOLOL

Warnings: very smutty, rubbing, boners, wet things, annoying flash, kinda sex-in-school!!!

pt. 2

“Miss. Thompson,” Your head shot up, meeting eyes with the irritated teacher in front of you. You smiled, laughing nervously as you raised your eyebrows. “Do you know the answer to number fifteen?”

Before you could answer, the bell rang causing you to spring up and grab your things. The class chuckled in amusement while you smirked, holding your books against your chest as you waltzed out of the classroom. There was thankfully one class period left, Chemistry Honors, you loved it. Well, not the subject specifically. You took your time walking down the hallways, greeting peers as they waved at you. It wasn’t hard to explain, you were pretty popular around the school, you could blame that on your step-brother, Flash Thompson. You were the nicer sibling, sweeter and smarter, definitely the favorite. Flash’s father would easily choose you over his son, you were just that good of a kid. Flash, on the other hand, was a known troublemaker, stuck-up rich kid, and quite the bully. You were nothing alike despite your years of growing up with each other, your parents married when you both were eight, it was a love-hate relationship between you both. Something that was a bit similar between you and Flash was reputation, you were somewhat serious about yours, never associating with the wrong people, it was a flaw of yours. You didn’t hang out with the Gaming Club, you found yourself a bit closer to Liz Allan and the cheerleading team.

“Today, we will be doing a Mole project. You will be making stuffed Moles! Get it? — Mole?” The chemistry teacher announced the moment students began to enter the room. He held up a little stuffed rodent that he had made himself.

You rolled your eyes, looking around for available seats at the working tables. Your eyes landed on Flash, instantly scoffing and shaking your head. You refused to work with him, he was already a pain in the ass at home. You continued to scan the tables before finding all the seats used up, you gasped at the sight of a free chair and table, rushing over, you jumped to seat yourself. You glared at the back of Flash’s head as he was seated in front of you, the seat beside you screeched.

“Can you not talk so obnoxiously loud?” You flicked your step-brother’s ear causing him to flip you off in return.

He began to think of a snarky remark before he focused on the person who sat beside you, “Penis Parker!” Flash laughed.

You turned your head and raised your eyebrows at Peter, he kept his head low in attempt to ignore your step-brother. You slapped the back of Flash’s head and muttered for him to be quiet. After a few seconds, you turned to Peter and smiled. “Sorry about him. He’s an ass.” The boy looked up and laughed quietly.

You bit your lip as he gazed away, paying attention to the directions being given. You couldn’t help but stare at him, Peter Parker was handsome, an old crush since middle school that died down by the beginning of junior year. He was interested in your best friend, Liz Allan, everyone was pretty sure of that, but as soon as she had moved away, his interests were unclear. You found yourself biting your pencil, your eyes still studying his face. Peter had a strong jaw, soft skin, these cute brown eyes that were either very focused or sometimes incredibly lost. You were brought back into reality when Peter looked at you, you straightened yourself up. He scooted his seat closer to you, settling the worksheet in between you both. Peter Parker was a low status at school, typically, he was someone you didn’t really associate with. It was bitchy, but that’s how it was. People would probably laugh at you if they were knew how you felt about the boy. You watched him scribble his name on the top of the paper. It was senior year now, things were different, what was the point of still trying to fit in when school was going to be over soon anyways? He passed the paper over to you, waiting for you to write your name.

‘Y/N Thompson’ You write neatly, moving your seat closer to start working. His clothed knee touched your bare thigh, he cleared his throat nervously. “Um- okay, did you want to do the stitching while I completed the work problems?” He suggested.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement, “Why do I have to do the lady work?” You passed him the sewing kit with a smirk while you grabbed the calculator. Peter’s cheeks turned a bright pink before he stammered nervously. “We’ll switch off, okay?” You started off with number one, easily figuring out equations and scribbling down the answers.

Peter sat beside you, starting to stitch the fabric to build your stuffed mole. You found yourself tearing your gaze away from the paper to look over at him. He was focused, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. You bit down on your lip again, taking an attempt at question number two before you moved your thigh. His knee continued to brush on your skin, your arms touching. You cleared your throat, pushing the paper closer to him before thinking of what to say.

“Um, I don’t think I get this one.” You said softly, you did understand the question, you just wanted his attention.

“Oh okay, I-I can explain it.” Peter nodded, You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can you talk louder? I can’t hear you.” You lied, the classroom had gotten rowdy but not to the point where you couldn’t hear.

He leaned closer to you, his lips close to your ear as he began to explain the question. You moved your leg, goosebumps running across your skin as he spoke to you. Your hand slipped underneath the table, landing onto his left thigh. Peter froze, his words choking up. You stroked his leg gently with a soft smile playing on your face. He stared at you, unsure of what to say. You looked around the classroom, no one had been paying attention.

“A- W-What are you doing?” Peter asked quietly, continuing the stitching while you used your free hand to play with the pencil on the desk.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, all he needed to say was yes or no, you would oblige. It was bold move, completely unexpected. Peter never thought you would try something like this on him, Y/N Thompson trying to seduce Peter Parker? It had to be a cruel joke.

He was scared to respond before he gulped, “No.”

“Then I won’t.” Your whispered into his ear, your hand continuing to stroke his thigh.

Peter shuttered beside you, his hands slightly shaking as he ran the needle through the fabric. He wasn’t very good at stitching but now he was doing even worse. Your touch was making him sweat, your soft hand on him was getting him hard. You noticed, occasionally looking from the worksheet to the boy’s face to his stitching to his lap. You smirked slightly as your hand led to his hard-on, you palmed him through his pants. He let out a small gasp, whipping his head up to glance at the teacher. You looked over at Flash who hadn’t noticed anything, you don’t know how he would react. You focused back to Peter, the pants leaving his mouth were leaving you wet. You cleared your throat, opening your legs wider and slipping down your hand to your soaked panties. He glanced over, eyes widening even further, if they grew any bigger they’d probably fall out of his head.

“We always have tomorrow if you don’t finish today! We will be presenting these, they need to be unique, make them a name. They can even be based-off of your favorite character!” The teacher exclaimed, Peter flinched each time.

You watched him attempt to stitch with one hand, the other grazing up and down your thigh. He clearly hadn’t done this before. You leaned closer to him, your lips lingering along his ear. Peter inhaled sharply, as your breath hit his skin. “Touch me.” You almost moaned quietly, he did as told, nodding as you sat back and continued to watch his lap with hooded eyes. Your hand worked back to the worksheet, while your other was handling palming him through his black jeans. His fingers pushed away your panties, he instantly collected the wetness between your slits, the pad of his index finger placed on your throbbing clit. You groaned lowly at the feeling, he didn’t really need your help, he somewhat knew what he was doing. Peter Parker has never been with a girl, especially in this way - he must’ve learned from videos, it felt good so that’s what you assumed. You clutched his hard cock through his jeans, biting down your lip as he rubbed circles on your sensitive bud. You looked up, on look-out once again before you met Flash’s eyes.

“What?” You snapped, “Sorry that our mole is gonna look better than y-yours.” You stuttered during the last word as Peter’s fingers pressed down on your clit harder than before, you rubbed him quicker.

“You wish!” Flash scoffed, turning his head and paying attention to his work, nudging his partner to work faster.

You quickened your pace with the palming of his cock, resisting the urge to accidentally drop your materials and get on your knees for Peter right there. His breathing was heavy, his fingers were quicker on your clit, he was close. You could see it in the way Peter was twitching, the way he occasionally shut his eyes and shuddered in pleasure. You leaned towards him again, a smile on your sweet face. “Cum for me, Parker.” You said softly, he instantly groaned but quickly covered it up with a cough - no one noticed. You continued to palm him until he grabbed your hand, it rested there for a second until you felt a wet spot on his black jeans. Peter was lucky he had worn them. You pulled away from him, a shit-eating grin on your face. You looked over at him and admired the post-orgasm look on his face, he was red, a bit sweaty from the pleasure. With confidence, you picked up his hand and raised it to his mouth. Peter took the hint, taking the fingers he had played with you and cleaning them up. He smiled back, leaning closer to you, “You taste so good.” Peter’s comment was low, it made you squeeze your thighs together in surprise.

“See? Look at mine, fuckers!” You both tore away, looking over at Flash who set down his mole. It was a stuffed animal in what looked like a makeshift Spider-Man suit. You snorted, your step-brother was obsessed with the superhero. Peter’s eyes widened at the sight, awkwardly coughing and focusing on your own project.

“It looks fucking stupid.” You laughed, snatching the Spider-Man mole in chucking it across the room. Flash smacked your arm, immediately protesting and shouting.

“Miss. Thompson!”

[honestsycrets]

The Milkmaid IV: Fear of the King?

