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cyberneticfallout · 7 months ago

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Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

#hope you enjoy my gulper description lmao #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #smoothie and the ghoul

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lumidotexe · 1 year ago

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CH 7 “To Facade” - Page 9-10

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deceptive-daydreams · 7 months ago

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.

A senseless daydream.

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it. Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape. This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place. It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt. Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life. And last week he was suddenly dead. It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie. All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor. Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s. Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste. Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.

Whatever you wanted.

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke. His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you. He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him. He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place. Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick. He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible. Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible. And for what? For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions. Pathetic, he knew. But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man. Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything. He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come. A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind. And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver. The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him. He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better. It was a lie. He never had the flu. He didn’t feel better. He wanted to die. And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive. Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon. His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones. There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did. A flaw in the system. And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?

Several.

He thought to himself.

You could have gone to school, shown up.

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no. So. Many. Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death. He couldn’t stop making excuses. Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse. For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together. Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had. It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision. He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid. Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed. And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues. Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies. Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum. Dancing in the living room. Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees. Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin. Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense. Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer. That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised. Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights. Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in. Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home. Only he rarely did. Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time. Years and years of push back. A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.

“My dad has a ton of jobs.” He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.

The kids would snicker. Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness. And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day. Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them. Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature. At least that’s how dad described it. It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse. They called his dad a drunk. They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged. “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie. Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time. Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt. And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up. Closure in some kind of fucked up way. Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with. Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes. Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability. No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door. He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it. This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions. He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world. They shouldn’t have to worry about me. With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana. A life he’d always longed for anyway.

Be careful what you wish for.

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away. “One slip up…” They had said. It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him. Literally anyone. As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.

Cause he was nothing if not a problem. First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.

“Eddie?!”

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry. The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.” His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime. “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear. Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made. You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” You soothe.

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose. A wordless commitment. Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure. Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had. Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at. He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house. Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred. If either spoke it would make it real. Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him. There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind. Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip. It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him. In the standard of fight or flight, he froze. Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together. His croaking voice made that hard. But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability. And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime. Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him. Maybe that was dare you even think it, love. But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions. Conclusions you backtracked on immediately. It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–” A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.” His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior. “I shouldn’t–” There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath. “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn. Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet. Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.

“How’d you know?” He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.

“Wayne called me.” You sigh. “Said he got my number from Steve. Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?” At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it. “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in. Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.” You assure, taking care to relax your features. “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out. He wanted me to check in. I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.” You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again. You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick. The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor. There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better. You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again. It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words. When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage. In his eyes.

“But I will be. Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses. Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble. A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.” You demand.

“No, Bambi. Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key. Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself. And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses. His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness. Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in. He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!” Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow. “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down. I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it. My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.” Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze. A plea. “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in. I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal. It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him. The room turned colder, more vacant. Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart? His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall. The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended. Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what? Stormed off? Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat. He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other. And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness. The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut. An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.” You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth. “And I did. You didn’t say how long or—or where to go. But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake. Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips. Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you. Your boy.

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense. Bambi and Eddie. There is not one without the other, not anymore. Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”

It just fell from his tongue. A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious? Is that what you’re gonna ask?” He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping. Not because you’re afraid, no, never. You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts. “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.

“Bad.” He reiterates. “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.” Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip. “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it. And I’ll run with it. Far. Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.”

“I’m a pathetic man. Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.” You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.” He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow! Jesus fuck.” Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek. “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of. Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.

“Can you…can you do that again?” He whispers. Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck. His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest wet dreams.

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail. And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.

“Like that, baby?” You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.” A whisper that tells you everything. “I-I never—no one’s ever—“ He tries to warn you.

“What?” You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe. “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”

“Just my hand.” Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap. Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his. Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.

“We can stop.” You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.” His voice shakes, chest heaving. “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him. But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable. Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.” You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him. “Let me take care of you.”

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles. You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you. His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far. His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.” You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.” He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria. “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.

“Please, baby. Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.

“You bought condoms? Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!” You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back. You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care. Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed. You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you. Purely Eddie. Woodsy and minty. A tad smoky. And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room. And then it plays. A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love. A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.

“Well alright, cowboy.” You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.

“Shut up.” He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.

“C’mere.” You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you. “Wanna see you.”

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach. Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago. The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined. While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side. Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him. Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants. Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet. But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. His eyes grow, lips parted in awe. And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control. And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval. That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it. Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red. Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.” While grinding into nothing, poor boy. “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands. You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth. Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps. Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair.

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot. Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned. Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone. The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom. The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm. Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting. The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds. Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what. Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime. Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm. His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted. You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark. All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you. He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless. Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit. Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”. That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close. Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart. Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.

It could help though. And that’s all that mattered. If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing. If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree. Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar. Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works. Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did. Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste. Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes. While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet. Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity. Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips. A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?” He laughs, voice husky with sleep.

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created. Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow. He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”

Eddie just stared.

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!” You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you. When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse. I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck. And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you. I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.” You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table. Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you. Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute. He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing.

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I. Love. You.” You enunciate each word with a peck. “Point blank. No exceptions. You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man? We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records. A huge stack of them. All genres. Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal. It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling. That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?” You scoff. “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school. You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach. He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.

And he was blushing.

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me. I picked some out that I knew you’d like. Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them. Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him. Like Pandora’s box or something. Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper. A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold. His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper. It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture. At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said.

“No fucking way.” He smiles, half laughs. Then repeats himself. Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around. Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table. The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other. Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between. His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three. Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled. Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere. You miss it. But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything. Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi. Makes small talk with mom and grandma. Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day. No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her. He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang. Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual. Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background. Something about a broken sled. Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either. This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on. Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default. She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially. Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house. Beautiful in the summertime. Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays. One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

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hexpea · 7 months ago

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After the tragic passing of your husband by your own hands, you're set to marry his younger brother, Naoya, to maintain the alliance between your clan and the Zenin.

Under the facade of lending your family's influence in exchange for the Zenin strength, your task set by your father, the 24th Kamo clan head, is clear. Use your technique to discreetly weaken the Zenin clan, killing the heirs one-by-one.

But will you even have to when Naoya comes down with a mysterious illness?

*smut warning in some chapter cases, non-consensual and rough in some cases* *doesn't follow the manga/anime, no spoilers* *contains themes of non-con and death, trigger warning* *unplanned pregnancy* *hanahaki disease*

Prologue - Gladioli

Ch. 1 - Black Dahlia

Ch. 2 - Wolfsbane

Ch. 3 - White Lilies

Ch. 4 - Daffodils

Ch. 5 - Hogweed

Ch. 6 - Chrysanthemums

Ch. 7 - Pink Orchids

Ch. 8 - Seedling

Ch. 9 - Red Dahlia

Ch. 10 - Yellow Carnations

Ch. 11 - The Lotus

Ch. 12 - Iris

Ch. 13 - Lavender Roses

Ch. 14 - Petunia

Ch. 15 - Cherry Blossoms

Ch. 16 - Hibiscus

Ch. 17 - Anemone

Ch. 18 - Pink Ginger

Ch. 19 - Gardenias

Ch. 20 - White Hyacinth

Ch. 21 - Geraniums

Ch. 22 - Poppy

Ch. 23 - Pink Primrose

Ch. 24 - Bells of Ireland

Ch. 25 - White Carnations

Ch. 26 - Crocus

Ch. 27 - Sea Lavender

Ch. 28 - Queen Anne's Lace

Ch. 29 - Baby's Breath

Ch. 30 - Blackthorn

Ch. 31 - Tansy

Ch. 32 - Black Rhododendron

Ch. 33 - Forget-Me-Not

Ch. 34 - Red Spider Lilies

Ch. 35 - Azalea

Epilogue - Buttercup

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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pearl-blue-musings · 4 months ago

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Unforgettable Ch.9

*pokes head out from hiding* heyyyy, hey. How y’all doin??? I know it’s been a HOT HOT minute since I updated this but yeaaahhhhhhhhhh

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

A/N: universe altered, 18+, somewhat follows canon, slightly unrequited feelings, miscommunication, words are hard

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2K

The cold months began to transition to spring and life seemed to have slowed to its usual pace. The pace of life before Dabi had entered and turned it on its head. Before your feelings for either men had interfered and made a mess of things. Hawks returned to being a double agent and fooling the league while you returned to your job at the hero commission and were still being restrained and watched. It was almost impossible for you to go anywhere without it being approved by the higher ups, something you and Keigo fought against hard but lost out. The secret of your previous relationship remained a secret but the feelings lingered on. How the world expected you to forget something so unforgettable was beyond your scope of reasoning.

Occasionally, small gatherings of blue flowers would appear on your balcony. Somewhere in the back of your mind there’s a metaphor here, in how you would let them all be crumpled by the snow. The petals get the nourishment they need despite being crushed by the weight of nostalgic appearing snow. You can’t bear to look at it, shutting your blinds closed and never wanting to look at the balcony again. It’s not like Hawks was stopping by anymore, he was on missions being undercover; you were also given orders to cease all contact with him whilst he’s with the League.

Those orders weren’t followed completely when the HSPC president was killed.

The attack on the headquarters was a precursor to what was to come from the Paranormal Liberation Front, indicating that they wouldn't be knocked down or taken too lightly. You had just barely escaped death as the enemy analyzed you as not a threat to them. So they incapacitated you for a time, knocking you unconscious as they started to take down hero society from within. All Hawks could do was watch from their headquarters.

The facade he puts on for them as they cheer over the news doesn’t crack as the camera pans over to your crumpled body. He stealthily releases a feather based on the coordinates seen to check in on you. His heart rate skyrockets as members of the liberation army ask him about the president and what life was like. Keigo briefly goes into the program and how he was raised, but leaves you out of it. When he finally has a moment alone, he cracks slightly as his heart burns, melting away the icy exterior he needs to survive the mission.

Dabi kept an eye on Hawks for this entire thing. He didn’t want to admit it, but when the camera went over to where you were lying on the ground he wanted to burn the screen. He specifically told them to leave you out of it. He’s going to give whoever laid a finger on you a searing scar. Dabi may want to kill his brother, but he would never let any harm come to you. You, you have a special relationship with him. And he’s sure that if anything were to ruin what he has, or had, with you it might break more of his resolve. Break him more than he already is.

So of course when Hawks brought up that the two of you have been forced to interact less, he was crazy ecstatic and torn. Hearing that convinced him even more that Keigo is clearly undercover. He doesn’t want to break Twice’s heart, so maybe some truths should be left unsaid.

Too many days Touya stares at your phone number until the first major battle of the war begins. Even as he practices what he’s going to say upon meeting his father and youngest brother, he wants to run his words and methodology by you. You wouldn’t think he’s crazy, right? You’ve always cared for him, as Touya and as Dabi. He wants, no needs you to understand where he’s coming from. He has to see you one last time. Dabi doesn’t care that you haven’t taken any of his flowers; at least his mother did. But you’re different. You’re you.

And that’s why he’s scaling the wall of your apartment building with the help of Twice to see you one last time as Dabi.

****

You’re startled by the sound of flesh and bone rapping against your balcony door. It’s been a couple of months since you’ve cut off communication with Dabi and you fear that he may be outside. You’ve started to lock your balcony door, not even wanting to be safe from Hawks. After you called the villains name during your lovemaking session his presence has been scarce. The tears you’ve shed for these two opposing men could fill a river and that hurts your heart more than you’d like to admit. Your heart beats like a kick drum trying to break the sound barrier at the mere possibility it could be either man. Securing the blanket around your frame, you hesitantly open the latch of the sliding door with eyes shut tight.

“Heh, am I really that awful to look at?”

You weren’t sure what you expected, but the rumbling of Dabi’s voice rings clear in your ears. On instinct, you bring him into a hug and his arms immediately wrap around your body. As angry as you are at him, something about him feels too familiar, too much like home. You almost miss the way he tightens his grip on you as you walk inside together. The motion is practiced as if the two of you hadn’t missed a beat these last few months. He still smells a little smoky and sultry as you breathe him in. He’s the first to break the silence, “I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him from the hug, tears coming to your eyes freely. Dabi’s eyes soften slightly at your sorrowful expression. “What’s that look for, pipsqueak?” You hadn’t realized you were crying until he wiped away a tear.

The words die in your throat as you finally gaze up into his striking blue eyes. There’s something hidden behind them, some sort of finality and strength you hadn’t seen before. “You came here to tell me something. What is it?”

Touya had always hated how perceptive you were to his thoughts and emotions. And this time was no different. He sighs deeply before bringing you to the couch in practiced steps, your knees touching his as you two sink into the cushions. Dabi lets go of your hands and interlocks his fingers under his chin. “Tomorrow,” his voice rumbles with a start, “the League, well the paranormal liberation front is going to attack.”

You sigh and cross your legs and arms together. “I may be on a set schedule because of my quirk but even I know that,” you retaliate. Dabi chuckles at your retort before he pushes himself up on his knees. Your eyes follow his movement as he stands in front of your television. “W-what is it, Dabi?”

He bends down and moves the coffee table out of the way, being eye level with you. “Look me in the eye sweetheart.” You shut your lids tightly, taking a breath before you stare in his eyes fully. Your heart skips a beat and a gasp escapes your lips. It can’t be, there’s no way. You had wanted to deny it the whole time but right now… “You know who I am, don’t you?” His lips are now dangerously close to yours and you can feel his warm and shaky breath fan your own. Your lip trembles and your tongue jots out to moisten them.

You quickly shake your head. “He’s dead. T-they told me you died…Keigo and I, we thought that…”

He presses his forehead against yours and gently cups your face. “Say my name.”

Hesitation overcomes you as the truth is blatantly in front of you. “T-Touya,” your voice breaks as his name finally leaves your lips after so many years. Touya softly digs his fingers into your cheek as he releases the tension in his back. How long has it been since he’s heard you say his name? How many nights has he wanted to hear his true name fall effortlessly from your lips, coating his senses in lush ecstasy. “I, I had a feeling it was you. You have the same eyes. But, but I thought I was remembering wrong a-and with the HSPC rewriting my memories I thought-” He silences your rambling with a kiss and you find yourself melting into it. How long has it been since you’ve felt his lips? How long has it been since you’ve felt his adoring and alluring touch? You want to melt into him, but you cut the kiss short.

You breathe heavily and whisper, “Keigo…”

“Whispering another man’s name?”

You shake your head. “No, he…he thought it was you, too. I had a feeling because you felt so familiar.” A finger traces along his cheek as the metal of the staples practically sting your fingertips. Tears start to fall freely down your cheeks. “You’re alive,” you cry, “for years we thought you were dead. Wh-what happened?”

Touya gently wipes at your cheek and takes your hands in his. “That’s a story for another day. But I need to tell you about tomorrow. I’m exposing the hero life for how shitty it is. My father, the number one hero will fall socially and hopefully in battle. I need to ask you a very important question.

“Will you join me in taking down my father? What good has hero society done for you? Lock you up, prevent you from using your quirk to the fullest, making Keigo a soldier? We’re going to tear it down, starting with my father. Join me, and I promise I won’t hurt Hawks too much.”

“I-”

At that moment your phone rings. The caller ID flashes that it’s the man in question. You swallow a lump; of all the times to finally have some social interaction. You sigh deeply and pick up the phone, motioning to Dabi to stay silent.

“Hey,” you start hesitantly.

“Baby bird listen. I’m sorry I’ve been going radio silent on you these last couple of months.” You can hear him huff on the other line in a hushed tone. He still must be undercover, you think. Your gaze drags over toward Touya who smiles cynically and comes to hug you from behind. The brush of warm metal on your neck sends a shiver down your spine. Is he really trying to do this right now? With Keigo on the phone??

“I-I know,” you gasp out, “I’ve been avoiding you, too. Look Kei, I’m sorry for what I said.”

Touya pinches your side in curiosity and you try to wave him off. You try to weasel your way out of his grasp to finish your conversation but he’s got you in a vice grip. “I know you’ve stopped by to check in on me.”

Hawks chuckles and his tenor voice sends the butterflies in your stomach fluttering. “Even when I’m undercover, you can still figure me out.” The sound of his wings flapping in the distance stuns you. You want to ask him where he is but with your current company trying to make you break, you keep it to yourself. “Dove, this is serious. I need you to listen to me.” Your voice goes dry at his sudden change in tone and you stand up at the seriousness.

“What’s going on?”

“Tomorrow, something huge is going down.” You immediately turn to Touya with wide eyes. Hawks continues, “it’s calling for all hands on deck. We’re even using the students of U.A. to help us out because we’re so short staffed.” The wind passing in the back lets you know he’s on a rooftop to contemplate things over that’s out of public view. You wait with bated breath for him to finish. “This might be one of the hardest battles we’ve been part of. Heroes, villains, all of that can change so suddenly.” You feel your heartbeat rising in volume and tempo the more he talks to you. Your free hand fiddles the hem of your shirt and Touya is quick to take it in his, his warmth calming you down.

Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. “What are you saying?”

You hear a sigh and a groan before you hear his voice again. “We need you. I can show you the layout of the different bases and you can guide the heroes to apprehend the bad guys.” Dabi tightens his hold on your hand and you hiss in pain. “You okay?” You slap Dabi’s hand away and he smacks your ass in retaliation.

“Mhm I’m fine! Just stubbed my toe is all.”

“My clumsy girl,” Keigo chuckles, “what am I to do with you?” Behind you Dabi growls at the possessive remark, curling in on himself. “But, what do you say pretty bird? Help us stop the villains and All For One in their tracks?”

The question hangs in the air and you’re sure Touya heard it. He stands up to approach you again, taking your hand in his. “So,” he grumbles out…

“What’s it gonna be?”

Taglist: @luluwiie @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @kacchaneatsass @omegaverse-musings @sssjuico10 @zefrenchturtle @isimp4hawkz @waffleareniceandfluffy @kunaigirlx44

#unforgettable #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader x hawks #dabihawks x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x female reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #Keigo Takami x fem!reader #hawks x reader x dabi #hawks x dabi #my writing #i did the thing

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jjellysoo · 7 months ago

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Xanxus' eyes are emphasized as a symbol of his power, intimidation and rage. It's intriguing, then, that one of the only times they get obscured is when he processes Squalo's death in ch. 398/9. TFW you fail so hard at keeping your facade up that it leaks into your visual symbolism

#There's so many little details in 398/9 it's ridiculous #Someday I'll prob make a post going over all of them tbh #khr #xanxus

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nanabansama · 1 year ago

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Why does teru hate supernaturals so much

I think the best chapters you could read to get a feel for Teru's dislike of supernaturals would be 9, 10, 72, and 97.

Teru explains in ch. 72 that because being an exorcist is a 24/7 job, he hasn't had a day off in years. We've seen that Teru has been working as one since he was at least 8, which means he had zero time to enjoy his childhood.

Just look! AidaIro even drew art of him staring longingly at an arcade. Poor little guy...

This isn't the long and short of it, but it paints a pretty bleak picture. I wouldn't exactly be able to blame him for hating supernaturals out of resentment for this alone.

Being forced to fight supernaturals since he was young has given Teru many opportunities to see the uglier sides to them, as well. We've already seen some pretty nasty ones in the manga, haven't we? And I'm sure Teru has seen supernaturals bring real harm to people, whether that be through lifelong injury, mental scars, or worse, death itself.

Not only is all of that traumatizing, but he was indoctrinated into being an exorcist at a ridiculously young age. I haven't heard a single character bring this up as problematic in the manga itself, despite the very real danger Teru was facing. Kou admires him and was even jealous about it, since Kou was stuck doing household chores instead.

This just goes to show that Kou has been indoctrinated, too, but Teru feasibly has no reason to blame anything but supernaturals for his lot in life. If there were no supernaturals, he wouldn't have to keep doing this--and why would he ever blame the very people he's working for? They're the good guys, the ones fighting to protect the innocent. It could even be his very own father making him do this. How ungrateful he would look to cast any blame on his father and the senior exorcists...

Eh, now that last part is me guessing a little, but given that we've only ever seen Teru express dislike for supernaturals, I think it's a valid reading of his character. That said, I don't think he's entirely brainwashed, and I could still easily see him acknowledging that what happened to him wasn't fair and harboring secret resentment towards the exorcists. It's just inappropriate to express that aloud, and especially in the very loud way Teru expresses hate for supernaturals. It also makes more sense for him to like the exorcists more by default because he associates positive things with them, unlike supernaturals which have been nothing but bad news.

Teru is a great character in the manga since I feel it's easy to understand why he is the way he is, but he hides so much behind a facade (like Hanako) it's hard to know what he's really thinking sometimes. Writing this post has made this very clear to me. Given that we have seen Teru react very immaturely at times, though, I imagine that his hatred doesn't stem from some super deep and logical reason. And since his mother was revealed to have died from postpartum complications, I doubt there was some tragic childhood event involving supernaturals that made him this way, either. His childhood itself is the tragic event. (._.`)

So in conclusion, I think Teru hates supernaturals because he was indoctrinated from a young age to fear and eradicate them, that this constant exposure to the ugly side of supernaturals has only cemented this hatred, that his 24/7 exorcist job has been a source of great stress for him and ruined his childhood, and that hating supernaturals is not only a socially acceptable form of stress relief, but that it's the only valid form of resentment his upbringing has conditioned him to have.

I hope this helped! I do urge you to reread the manga and jump to your own conclusions, though. And who knows? Maybe you'll reach a conclusion you like more than mine!

#asks #teru minamoto #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun

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nightlyrequiem · 3 months ago

Text

The Other Side of Paradise

3) Happy Nation

Cross posted from AO3

Ch.1,, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10, Ch.11

You try to make the best of your life working at a small bakery in a city with rising cartel violence. One slower day, a man starts harassing your coworker. Despite the obvious threat, you stand up to him anyway. Unbeknownst to you, Valeria just so happened to be there to witness it.

A/N- All chapters containing smut will be labeled mature. The fic is fully written with the whole thing on AO3 but chapters on Tumblr will be posted one a day.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dual POV, Happy Ending, Plot with Porn, Graphic Violence, Inappropriate Use of a Knife, Masturbation, WLW

Valeria sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Trying to ward off the impending headache that always comes with doing paperwork. Tax filing and wages. Boring work that makes her want to tear her hair out. She never knew you needed a license to own a salmon farm but apparently, you do. It's not like money laundering is particularly difficult, it's just the upkeep of the facade is mind numbingly boring.

Her fingers twitch. Itching to hold a cigarette. Sometimes this really doesn't feel like it's worth all the effort. But then she sees her bank account and how strong her city is getting and realizes it definingly is. She's doing a good thing here. Even if some people don't see it that way. So what if she's also reaping the rewards?

Before she knows it, she's already lighting a smoke and taking a much-needed inhale. Savoring the bitter taste. Not for the first time, Valeria considers hiring an assistant. She just can't trust anyone else to do this right. Diego maybe. Only issue being that he's a little dim.

Her thoughts shift to you and your last conversation. Contrary to what she said to you, she doesn't think you should be so honest about your opinions. At least, not right off the bat like that. Your responses definitely left a lot to be desired, but Valeria trusts she'll train the awkwardness out of you. There are certainly a few other things she'd like to train you to do.

Her phone starts buzzing and she takes it out only to realize it's her other phone. She rolls her eyes and checks it. It's Deigo. She doesn't really want to talk to him right now. He didn't do anything wrong, but his voice just gets on her nerves.

She answers anyway. "What?" She barks.

"We have a new client." He replies. He sounds pleased. Valeria rolls her eyes. Her temper flares.

"Okay?" She says impatiently. Waiting for him to elaborate.

"He's different to our usual clients," Diego continues. "It's not drugs he's looking to buy." Valeria props her legs up on her desk. "He wants missiles." Valeria quirks a brow. He wouldn't be the first to request weapons, but it's an uncommon enough of an ask to catch her attention.

"Who is he?"

"Hassan Zyani."

Valeria hums. The name strikes a chord with her. She's sure she's heard of him somewhere.

"His name sounds familiar." She remarks.

"He has ties to Al-Qatala."

Of course. That's where she knows him from. Back when she was still a part of the Mexican Special Forces. She can only guess what he'd want missiles for. She doesn't really care. Terror is good for business after all.

"When does he want them?" She asks. Getting something as dangerous as a missile will be a little more difficult than something like a gun. Valeria can do it though.

"November first." A month. Give or take. Valeria nods to herself. "He wants them smuggled into Chicago; he also wants an escort."

"For the missiles?" She frowns. Does he think they'd just send them over unguarded?

"No, for him." Diego corrects.

Oh. That makes more sense. Valeria removes her legs from her desk and stands up, her knees pop and she frowns. She stubs out her cigarette and responds.

"Tell him we can have it done." She hangs up and sets her burner down. She's done enough work for today. She deserves a treat.

It's late again when she enters the bakery. Late enough for there to be no one else. She feels a spike of satisfaction when she sees you behind the counter alone. You look up from your phone and straighten. Nodding in acknowledgement. She sees that you haven't put away everything yet. Though there's still not much to pick from. No conchas either.

She stops in front of the counter. She can tell by the furrow of your brows that you're feeling nervous. She makes sure to keep up eye contact. "Closing shift again?" Valeria says. "Did you piss off Mateo?" She remembers her first job. She hated the closing shift.

"You know Mateo?" You ask. Eyeing her with what Valeria thinks may be suspicion. Valeria smiles a little. Mildly entertained like a child lifting up a rock to see what exoskeletal creatures hide under it.

"It's a small town, I know most people here."

"Oh." Your fingers tap against the counter. "Well, I actually asked for the closing shift." You say, answering her question. "I like how quiet it gets and I get to take home any leftovers."

Makes enough sense. "You must get lonely though," Valeria says sympathetically. "I know I would." She can't actually sympathize though. She can't recall a time she ever felt lonely.

"I'm used to it." You shrug nonchalantly. Like a bloodhound sniffing for weakness, she picks up on the hint of longing in your voice. Valeria feels that little tingle at the base of her neck. One she gets whenever something is going the way she wants it to.

She watches you lean against the counter. She knows you're trying to come off as casual but the stiffness in your shoulders gives you away.

"What do you do when no one is here?" Valeria continues her inquiry. You strike her as someone who would go dormant. Just stand there silently like a stone carving.

"Well...I clean." You reply.

"No, I mean-" She sighs. "Okay, when you aren't cleaning or tending to customers what do you do?" You pause. Thinking, Valeria hopes.

"I read." You finally say. She watches you check your phone before you meander out from behind the counter. You begin to sweep and cast her a look every couple of seconds. You probably think you're being subtle too.

Valeria calls your name, beckoning you over. Once you're within arm's reach she reaches into her back pocket and takes out a black pen, she doesn't ask before grabbing your hand. For your sake, she pretends to not notice the slight tremor. She writes her number. Going slow to make sure its legible, and to hold onto you for just a little longer.

She finishes and looks at you. You look at your hand, then look at her.

"What's this for?"

"I don't want to come down here every time I want to talk to you." Valeria answers. Pleased by the little smile you try to stifle.

She turns and leaves without a farewell or a baked treat.

She returns to her home and dutifully ignores her office. There's neglected paperwork still waiting for her on her desk. She makes a quick, protein filled meal before heading downstairs to work out for an hour. She feels like going to bed but forces herself forward.

She finally finishes. She's sweaty and sore, and incredibly thirsty. She downs a cup of water and then two more when the first isn't enough. Her feet carry her to her bedroom but just before she reaches salvation she turns left into the bathroom. Just one more thing before she gets to sleep. Her soft bedding waits for her like lover, and it would be rude to show up in this state.

Finally, finally, Valeria gets to crawl into bed. The cool sheets feel like heaven against her skin. She lays down and closes her eyes. The moment would be perfect if her phone didn't start ringing shrilly. She audibly growls like an animal and tries to ignore it.

It's her work phone though. Her hand flashes out and grips the stupid, cheap, almost-out-of-minutes device and answers.

"What?" She asks sharply. She didn't bother checking to see who it was that was calling but she really hopes it's not Diego.

"There was a problem." Deigo says. Valeria seethes quietly.

"What problem? What happened?" She demands. Of course there was a problem. For everything that goes right something must go wrong.