❛ pairing | damaged!ivar x thrall!reader

❛ word count | 2k+

❛ type | multipart

❛ summary | ivar buys the reader a puppy. after reader meets with harald, ivar becomes jealous. no smut in this chapter.

❛  warnings | jealousy, accusing of cheating, slavery

Your name ends up being short-lived on his tongue. Ivar commits it to his memory because, after all, the mother of his children should have a name. One with Freydis and now, you would have another. He fears the distortion and malformation that might come of this birth. But… there was one thing worse than a malformed baby. Never having children at all.

Ivar admits that you deserve the perfect pregnancy. That was why he was here again, limping in time with you. Your hands were in front of your body around the round swell, patiently waiting for the Arab breeder Ivar promised you to meet.

“We have here a bitch.” The older man sets down a dog in front of you. Her honey coat is peppered in black, a curling tail flips over her small, wiggly rump. She’s little more than a puppy with dark ears and rich eyes but you find her adorable. You look up to Ivar for guidance and he reassures you that all is well with the softness entailed in his eyes. The puppy wiggles this way and that, nipping at your finger and growling softly. She’s bouncing all over the place. Perhaps a bit too much.

“I do like her.” You say. “But I would like a tranquil puppy for my-- our king’s baby.”

You have to correct yourself. As a slave, you learned early on not to get overly attached to your master’s things-- whether human or animal. Even if you were the one that was bringing them up. The dark haired man nods eagerly, swiping the puppy from your fingertips.

“Anything for the queen. I have just the boy!”  Ivar watches the Arab man turn back toward his pin of pups, fishing out another. This one is nearly a twin of the more rowdy puppy, but gentle. He hangs like a limp rag over the man’s choppy looking arm.

“She is not my queen.” Ivar corrects.

It should have stung more than it did. For a slave who is far too used to being used, you only smile at your king. Smile and look pretty, that was your purpose. The Arab seems to understand.

“Ahahaho, I knew she was your woman! here is no shame in having a harem, king Ivar.” He says, handing you the pup whose paws seem to try and help him “swim” away from the manhandling him. You cling the pup close upon your chest, not at all forgetting the small smile forming on your king’s lips.

“What do you think, milkmaid?” He asks.

You glance down to the pup whose limbs don’t have nearly as much fight in them as they had just before. You rub his dark ears between your fingertips before turning to Ivar with a brilliant smile that Ivar finds himself loathing for loving so.

“He will be good.” You say.

Your king exchanges payment for the pup before his hand finds your back to lead you away with his free hand to your mid back. You wait for him with every lazy step. The king staggers forward upon his crutch, limping along through Kattegat’s dusty ground.

“Go wait by my chariot.” He asks, relieving your hands of the puppy. One of his thralls receives the pup in a basket.

“Of course, my king.” You mutter, eyes scanning the public as you head back toward his steed. You stand beside, running free fingers through his white mane. With your back to the public, the whispers behind you become most obvious. You lower and angle your head, scanning the ground while listening to their loose-lipped prattle.

“--you see! King Ivar took a new woman. She does not look like much, this one, but I’ve heard she was Queen Freydis’s wet nurse.”

“The bitch queen could not even bare him a rightful son. I bet he had the queen killed for her.”

“I thought Queen Freydis betrayed him.”

“So they say! It was the child that sundered them apart.”

Then an abrupt silence. The voices are snuffed out by the march of guards at their sides, a loud dragging and shocked screams filter out the rumours that came from their lips. You turn to find your king shifting from between the guards, his gloved hand to his chest scanning who else to silence. When his eyes meet yours, placid and refined, you shift to look back to the horse in front of you.

“Conspirators.”

Ivar comes behind you. You feel his large hand settle at the nape of your neck. He tilts your neck, throwing your long loose hair aside. The crowds shift apart and Kattegat fills with the sound of clanging shields to drown out the hopeless cries of traitors.

“They were busy, busy little bees, you see.” Ivar hums, turning you to look at him. You glance up by the clench in Ivar’s firm grasp. His hand alternates to tilt your chin up to him. “And if you let one bee free, what do they do?”

“Pollinate, my king?” You suggest.

“That is right. They steal away the very sweetness, my milkmaid. You understand why I must extinguish the hive.” His voice is cavalier in tone, distinctly deceitful. You see it upon his accusatory eyes and for once, you perhaps fear what might come of them.

“Of course my king.”

“You could have made a good wife.” Ivar tugs you back, placing a small kiss upon the top of your hair. Quiet, submissive and without care. Without opinions and purpose other than to be a royal bed thrall. That is what you are. “Return to the hall.”

So you do.

Old habits die hard.

“He would have a fit if he saw you doing that, you know.”

Your fingers felt at home around the splintering wood of a broom. You gently sweep away the rubble off the floor, pricks from Ivar’s pointed crutch catching the tiniest of rocks. In the room separating yours you find the old king Harald sitting. He spreads his hands before crossing them over his chest and his fingers are taut around his cup.

“I know.” You admit. “But it is strange to be just a love slave.”

“Oh you are more than that.” Harald says with his disingenuous smile. “Ivar is more like me than I like.”

You stop the long sweeps of your broom to look at the other king. He’s much older than your king, but wiser, you are not sure. You lean upon the broom and widen your smile.

“Is that a bad thing?” You ask. When Harald lacks his response, you turn into the other room. Past the weaving of leather straps you see the beginnings of a smile upon his face as he shifts and lifts. You tuck the broom in a corner and look toward your leather straps draped on a seat cushion.

“Do you think it is…?” Harald’s breath puffs against your neck. Your skin ripples into gooseflesh up the back of your neck, expressing discomfort in the old king’s presence. It feels inherently wrong. Anything you owned, you yourself, belonged to Ivar.

“What is?” You say, shifting to turn in front of King Finehair. His hand forms a fist against the wall, blocking you in to look squarely in his eye.

“A bad thing. You said it yourself.”

“Oh.” You whisper, hands in front of your bump. “I… Well.”

“(Y/N).”

Saved by your king. Harald drops his hand from the side of the wall when a prompt, loud stomp of the rightful king’s crutch causes you to forget any and all questions, skating under his arm with a furtive dip. You settle behind him, the small quirk in Ivar’s lips growing. Harald stands upright and the two kings do not exchange lip. They simple stare at one another in wait for one or the other to back down. At last Harald chooses to exit, bowing his head just so.

Ivar’s fingers twiddle, eventually curling into a ball and lowering back at his side. At last turning to you you chase the emotion on his face. A hard dissociative stare. All light and good gone with the small yip of your puppy as the only noise in an otherwise still and quiet room. His hand crept up to grasp your throat, bruising in his touch.

“Did he fuck you?” Sharp--

“What?” You reason with the king, your hands meek at the strong one commanding your throat. Ivar sucks in breath like water, heaving deep in and out.

“Did he fuck you? Did he touch you? Were you-- and he--” He degenerates into caustic ramble. Then dropping his crutch, his other finger so close that you can see the abrupt cut if his nail accusing you. His eyes are blown wide with accusation, lower lip plump and quivering. “I told you I would kill the man you lay with. Were you with him?”

You gather your skirts up forgetting the grip on his throat to pull your skirts up toward your unclothed pussy.

“My king.” You beseech. “If you do not trust me, you may check.”

Ivar’s rage suddenly checks, looking down to your bed of soft, well kept curls. He shifts so that he might run his hand up your thighs in a long swath, feeling your body dry and kept. He’s wrong. You weren’t sneaking around on him. His hand loosens from your throat, falling to his side. In the absence of words you dip down to fetch his crutch and afix it in his fist, guiding him back to his bed.

You sink down between his knees, turning your fingers over the metal latching of his crutches. The king has his arms one over another, protruding his lower lip out. Then he looks down to you with eyes pleading, a huff forcefully expelled from flaring nostrils.

“I am sorry.” Ivar turns his gaze over to the stoked flames that warm the room. You tilt your head at Ivar, waiting until his jaw unclenches so that he might speak. “But why was he so close?”

“We were speaking.” You say.

“I know what speaking looks like.” Ivar works his jaw, spitting out the words he was chewing on. “That was not speaking. You hardly speak to me even.”

“Because you do not listen.” You dare say. Your own words are on the same level as the king, and so you check yourself, hooding your eyes. “Harald was listening.”

He rolls his eyes, dropping back upon the furs covering his bed. Ivar lifts his hand in the air toward the planks that had always been something he called home. They’re foreign and blank now.

“Harald sees a beautiful woman and his mind goes to blank.”

“As does yours. Queen Freydis--” You protest. Ivar’s head shoots up, head churning.

“You know nothing about that.”

“I misspoke.” You at last give in. “Forgive me, my king.”

Trying to cajole Ivar back was not working. This talk could have you hung on the rungs outside of the Great Hall, sold like the meat you were at the end of the day. You slink back upon your feet. This is why you keep your lips shut and keep to your thoughts. In the end of the day, a master was a master and nothing more.

“My princess. Stop there.” Ivar says with a tremor, sitting upright now. “Come back to bed.”

It feels like an order, gilded with the sweet words of something you could only dream to be. You look to your master, shifting your dress so that you might crawl upon the bed with ease. Ivar shifts his arm out, beckoning you to collapse on top of his chest. He welcomes you against his chest, seeking the right words.

“I knew Freydis’s child was not mine.” Ivar grasps your shoulder, massaging his thumb over your arm. His eyes are distant, caught in memories that he would rather banish. “Baldur was sired by my thrall, killed my the very man who informed me of this. Everything she told me was a lie. But you… I want your child to be mine, little milkmaid.”

“Why?” You don’t understand. You don’t understand why he chose you. How you ended up here, in his bed, with his hand to his brewing child. Ivar’s lips flatten out as if he wants to make a brand new, honest admission. Just as you think the words might come out of his lips, he seals them far from your reach.

“I just do.” Ivar says. “Now sleep.”

He knows he has a lot to make up for. But the question was-- how?

@directionlessbuthappy, @hizz-hizz-mothertruckerz,@rekdreams247, @ivarswonderlust, @writingeverynowand-then, @hp-hogwartsexpress, @minarawr,  @strangunddurm, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @mitchiri-nek0, @dakotacheyenneee-blog, @seize-the-droid, @a-writers-dreams, @fangirlbitch02 @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @thisisparadisemylove, @pancake-blonde, @im-bored-how-are-you, @rubyquartzshades, @lost-and-wandering-alone, @memememememe1-blog, @queenmissfit,  @attorneyl, @mimi334545, @lulura, @looneytunes20033, @ethereallysimple, @bloodydaydreamer, @peaches-seed, @tierneygonzalez, @neeadinghugs @mblaqgi, @slutforrpg,  @astertist, @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @iconicvaleria-blog, @terrainhead, @poisonedjoinery, @lovelynerdytraveler, @sarcastic-mrs-scarlet, @justlovelifeblog, @zabee113, @meganjudee,  @ragnarok-imagines, @sdcyumyum, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @smile-sugar, @austenkingmylady, @amyalpha, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @natalie-rdr, @hopplessdreamer, @tempt-ress, @malakianshinoda, @part-time--thot, @backstagepaige, @smokealone, @chewythecatus,  @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @tatertot1097, @imamommakingadifference, @mybarnesmyhero, @honeyofthegods, @vengefulflange, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass, @laketaj24 @chinduda  @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope@cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @oneofthelothbroks

[adalhied-prime]

Rating: T for Teen Fandom: Transformers (Bay Movies) Characters: Alison Witwicky (OFC), Bumblebee, Mikaela Banes, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Asami Stark (OFC), Miles Lancaster, Barricade, Arcee, Seymour Simmons, Other Autobots, Other Decepticons, Other Humans, Ships: Alison Witwicky (OFC)/Mikaela Banes, Other Minor Ships Tags: Self-Insert, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, [[ Basically Ro saying “Fuck Canon!” ]], [[ But not a magic fix fic cause Alison makes mistakes ]], [[ And some will bite her in the ass eventually ]], Eventual Polyamory, Eventual Xeno

Summary: When I woke up with a chihuahua barking in my face, I knew things were not as they should be, but waking up in the place of Sam Witwicky at the start of the Transformers movie? Completely insane. But, I’m here, and I know the bad route things will take if I stick to the canon. So let’s see if I can change things for the better with some help from a certain magical cube.

Chapter 41: Recounting

In which Alison recounts her captivity

Barely had Optimus and I spoken, Arcee hustled over and had Bumblebee set me and Mikaela down. Cogman joined in the fussing, scolding me for pulling my IV off its hook (I hadn't even noticed it until he pointed it out) while Arcee ran scans over me. Burton and Viviane came out and introductions were made before Burton invited everyone to one of the sitting rooms. The cybertronians shifted back to their alt modes and used their holos to walk inside with us. In the sitting room, Cogman sat me on one of the couches, replaced my IV and set the stand behind me. He also put a lap tray with finger sandwiches, juice, and tissues on my lap with the instruction to eat. Once he moved away, Bee and Mikaela latched themselves to my side, and I likewise held onto them. I was almost overwhelmed that they were there. They were with me. I was home.

N-Sync, Copper, Bandit and Riser sat together on one of the other couches, while Burton and Viviane took up armchairs nearby but out of the way. Optimus, Arcee and Will came over to us, and Arcee gave me a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're okay. When Cade and I found Bee in the river, with you and Asami no where to be found, we feared the worst."

The river. The attack. The farm. "My family, are they all?-"

"Everyone's fine," Bee assured me, squeezing my hand as Arcee stepped back. "Scraped knees and elbows, some minor burns, and your uncle Ben got a concussion from hitting his head, but they're all fine."

I felt some tears start to leak out, and I didn't bother wiping them away for the moment. "Thank Primus. I couldn't live with myself if anyone had gotten-" I couldn't finish, but they all understood. I couldn't.

"The actions of the Decepticons are never your fault, Alison," Optimus tried to assure me, but I shook my head.

"I insisted on going up for the Fourth, even though it would have been easy and safer to say I was too busy with work to go up. I knew the danger, but didn't even think about it, and this happened. If I just..." I trailed off, choking up even as Mikaela and Bee wrapped me tight in their arms.

[Read More on AO3]

[Read From The Start]

[witharsenicsauce]

(XCOM) Chosen Stories From the War #1: And Thus, They Brought Her Back

When Kon-Mai Mordenna took her katana in her hands and cut herself open, she did not expect to awaken. Nevertheless, she opened her eyes.

She also hadn’t expected to awaken with a plethora of XCOM officials around her while she stared helplessly up at them. They swarmed her like bees and she tried to put her hands up to her face to defend herself.

Someone took her hands and pressed them down again. She wrenched away from their grasp and tried to push away this unseen assailant. She was held down again, and this time a voice said “No no, stay still.”

Kon-Mai would not stay still, and she certainly would not take orders from her kidnappers. She tried to roll herself over but found her muscles would not move. With a sinking feeling she suddenly realized how heavy her body felt, as though it was made of lead. When one of the figures moved away, she craned her neck up and looked down at herself.

Blood. So much blood, all over the white gurney she lay on, staining it crimson. Her breastplate was split in two, and she saw the edges of her organ tissue poking through the gash in her stomach.

Someone pushed her down again, and Kon-Mai summoned all her strength and sat up, gasping with the pain of it. She was shaking and though she had gotten this far, she could no longer move any of her limbs, not even to collapse back onto the cot. The only sounds she could mutter were light whimpers, and the words “Let me die.”

Someone took her now limp arm, and she felt a pinch against the skin, looked down and saw a tube being taped against the vein, a sharp needle poking into her pale skin. They were trying to push her back down but she was frozen sitting up. Her muscles were not letting up anytime soon.

In the corner of her eye, Kon-Mai saw white. At first she figured this was the light of death coming for her until it moved, migrating into the center of her vision, and she saw it was a woman. Her ivory hair and clothes outlined her, and to Kon-Mai, she looked like the angels she’d heard stories of. 

She knew this woman. She’d known her for a long time, almost five years now, since she began this chase. In her raspy, quiet voice, she growled “Commander.”

The woman smiled softly, and Kon-Mai would have felt comforted if it was literally anyone else. She trembled and tried to scoot backward as the Commander approached her, but alas her body was still frozen with shock and pain.

Kon-Mai whimpered in protest as the Commander reached out toward her. She flinched as she laid a hand on her shoulder, but felt her body soon unknot itself, the stabbing pain beginning to ebb away. The Commander gently lowered Kon-Mai back onto the gurney, and the Chosen woman relaxed finally.

“Morphine is finally kicking in.” Someone to her right said, and the Commander chuckled.

“Morphine, right.” Kon-Mai felt the Commander reach behind her head, where they both knew her chip rested at the base of her skull. The Commander’s slim fingers curled round it but Kon-Mai found it difficult to even care, so relaxed she was.

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” The Commander pinched the chip and tugged. Kon-Mai shrieked at the snap of pain, but within the same second, the darkness swallowed her.

.

.

When Kon-Mai opened her eyes for the second time, the world was still and dark, and for a moment she was sure she was dead, until she blinked a few times. The low light in the room slowly forced her eyes to adjust and she looked around, barely moving her head, which felt like it was on the verge of splitting. As consciousness slowly returned to her, she took note of how incredibly sore she was. She moved her arm and heard a gasp to her left.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A light came on and Kon-Mai squinted at the change. “Sorry, I wanted to keep it off so as not disturb you, but it’s impossible to do this in the dark.”