"The Arizona shipment was interrupted by a civilian," Deigo drones on about the details. It was resolved and the witness was taken care of, but Valeria feels lightheaded with anxiety. He described the person, and it sounds a lot like you.

#valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #cod mw2

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fancy-rock-dove · 2 years ago

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Chapter Head Art for Maybe Sprout Wings (Full set)

I have had just, So Much Fun working on these. This story really is built on such a great concept, and with such fantastic worldbuilding, and with action so thoroughly in tune with its themes that it really does reward digging into. @moorishflower's writing kills me in the best of ways (and in the sleep deprivation kind of ways but I have no regrets), and designing them was a great time. And on top of that, everyone here has been just, so lovely, so I'm very excited to post the full set of chapter head illustrations!

Stylistic consistency continues to elude me, but hopefully these look like a matched enough set regardless. Cursive titles are the chapter titles, block print is my own title for the illustration. Just for fun, and in tribute to the (probably truly unhinged) amount of time I spent thinking about Symbolism while making these, I'm including one selected Fun Fact relevant to my thoughts on some part of each of these at the bottom of this post in case that interests anyone!

Ch 1: Baobabs are some of the oldest living flowering plants on the planet and can live up to two millennia. I have a lot of feelings about the sheer volume of life these trees can contain (both spatially and in time) and what that means for how we look at them.

Ch 2: If Abel were looking to avoid anachronism, he could still absolutely have left out books that were machine-printed with moveable type, but they'd probably have to have been in Chinese or Korean, from somewhere that had already widely adopted the technology by the 14th century.

Ch 3: Homer's works contain what is believed to be the first written mention of apples in Ancient Greece. Its writing is about as many centuries removed from the events of the Odyssey as the events of this chapter are from the first recorded mention of apples in England.

Ch 4: An ink quill is definitely more aesthetic, but graphite had actually been discovered in England and pencils invented in the decades prior to Shakespeare's first writings. It's entirely possible he could've been jotting down quick notes with a pencil like any stagehand today.

Ch 5: Though Corinthian style architecture is named for the Greek city of Corinth, with which it's associated, its inventor Callimachus is actually thought to be Athenian. The spiny, curling acanthus leaves used in its motifs are generally associated with long life, immortality, and rebirth. Go figure.

Ch 6: Symbolically, clovers are a sign that others are thinking of you. They're associated with good fortune, and apparently also male energy, and seen as a sign of protection. Excellent Fiddler's Green groundcover here.

Ch 7: Three-masted, fully-rigged ships became common in Europe by the 16th or 17th centuries during the Age of Sail because the extra space for sails became more necessary with the increase in open-ocean voyages. Making them the go-to type of vessel for both trade and exploration.

Ch 8: The simple but effective design of drop spindles is largely unchanged from their first documented use in the first century CE. there's evidence of their use for spinning (making a single, stronger thread from many disparate fibers) dating back at least to the advent of agriculture, some 10,000 years ago. Definitely what I picture Clotho using.

Ch 9: The fractal, branching structures of roots, lightning, and Lichtenberg figures are all self-similar: you can get much closer and they'll still appear very similar or identical to the way they were at a distance.

Ch 10: The throne room scenes of Sandman were shot in Guildford Cathedral. The Dreaming's Castle was intentionally designed to be a mashup of a whole ton of architectural styles, but the facade and throne room definitely feel gothic or neo-gothic. It's been a classic for centuries and the gothic-style window is definitely the kind I picture Hob's room having, at least on days the castle's feeling a bit fancy.

Ch 11: The item at the front left there is a weaving shuttle. According to Artemidorus, while dreaming of most kinds of looms indicates that you should expect rest, dreaming of a warp-weighted loom -- the kind which was common in bronze-age Greece and enables multiple people to work together on the weaving -- indicates an upcoming journey.

Ch 12: I feel like I've already talked about the symbolism of this one elsewhere, so for this one, instead of a fact, a comment (that I found fun): The binding circle in this only shows up in areas covered by the puddle of the Dreaming Sea, the means by which the nature of the "gilded ring" was elucidated. :)

Ch 13: Greek ships often had eyes on their bow, which among other things, was intended to imbue them with some will and ability to avoid obstacles. The Argo famously had eyes and also some innate awareness/intelligence, and could actually speak to the crew.

Ch 14: While Calliope, muse of epic poetry and eloquence (and the one invoked at the beginning of the Odyssey) is associated with a book, scroll, or tablet, Erato, muse of romantic poetry and love stories, is depicted in crowns of rose and myrtle. My title for this one was very nearly just (Invocation pt. ii). Also, I have a headcanon that Dream has only seen very bad performances of the Odysseyif ( he's seen any at all) since antiquity. Any show that literally begins by calling his ex is something he's not gonna stay for unless he's really sure she won't actually show up.

Whew! thanks to anyone who actually read to the end of my rambling here! Clearly this whole story has been really, really fun to just turn over in my mind. Cool stuff just keeps falling out of it! Since I would literally be two photos under Tumblr's limit on this post otherwise, how about a couple bonus alternate versions at the end here? Because why not?? I added some red accents to a couple of these for fun, and though it doesn't fit the for the chapter headings, I do think it looks cool!

#Maybe Sprout Wings #fic rec #my art #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #long post #sorry?#how do I write art posts idk #dreamling

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youregonnagofaar · 1 year ago

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happy ending myth; a steve harrington story

ch. 8 snippet

pairing: best friend!eddie munson, close friend!max mayfield, slowburn!steve harrington

a/n: the rest of this chapter is still being edited but it is done. i'm feeling much better from being sick so i've been able to write chapter 9. once i'm done i will send that over to my wife so she can proof read it. thanks for being so patience life got really busy. the moodboard, for the reader, should be finished super soon now that i can look at a computer without a headache.

summary: steve jumps into lover's lake to find the portal and ends up being kidnapped by some unknown force.

word count: 1,177

taglist: @midnghtprentiss @tagakalat @livsters

“Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out.” Steve’s golden eyes were focused on you as he spoke. You gripped his forearm, and the fear of losing him flooded your brain. “Unless one of you can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for 3 years, then…” He pauses as his eyes begin to scan the boat, he watches each one of you realize that he was right. With a proud smirk, he then looked back at you, his voice oddly soothing for what he was about to do. “It’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right?” You nodded as your hand fell to your side letting out a defeated sigh. Fear crept through your brain as you watched Steve take off his shirt, the moon glistening off his skin making your eyes soften.

In normal Eddie fashion, he broke the silence. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I do not want to go down there.” As he spoke, he began wrapping the flashlight in a plastic bag. You gave him an annoyed look and in return, he rolled his eyes, so you mouthed the words “Be Nice”. Shrugging, he gave Steve a toothy grin before handing him the water-protected flashlight. “Good luck.”

Steve looked at Eddie’s facial expression and raised his eyebrows. “Thanks?” His attention quickly turned to the water and you watched as his facial expressions changed. The look was similar to the careful turn he made with you in the car earlier. You desperately wanted to be back in the car with him, on the way to his house instead of finding some portal to another world. Behind you, Eddie lit a cigarette, something he often did when under stress. Robin took it out of his mouth, making a disgusted noise before throwing it into the water. The act left Eddie bewildered, he attempted to get your attention but quickly realized that your focus was elsewhere.

Before Steve could jump into the frigid water, you placed your fingers around his wrist, his pulse was elevated. Despite the confident act he was pulling, there was still fear hidden behind the facade. In a gentle tone, you spoke his name.

“Steve.”

His honey-brown irises met yours. His facial expression softened, leaning forward, he let his face get closer to yours. As this small moment happened, the others gave each other knowing glances. All of them were painfully aware that something was happening between the two of you. “Be careful.” He nodded with a smile on his lips before he turned back to the water. After a deep breath, he jumped in using the force of his legs to swim deeper.

The few seconds he spent down there felt like hours, you kept your eyes on the murky water waiting to see any sign of him or the flashlight. “Where are we at Wheeler?” Robin broke the silence, her voice was meek and shaky, and her tone made you look up from the water at her with sad eyes. You placed a hand on her bouncing knee trying to provide some comfort, to which she gave you a tight-lipped smile. What Robin was feeling now was understandable, hell, you had just been through the same thing earlier with Eddie.

“Closing in on a minute,” Nancy responded, her voice had also changed. The amount of dread filling your body made your heart race, it felt as if the whole world was slowing and every muscle in your body became heavy as your mind raced. What would you even do if you lost him like this? You hadn’t told him everything, you hadn’t even kissed him. Would he even like it if you kissed him? You began to pick at your cuticles when suddenly water splashed all over the boat, causing it to rock back and forth. Quickly you turned around to see Steve's upper body as it shot out of the water. As he swam closer, you kept your eye on him, leaning closer to the edge so you could see him better.

“Oh, Christ!” Eddie exclaimed, his anxiety was getting the best of him. Making any sudden movement or sound terrifying. Once he realized it was Steve, he did his best to calm down.

“I found it!” Steve yelled out as he swam closer, your face came into view and he noticed your cheeks had become pink. The warmth that rushed through your body, on such a cold night, was obvious and he couldn’t help but smile as he swam closer. When he reached the edge of the boat, his big hands grabbed onto the metal rim. Moving hair out of his eyes, he began to do his best to slow down his breathing. His fingers found where yours were clenching the metal rim, and as his skin touched yours, it felt like you had been placed back on solid ground. As if the world had been placed back on its axis.

Robin started up the walkie-talkie, her fingers moving faster than her brain as she fumbled the buttons. “Dustin, you are goddam, Einstein,” as she spoke into the walkie-talkie, it felt like the air buzzed from all the excitement coursing through the teens. A fluttering feeling grew in your rib cage the longer Steve looked at you. This was a huge win after everything that had happened, and it was about time that this group had some good news. “Steve found the gate!”

“It’s pretty wild!” Steve said, pride washing over his face. “It’s more of a snack-sized gate than the mama gate, but still it’s pretty damn big.” He spoke fast and you didn’t really understand what he meant. The excitement, however, didn’t last long. Steve pulled on the side of the boat, his face now panicked as if something was in the water with him. That was the last thing you saw before he was quickly pulled under the water.

Robin began to scream first and then Eddie followed. Everyone but you was shouting his name, your eyes were focused on the water, trying to find any sign of life. Taking off your flannel, knowing it would hold you down, you threw it at Eddie before standing up. The last thing you heard was Eddie yelling “No!” all high-pitched before diving into the cold dark water.

There was a quick icy sting to your body as you dove into the water. Despite having no idea what you were looking for, you swam your way deeper into the pitch-black abyss. Nothing was visible under the surface, it was as if you had been swallowed in darkness. With all your might you swam further and further down into Lover’s Lake assuming that Steve had been pulled straight down. It didn’t take long for your eyes to focus on a blurry light of red, taking that as some sign. You pushed your body forward swimming through the mysterious red glow in the ground not knowing what would be on the other side.

As you swam through the portal your body shot straight into another world.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #happy ending myth series #steve harrington x y/n fluff

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dattebae · 2 years ago

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TMG: Finding Cain (Ch.3)

CHAPTERS: [1], [2], [3]

(AO3 LINK)

Pairing: RK900 (Nines)/Female Reader

Word count: 6,326

Rating: Explicit ( 18+ )

Warnings: Physical and sexual torture, degradation, violence, guns, blood and a touch of chemical X to create the perfect powerpuff girl.

Note: It's been 9 months.

The bathroom walls echoed with the sound of droplets and your rapid breaths, but despite your terrible state, Cain was the one who felt a cold deep in his bones. It had been thirteen hours since he’d tied you to the chair and watched you endure countless sessions of freezing water, but you’d still refused to answer his questions. It made him reconsider everything that he thought he knew about you. Every single conclusion he’d made from the moment he laid eyes on you in the selection program until now had turned into loose ends for him to tie on to a truth. Whatever that was, he’d force them out of you.

Your betrayal had made him question your physical profile as well. He had no idea what your strengths or weaknesses were anymore. Had you faked all signs of weakness from the start? Had it all been a strategy for you to fall under the radar and do your dirty work, whatever that was, right under the agency’s nose without risking suspicion?

He was sitting on a chair across from you while he studied and reflected on your character. Your head was hanging low, hair a wet, tangled curtain over your face as you panted and shook from the excruciating cold.

Cain didn’t feel sorry for you.

He didn’t care that you were bordering on hypothermia in a soaked tank top and a pair of panties before his eyes. Unsurprisingly, you seemed to care even less.

He was well aware of how well you were trained to endure torture, and those bruises and cigarette marks from Eden Club were proof enough. It was never easier for women in hostage situations out on the field, and despite your training, Cain decided to use that to his advantage. It would not only help him crack the truth out of you, but also help him measure out your limits.

So far, Cain had used the cold water and your exhaustion serve as your torture, but despite how close you were to shutting down, you never answered his questions. Cain twisted the shower knob for what felt like the millionth time, and you whimpered when another ice session rained over you.

He calmly sat before you after a moment, elbows resting over his knees as he hunched over to peek through your messy locks of wet hair.

“ It’s unbearable, isn’t it? ” he murmured, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “ The tight pressure in your scalp, the numb pulsations in your muscles. Any more of this and your body will shut down. ”

The small scoff you let out sounded more like a huff. Cain continued to observe you, listening as you tried to calm your erratic breaths.

“ You know how this works, ” He proceeded, “ You know there is no limit to the methods we use in these situations. At this point, you’re only making this worse for yourself. ”

“ Is that supposed to scare me? ” You muttered, teeth chattering and voice shaky. Cain’s eyes narrowed a fraction, managing to catch your stern ones between some wet locks of hair.

“ You splash some water on me and expect me to sing like a bird? ” You sneered.

The defiance in your eyes was just as sharp as Cain remembered it to be. His jaw tightened at your words, eyes hardening when you managed a small snort.

“ Looks like Amanda still has an old taste for torture. Shocking. ”

Your jab was a classic method to force an emotional response out of an enemy, and even though Cain was well aware of that, it still took him some effort to keep his calm, controlled facade.

“ Where is Luther? ” He countered, voice stern.