“What are you doing to me?” Kon-Mai intended to growl, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

A face moved into her field of view: A dark-skinned human female with freckles on her cheeks and blinding green eyes. She smiled as she saw Kon-Mai react in shock. “Can you still see?”

“What?”

“Tygan was worried the chip removal might have caused some damage to your visual cortex. The Commander did her best to mitigate it…” The human took a metal object and attached a piece of cylindrical plastic to the end, turning on a light. “Open your eyes wide for me.”

Kon-Mai in fact closed her eyes, mostly to shield them from the bright light tool the girl was pointing in her face.

“Please?”

“No. Release me. I am no science experiment for you to toy with!”

“I just want to check your pupil dilation. It’ll take two seconds, maybe three. Tops.”

“And what of it? You wouldn’t understand what you see anyway.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No, as you shall lose.” But Kon-Mai felt her eyelids loosen, as though keeping them closed was too strenuous.

The girl smiled. “Thank you.” She shone her tool into the pupil of Kon-Mai’s eyeball and the Chosen blinked again, hissing.

“Looks normal. Thank you.” She turned off the tool. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Of course I do.” Kon-Mai began to push herself up into a sitting position. “I am going to leave now, if that will be all.”

“Wait-no, no, no, you’re in no shape...you just got out of major surgery!”

“I have had worse.” Kon-Mai bit back the stabbing pain she felt in her stomach and slid her legs over the side of the cot. Her armor was gone, replaced by a short cloth gown that was an ugly, slate grey color.

“You’ve had worse, but you also had your...thing. The coffin.” The girl grabbed at Kon-Mai's arm. “You don’t have that here!”

“I will heal.” She slid off the bed and stood, balancing on unsteady legs, for just a moment. Then her knees buckled and she toppled to the floor. Or she would have, had the human not caught her.

“I told you.” The human sat her back on the bed. “God, you’re heavy. You were in really bad shape when we got you, and you will be for a while. I’m here to help you, now get back in bed.”

Kon-Mai was silent. Instead of resisting, this time she did as the little human asked, but as she did, she peeled back the grown from around her waist and looked at the site of the wound.

“...What happened?” She whimpered. The wound was swollen and red, the edges puffy and jagged. It was stapled in some areas, sewn haphazardly and double-knotted in others. A thin layer of green pus seeped from it. Kon-Mai felt ill.

The human smiled. “Oh wow, it’s healing great!”

Kon-Mai growled at her.

“It is, actually. I know it looks bad but all this…” She pulled Kon-Mai’s nightgown back down. “It means the wound is healing.”

“I don’t understand.” Kon-Mai spat. “That wound was fatal. I was meant to die there.”

The girl was silent, her lips pursed. “The Commander ordered we save you.”

The Commander? “Why?”

“I don’t know. All I know is when the Commander tells you to do something, you do it. And we did it.” She smiled proudly. “When we picked you up you weren’t responsive but you had a pulse, and that was enough for us. You flatlined twice on the ride to the Avenger. We brought you back.”

Kon-Mai looked around the room. “The people who took me. There were many. What did they do?”

“You were awake for that? I figured you wouldn’t remember.” She sat on the end of Kon-Mai’s bed. “We were transporting you from the garage to the med bay and we lost your heartbeat. Luckily there’s a defibrillator station in every room of the ship.”

“And thus...you brought me back.”

“And thus we brought you back.” The girl smiled. “I’ve been talking a lot, sorry. I should let you rest.”

“No. Continue with what you were doing.” Kon-Mai laid back and closed her eyes.

“I was just refilling your IV drip.” The girl stood and began to fuss with something to her left.

“Why?”

“Well you lost a lot of blood, so we’re giving you fluids to-”

“No.” Kon-Mai opened her eyes and looked at the girl again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Tygan told me to.” She looked over and stretched out her hand. “I’m going to be your assigned nurse while you recover, actually. My name’s Malinalli.”

“...That’s an odd name.” Kon-Mai took Malinalli’s hand and gave it a single, weak squeeze.

“So is yours.” Malinalli winked.

.

.

.

Is this a good idea? I dunno.

But it’s a pet project of mine. Expect much, much more very soon.

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[itsanerdlife]

Mistakes Made 14/30

Pairing: Peter  Parker x Reader

Warning: Self doubt. Violence. Anger. Back stabbing. Lying. Arguing. Separation. Blood. Law breaking. Cat Fights. Stalking. A lot of anger. Team fighting. Feelings of being pathetic. Sneaking around. Betrayal.

“When one path is cut off, it’s the world’s way of telling you what you want isn’t what you need.” Steve Rogers is your best friend and you’re harboring the worst, most pathetic crush for him. But when Steve’s no longer got the time for you. When Steve starts dating the horrible and sketchy Agent Holly Smith. You’re left heart broken and in a slump. You got your heart broken in one go. The man you wanted and your best friend. Peter Parker steps in, picking up all your broken pieces. He makes you laugh, makes your heart flutter, and he knows exactly what you are. You’re falling head over heels for Peter. But the team isn’t whole with you and Steve on the outs. A drunk text and misunderstanding, everything you had comes crashing down around you. Assassins are trained to lie, kill and never be trusted. You’ve got nothing left to lose now. Where will you and Peter end up? Is there really such thing as a happy ending in this life? Or is there someone pull the threads to your happiness and life?

Tag List Is Open!!!

Peter pushes himself up, sliding to the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m going to find the doctor and text the team.” He stands, leaning over kissing you quickly, before he heads for the door.

“Babe.” You smile when he turns around.

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Water, please?” You ask.

“Of course.” He nods, leaving quickly.

“Boy does he love you.” Tony chuckles, kicking back in the chair.

“I know.” You nod slowly.

“No, my sweet girl, you have no idea.” Tony smiles softly. “When you blacked out and he thought you had died.” He swallows for a moment. “That kid collapsed into my arms and tears.” He watches you swallow. “I’ve never seen him like that.” He adds.

“Tony.” You chew your bottom lip.

“Yes?” He smiles.

“Do you think the universe has a way of leading you away from what you think you want, to what you really need?” You ask softly, remember your conversation with Peter on that first lunch.

“I do.” Tony nods.

“Me too.” You sigh. “I was so blind waiting for Steve to notice me. I never looked up to see Peter was just waiting for me to look around.” You flush pink.

“Are you happy?” Tony asks watching you.

“Tony I love him. In the take a fucking bullet for him.” You snort, looking down at the IV in the back of your hand. “Maybe even his last name kind of way.” You shrug.

“That’s a very big way to love someone.” Tony comments.

“A way I never loved Steve.” You admit. “I’m starting to see, I never loved Steve.” You shrug.

“Have you thought about, maybe closure for you and Steve?” He wonders.

“Closure?” You blink looking at him again.

“Settle everything still clouded with you and him.” He nods.

“You think?” You chew your bottom lip. Maybe that’s what was standing in the way of the team being normal. You had so much left between the two of you, unspoken and left open.

“Might be for the best.” Tony shrugs. “No lingering questions, about what was.” He explains.

“Maybe.” You nod. The door to the room opens and Peter strolls in.

“Water, and a popsicle.” He holds up a freeze pop and a foam cup with a red straw in the lid.

“Oh, I’m spoiled.” You grin at him.

“Doctor will be in, in a moment.” Peter settles in next to you once more. You sip slowly from the cup, settling in against Peter. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, a small smile on his face.

--------

You sat in Peter’s bed, watching him move around the room. You chew your bottom lip, not really hearing anything he was saying, your mind running on its own. He suddenly sits down next to you, making you look up confused.

“What’s on your mind?” He smiles.

“Do you remember that first lunch we had?” You ask.

“I do. Why?” He nods slowly.

“Something you said keeps coming back to me.” You sigh.

“What’s that?” He watches you.

“It’s the worlds way of showing you what you want isn’t what you need.” You repeat the words back to him.

“Aunt May is wise.” He smiles.

“Peter you’ve been in love with me for so long, and you just let me throw myself at Steve.” You shake your head.

“I love you, Y/N.” He nods. “But I’m not selfish. If you didn’t want me that’s fine. I would be happy as long as you were happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.” He admits.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to notice you were waiting on me.” You slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s alright, you were worth the wait.” He grins at you.

“Promise you’ll stay, no matter what?” You ask.

“I waited this long to have you, do you think I’m honestly going to leave you now?” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss you.

“Good.” You put your hands on his chest, grinning at him. “Cause I need you Peter Parker.” You nod.

“Nah,” he brushes your hair back “it’s more like I need you.” He presses another kiss to your lips.

--------

 Aunt May pulls you into her, hugging you with strength you wouldn’t have guessed an older woman would have. You hug her back, before she pulls back, looking you over.

“That was stupid.” She scolds you. “And reckless.” She adds in a rather stern voice. “I’ve aged beyond my years.” She pulls you in again. “Don’t you do that to us again, you hear me?” She sighs, letting you go.

“I hear you.” You grin at her.

“Thank you for protecting my boy.” She speaks softly just for the two of you.

“I’d do it again.” You grin at her, winking. She turns on Peter, a swat to the side of his head.

“How could you?��� She demands as Peter rubs the side of his head where she hit him. “Were you not paying attention?” She questions him. “Are you trying to hurt an old woman?” She huffs at him.

“Aunt May, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Peter sighs.

“Well thank god one of you was paying attention.” She almost looks like she was pouting. “I died a few times since that phone call.” She hugs Peter, squeezing tightly to him.

“Aunt May, I think you need a shot.” Nat pours another shot glass, setting it on the island for Aunt May as she pulls away from Peter.

“I’m old, I don’t do shots.” She waves her off. You and Peter shake your heads, the woman was only in her later forties.

“Awkward.” Buck clears his throat, holding a shot glass.

“Okay, fine.” Aunt May sighs. “I’ll do one.” She takes the glass.

“Oh this is going to get so weird.” Peter rubs his hand down his face.

“This is going to be so fun.” You grin, picking up a shot glass as well.

“You’re getting my Aunt drunk.” He mutters next to you.

“You say that like it’s not going to be so much fun.” You giggle at him.

“You’re trouble.” Peter smirks at you, watching the rest of you throw back your shots with Aunt May.

“Love you too.” You grin at him.

You stood in the kitchen filling your glass with ice, watching the only family you had. Everyone sat around the living room, throwing down cards and yelling. A game of waterfall was in full swing and getting ugly as everyone went from buzzed to drunk. It was weird not having Steve apart of these type of things, you understood why.

But maybe you could make the steps to fix things. Instead of splitting the family up, for petty reasons. You pull out your phone, you squint at the screen as you thumb out the text quickly. Hitting send you shove your phone into your back pocket, grabbing your glass, you head into the living room. Dropping into the seat next to Peter.

He grins pulling your legs over his knee. His hand slips in between your thighs, just above your knees, giving your leg a soft squeeze. How was it possible to be so in love with someone? Peter changed your whole world and you didn’t even notice, till you were already head over heels.

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @courtmr   @all1e23 @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @nishanki1 @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @nickimarie94 @teller258316 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @fanfictionjunkie1112 @abbypalmer14-blog @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy   @dottirose   @jcc04220 @rockagurl @a--1--1--3 @mizzzpink   @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers   @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters   @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00   @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect  

Peter Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123   @boltsgirl919 @quokkatrash @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @bellamouse16 @honey-bee-holly @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Mistakes Made: @gabile18 @lakamaa12 @mottergirl99 @callie-bear15 @thejupiterkiller @ibookishqueen @mus1cal-barnes @sherlokiantheatrenerd @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[fisherfurbearer]

fuck sam walmarts

and fuck management

I’ve had it. Left the store in tears tonight.

as some peoople probably/hopefully know. walmart closes at 6 pm on christmas eve. no one actually gets to leave at 6 becuase of shitty last minute customers. but it is what it is.

this. is really personal but im honestly SO close to just. killing myself? so who cares

basically. had a really really bad last few days. spent a lovely time with family (jessies family, his oma and opa and sister and parents and it was just a great time. theyre more family to me than most of my blood family) but it did make me Sad in Deep ways as we dont know if this is going to be our last christmas with his oma who isnt doing so good. and it just twisted me up a little but was othewrsiwse a great day. but then sunday i just...had a huge breakdown in the morning and decided to use my accomodation (i get 2 excused absenses a month) to cool down and gte myself together. slept a lot. woke up adn got a lot done, felt great, then i CRASHED really really bad, got really angry, lashed otu, took like...8-10 sleeping pills...theyre horrific things and im never doing that again...had to sleep for two days after that...felt horrifically sick, in pain, just awful. had repeating nightmares over and over. which has also been wearing me down recently. wasnt able to work monday either because i still couldnt stand and between the pills and the depression/anxiety and really just. felt like the world was ending.

decided sometime last night id just...try my best to make it in today, work my shift (really long 9-6, knowing i wouldnt leave on time nad htisis my first time working in 5 days now...which is rough...) and if i can get through this, i have another couple days off in a row after that (schedules fault, not mine...do feel awful i missed 3 days before that though...) and we can just. get back on track

today i DID go to work, jessie drove me in

i worked. a long time. im supposed to get a break every 2 hours and a 1 hour lunch

i gott my first break on timeish.

then i got my lunch 6 hours after i got in. at which time i got “locked out” for not taking my lunch and coudlnt do anything on the registers. i was supposed to get it 4 hours in. its christmas eve and excruciating and im still in pain and tired from my previous days breakdowns, but otherwise?? i did really good. i didnt mind at all that my lunch was so late. i was a little miffed, but its ok. i dont care, so long as i get it eventually. anyway they FINALLY noticed i was locked out and got me coverage and i ended my lunch at 4. things continued ok. worked on self checkout, met a lot of regulars i really like, prevented $200 of theft (HAHA WOW that was really really funny i love preventing petty theft. i prevent so much theft every week its my pride and joy) just did okay. then they had us close self checkout that took a little while. then at 5:00-5:10 or so i went to my Manager/Supervisor/”““People LEad” as walmart is now trying to call them, lets call her manager Y, and i told her i still need my break and will i get it before i leave. she said go to register 4. i asked again hey will i get my break though and she said yeah and i thought to mysel HAHA thats not going to happen but ok

really stupid that after bieng locked out the first time she couldnt give me my break before i openned a register with a line i cant get rid of

anywayy i did ok otherwise for a while

but at 5:25 or so i reminded a CSM “hey i need my break still can i get that?” and she just ssaid yeah well try to get someone and then more time passed so much time. i put through an ask on the register “assistance needed”. waited another 10 minutes. “assistance needed” again. starting to get anxious. its past 5:40. the line is so long. theres so MUCH NOISE. Its SO LOUD. the intercom keeps going off, no one is responding to me, i dont have a mat to stand on so my knees HURT,, im not doing okk

i switch my light to flashing/need assistance and start looking for someone to ask for help. its 5:45, i need my break NOW, i DESERVE IT for workng this long ass shift and they already missed several of my last breaks a week ago AND got me locked out today and im STARTING TO GET ANXIOUS PELASE I JUST WANT MY BREAK SO BAD

nnthgen a csm is passing by im about to lose it, so i tell her CSM J, please i really need my break now PLEASE and im starting to ccry and i try to tell her whats going on but she shushes me and goes and gets sometone

im full on tears at this point, im so strreesed out,,

manager Y and some other snooty manager come over andd. ffkcing. ask me whats wrong. im crying and i try to explain im really really stressed out, i havent had my last break, ive been trying to get someone for so long now, i just really need to leave im so sorry

and theyy just. fckkng

ffcking manager Y jjst ssays ok “ill give you your break” and “this is your last break” and i ssaid?? yeah i knoww?? andd she saidd “next time youre like this, just dont come in”

i quote that completeltyyy....i really lost it then...i cried som muchh

this isnt the first itme she said something like this to meee...

she asked me “why are you CRYING” When i had an anxiety attacki n the store once, when ic cloked in and couldnt get myself together,, she didnt give me time to calm down, she didnt listen as to why, she just said “why are you crying. this is a BUSINESS. you cant be CRYING Here.” and i just said ok ill go home bye and leftt

andd when i tried to get my availability changed from 7-9 to 7-6/7-7 because the random late shifts with 7 am shifts was messing me up really really bad and my doctor thinks i need to hcange it too, she just said “i cant do that. thisi sa BUSINESS.” and she wouldnt listen when i said i might have to quit because of this, this is for my health, im literally scheduled 7-2 every sunday in december, busiest day of the busiest month and you cant even chop TWO HOURS off my weekend availability????

andd i jjst

ive HAD IT with her

ive had ittt

im so ashamed and angry and anxious and i still havent stopped cryingg. she called me over to her again as i was leaving and she blamed me for it. she ssaid a customer was upset that i “Screamed” (ues i raised my voice a little but i wasnt screaming??? also the two customers i was attending to when this was going on and i cried were VERY KIND nad jjst said i was doing a good job and thanked me for being there) and called a manager over (but...csm J got them?? not a customer...??) and i cant be acitng like this, i cant do customer service when im stressed,, and d i should just STAY HOME If im going to be like that

then shee fufkcing toold me i DID IT WRONG, that i “shouldve called someone over” I TOLD HER I DID!!!!! I DID!!!!!!!!!! YOU NAIL INTO MY HEAD IM NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE REGISTER SO I DIDNT, I DID EVERYTHING ELSE I COULD THOUGH!!! I REQUESTED HELP TWICE!! I TURNED MY LIGHT TO FLASHING!!! I TRIED TO CATCH A MANAGER WALKING BY TO HELP ME!!! N OONE LISTENED UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE, I DID EVERYHTING I COULD!! yet she seriously told me to my face that “you didnt call anyone”, “you couldve turned your light to flashing” WHICH I DID and sshee jjst said that i made customers uncomfortable and i cant work like thatt and just stay hhome

ii stayed home sunday because i was having a mjor mental emergencyy.