Your jaw clenched, venom quickly replacing the mockery in your eyes.

“ Why don’t you ask your beloved superior instead? ” you spat, jerking against the restraints.

Cain’s brows pinched together, eyes turning cold at your pathetic accusation.

“ You are a disgrace to this agency. ” Cain calmly said, “ Maybe it would’ve been more appropriate to leave you in the hands of Zlatko and his friends. ”

“ I sacrificed my life— my dignity, for their dirty politics. ” you retorted, lips tinted blue and teeth chattering from the cold. And yet, despite it all, Cain couldn’t miss the fire in your eyes.

“ Amanda’s goal was never for you to help me, Cain. She sent you here to stop me from killing Zlatko because the CIA struck a fucking deal with him in the middle of my operation! ”

There had been no doubt in Cain’s mind why he’d been sent to take you back to Vancouver. Luther’s disappearance had made your mission to shut Zlatko’s network down practically impossible. It was a two-man job that you had no chance to finish on your own. Nothing else.

A moment of silence passed between you before Cain decided to ask you the very question that showed how little trust he had in you.

“ I’ve been your target this whole time, haven’t I?”

You scoffed.

“ The ego they’ve trained into you is remarkable. ”

“ You wanted to keep me here. You wanted to distract me from what your team was plotting out there. ”

Despite your defiance, Cain could clearly see the strength draining from your body. He also knew what this meant. This state would either make you come clean, or you would pass out on him, which gave him very little time to get what he wanted.

“ I got lucky with the storm… ” you lamely tried.

“ You seduced me. ”

You scoffed again, but weaker this time.

“ I had to pass the time somehow. ”

It was such a simple comment. Such a common thing for you to say to deflect from what he was getting at, but it still hurt. Cain felt like an arrow had pierced through his chest. And boy, your aim was good.

“ She got to Luther…” you continued as the silence dragged on, energy draining with each passing moment. “ Amanda got to Luther first, and then she sent you after me. That’s it. That’s the truth. ”

A longer silence followed your words, and Cain spent those moments listening to your frantic breaths while his mind processed your claims. You were lying. You had to be. Amanda would never keep him in the dark like that.

“ Why would she do that? ” he found himself asking, after all. At that point he wasn’t sure whether he meant you, or Amanda.

This time, you didn’t answer right away. Cain watched as your eyelids grew heavier, arms falling over the armrest as you slumped against the chair.

“ Because she knew Luther and I were double agents, ” you whimpered, trying to control your frantic breaths.

“ Because she wanted to test you. ”

***

Each breath that Cain felt leaving his lungs was a hot, angry cloud that evaporated in the cold air of the bathroom. Amanda didn’t legally owe him any information that wasn’t useful to his objective: his mission. And yet, each step he took stung as you led him down a path of realization. A realization that didn’t technically occur through new information, but that still somehow shook the foundation of his reality. You forced him to see the facts from a new perspective. It was a narration of his life story where he wasn’t the chosen one. He wasn’t special or important to the agency that he devoted his life to, he wasn’t important to you: he was just a pawn on a chess board and both of you were playing him.

Cain couldn’t recall when he’d turned the water off, but by the time he realized it, his hand was tight around your jaw and your teeth were gritting from the pressure. You glared up at him with a fury in your eyes that he reflected back to you twice as feverishly. He would never admit that your words had shook something that had been standing solid for all of his life. He would never admit that you had made him question himself and his authority.

“ Who do you work for? ” he found himself pushing, fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“ Fuck you. ” You spat the words like they were venom in your mouth, blatantly mocking his fury as you fought against the restraints holding you back.

Physical pain was an inconvenience that Cain knew would never let get to you, and despite the fear of his new reality, and despite the anger that he masked it with, he still had the brain capacity to find your weakness. His plan was cruel, and even though some part of him knew that you’d probably never forgive him for what he was about to do, you’d left him no choice.

Deep down, some part of him must’ve known it’d come to this. He must’ve known from the moment he’d tied you to the chair, that he’d have to use your trauma to break you. It would make him cruel and de-humanize him in a way most cannot recover from, but once again: you’d left him no choice.

“ Fuck you, huh? ” he breathed, shaking from the anger boiling beneath his skin. You stared up at him with a snarl, looking much like a wild, feral animal refusing to be tamed.

“ Is that what you want? ” he continued, watching as something small changed in your expression. It was the first crack, a micro-evidence of your upcoming loss that urged the cold-blooded agent in him to continue.

Cain angled his head to the side, allowing his pale eyes to scan your visage. He’d have no sympathy for a traitor. A traitor who lied to him: who used him. It was the continuous mantra of your betrayal that kept him on the right track. It was the continuous thought of everything Amanda had taught him that kept him going:

It’s not about how many hits you land, Cain. It’s about where you hit.

“ You want to be fucked like the whore you really are? ”

He didn’t allow you to turn your head when the buzzing from the vibrator echoed through the bathroom. He didn’t allow your heavy breaths or the sudden terror in your eyes to discourage him from suddenly pressing the device against the wet cloth between your legs, making you gasp.

“ Son of a—! ”

“ I’ll fuck you like one, Jasmine. I’ll use you like my own, personal fuck toy… ” He cruelly spat in your ear, pressing the device harder against the soaked material covering your core. You let out a frustrated scream, struggling to break free.

“ And when I’m bored with you, I’ll dispose of you like you are nothing. I’ll send you back to Zlatko and watch his men pick up where they left off… ”

You screamed, clawing at anything to break free from him, from the cruelty of his words, but there was no use. A noticeable crack was spider-webbing through you when Cain finally added:

“ This is all you’re good for. ”

He watched the turbulent shift of anger and hurt pass through you, and soon enough, tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you were cursing at him, at those men who’d violated you, screaming despite your lack of breath.

“ Who do you work for? ” he tried again, voice cold and devoid of sympathy.

Your head bowed with a pitiful noise, legs shaking from the mixture of pain, pleasure and disgust traveling through your body as Cain pressed the device on your clit. Hard.

“ Speak! ” he yelled, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes again.

You were close. Cain could tell by your heavy and drunken eyes: the way your limbs shook and your fingers dug into the armrest. The control you’d had over your body for all these hours was finally his. Silver eyes watched your lips part with a strangled sob, and soon enough, you managed a weak, strangled murmur:

“ Jericho… ”

***

It all happened so fast.

Cain barely had a moment to register what you’d said when your legs suddenly snapped up around his neck, and began to squeeze. It was the same move you’d pulled on him back in Eden Club, and he was quickly reminded of the high probability of him actually dying from a very cruel strangulation. The sense of urgency and desperation in every micro-expression on your face, in every muscle in your limbs, felt familiar too. Hours of physical torture had done nothing to crack you, but his words? His words had been too cruel, too similar to the ones of evil men over the years.

How they reminded you, over and over again:

You’re nothing but a toy. You’re a worthless object to be used and disposed of.

Cain found himself snapping back into his body. The tight, cold pressure of your legs squeezing around his neck triggered his fight response, and finally he began to resist. It was a cruel battle, and when he tried to shout your name and tell you to stop, your response was to squeeze him with everything you’d got instead. When you reached your end, a heart-wrenching scream, your scream, rang through his ears and echoed through the cabin: out to the tall, snowy mountains outside.

The silent aftermath left his ears ringing. It wasn’t long before his vision began to blur, the fatigue causing his hands to loosen around your legs and his body to feel too heavy for him to carry. When his eyelids grew heavier, he knew it was over.

His body slumped to the floor, and everything was swallowed by darkness.

***

DETROIT, 20:13 PM

THREE YEARS PRIOR

Watching Connor smoke felt foreign to Richard no matter how many times he’d caught him on his secret getaways. He could be sneaking off behind fast food restaurants on his lunch breaks or the old police station downtown when particular cases were haunting him. The first time Richard caught Connor smoking was a couple of months after Hank’s funeral, and despite how much he disliked the sight of it even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lecture Connor. Connor wasn’t Colin, the emotional drug addict and problem brother. Connor was the responsible older brother who was patient enough to flick the crappy lighter for a fourth time before it finally sparked into a small flame inside his palm.

While the rest of the family was cleaning up after Mavis’ first birthday party, Connor had snuck out through the garage door and hid in the corner to take a smoke. Suki knew about Connor’s little habit, and Richard could only assume that Connor either played along with her silence, or pretended not to notice. Whatever the case was, Richard had no interest in getting involved.

“ You covered for me, didn’t you? ” Connor murmured, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Richard was leaning against the garage wall, arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stared at a dark sky, trying to appreciate the scatter of stars despite their lack of symmetry.

“ I would’ve expected a little more gratitude in your tone, Connor. ”

Connor was gazing at the stars too, but his eyes were heavy with a sense of sadness and exhaustion that only seemed to show when he held a cigarette between his fingers. From the corner of his eye, Richard watched his older brother take another drag from the bud, and when he exhaled, it sounded too much like a sigh.

“ I really wish you would put half of that effort into yourself, Rich. ”

At that, Richard couldn’t resist a small scoff. The irony of Connor’s wish was almost insulting. What was there for Richard to achieve that he yet had not achieved? What kind of standard or test had he not reached or overcome throughout his life for Connor to even suggest something so ignorant? He wouldn’t even entertain that with an answer. So he hummed, shifted his weight, and listened to the mixture of dampened noises from the house: the silent squeaks from grasshoppers in the night.

“ I get it, ” he began, sounding a touch nonchalant.

“ You miss Hank. You always do when Colin has us gathered in this house. ”

Richard didn’t know how Connor reacted to his words, but for some reason, he wasn’t eager to find out.

“ What about you? ” Connor asked after what sounded like another drag. Richard felt him turn his head, that curious and caring gaze almost touching his skin.

“ This isn’t about me. ” His voice sounded a touch more defensive than he wanted it to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it as he proceeded: “ I’m not the one hiding from my wife to smoke. ”

Nothing about what he told Connor was irrational, but somehow the words still tasted bitter in his mouth. Maybe it was because deep down, he knew he was out of line for kicking Connor down for a minor flaw. After all, Connor hadn’t been the brother with problematic tendencies that Richard had been forced to look after. If anything, Connor had been the support system for both him and Colin that neither of them seemed to appreciate enough. This was just the perfect example of that.

“ You’re right, ” Connor smiled a little to himself, flicking the cigarette to the ground and killing the glow with the heel of his shoe. Richard observed him from the corner of his eye, battling the instinct to map every expression and word Connor gave him into a profile for him to analyze.

“ I don’t like confrontations…and sometimes when I struggle to deal with my grief, it’s easier to hide than to tell Suki. ” He watched Connor’s brow furrow as he thought for a moment. “ And it’s not right to put you in the middle of this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be responsible for me after everything you did for Sixty. ”

The hardest part was that Connor wasn’t like Colin. He was too self aware and open-minded to fall victim to whatever tactic Richard had learned to deflect from his own vulnerabilities.

“ Connor- ”

“ However, ” Connor firmly interrupted, meeting Richard’s eye with a sense of assertiveness that was far too similar to Hank’s. It caused Richard’s body to freeze.

“ You need to know your place. Despite what you think, you’re not responsible for me or my problems. ”

There was a pang of discomfort thundering through Richard’s chest, and for some unknown reason, he just allowed it to spread around his system. Amanda had trained him well enough to inspire dozens of responses to Connor’s accusation, but somehow they were all lingering in the back of his head like background noise. Instead, all he could hear was Hank.

His ghost speaking through Connor, only to haunt him.

The grasshoppers sounded louder now than before, and before Richard could collect himself enough to form a decent response, a very loud Colin suddenly opened the garage door with his daughter crying in his arms. It was the perfect interruption to what felt like a suffocating silence, and for once, Richard was thankful for Colin’s tendency to storm into private conversations.

“ Oh, that hurts like a mother—! ” Colin squeaked, trying to pry Mavis’ strong fingers off his disheveled hair. They were both covered in a mixture of what Richard assumed was paint and various cupcake frostings, the evidence being the small trace of leftovers still sticking to a crinkled muffin form in Mavis’ other fist.

“ Mavis, baby, let go of dada’s hair. ” He tried again, which only earned him a scream followed by a particularly sharp tug from his daughter.

“ Fucking hell! ”

Connor was struggling not to laugh, and he was soon attempting to make up for his failure by distracting Mavis with his keys, which she eventually accepted… with the wrong hand.

“ Well, at least she’s not crying anymore. ” Colin huffed, accepting his fate. He’d have a chunk of his hair in his daughter’s sticky fist until she decided that it was not interesting in it anymore.

It was strange how easily Richard could read Colin’s mind. Although, he couldn’t differentiate Amanda’s training with the survival skills he’d earned from all those years he’d lived with him. Richard could trace the moment his brother finally registered the situation, causing him to raise a brow at the other two like he was suspicious of being left out of something important.

“ Why’re you guys out here? ”

Connor wiped off some frosting from Mavis cheek, smiling when she chewed on his keys.

“ I snuck out to smoke. ” He bluntly admitted, causing Richard to frown.

He couldn’t grasp how Connor could be so open about his flaws and weaknesses. What would that earn anyone? More importantly, how would that fix his problems? He found himself struggling to tune into that conversation, trying to distance himself by staring down the empty road.

“ Lieutenant Anderson. ” Colin sneered, acting like he’d caught his brother doing something nasty.

“ I knew you had a sneaky fucking side to you. ”

Connor tried to sound serious, but Colin could still see the amusement ghosting over his features.

“ Don’t cuss in front of your kid. ”

“ Fine. You got any left for your new smoke-buddy? ” Colin wiggled his eyebrows, causing Connor to raise one of his own at him.

“ Come on, I’m just messing around. ”

While his brothers continued with their playful wits, Richard realized how much their transparency bothered him. He continued to stare at the road while something warm and familiar clashed with his cold, hard thoughts. It was a feeling inside his chest that reminded him how long he’d wanted this. For so many years, he’d been fighting to have his family back together again. So then why? Why did it make him so irritable and restless to watch his brothers be so open with each other?

Colin decided to head back inside after a while, but only a few steps into Connor’s attempt to follow him, he halted. Richard was still standing there, showing no signs of wanting to go back inside. A deep frown was decorating his usually controlled features, and his silver eyes were still staring down the road like he was waiting for something to emerge from the shadows.

“ It’s not too late, you know? ” Connor finally said, breaking the odd tension.

Richard’s attention snapped back to his older brother, but he didn’t seem to be following where Connor was going with that statement.

The oldest brother smiled a little in response, lifting one shoulder in a weak shrug.

“ I’m saying you can still do something different with your life. You can start a family, settle down. If that’s what you want. ”

Richard scoffed a little, a weak smirk lingering on his lips.

“ I assure you, I have no desire to have kids, or a partner. ”

Connor took a moment to study the youngest brother, trying to see beyond that icy exterior and non-faltering confidence. Inside the house, there were muffled noises of chatter, laughter and children playing, a combination of sounds that should’ve warmed Richard’s insides. But he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

“ Sometimes I wonder if you really lack desire, ” Richard’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Connor’s words, his usually soft expression shifting into something heavy and serious.

“ Or if you’re just a martyr for someone else’s cause. ”

***

Moscow, 05:03 AM

PRESENT DAY

The cold, bitter air of the Moscow mountains cut through the walls as Cain zipped up his duffel bag. It was quiet, and the only sounds he could hear were the distant howls of wolves and the gentle rustling of the snow-laden trees outside the cabin. He’d woken up all alone in that bathroom, cold drained and filled with a strange sensation that continuously dragged him back to that memory of Connor back in Detroit. For whatever reason, you’d decided to spare his life, and somehow that only made him feel worse.

Dragging his exhausted, heavy body and navigating through the empty cabin was nothing short of a nightmare, but he’d been determined. Determination had always been a common quality of his during his missions, but this felt different. This time he wasn’t going to be used. This time he was in charge of his own mission. The mission that would get him to the one thing no one seemed to be willing to give him:

The truth.

As he loaded his weapons, he reached for his satellite phone and dialed a familiar number. Five signals later, Amanda’s voice crackled through the speaker, and Cain held his breath for what was to come.

" Richard." Amanda's voice was cool and detached, as usual. “ It’s good to finally hear from you. ”

"What do you know about Jericho?" Cain bluntly cut in.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Cain could almost hear Amanda's mind working through the situation.

" It’s only been a few days since we spoke, agent. Was that all it took for you to forget your place? "

Cain’s jaw clenched. He knew very well that he had to play by Amanda’s rules if he was to go on with his plans. So he paused, knowing that his answer would be critical. “ Agent 900 reporting. There was one casualty in the process of escorting 851 out of Eden club. We’ve been hiding in a location outside of the city until she escaped my custody. ”

There is a pause before Cain speaks again:

“Permission to proceed, Miss Stern?”

Although he couldn’t see her, Cain could practically sense her smirk in the silence. Of course his obedience would please her.

“ Permission granted. ”

" 851 claimed that you knew about her infiltration. About Jericho. She claimed that you sent to test me during this operation. " he sounds bitter, almost accusing.

Again, there was a silence on the other end of the line, but this time it was longer, more contemplative. Cain waited patiently, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

" You have been with us for many years Richard, of course we trust you. " Amanda began, “ It does, however, not diminish the fact that you haven’t reported back to me in days.”

Cain's jaw clenched, and he could feel the anger building inside of him. " You sent me out here in blindfolds. You risked my entire operation for a loyalty test that I passed years ago!"

" You are my best agent, Richard." Amanda sternly countered. “ I knew that you would figure it out. You always do. ”

Cain’s jaw was set tight, his movements turning more reckless as he packed up the last of his belongings.

" Luther, " he began, “ What happened to him? ”

Another tense silence followed.

Cain could hear Amanda's voice softening slightly, but the underlying steel was still there.

" Moscow headquarters. He’s in our custody. "

So you were telling the truth.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to break anything he could get his hands on and curse every person that built the foundation of the agency.

“ I need you to give me full permission to break into the building, and get him out of there. ” Cain requested, eyes sharp as he stared out of the window.

He could feel the expression on Amanda’s face on the other end of the line: Her cold, half lidded eyes narrowing on him like she couldn’t read his mind. A violation in her world.

“ You wanted to know where my loyalties lie, Amanda. ” Cain proceeded, “ This is my opportunity to solidify that, once and for all.”

Amanda was still silent, and Cain took that as a sign of affirmation. She definitely knew where he was going with this.

“ You’re convinced that he will lead you to Jericho if you set him free. ” Amanda said, voice a little flat.

“ I’ll be their newest member, ” Cain carried on,

“ And their worst nightmare. ”

He walked to the door, taking one last look around the messy cabin. The kitchen, your bedroom - each place haunting him with the memories of what the two of you had shared together.

“ Don’t disappoint me, 900. ” Amanda’s voice was colder than the snow outside, but it wouldn’t deter him. Nothing would.

When the line went dead, Cain tucked the phone back into his pocket. He slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped out into the snow.

Never looking back.

***

Night had managed to settle over the sprawling city of Moscow, casting long shadows across the streets by the time Cain got off his motorcycle. Dressed in a sleek, all-black and tactical attire, Cain removed his helmet, peering up at the facility while blending seamlessly with the darkness. The snow-covered streets muffled his footsteps as he approached the headquarters. The building stood as a fortress, bristling with security measures designed to thwart any intruder. But Cain knew the building in and out, his mind focused and his heart driven by a complex web of emotions.

For so many years, he’d relied on Amanda to get to the bottom of any problem he’d encountered. It was a strange feeling: a cocktail of guilt and anticipation that spiked his adrenaline like never before, knowing that he was only relying on himself now.

Cain casually walked through the doors of the building, his senses attuned to every creak of the floor and flicker of the surveillance cameras. He showed his badge to the first guards and declared a false mission to interrogate Luther for information. It had been Amanda’s recommendation to go with that narrative, and as much as his loyalty for her wasn’t like before, he trusted her judgment. As he moved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, Cain felt himself slipping into a familiar state: fully diving into the cold-blooded agent that Amanda takes great pride in.

Two guards stood watch near the entrance to the secure area, unaware of the impending storm that was about to break upon them. Recognizing Cain's face, a flicker of recognition passed through their eyes.

"Well, well, if it isn't Richard," one of the guards remarked, hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "What brings you here, buddy? Late-night paperwork?"

Cain nodded curtly at the guard who’d escorted him before he left, expression a mixture between cold and stoic as he approached the other two.

" Just tying up some loose ends. " He sounded bored.

The second guard chimed in, his tone filled with mockery. "You sure you're not lost? This isn't your usual stomping ground."

Cain’s expression didn’t falter, silver eyes never leaving the guards. "I suggest you stop wasting my time and step aside. "

Whatever sense of humor the guards were carrying was swallowed by the thick tension in the air. Annoyance danced across their faces before they exchanged a brief glance between each other. Cain sighed deeply, and before they could react, he struck: hands a blur of calculated aggression. The first guard was caught off guard, stumbling backward as Cain's blow landed on him. The second guard reacted, swinging a punch that Cain deftly evaded.

The corridor erupted into chaos as the guards fought to regain their footing. The echoes of grunts and the thud of impact reverberated through the high-security building, noises of struggle that threatened to expose Cain's entire operation. Cain's movements were fluid and deliberate, each strike honed by years of training that Amanda had beaten into him. There was an irony in that. An irony in the way he relied on his agility and speed to evade her guards' retaliatory blows, his mind sharp and focused on his objective—to get to Luther by any means.

With a series of calculated blows, Cain disarmed one of the guards, seizing the advantage. The other guard, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and urgency, pressed on with renewed determination. Blow after blow was exchanged, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood. Finally, with a deft maneuver, Cain used the weapon in his hand to knock down the remaining guard.

A deadly silence followed, punctuated by the heavy breathing of the defeated men on the floor.

For a moment, Cain simply stared down at them. His chest was heaving, eyes cold and fingers tight around the weapon in his hand. He’d never felt so relaxed as he did in that moment, comfortable with the violence that still echoed down the bright hall. Cain’s silver orbs soon locked on the CCTV camera, unblinking and resolute as it stared at him like an accusing eye.

It was unclear what it was that drove him to do it, but whatever it was, it overwhelmed something dark and venomous inside him. It encouraged his hand to raise the gun, perfectly aimed at the panicking guard on the floor whose cries were completely ignored in the background. Silver orbs continued to stare into the eye, challenging its authority with a rebellion that was sealed the moment he pulled on the trigger, splattering red over the wall and himself.

***

When the doors slid open, Cain released the limp arm of the guard whose hand he’d used to unlock the panel, and let it fall to the floor. Inside, the room was bright with an unsettling, cold light. At first glance, it looked like a hospital or a studio of some kind. Luther was behind a transparent wall of glass, looking uncharacteristically pale and drained as Cain stepped into the room.

For a moment, the former agent simply stared at him.

“ Oh, boy. That’s definitely gonna leave a stain. ” Luther smiled a little, watching as Cain looked down at the blood splattered over his clothes, the gun held firmly in his hand. He couldn’t hide the slight smirk on his lips as he looked up at Luther again: realizing that the former agent seemed to remember his preference for cleanliness despite how long it’d been since they met.

Luther’s own smirk looked weaker, the dark circles under his eyes and the slight slouch of his posture revealing hints of the torture he’d faced inside the facility. The former agent was a big man, and Cain could only imagine Amanda’s opportunity to bump up the creativity in her torture methods.

“ I gather you’ve met Jasmine again. ” Luther said, and this time his smirk is more like a smile.

“ What gave me away? ” Cain's gaze shifted from Luther to the room's sterile surroundings. The white walls were interrupted only by a few spotlights and a small table cluttered with notes. The transparent glass separating them made Luther look like an exhibit in a disturbing experiment.

" I could say the blood, the gun, and the unmistakable touch of sadistic creativity, " Luther replied, his voice laced with a mix of humor and appreciation for Cain's perceptiveness. " But it’s mostly that you bothered to come here. "

Cain’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, seeking any clue that might help them in their escape. The sound of distant footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond, fueling his sense of urgency.

"We don't have much time," Cain whispered, his voice heavy with determination. "I have to find a way to override the security measures and get you out of here."

Luther's gaze shifted to a control panel mounted on the wall near the glass partition, before it was back on Cain.

“ What makes you think I'll come with you? ”

Cain's eyes widened slightly at Luther's question, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. How did he not see this coming? He knew that the physical and psychological torment Luther had endured in this place could leave lasting scars, both visible and hidden. Luther had enough time and reason on his hands to detest him and the agency more than before, so why would he blindly trust Cain?

Cain took a step closer, his voice steady and assertive. " We both know I’m fully capable of framing you for this if I really wanted to. But I'd much rather do this the civil way. "

Luther frowned in response, dark eyes narrowing a fraction as they studied Cain’s silver orbs in silence. In that moment, Cain could see a fraction of distaste that he’d seen in you, so many times before.

“ I didn’t come here for that. I came here because I want to get to Jericho. ” Cain continued, ignoring the alarm ringing in the distance. Time was not on his side, and Luther was far too calm for a man given the opportunity to escape a torture cell.

“ I want the truth, Luther, and I know you can help me get to it. ” Cain added, those silver eyes meeting Luther’s contemplating gaze.

“ Please. Don’t make me do this the hard way. ”

Luther’s eyes drifted to the dead guards by the door, watching the flicker of red from the alarm shining over their still limbs before they finally returned to Cain.

His expression shifted then, abandoning doubt and weakness, only to make room for a newfound determination.

"Look for an access card," he suggested, voice firm and assertive. "They usually keep them on the guards."

Cain's attention turned to the guard he had incapacitated moments ago. He wasted no time, rushing over to swiftly rummage through the guard's pockets, finally finding an access card attached to a retractable keychain.

"I've got it," Cain declared, his voice filled with determination.

Cautiously, Cain approached the control panel and swiped the access card in a designated slot. The room hummed with a faint electronic buzz as the control panel came to life, displaying a series of options and commands. Cain's fingers danced across the panel, navigating through menus and security protocols with practiced ease.

A moment later, the glass partition emitted a soft hiss as it retracted into the ceiling, freeing Luther from his confinement. The two agents locked eyes, a connection instantly forming between them.

They exchanged a brief nod, their unspoken bond solidifying their shared commitment. Luther was the first to calmly walk out of the room, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders as his eyes stared down the long hall.

And in that moment, Cain had no doubt that they’d be leaving the facility with more than just two dead bodies left behind them.

#dbh #detroit become human #rk900 #rk900 x reader #dbh nines x reader #dbh nines #dbh rk900

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friendofcars · 1 year ago

Note

hi i was reading your mask dream essay and was wondering what you thought of ronan thinking of adam in the mask dream when gansey accepts the molotov cocktail from kavinsky in chap 27 of tdt? i personally can't think of why he decided to connect those moments but perhaps u can. thanks if you choose to answer!

hi! so i will preface my response by saying i went back through some discussions in the trc book club discord server and a direct quote from me about this exact line is "tbh im a little befuddled by this connection" so i'll do my best (and if anyone has additional or opposing insight they'd like to share, please chime in if you'd like). this is a very rambling response so please ask for clarification if you'd like/if you need to!

i originally tried quite hard to glean additional insight into ronan and adam's relationship from that line- and their relationship is certainly relevant, but i think the main purpose of the line is to provide insight into ronan's perception of gansey in a specific context (although to be fair, the context, which is at kavinsky's infamous substance party, circles back to adam for a variety of reasons*). in short, ronan observes a more toothful version of gansey, so he is reminded of the more toothful version of adam from the mask nightmare.

but i do want to think about this a bit more. here are what i see as the purposes of having ronan recall adam in the mask nightmare:

to draw comparisons/contrasts amongst gansey, kavinsky, and adam. the obvious contrast throughout the chapter is between gansey and kavinsky: the beginning of the chapter highlights how rare it is for gansey to exist in kavinsky's henrietta (darker, more electric, what else??), gansey only making an appearance in defense of his own henrietta (monmouth), but they both represent possible paths for ronan, possible leaders, possible approaches to life and magic, etc. it is even rarer for adam and kavinsky to cross paths on page. how does gansey act in an environment when his presidential mask is a hindrance rather than an asset? does he become more similar to ronan? to kavinsky? to adam? to ronan's nightmare adam only??? the important thing is that ronan is thinking about all three of them. is gansey on fire another mask, or it is a truer component of gansey himself? it's gansey's realest and wildest version of himself from ronan's pov, at least. the mention of the mask invites us to think of things like facades, secrets, public vs private personas, mutlifaceted beings, etc.

to remind the reader that ronan is frequently thinking about adam and is easily reminded of him (in both chapters 9 and 27, adam is absent, ronan experiences complicated emotional reactions that obscure his attraction to gansey, kavinsky, and adam [the attraction is obscured to him; it's pretty clear to the reader, especially if you're re-reading], and then he makes some sort of comparison to adam. in ch 9, he's homesick and angry and thinks of adam, about to break, and how ronan has seen himself in the mirror about to break in the same way. in ch 27, he sees a fiercer, more assertive, less reticent gansey and thinks of adam in the dream, when adam was fierce and assertive and wild too. worth noting that ronan is the fiercest and most reckless out of the three of them- what do we learn about ronan as he sees or imagines his friends acting more like him? it seems exhilarating in ch 27 (gansey), but terrifying in ch 17 (adam in the nightmare). what are the consequences of gansey being more ronan like? is ronan into this? (yes lol it's his canonical favorite version of gansey). are these toothful versions of gansey and adam also more kavinsky-like? is ronan aware of this?