i came in today because i was feeling better and i took it eaasy and ended up doing a wonderful job and mad eso many people smilea nd fixed so many problems that wouldve otherwise upset a lot of folks and i met my regulars and made old folks smile andd i prevented a lot of theft that no one else wouldve caughtt and i jjstt broke down after 9 hours and not getting a last break and all the chaos of register (WHICH BY THE WAY THEY KNOW I DONT LIKE REGISTER!!! I THRIVE ON SLE FCHECOUT!!! THATS MY JOB TITLE!! THATS WHAT I DO!!!! THEY KNOW THISS!!!!) and HER AVOIDING GIVING ME MY FUCKING BREAK and NOT RESPECTING MY FFUCKING METNAL DISABILITIES LJNASDKAJHDBASJSDNAJSNDKANSD

I JJST DONT KNOW WHAT TO DOO

i really want to die and i really want to never go back but i really loved my job i loved helpting people ii jjst hate her so muchhh and i feel GENUINE DREAD/SEVERE ANXIETY jjst SEEING her nnow

she doesnt CARE about anyone but herself shes a horrible peson i cant tell the store manager though cause she wont care either and manager Y has more clout than me so shell just twist my words and make me out as the bad guy as hte “CRAZY ONE” who cries and gets stressed (FOR COMPLETELY VALID REASONS AFTER BEING PUSHED OVER THE EDGE) even tthough i work SO FFRIKCING HARD and do SUCH A GOOD JOB and asdjanjsdhajshdas

i d ont know what to doo

i cant work another job because no where else pays as much or will let me do self checkout only, because being a cashier stresses me so muchh

ii...really wanntted to grow stuff and make preserves and sell bee products and work with folks raising heritage sheep and make more fiber art andd open a little stall at a local market and sell all that,, and offer more online and do customs andd stuff

i know i could mkae money that wa ybut i ccantt start it so sudenly and im too Broken to do it seriouslyy and i dont even want to HAVE to quit because of ONE PERSON But shes done this so many times now and this is the nfinfal streaww

i jjst dont know what to doo...

i cantt stop cryingg

i cant even enjoy christmas nnow. wanted to see my stepdad and give him his presernt and maybe be ok.

last christmas we had to move because our house was condemned after a fire. now im going to have to lose my job because of a horrible manager who doenst respect my metnal health or anything about me reallyy. and unfortunately im such a failure that i cant. do anything else and if i lose this job ill lse my animla sand i wotnt be able to do anyhtingg andd im jjust fucking trash

goddammit i dont know what to do. i really dont. hhahaaa. i just really want to end it. ive come so far and none of it fucking matters because of thiss fucking horrible manager.

[vaderssidechick]

FIC SNIPPET:  The Voice of Blood, Chapter IV

For those who were worried about Daddy Vader, this is for you.

“Your Highness?”

I jerk awake out of what was barely sleep at all, almost falling out of the chair until I catch myself on the arm. Tevas’s personal medical droid, Two-One-Bee, stands in front of me. “Apologies for waking you Highness, but I have a request.”

My eyes blur and my head is pounding. “Kriff your request!” I bark at the droid. “My father! His condition!?”

“Stable, your Highness,” it informs me in its calm synthesized voice.

Something between a sigh and a sob erupts out of me as I drop over, burying my face in my hands, tears stinging my eyes. Two-One-Bee continues. “We have elevated his diminished blood oxygen levels to the best of our capabilities; however, his recovery time would be significantly reduced with a transfusion of wholly organic blood.”

I hold out my arm before it finishes. “Take what you need.”

One of the droid’s appendages pulls the sleeve of my robe up while another settles a clamp above my elbow, tightening it until a vein pops. “Thank you, Illustrious Son. A half liter should be sufficient.” It sinks a hypo into my vein and releases the turniket. “We have just released him from the bacta tank. He is resting in a hyperbaric medbed, and we have inserted his feeding tube.”

I cringe at its mention-- I hate that he has to eat like that. “And his armor? His prostheses? Can they be salvaged?”

“Repairs are being made as we speak, your Highness. The engineering droids report that all components of Lord Vader’s armor should be fully operational within three hours.”

I lean into the chair and let my head fall back, allowing my relief to fully wash over me. But then, I frown. “Three hours? That’s awfully quick.”

“Indeed, young Prince.” The med droid rolls closer to me. “Now that I have answered your questions, may I remove your patch and examine your bruise?”

“Go ahead,” I tell it. The droid clamps its phalanges gingerly around the edges of the bacta patch stuck to the left side of my face and begins pulling it back. I suck hard air through my teeth as it’s pulled from my skin. I glance up at it as its head tilts back and forth, its ocular lenses scanning the area. “Well? How does it look?”

“Very good, your Highness. Bruising has diminished eighty-five percent, and the swelling has decreased dramatically.”

While I am relieved, the bruise on my face is not my utmost concern. “Two-One-Bee,” I begin, “my father’s armor is built to withstand blaster bolts and slug weapons. His cape alone is a thousand thread-count armorweave, it’s practically impenetrable. What the HELL caused that kind of damage?”

“Electrocution, young Prince,” the droid answers simply as it slides the used bacta patch into its medical waste slot.

My mouth drops. “Electrocution? From what??”

“Unknown, your Highness. Although in the previous cases of these injuries---”

“What do you mean, ‘previous cases’?” I slowly rise to my feet, glaring at the droid. “You mean this has happened before??”

“Yes. Several times. You were not aware of this, young Prince?”

My stomach craters inside me. So Tevas has hidden this from me too. “How many times?”

Its oculars flashed a blink, indicating databank accessing. “Five, your Highness. After the first incident, Lord Vader instated a protocol to handle this situation should it arise again.” It pulls the needle from my arm and presses a square of gauze on the puncture.

That’s why his suit is able to be repaired so quickly. And himself as well. Tevas already had procedures set in place for this?? A dark suspicion enters my mind. “When have all these incidents occurred?” I quietly demand.

“Each occurrence coincided with a private audience with the Emperor, Illustrious Son.”

“The...Emperor?” The blood in the bag hanging off the droid’s appendage is warmer than what’s running through my veins right now. “The Emperor did this to Tevas??”

“I cannot make that conclusion without further concrete evidence, your Highness. I can only point out that the time frames you have requested correlate with such visits.” I stare at the droid, but I see nothing through the rage that builds inside me. The droid tilts its head at me. “I have sent a request to the galley to bring you some blumfruit juice and sweet-sand cookies.”

I swear, if I had my lightsaber on me, I’d hack this pile of condescending bolts to pieces. “I don’t want any damned juice and cookies! Don’t treat me like a child--”

“It is not my intent to infantilize you, young Prince, but to replenish your own glucose levels after donating blood. It is standard procedure for everyone, adolescents and adults alike.”

“Oh,” I exhale. I sink back down into the durasteel chair as a wave of exhaustion crashes over me.

“Illustrious Son, it is my medical opinion that you should retire to your chambers and get some sleep.The evening has been stressful and you did just donate a substantial amount of blood.”

“No,” I breathe, shaking my head and resting my arms on my knees, “I want to speak to him as soon as he is able.”

***I am able now, Su’us.***

I gasp hard air as his Force voice echoes through my mind. ***Tevas?***

A Force tendril, as light and dark as charred smoke, runs down my injured cheek. ***Come to me, Luke.***

I tense, even under his caress. Tevas has never allowed me into his private medical chamber before. He’s never let me see him unarmored. Tears prick my eyes again, but I push them back with eyes shut firm, and rise out of my chair. “Two-One-Bee, my father has just granted me permission to see him. I’ll accompany you.”

The droid doesn’t question it, having been programmed to recognize our Force communications to be as valid as any spoken language. “Very good, young Prince. Follow me.”

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 12: The Pilot

And here he is, everyone’s favorite “best pilot in the Resistance,” Mr. Poe Dameron:

“But, sir! If the load lifters’ binary language circuits aren’t reset to the default dialect, they’ll continue to deliver their loads to the wrong entrances! It would present a serious supply chain interruption and Princess Leia will—“

“Hey! That’s a great idea! You should take this to Leia.”