*some related thoughts that somewhat restate the above bullet point: reference to adam is somewhat second secret-like as in ronan is confronted w guys he's attracted to and adam isn't there- but of course he's reminded of him. of course (is it at night? is everything worse? is he surrounded by desire- but without the self hatred? i don't think the tone in the substance party chapter is depressive at all- it's exhilarating for ronan, but there's almost a melancholy aftertaste because ronan knows this toothful gansey, this gansey on fire, is ephemeral. he's forced to compare gansey and kavinsky- as the beginning of the chapter implies, he can't have both. of course. the reason i'm saying this setting is adam relevant bc ronan feels like the choice is between gansey and kavinsky- he doesn't see adam as an option- that's a flippant way to put it and i'm thinking not only in terms of idk, romantic prospects, but also in terms of a philosphy/approach to life and relationships and creativity and power and magic and love and... [on a related note: he has yet to realize that the realest choice is choosing himself, life vs death/self-hatred] and now i'm thinking all kind of thoughts about adam's third choice that he makes himself, you know the whole two of swords arc in trb..... another post perhaps.)

he doesn't spare much of a reaction re: adam and the mask in this chapter (it seems to be a fairly fleeting thought), which was pervasively terrifying in the nightmare and mundane at the barns and when thought of at the substance party- no fear, no revulsion, no concern- just a passing thought. it's noise; adam is a constant undercurrent in his thoughts (second secret lyricless melody playing in the background), and in this context is mainly adding to ronan's observations about gansey and kavinsky and how they're alike/how they differ rather than adam as a primary topic.

we could also talk a little about the term toothful, which out of context just means having visible/prominent teeth, but in ronan's narration is correlated with assertiveness, maybe even ferocity. the lynch brothers (mainly ronan and declan) are often described as having excellent teeth- this could be a nod to their affluence, but symbolically, they will 'bite' when necessary to assert themselves in social situations. there's also a line about ronan's 'prison of teeth' in trb which brings me to the topic of secrets, which for ronan is in league w shame, desire, etc. which are relevant to both the nightmare chapter and the substance party chapter. that's a more tenuous connection though (imo). also thinking about desperation, about hunger, how in trk adam and ronan are described as hungry animals. i'm also pretty sure kavinsky gets described as hungry looking at some point, maybe from blue's perspective in ch 6? the mitsubishi's grille is described as voracious, which i think counts anyway. is showing teeth offense or defense? does this vary from character to character? are the toothful actions truthful? lies? shields? confessions?

i also can't ignore the line that tells us this gansey on fire has made fewer appearances since the "introduction of adam's taming presence" which opens too many cans of worms to address right now but i'm fascinated by the fact that ronan sees adam as a taming presence- it's such a contrast to the nightmare adam, so perhaps ronan is afraid a connection with adam will corrupt adam, will make him wild in an ugly way, even though it turns out that ronan's influence on adam (esp. in bllb) is more freeing than anything. adam also seems himself as wild, unrefined, etc. as mentioned in most of his self deprecating narrations, the conceptualization of his family through animal, ecological, etc. metaphors... so in general this plays into the recurring trc theme of self-perception vs how people who love you perceive you and the shape of the space between these two conceptual 'people,' but it also intimates that gansey has molded himself to be more diplomatic and refined and restrained after meeting adam, which could be gansey trying to avoid conflict, or trying to impress adam, or not wanting to put adam in any more danger than he's already in, or a variety of other things that ronan, prone to jealousy, might be worried about. i think the truth is closest to some version of gansey wanting adam to stick around so badly that he's afraid of scaring him off. so much to consider.

another topic to consider- not so much directly related to your question, but while we're at the substance party, fire! the molotov cocktail, autonomy, self immolation, choice (gansey throwing the fire at the volvo instead of the mistubishi....so many choices made as thematic elements of these books...), obedience, kavinsky's death by dragon....ronan's love being described as fire about a billion times in this chapter but also the ocean burning in trk, gansey on fire of course! not only toothful but on fire- gansey being more aligned with ronan-like qualities again. should we mention that the mask is wooden? vulnerable to fire? that seems worth noting. another possible tangent- masks vs sunglasses. gansey's glasses (which are pointedly not masks) vs kavinsky's sunglasses. concealment vs confession. i also have listed in my notes the following: duality, fluctuating personas, masks and facets, beauty vs violence, tools vs weapons, ronan's love and rage and hunger reflected onto his friends... so much to think about

i'm also interested in the fact that after gansey throws the molotov cocktail at the volvo, ronan feels as if he's in a dream (not a nightmare). there's still a confluence of desire and shame for him (he describes his elation at the situation as "polluted pleasure") but i'm chewing on the possible reasons why this situation is less terrifying for him than the non-literal aspects of the mask nightmare scenario-in both situations, gansey and adam have power over ronan- gansey holds a weapon, adam is a nightmare version of himself, an omen of demonic corruption that we see in trk (see: love/connection as vulnerability, avenue of harm, adam's fear of hurting his friends, etc.), but i think they key difference (aside from the obvious difference between being awake at a very real party vs being stuck in a vivid nightmare of psychological chaos) is that ronan does not fear losing gansey- he's afraid for gansey's life, but as long as gansey is alive, ronan has him in his corner. at this point in the series, he doesn't believe the same re: adam, especially in the context of adam's sacrifice to cabeswater/ronan's guilty conscience. he seems relieved? electrified? that gansey could be like him. he seems terrified that adam could be too.

this is starting to go in circles but i'm sharing everything in case a particular detail catches someone's attention and sparks more conversation. :)

#rchl #trc #ask #i was hoping to re-read chs 17 and 27 prior to posting this but i didn't so i hope this is a somewhat satisfying response!#ive taken a recent and hopefully temporary nosedive in terms of memory and focus and critical thinking and um. morale lol #hence the rambling and unsure response but it's ok!! genuinely thanks for asking questions i love to answer them and they bring me back #to trc which makes me happy #im reading this back again. i dont know if i said anything meaty in the post but i do think it could foster further discussion/follow up

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currebunz · 2 years ago

Text

Ch.9 Reconcile and rest

Buy me a coffee

Parings: Reader x Vash & Wolfwood

The question held more weight than you had expected. Your throat felt dry and your heart dropped into your stomach after you said it. From the looks on their faces, you weren’t sure what to think. Nicholas had always been good at a poker face, but this time he wasn’t keeping up a facade. He looked confused, clearly he had no idea what you meant. But Vash was different, he looked like she had reopened a scar of his. He was almost paralyzed, how did you know that name? Did he slip up? He couldn’t have imagined Knives had said anything to you, or he hoped not.

“I don’t know who that is, needle noggin?” Nicholas turned to Vash.

“I….I don’t know that name either…” he said sadly.

You knew he was lying but you didn’t want to cause a scene right now. Getting out of here was our first priority, even if it made you upset. His face was sad, but it wasn’t confused. Vash couldn’t lie to you even if he wanted to.

“Forget it, let’s go,” you said.

Once again, they tried to find a way out. There was a loud crash as some of the ceiling gave way.

“Ahhh! It’s the ghosts!” Meryl’s scream echoed out. You followed the light and saw her covering her eyes.

“It’s called gravity-…would you look at that” Roberto waved to you.

Meryl moved her hands and her eyes lit up with relief.

“Seven! You’re okay!” she cheered.

Nicholas and Vash joined you, waving to her too. There was still the issue with how you would get up.

“Too bad none of us can fly,” Nicholas sighed.

“I’m sure we can find a way up,” Vash chuckled.

“We just need something to stand on” you said as you reached your hands up.

The ground under you shifted and suddenly all three of you were launched up through the hole. Nicholas grabbed your collar, pulling you to him as you landed on the sand. Vash landed next to you both. You shook the sand from your face and looked around for what had launched you all.

“W-what happened?” you asked.

Meryl and Roberto looked just as shocked as you did.

“You just flew out the hole!” Roberto exclaimed.

“D-Did you get ejected by something?” Meryl asked.

You weren’t sure what she meant, nothing had appeared under you. At least you didn’t think so.

“We didn’t do anything, right?” you waved your hand to Vash.

Suddenly, the sand kicked up and he was pushed by a wave of sand.

“Vash?!” you gasped.

“Hahaha! What was that?” Nicholas chuckled.

“Nico!” you turned to him.

A wave of sand pushed him over too.

“Wait, it’s you?” Roberto said in shock.

You looked at your hands, what was going on?! You put your arms to your side as the two men recovered. Vash quickly ran over to you.

“Take deep breaths, okay?” he said with a soft smile.

You nodded, trying to calm yourself down.

“W-what’s going on?” you asked him.

Vash gently took your hands in his, pointing them downward.

“I’m not sure, but if we calm down a bit I’m sure we can figure it out,” he said with a kind smile.

You looked into his eyes, doing your best to calm down.

“Okay” you said.

Nicholas walked over, giving Vash a glare.

“Hey needle-noggin, what do you know about this?” he asked.

“Huh? I’m just as lost as you are” Vash said with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah right” Nicholas grumbled.

Despite your condition, Roberto had brought up that the truck had begun working again. After what you had been through, you just wanted to get to a bed. You kept thinking about the dream you had seen when you were underground. It felt familiar but nothing about it stuck to you. Who was that woman? The truck hit a dune, causing a bump that knocked you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, space cadet. You alright?” Nicholas asked.

You frowned at him.

“I’m fine, just tired” you sighed.

“Well, don’t be too tired. We’re coming up on a town….and it doesn’t look too good” Roberto announced.

You leaned forward to peer ahead. There was a town, but it looked in bad shape. The closer the truck came, you could see most of the structures were barely sitting upright. Vash and Nicholas leaned forward too, smooshing their faces against yours as they tried to peek.

“Hey!” you yelped.

Fortunately, Meryl hit another dune, sending you all tumbling backward into the seat. You heard the other two groan as they hit the windows on the side.

“Everyone be careful, I don’t see anyone outside” Meryl warned.

As she drove into town, there wasn’t a soul outside. She parked the truck, allowing everyone to begin looking around. Vash and Nicholas tried the houses while you went with Meryl to look around. It wasn’t a ghost town, there were signs people were still living there. You figured they were hiding from something. The question was, from what? Vash had finally found an old man who had chosen a poor hiding place. He appeared shaken and fearful of something.

“Now you’ve gone and done it! It’s coming!” the man shrieked.

“What’s coming?” Vash asked.

You heard something moving fast, shifting sand like never before. The wind kicked up and something was approaching quickly, too quickly. Before you knew it, the sand had dispersed and something black had appeared. It moved too fast for you to see, grabbing the man and then launching itself into the air. You caught a glimpse of it but it just looked like swirling darkness to you.

“What is that?!” you gasped.

Vash and Nicholas chased after it, trying to get an aim at the thing without hurting the old man. It was too fast, darting from spot to spot erratically. Even you were unsure you could get a hit on it.

“What do we do? It’s moving too fast!” Meryl exclaimed.

The old man was still yelling a lot, giving you an idea. You found a metal pipe and hit it against a metal stand. The loud clang reverberated through the area loudly. The swirling mass of darkness stopped.

“Come here! I’m being really loud!” you shouted.

You had been successful in gaining its attention as the thing dropped the old man and headed in your direction. This time, Vash and Nicholas fired at it without restraint. Their bullets did nothing as the ball of darkness approached you. Even though you had acted on a whim, you weren’t running from it.

“Idiota! Move!” Nicholas shouted.

You balled up your hand into a fist, striking the ball as it reached you. The darkness dispersed, leaving nothing but smoke behind. It left you startled but you couldn’t find it anywhere. Meryl and Roberto were the first to approach you, the two appeared just as startled as you were.

“Are you okay?!” Meryl asked.

“I…I don’t feel different?” you weren’t sure how to respond.

Vash and Nicholas were upon you, both looking equally as panicked.

“What the hell was that?! You could’ve been killed!” Nicholas yelled.

You knew he was right, but you were already frustrated.

“And?! You did the same earlier!” you shouted at him.

“Hey, you two…” Vash tried to get between you both.

“Stay out of it!” you both yelled at him.

Vash put his hands up and backed away from you both. He could tell that he shouldn’t try and get between you both at the moment. Meryl and Roberto even backed up as you both continued.

“Well, at least I had a plan? What was yours? Punch it?” Nicholas argued.

You hesitated, swallowing your pride to answer him.

“I…I didn’t have a plan really…” you confessed.

The other three watching had their jaws opened in shock.

“I just was fed up and punched it, everything else sorted itself out in the end. So no big deal” you crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him.

“No big deal? What if you end up getting some kind of illness from that thing?!” Nicholas growled.

“I’ll handle it” you argued.

“No, I’ll handle it. You’ll be too sick to do anything or worse!” he yelled.

“What is up with you? It doesn’t matter what happens to me after the fact” you said.

“It matters to me dammit!” Nicholas growled.

You stumbled for a moment, your mind going blank. What did he say?

“Nico?” your voice had quieted down.

He realized what he had said, stiffening up and turning around.

“Let’s just find somewhere to rest, we’re all tired” he grumbled before leaving.

No one stopped him nor followed him. One by one, the townspeople came out of hiding to rejoice. Their cheers were static to you as your eyes stayed locked onto Nicholas’s back until you couldn’t see him anymore.

“Um, Seven?” Vash spoke softly to you.

Your eyes shifted to him and he smiled.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” he asked.

“Sure…” you felt like you were running on autopilot as you followed Vash.

The two of you had found a quiet alley way to talk. Vash checked the area, making sure no one was eavesdropping. You were still in a daze, not paying attention to how careful he was being.

“Can I see your hand?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you held out both hands for him to see.

Vash turned them over, examining them intently. His brows furrowed, but there was no alarm on his face. Only worry.

“I see…” he mumbled.

“See what?” you asked.

“Oh, nothing. That’s the thing, it doesn’t seem like anything changed. But there has to be a reason for those strange powers and you being able to take that….thing” he explained.

“And?” you urged him to continue.

“You’ve been using energy…energy only plants can produce…” Vash said quietly.

You swallowed.

“Vash….I’m human” you said in a shaky voice.

“You are, you really are. Please, I didn’t mean to…” he stopped himself.

You hugged yourself, too much was happening too fast for your liking.

“Can I just get some rest? This is a lot” you confessed.

Vash flashed a warm smile, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course you can, let’s head to the inn. We already got rooms” he agreed.

Vash escorted you to the Inn, but left you to the room that was given to you. That left you to assume he had his own this time or was staying with Nicholas. Either way, you were too tired to think about it. You stumbled into the room, falling on the bed as you thought about what Nicholas had said. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expressed concern over you before. It had just never been so bad that he argued with you like that.

‘Just forget it…’ you thought.

The door to your room opened and you sat up, who would come in without knocking? Your worry immediately went out the window when you saw Nicholas. You assumed he came back to yell at you some more or something.

“If it’s about earlier, I don’t want to talk about it” you said.

The floorboards creaked as he approached you, he didn’t say anything.

“Nico, I said I don’t want to talk about-” you felt the bed dip as he sat down.

“I’m sorry” he said gruffly.

You were surprised by his apology.

“Not just before, I’m sorry about everything. I should’ve told you more…” he trailed off.

“Nico, stop. I don’t need your apologies. I need you to just promise you won’t hide anything anymore” you said.

Nicholas sighed, turning to face you.

“I promise, no more secrets,” he smiled.

“Good, no more secrets” you smiled back.

Nicholas shifted, his smile faltering.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“What? Of course I do” you scoffed, what did he mean by that?

“Let me see your back then” he demanded.

“What?”

“You heard me”

You were caught off guard but you couldn’t think of any reason to deny him. You turned your back to him, doing as he said.

“Not like that” he sighed.

You jumped when you felt his hands on your back.

“I need to see your skin,” he said quietly.

You swallowed, unable to determine if he was being serious or this was another attempt at flirting.

“Are you trying to flirt with me again?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t- I mean, it’s not like that. Think of it as a physical examination” he said.

“You planning on being a doctor now?” you grinned.

“You’re really making it hard for me to not throw you out the window” Nicholas grumbled.

Now that you were sure he meant no teasing, you slowly began to remove your clothes to expose your back. You weren’t aware of anything being back there, so you were curious as to what he was going to do.

“You’ve been gathering petals, haven’t you?” he asked.

“Um, I think. Vash mentioned something like that before” you confessed.

You could hear Nicholas curse under his breath but you weren’t sure what he said.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked.

“No….that’s part of our job” he confessed.

You were about to press him for more details but stopped when you felt his hand on your back. His fingers were tracing something, maybe a pattern or veins.

“Nico?” you called to him.

“Each time you find one, something changes. I don’t have all the answers and I won’t until this is all over. But I want you to know one thing” he began.

You held your breath, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I won’t let anything happen to you when this is over” he swore.

The weight of his words hung heavy in your mind, the mystery and emotion behind them sunk your heart into your stomach. Never had Nicholas been so vulnerable with you.

“Okay….” was all you could say to him.

A moment passed before the door opened, startling you both. Vash stood there, holding a bag in his hands.

“S-Seven?!” he stammered and nearly dropped his bag.

“Vash?” you said.

He stood there, as if being caught in some embarrassing act.

“Did I….interrupt something?” he asked.

“Needle-noggin…” Nicholas growled.

You grabbed Nicholas before he could stand up.

“Who’s room is this Nico?” you asked.

He scowled, refusing to look at you.

“Nico” you said firmly.

“It’s our room okay?!” Nicholas confessed.

“Wait, I thought this was our room?” Vash asked.

Nicholas gritted his teeth.

“You put all three of us in one room?!” both you and Vash shouted.

Once you had a chance to explain what was going on, Vash shared what was in his bag.

“I bought some donuts, I thought you would like some” he smiled. “Thank you” you were glad he had thought of you.

Nicholas scowled, lighting a cigarette. He had moved to one of the chairs in the room. Vash still appeared tense, feeling like he had interrupted the two of you. But he couldn’t leave the room after seeing the markings on your back. He didn’t know what they meant, he didn’t get answers either. Although he was left in confusion, it was put at ease watching you enjoy the doughnuts.

“Why are you so against sharing a room with us?” Nicholas decided to address the elephant in the room.

Vash nearly choked on his doughnut.

“W-Why else? The bed isn’t exactly big enough for all of us…” Vash said.

Nicholas didn’t appear convinced, blowing smoke out from his mouth.

“Seven doesn’t seem to mind,” he pointed out.

“Oh I mind, I mind that no one asked if I was okay with it first” you glared at him.

Nicholas rolled his eyes and looked back at Vash. The latter froze, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on him. The two were quiet, making you uneasy.

“Nico, drop the single dad act. Vash isn’t that kind of person” you said.

“I’m not worried about you, this guy probably never even thought about making a move on you” Nicholas scoffed.

“I’m still here…” Vash said weakly.

“Then, what’s the deal?” you asked.

Nicholas whistled, turning his gaze to Vash.

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, I just realized he thinks about you a lot more than you think about him~” Nicholas chuckled.

Vash’s face turned red, oh, he had been figured out. You pouted, tired of Nicholas’s cryptic talk.

“Well, I’m going to go check our water supply. You just….work on your old man speak or something” you sighed.

The moment you left the room and was out of earshot, Vash was on his hands and knees.

“Please don’t tell them!” he begged.

“Ah? Tell them what?” Nicholas sneered.

Vash couldn’t look him in the eye, keeping his forehead on the floor.

“Tell them…I touched myself to them….” he said quietly.

“Ah? Couldn’t hear you, what was that?” Nicholas’s amusement only skyrocketed from here.

Vash could tell he wasn’t going to get out of this easily.

“Oh come on, Wolfwood! Please?” he whined.

Nicholas put his cigarette out, a sadistic smile on his face.

“You know, that’s some real perverted stuff. I haven't even thought about doing that” he smirked.

“You don’t have to rub it in…” Vash sobbed.

Nicholas chuckled, leaning his head onto his palm as he towered over the kneeling Vash.

“I’m past that, I’m more interested in what you are going to try to do to my partner” he said.

“Huh?” Vash squeaked.

“What? You aren’t just going to pine over them until you die, are you?” Nicholas asked.

Vash stayed quiet, silent answer in his stead.

“El burro sabe mas que tu!” Nicholas cursed.

“Come again?” Vash asked.

“Donkeys know more than you, is this more of that ‘good will�� of yours?” Nicholas grumbled.

“I….I don’t deserve them…” Vash confessed.

“That’s not for you to decide and it’s not fair to them” Nicholas glared.

Vash sighed in defeat, of course he knew. But he couldn’t tell the whole truth, he wanted things to be better for you this time.

“It’s….complicated” he confessed.

“Yeah, well. I don’t care. I’m only concerned about Seven. If you are planning to just leave them high and dry, then I’ll kill you myself” Nicholas warned.

“And what about you?” Vash asked.

“Guh!” Nicholas choked, going stiff.

Vash had a knowing smile on his face.

“You love Seven, don’t you?” he asked.

Nicholas grabbed Vash by the collar and pulled him to stand up. Vash just smiled, not willing to back down either.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, needle-noggin…” Nicholas warned.

“The way you were talking made it sound like you were giving up too. I can’t stand by while someone important to me gets hurt” Vash said.

Nicholas glared at him, letting go of his collar.

“I ain’t giving up on them…I just…” Nicholas trailed off.

“Want them to be happy? We’re both being selfish here, but at least we can make Seven happy until it’s over….right?” Vash grinned.

But his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll be sure to tell them this was all your idea” Nicholas scoffed.

Vash made a defeated sound, fumbling to try and argue his way out of it. But Nicholas gave him a pointed look and held his hand out.

“May the best man win,” he said.

“Wolfwood….” Vash said quietly.

……

“I’m not betting on this”

“Yeah, they’ll kill us if we do that”

#x reader #reader-insert #trigun #trigun stampede #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader

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hexpea · 5 months ago

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Ch. 9 - Red Dahlia Besides love and romance, the Red Dahlia can also symbolize perseverance, confidence, and strength.

Several days had elapsed since your perplexing encounter with Naoya. You found yourself maneuvering through the daily grind of the Zenin estate, a delicate balance between survival and duty all while making sure you didn't get in Naoya's way.

One evening, yearning for solace and guidance as the days before your wedding drew near, you went to the mitamaya. It was a place you often went to in moments of contemplation, usually when Naoya would be occupied enough to leave you in peace. Seated on the tatami mat, you closed your eyes, letting the scent of incense envelop you. The memories of Naohiro floated through your mind with the scent of myrrh. You began to speak softly, as if his spirit was right there in the room with you.

"Naohiro," you whispered, "these past few weeks have been…amusing, to say the least. Your brother is like an intricate puzzle with missing pieces. I can't decide if I care to solve it or throw it out the window." As you spoke, the shadows cast by the dim nara lamps created a peaceful atmosphere for your musings. You sat on your knees, your hands clasped in your lap as you fidgeted with your cuticles. "He's got this facade of invincibility, but every now and then I feel like I catch a glimpse of something beneath the surface. Even for just a second. It's like he's playing hide-and-seek with his own emotions."

A chuckle escaped your lips, a delicate sound echoing in the quiet space. "I thought about offering an olive branch, you know. Trying to find common ground. But then I remembered that the last time I tried that, he used it to beat me over the head with his arrogance." A sigh followed, filled with both amusement and exasperation. "So, here I am, entertaining myself with the enigma that is Zenin Naoya. I wish you were here, Naohiro. You always had a way of charming him into a semblance of decency."

The mitamaya remained quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the wind outside. Your eyes opened and you gazed up at the copper plate at the center of the mitamaya with Naohiro's name freshly carved into it as if waiting for a response from his silent spirit. "I could use your wisdom right about now," you admitted, your voice a tender murmur. "And your knack for finding the humor in everything, especially in Naoya's brooding demeanor. If you were here, I could almost hear you saying, 'well, he's certainly a piece of work, isn't he?'" A smile played on your lips as you reminisced about Naohiro's more lighthearted nature. "But I'll have to navigate this labyrinth on my own. If only my father hadn't--"

Before you could finish your thought, a deep voice, tinged with a surprising note of sincerity, cut through the air. You almost didn't even recognize it at first with the gentleness. "What exactly do you think you're doing in here?"

Startled, you turned to find Naoya standing at the threshold of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. The dim light hardly lit his features, just barely revealing a rare moment of vulnerability. His sharp eyes, which usually held a challenge, now seemed genuinely curious.

"I…I was just reflecting," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks slightly flushed, feeling embarrassed to be caught in such a moment of vulnerability yourself. "On Naohiro."

Naoya's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of his brother's name, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his features. "Reflecting?" He echoed, his tone skeptical yet tinged with something akin to genuine interest.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to him, especially considering your strained relationship and the secrets you harbored about Naohiro's demise. But in that moment of raw honesty, you found yourself unable to mask your true feelings. "Yes," you replied somberly, looking toward the mitamaya, your voice barely audible. "I love him."

There was a prolonged pause as Naoya absorbed your words, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a light scoff and a roll of his eyes, he turned away, the moment of vulnerability quickly dissipating. "Figures," he muttered under his breath before striding out, leaving you alone once more.

Anger and frustration bubbled within you as you watched him go, your jaw clenching with the urge to lash out in response to his dismissive demeanor. But as quickly as the impulse arose, you quelled it, the weight of your current grief and mourning overshadowing any desire for confrontation.

You sank back into your reflections easily. In a few short moments, you were startled once again by Naoya's unexpected return. He didn't speak immediately, choosing instead to lower himself onto the tatami mat beside you, a bottle of sake clutched in one hand and two o-choko cups in the other. You regarded him with incredulity, your eyes flickering between the sake and Naoya. Naoya, usually brash and confrontational, seemed oddly subdued in that moment. Without a word, he poured two servings of sake, his movements surprisingly gentle as he handed one of the cups to you.

You stared at the cup in your hands, then at Naoya, your mind racing to comprehend this uncharacteristic gesture. "What's this?" You asked, your voice cautious and filled with both curiosity and suspicion.

Naoya rolled his eyes, as if irritated by the need to explain himself. "It's for Naohiro's memory."

The words hung in the air, a surprising attempt from his typical callous behavior. You stared at him for a moment, the layers of complexity in his gesture not lost on you. Your eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgement of the shared grief you both carried, each in your own way. Naoya in his gruff and unrefined manner, was extending an olive branch of his own, a hesitant attempt at connection.

The first sip of sake burned down your throat, the warmth spreading through your chest. The silence between you lingered, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the past. Naoya, sitting in a relaxed position while propping himself up with one hand, looked away from you, as if grappling with discomfort.