“But, General, the princess is no longer—“

“Threepio, if you don’t stop talking to me about the damn load lifters, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Well, I never! I’m only ever trying to be of help, the nerve of some people,” Threepio trailed off as he clattered off down the corridor.

Poe Dameron didn’t watch the droid leave; it was easy enough to know what Threepio was chattering about as he disappeared down the hall: a litany of self-pity, imagined slights, and decades of grievances. Why droids were programmed with such irritating idiosyncrasies, Poe would never understand. But maybe that was the point. Maybe droids needed to be more human to keep from making mistakes.

Poe returned his attention to the reports he had been scanning when Threepio came banging his way into the command center, yammering about obscure machine languages. He reviewed them one by one, each telling a similar story: encouraging signs of unrest against the First Order, but little enthusiasm for organized rebellion.

Each of the documents took far longer to digest and approve than he cared for. Being in command was all he’d ever wanted, having grown up on Yavin IV in the company of Alliance war heroes. But the reality of leading was less attractive than its billing. Most days, Poe wished he could just pass off command to someone else so he could go back to piloting an X-Wing full time. Though, he thought, if he was still just a pilot, he’d probably be chafing under command decisions he didn’t agree with, and the cycle would continue.

His job, as it was, had taken unexpected turns over the previous months. Leia had passed command to him much sooner than he would have expected. And the fight he’d expected to be leading was nothing like he’d envisioned. The First Order was no longer as constant a presence in the core systems as they’d been even a month before, and their troop deployments were more scattershot than was typical. It made Poe nervous. The conflict should be escalating. Instead, it seemed like the First Order was in the midst of a controlled retreat.

But it wasn’t like the Resistance was ready for a showdown. The fleet was nowhere near fighting form, constituted primarily of decommissioned Imperial ships, half-junked freighters, two dozen X-Wings of somewhat dubious flight readiness, and ancillary vessels that lacked a cruiser to support. Worse than that, the First Order had been broadcasting to the galaxy that the Battle of Crait had been a total victory, and that the Resistance had been wiped out.

It was a development neither Poe nor Leia had anticipated. Like the Empire, the First Order didn’t typically suffer any kind of defiance, regardless of its size. But since Crait, Poe felt like he was leading a movement in search of a cause. They took every precaution to makes sure they weren’t discovered— Vedic III was chosen precisely because it would be hard to find— but Poe couldn’t shake the feeling that their enemies weren’t even looking for them. And that troubled him more than relentless pursuit.

As he looked around the command center, Poe considered that the First Order might have a point: it was almost like they didn’t exist. What had been a small, but capable fleet had been utterly destroyed after Crait. A private army of two thousand, well funded, with connections in the New Republic, the Resistance had been a serious threat to First Order operations. But, more than that, it had been something Snoke couldn’t afford to ignore because of one very important distinction: it was led by the sister of Luke Skywalker. The last of the Jedi.

Now Luke was dead. And instead of two thousand, the Resistance barely numbered two hundred. And whatever support was coming, it was coming because of the story of Luke facing down the First Order alone, giving his life for the cause, and, crucially, leaving behind an heir to his powers and teachings. And the girl who was meant to be the symbol of their fight might have died in the training yard yesterday. It was a problem he couldn’t afford to ignore any longer.

“Lieutenant,” Poe called across the room, “has anyone seen Rey?”

Lieutenant Connix looked up from her terminal as though she’d been startled awake.

“Uhm,” she started, glancing around, “I think I heard someone say she was going to see Leia.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Poe squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced back at the last report he’d read, and an idea suddenly flashed through his mind.

“Hey, Connix, come here a second.”

The young officer, who still kept her hair in tight buns on either side of her head, stood up from her terminal and crossed to where Poe was sitting.

“Yes, General?”

“Cut it with the ‘General’ stuff. It’s me. Poe,” he said with a smile, motioning for her to sit.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, sitting in the chair next to him. “I’ll try to remember, sir— uh, I mean, Poe.”

“We intercepted a coded message on the First Order’s emergency channel. Normally, I wouldn’t be too interested, but this one was picked up immediately by high command.”

Connix crinkled her nose. “That is odd.”

Poe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah. It is. I don’t like it. The First Order codex. Didn’t we keep a record of when D.J. hacked it?”

“Sir, that codex changes hourly. Er, uh, Poe. I meant Poe.”

“But we could use the record as a road map to hack it again.”

“That’s,” Connix began, nervously fidgeting with her hands, “not really how it works. Or, maybe it does, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“So you can’t do it.”

“I didn’t say— I could maybe—“

“Kaydel,” he said, getting her attention.

“What did you call me?”

“Your name. Kaydel.”

Connix stopped fidgeting.

“I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

“A-all right. General. I mean, sir. I mean— damn it.”

Poe gave her a warm smile, and then turned back to his terminal. He was about to power down and head out to the tarmac when he saw Rey through the windows of the command center, passing down the hall from Leia’s room.

“Rey!” he yelled.

She stopped, and looked at him through the window. Poe got up and crossed to the door, leaning around into the hall.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Rey turned back down the hall, and into the command center. Poe motioned her into he adjoining office, and he followed behind, closing the door.

“What is it, Poe?”

“First off, how are you feeling?”

Rey sighed and crossed her arms.

“I’m fine.”

“Whoa. Sorry.”

“No,” Rey said, letting her hands drop to her sides. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t— thank you for the concern. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Good.”

“You needed something?”

“I just want to get an idea of what’s going on here.”

“Meaning?”

Poe put his hands on his hips and leaned in slightly, trying not to seem overly agitated. He wasn’t sure it was working. And he knew Rey could sense his anxiety, which wasn’t making matters better.

“We’ve been on this moon for over a month. And you’ve been, what? Running supply missions? Reconnaissance?”

“They’re missions that need done. I do them. What’s this about?”

“‘What’s this about?’” he repeated back, letting out a frustrated laugh. “I don’t need you to run supply missions. I have people to do that.”

Rey crossed her arms again, and her eyes narrowed.

“Is there something you want to say to me? Because if there is, I’d rather just have it out.”

“Fine. We’ve been hanging on by our fingertips out here. People don’t even think we exist. We’ve gotten traction mostly because the story about Luke facing down Kylo and the First Order has caught on. But for that to keep up, we need the Jedi Order. And that’s supposed to be you.”

“It’s not just something I can snap my fingers and make happen,” Rey said, her voice rising. “What am I supposed to do? A traveling show where I tell fortunes and make things float?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not supposed to be the one that knows these things. You are.”

“It’s not like Luke left a manual for me with step-by-step instructions.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Oh, and what do you hear?”

“That you have some Jedi scripture or something. Some texts. Books with information we could use.”

“I suppose you’d like to try reading them, then. Do you think they’re in standard Aurebesh? They’re in some language that’s probably been dead for five thousand years. Not even Threepio could read them.”

Poe had to laugh. C3PO had just been in here complaining about not being able to talk to load lifters because of their accents, and imagining him trying to read sacred religious texts was more than just comedy. It was farce.

“What I’m hearing is an explanation without a plan,” Poe said, trying his best to keep his frustration from boiling over into real anger. He felt less in control than he was accustomed to, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something to make him more uneasy. “Are you with us? Because I get the feeling that you’re just here because you have nowhere else to go.”

Rey’s expression hardened, but there was real hurt in her eyes. She took a few calming breaths, and responded.

“All right. This is the part where you say you’re under a lot of stress, and you didn’t mean that, and you take that back.”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re the last Jedi. As in the only one. And yesterday, you keeled over like you were a green recruit. What do we do if something happens to you? Huh?”

“Poe. I fainted. It was stupid to train in the heat like that for so long. I grew up in the desert. I ought to know better.”

“That’s not what worries me. What worries me is that you’ve been acting like you’re an engineer. Or a freighter pilot. You’ve been training against droids that don’t have safety protocols—“

“They’re too easy to beat otherwise.”

“That’s my point! Why are you fighting droids at all? You should be out there, we should be out there, taking the fight to the First Order! You should be leading. Instead, you’re out in the training yard fighting droids that wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you when you passed out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’d beaten them all by then.”

“And what about next time?”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“I don’t want to have to worry that there will be!”

A silence fell between them, as though some kind of gauntlet had been dropped, and they were both waiting for the other to pick it up.

“Maybe you ought to stop pinning all your hopes on me,” Rey said with a calm resolve. But Poe could see her composure was slipping, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’m doing what I can. I’m trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. I’m trying to keep myself from losing my mind while I try to understand what the Force wants from me. I’ve got unreadable books and a broken lightsaber and no one to help me.”

Her mention of the broken lightsaber reminded him that she still hadn’t been debriefed about what happened on the Supremacy. Poe’s uneasiness sharpened, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was reading his thoughts right then and there. Rey took a half step toward him, and gestured down toward the corridor.