As the sake began to work its magic, loosening the tension you felt as you allowed it, you found yourself compelled to break the silence. "This is…unexpected," you admitted.

Naoya grunted in response. "I still don't trust you," he stated bluntly, his tone cutting through the hushed atmosphere. His eyes bore into yours, a challenge in their depths.

You met his gaze, a flicker of defiance in your eyes. "I don't expect you to."

Naoya scoffed, the sound more dismissive than mocking. "Good. Trusting someone like you would be a fool's errand. I know what you did to my brother."

The mention of Naohiro held a heavy truth that neither of you could escape. You tightened your grip on the sake cup, prepared for the accusatory words that usually followed, however, to your surprise, Naoya's next words held an unexpected twist.

"I stand by what I said when you first arrived at this damn estate," he continued, his tone cold but with a touch of acknowledgement. "I get it. Duty to your family or whatever twisted sense of honor we have to have. Doesn't mean I like it, but I understand it."

He poured another serving of sake, the liquid cascading into the cup with a deliberate flow. His eyes never left yours as he continued, coldness yet a begrudging warmth in his demeanor. "I won't pretend for a second that I trust you, but that doesn't mean I won't acknowledge the twisted kind of love you shared with him." He took a deep swig of his sake while you simply sipped yours, watching him closely as the dim lighting accentuated his sharp features. Naoya, though obviously guarded, had, in his own way, offered a semblance of understanding. "Doesn't mean I won't keep a damn close eye on you," he added, the harshness returning to his voice. "You step out of line and I won't hesitate to make you regret it."

Your laughter suddenly bubbled up, starting as a quiet, amused chuckle and then escalating into a slightly louder, unrestrained laugh. Naoya shot you a perplexed look, irritation etched across his features.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" He snapped, his usual gruffness returning, looking you up and down as if you belonged in an asylum.

You took a moment to compose yourself before wiping away a tear from the corner of your eye. "I can't believe you're the same boy who was at my wedding."

Naoya scowled, clearly unamused. "Weddings are ridiculous. I don't see what's so funny about it."

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you leaned in, relishing in his discomfort. "Oh, you definitely made it entertaining." His brows furrowed in confusion, and you couldn't help but let out another bout of laughter. "Come on, Zenin. Surely you remember the afterparty. Both of us had just turned twenty and you got along great with the alcohol."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, a glint of realization dawning. "That was a long time ago. What's it got to do with anything?"

You chuckled, the memories flooding back vividly. "Everything! You were a hot mess, Naoya. I never thought a Zenin could get so drunk and disorderly -- even your own father."

His scowl deepened, but a hint of curiosity lingered beneath the surface. "Refresh my memory then."

"Oh, I will," you grinned. "You stumbled around, knocking into tables, and let's not forget your impassioned attempt at karaoke. It was a disaster."

Naoya's expression shifted between annoyance and reluctant amusement. "Karaoke? Seriously?"

"Seriously," you affirmed. "I can't believe you don't remember. You got up there, slurring your words, trying to sing some love ballad. It was so off-key, I thought my ears were going to bleed."

He grunted, clearly unimpressed by the trip down memory lane. "I don't see how that's so damn funny."

"Well," you smirked, "then there was the grand finale. You decided to declare your undying love for the bottle of champagne you were holding."

A hint of embarrassment crossed Naoya's face, though he tried to maintain his composure. "That never happened."

"Oh, it happened," you insisted, laughter still dancing in your eyes. "You hugged that bottle like it was your one true love, swearing to protect it with your life. It was the most dramatic displays of affection I've ever seen."

Naoya's scowl deepened, but a reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Sounds like a load of crap."

"Ask anyone who was there," you challenged, grinning at the thought of the scandalous scene. "You were the life of the party, Naoya, in the most chaotic way possible."

He huffed, attempting to brush off the embarrassment. "That was a long time ago. People change."

You shrugged, still amused by the memory. "Maybe. But it's good to know there's a more…expressive side to the great Zenin Naoya."

Naoya rolled his eyes but you could see a trace of something resembling amusement beneath the tough exterior. You laughed as you finished your sake. As your laughter subsided, you noticed something shift in Naoya's demeanor. The hard lines of his expression had softened, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he poured you both a third round of sake. The tension that usually lingered between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound camaraderie.

"What did Naohiro think of it all?" He asked, his tone less guarded and more curious.

You chuckled, the memories flooding back with vivid clarity. "Oh, he thought it was hilarious. He even joined in on your drunken karaoke escapade."

Naoya's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features. "Seriously? I can't believe I don't remember…"

"He was a good sport," you reminisced, a fond smile playing on your lips. "He even handed you his wedding band at one point, offering it to you to give your champagne bottle as a symbol of eternal love or some nonsense."

Naoya's laughter rang out, a foreign sound to your ears, genuine and unrestrained. "No way. I feel like I'm missing all the good stuff."

"It was a night to remember, that's for sure," you agreed, the warmth of nostalgia washing over you. "You and all your brothers are quite the group when you let loose."

Naoya grumbled, "Those idiots. Weak, the whole lot of them."

You couldn't help but laugh at his dismissive tone. "Oh, come on, Naoya. I don't believe for a second that you think they're weak."

His glare intensified, as if your laughter had sparked a fire beneath his stern exterior. "I don't care about all their strengths. They're all too soft, lost in their own sense of duty and honor now that they all have wives and children."

You raised an eyebrow, still amused by his stubbornness. "Including Naohiro?"

Naoya's eyes narrowed with irritation, "especially Naohiro. He let sentimentality cloud his judgement and look where it got him." He motioned to the mitamaya and sipped his sake.

You chuckled, unfazed by his harsh words. "You know for someone who claims to not care, you're quite passionate about your disdain for your brothers."

"I'm not passionate," he grumbled defensively. "I just don't have time for their sentimental nonsense."

You laughed again, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, at least Naohiro held you in high regard. He saw something worthwhile in you. Don't know what it was but…"

Naoya scowled, clearly uncomfortable with the unexpected twist in the conversation. "Don't read too much into it. We're not the same."

You smiled warmly, the effects of the sake softening your edges. "Please, you and Naohiro were so much alike."

Naoya scoffed, taking another sip of sake. "Doubt it, we're nothing alike."

You shrugged, unfazed by his skepticism, and began to share a glimpse into your life with Naohiro. "When I first married Naohiro, he was just like you. Cold, a bit arrogant…"

A bitter laugh escaped Naoya's lips, "putting you in your place, I bet. Sounds like him."

You nodded, a reminiscent smile on your face. "Exactly. He thought duty was everything and he made it clear that I was to follow his lead without question. It was infuriating."

Naoya raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the revelation. "So what happened? Did he miraculously change overnight?"

Your smile deepened. "No, it wasn't overnight. It took a lot of time and understanding. Naohiro…we…fell in love, Naoya. It softened him, made him see beyond the strict rules and expectations. Love has a way of changing people," you shrugged.

He scoffed again, clearly skeptical. "Love made him soft? Hard to believe."

You chuckled with the warmth of nostalgia in your gaze. "It made him kind, compassionate. He learned to balance compassion with duty. He became a better man because of it."

His eyes narrowed, still unconvinced. "And you think this could happen to me?"

You gave a loud snort, the laughter spilling from your lips much easier than usual as you allowed the sake to do its job. "In my dreams, maybe," you leaned back, your eyes fixed on him. "You're alike but you…you're still a lot more stubborn."

His eyebrows twitched at your remark, and in his mind, he took it as a silent challenge. He simply responded with a gruff, "fair enough," while taking another sip of sake, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't resist a playful smirk. "Don't worry, Naoya. I won't expect you to start writing love letters any time soon."

His eyes flashed with irritation and amusement. "That's the last thing I'd ever do."

You chuckled, "good, I'd hate to see you lose your reputation as the stoic Zenin."

Naoya's retort was sharp, "I don't care about reputation."

Your laughter spilled out freely, the sake's warmth making you more lighthearted as you leaned toward him. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Naoya." You grinned playfully. "You know, I should let my technique go more often. This feeling is…amazing."

He raised an intrigued eyebrow. "So the other night was truly your first time getting drunk?"

You confirmed with a teasing smirk, feeling the tipsiness giving you a newfound boldness. "Oh, for sure. And you, Zenin, made it incredibly memorable for me."

A sly grin played on his lips, a blush creeping across his cheeks that couldn't be seen in the dim light. "Glad I could give you that experience," he admitted, reaching for the last of the sake in the bottle and finishing it off with a certain flair. "And, well, I aim to be memorable in more ways than one, Y/N," he chuckled in a low, suggestive tone.

As the laughter echoed through the room and out into the hallway, a sudden intrusion came in the form of Jinichi standing at the doorway. His presence exuded seriousness, abruptly halting the carefree atmosphere you two had created.

"Naoya," Jinichi's voice cut through your laughter with an edge of authority, "you're supposed to be on a mission."

Your curiosity peaked and you turned to Naoya with a questioning glance. "Mission?"

Rolling his eyes, Naoya's irritation manifested visibly. He shifted in his seated position, and as he stood up, the telltale signs of his tipsiness became more apparent. There was a slight stumble to his movements and he clenched his fists with a touch more aggression than intended.

"I was on it. What do you want, Jinichi?" Naoya's response carried a certain amount of irritation, his jaw clenching at the sight of his thick-browed cousin.

Jinichi's expression remained impassive, his gaze fixed sternly on Naoya. "Are you really about to go on a mission while drunk?"

A smirk played on Naoya's lips, and he straightened himself, his chest puffed out in defiance. "I'm not drunk," he retorted sharply, his arrogance escalating. The unsteady sway in his posture belied his intoxicated state.

Jinichi, unimpressed, didn't back down. "Your appearance speaks otherwise, Naoya."

Naoya, now fully playing the power card, shot back with a biting remark. "I lead the Hei, Jinichi. Which means I lead you. You might want to remember your place."

The statement hung in the air as you watched the exchange, sensing the obvious tension between the cousins. "I can go with you," you suggested, your voice steady as you channeled your technique within yourself, sobering up almost instantly -- though, not without the effects of a hangover, headache instantly at your temples causing you to slightly wince.

Jinichi's indifferent gaze shifted to you, and he replied with a dismissive, "whatever."

The remnants of your interrupted laughter were replaced with an unsettling quiet as Jinichi continued down the walkway. Naoya, having just asserted his dominance over his cousin, turned his attention back to you with a smug expression, his shitty personality surfacing like a dark tide.

"No way in hell you're coming with me," he spat, dismissing the idea with a curt wave of his hand. "You'd be nothing but a burden. A woman like you can't handle the dangers of this mission."

You rolled your eyes at his condescension, crossing your arms in defiance. "Funny how you're the one stumbling around like a drunkard. You realize I'm completely sober now."

Naoya scowled at your retort, unwilling to let go of his chauvinistic stance. "This is a grade-one curse, not some child's play. You'll just get in the way.

A sarcastic smile played on your lips as you leaned toward him, your eyes challenging his authority. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a grade-one sorcerer, too."

His glare intensified, a silent battle of wills unfolding. Naoya, unwilling to back down, attempted to reassert his dominance. "This is not up for negotiation. You stay here."

You sighed, the frustration evident in your voice. "Please, Naoya. I need this. I haven't seen any real action since I moved to this estate four months ago."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, torn between his innate personality and the realization that your skills might be useful. Despite his reluctance, the urge for a successful mission seemed to override his disdain for your presence. "Fine," he grumbled, finally relenting, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "But you better not slow me down."

You chuckled, your laughter tinged with sarcasm. "Ha, ha, very funny, Mr. Twenty-four frames."

Naoya smirked at your comment, a hint of amusement dancing behind his expression though his arrogant demeanor remained intact. "Be a good girl now and follow me," he instructed, curling his pointer finger over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. You rolled your eyes at his patronizing tone but chose to comply, knowing that arguing further would only exacerbate the situation.

You followed Naoya to your bedroom where he began to root through your belongings without permission, tossing out a set of clothes that were a bit more combat-ready rather than the yukata you were already wearing.

"Change into this. We're not going on a date," he grumbled, his tone as curt as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, shooting him a playful smirk. "Well, isn't this the most romantic mission I've ever been on?"

Naoya scowled in response, clearly unamused by your attempt at humor. You quickly changed into the provided attire, the fabric cool against your skin. Once dressed, you met Naoya in the hallway, ready for the next set of instructions. To your surprise, he led you to the garage where his car was parked. The LFA's polished exterior gleamed under the soft glow of the garage lights, your mind immediately taken back to that one drunken night, causing you to slightly blush. Without a word, Naoya tossed you the car keys, the gesture unexpected. You caught them with a fumbling grace, staring at the keys in your hand in disbelief.

"Drive," Naoya instructed, his voice devoid of the usual arrogance, replaced with a pragmatic acknowledgement of the situation. "You're the sober one, aren't you?"

Your eyes widened a the uncharacteristic trust he was putting in you. "I…I've never driven something like this," you admitted, a mixture of excitement and apprehension coursing through you.

Naoya shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. "There's a first time for everything. Just don't crash it or I'll kill you."

Swallowing hard, you made your way to the driver's seat, the leather interior feeling luxurious beneath your fingertips. Naoya settled into the passenger seat and you hesitated for a moment before inserting the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, a powerful sound that sent a thrill down your spine. Meanwhile, Naoya leaned forward to the center console and typed the address into the GPS.

He glared up at you as he leaned toward the center console. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from the alcohol as he spoke in a stern tone. "Pull it out slowly."

Dates: June 5, 2018 - Y/N and Naoya reminisce about Naohiro before heading out on a mission.

AN: Since Gege does a whole thing on how cursed techniques operate…I just wanna explain my thought process here since I worked hard on her technique though I hardly use it in the story. :') Y/N's technique essentially is the same thing as the Kamo blood manipulation, I used it as the blueprint. So the idea of being able to process alcohol as a toxin means that she's essentially using her technique to pass the alcohol through her liver at a faster rate hence not being able to avoid hangover symptoms -- and she probably has to pee really bad when she does this seeing as she's just rapidly processing liquid lmao.

#naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #naoya zenin #zenin naoya #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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