“If you need someone to inspire your cause, you’ve got her. She’s right down the hall, and she’s twice the woman I’ll ever be.”

“Rey, Leia’s dying.”

“What?”

“Dying. She doesn’t have much time.”

They’d known for weeks. Leia might have known longer. But it didn’t change the fact that the tumors were inoperable. And it didn’t change the fact that radiation sickness was slowly sapping her of her strength. It was anyone’s guess which would overwhelm her first, but both diagnoses carried the same promise: death, and soon.

“When she got blown out of the bridge on the Raddus, she should have died. She didn’t. We were very lucky. But she was in deep space for over two minutes. That kind of radiation doesn’t come without consequences. Leia might be one of a kind, but she’s still only human.”

Poe could see that Rey wasn’t prepared for that news. Good, he thought. Maybe this would spur her to action. And even if it didn’t, at least Poe wasn’t carrying this secret alone anymore. Not that it could be a secret much longer.

“Rey,” he continued, trying to bridge a span between urgency and inspiration, “we don’t have the luxury of waiting. I can’t put together an army to fight the First Order if we don’t have a cause worth fighting for.”

“If you don’t have a cause worth fighting for without me standing in front of you with a lightsaber,” Rey said slowly, and it looked like she was struggling to keep from letting the depth of her emotions show, “then the problem’s with you, not me. I’m not going to rush out and recruit students, or padawans, or whatever, if I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. You’re a pilot. Imagine starting a flight academy when you know how to fly, but not how to land.”

“Listen to me. I’m sorry if I seem harsh. But I have people who count on me. And they look to you as the light that’ll lead us into battle. And you could have died yesterday. Where would that leave us?”

“What do you want? Tell me. What should I do?”

He took a step toward her, his face becoming hard and serious.

“Start doing things because you can do them. Not because someone told you how.”

And that was that. Rey’s expression went cold and blank, her eyes glassed with angry tears.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah,” Poe said, motioning for the door. “I guess we are.”

***

Poe returned to the command center after Rey left, but not before spending some time thinking through exactly what to do about the Jedi girl in his camp. She was an invaluable asset, to be sure. And if she could get with the program, she could be the one thing that would turn the tide.

But she also painted them with a very bright target. Eventually, he was sure, the First Order would come for her. And when that happened, he didn’t know if they’d be able to protect her. More than that, he wondered if it was worth it at all.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, drifting over to where Connix was seated.

“Any luck?”

“Not with the codex, but I did find this.”

Poe leaned over her shoulder and looked at the screen.

“What the hell?”

“I know.”

“Keep this between us for now.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Poe.”

Poe didn’t respond. What were those structures? And the orbital station? What was the First Order doing on Naboo?

[eversweet-imagines]

Request: Fight the Urge - A Dan Avidan Imagine

request:  okay but what would it be like to be in a relationship with dan avidan, right--who's probably gentle af with the people he loves--but having to fight a flinch reflex you developed because your last boyfriend wasn't very kind?

Warnings: talking about abuse! If this is something you are sensitive to I have a few other Danny imagines that you would probably prefer to read. Love you guys!

It’s a little short! I hope its kind of what you wanted!

Dan Avidan. He was perfect, to say otherwise was a flat out lie. Every bit of him was kind, caring, sweet, and just about every other positive word in the English language that you could think of. Sure at times he had a tough exterior but if you were within the lucky people who got to be loved by him you knew what it felt to be truly loved. He was exactly what Y/N felt she never deserved but couldn’t be more thankful to be able to call him hers. She hadn’t been as Lucky in her past relationships. People her age were not kind. They were only driven by their sex drive and didn’t have any sort of grasp for actual human emotions. Her last boyfriend seemed to be the worst of them all, leaving her scarred. It made nights, much like this one difficult.

Date Night. 

Y/N always could feel her anxiety build up more on nights like this. She loved Dan with all her heart but date night always left her afraid. It was on date nights where her last boyfriend would cause the most harm,  alway resulting in him grabbing her aggressively and throwing her around leaving her bruised and battered. Something was always broken at the end of the night, and aside from the picture frames it always seemed to be Y/N. 

A knock on the door made Y/N jump, her mind being forced into reality. The voices from outside grew louder as she heard her apartment door open and everyone come inside. It was group date night tonight which included Arin and Suzy and of course Dan and Y/N. She smiled when she heard Dan’s laugh carry from the living room though the halls. Adjusting her shirt for the last time she turned and left her bedroom heading to meet the others. She entered the room smiling and waving at Arin and Suzy who were stood by the front door. Danny snuck up from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around. Y/N screamed, louder than she has in a while and quickly pushed herself away from Danny. Her heart was racing and her breathing was shaky as she stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around her waist. Everyone stared at her for a moment looks of concern hung on their faces.

“S-Sorry guys I just really wasn’t expecting that.” Y/N smiled, facing a small laugh. She stepped closer to Dan, her eyes locking with his own concerned ones. Danny had only heard brief bits of her history, no complete stories but enough for him to piece together what had probably happened before and he understood why she was guarded in the way she was. He wrapped his arm lightly around her waist and with all her might she tried to fight the urge to flinch at his touch but she still jumped lightly, he still smiled softly down at her rubbing small circles along her skin. “You guys ready to go?” She asked and everyone nodded, the uncomfortable air lifting quickly as they all left the apartment. 

The group walked down the buzzing streets of downtown LA, Y/N stuck close to Danny as many people bumped into her and yelled around. It wasn’t often that this group went out, Dan and Erin always occupied indoors with Grums and Suzy and Y/N occupied with their own channels. But on the rare occasion that the group got out it was always crazy to see everyone around in LA. He held on tightly to her hand but quickly readjusted to wrap his arm around her and hold her closer within his bubble to protect her as he felt her body tensing with everything going on around her. She instantly relaxed into him, he was much taller than her and was able to fully protect her. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, causing her to flinch yet again. Every time Y/N flinched at Dan’s touch his heart ached more and more, Y/N would never know this of course but she could assume it wasn’t the most ideal situation for your girlfriend of nearly a year to flinch every time you touched her. 

The group made it inside of the bowling alley, the atmosphere far more upbeat than the previous. Y/N let out a breath of relief as she slipped off her jacket and attempted to switch her mind from panic ridden to fun. Suzy types in everyone’s names and the game was off, Dan and Adin took charge of going and getting drinks and food for everyone while Y/N waited patiently on the bench, staring at a spot on the ground absent minded. Suzy glances over to the girl who’s face seemed to slowly rest into one of worry. She sat beside her unnoticed until her hand was placed on Y/N’s knee making her flinch.

“Y/N, sweetie, hun, best friend, love of my life, the sun to my shine, the bees to my knees. ” Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. Suzy only ever said these things when she was trying to get information out of her. 

 “What ever do you want?” Y/n asked, laughing lightly as Suzy smiled. 

 “Well I’m worried.” 

 “About...” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows. 

 “You.” Suzy grew serious in the instant. Her eyes darting over to the bar where the boys were stood still waiting, hopefully she had enough time. Y/N’s heart dropped and she cleared her throat, directing her gaze back to the spot on the floor. “Ive known you for a little over a year now. You jump every time someone touches you... Like a knee jerk reaction anytime someone shows touches you in a friendly or loving way.” Y/N’s gaze stayed put, her breathing becoming labored. “I just... I don't want you to be living in fear. You deserve more than that.” 

“Thank you Suzy. It’s just kinda hard for me to talk about... My last boyfriend, the one right before Dan. He was insanely abusive. All he really had me around for was to be his punching bag. He would come home wasted, or just become angry at the flip of a switch and would grab me and throw me into walls or pull my hair and stuff. The last night I saw him I ended up in the hospital It’s just become instinct to think any time someone touches they are just going to hurt me. I know Danny probably noticed it. I mean how you could not when your girlfriend acts replaced by your touch for so long. But I just never had the courage to talk about it, I was still so sensitive to it. I try so hard to fight the urge to jump but I suck at it. I love Dan, more than I have ever loved anyone. He is so kind and patient and I’m just so scared that I’m going to lose him because of it.” There was silence for a moment after she finished speaking, only the small group of kids bowling a few lanes down could be heard. Y/N finally lifted her gaze to look at Suzy after the silence made her nervous. Suzy was staring behind Y/N with a firm sad smile. She followed her line of sight landing on Danny’s face. Her stomach dropped, how long had he been standing there? 

“I love you so much Y/N. I would never, never hurt you. You deserve the absolute world and I vow to protect you from anything out there that wants to harm you. I hate to break it to you but you are kinda stuck with me.” Dan smiled, sitting besides Y/N making eye contact with her as he gently took her hands in his own, Y/N using all her effort to not flinch. She smiled before leaning in to kiss him, resting her head on his chest