#i HATE having NO CONTROL i just need SOME just a SEMBLANCE even | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddodol · 6 days ago

Text

body on me — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf!eunseok, fem!reader, pet names, slight body worship (m.), eunseok is described as beefy, oral (m.), unprotected SEX. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.8k+

a/n; self-indulgent body worship, don't ask

you ran your hands up and down eunseok's clothed chest, mesmerized with how much he managed to bulk up in a few weeks.

"like how it feels, princess?" he asks teasingly, taking one of your hands in his and pulling it towards his lips. eunseok placed kisses all over your hand, staring up at you with intensity, his round eyes pulling you in. you were sat on his lap, a stack of bandages wrapped around your other hand.

you could feel your breath hitching in your throat, body flushing up at the smallest amount of skin that was peeking out. you couldn't have imagined eunseok achieving his goal within a few months, his body feeling more sturdy against your comparatively soft hands.

it was a simple agreement, with you helping eunseok get in his choice of a costume, which just happens to require bandages— a lot of them. also, him being naked underneath.

eunseok had bragged that you'll be falling for him all over again once halloween rolls around, and you hated how he was right.

you frowned at eunseok, a small pout gracing your lips as he laughs at the complicated expression on your face. "should i undress or will you be doing that for me?" you hated how cocky he was getting, fully aware of the effect he had on you.

"i'll do it," you spoke with a huff, hands trembling miserably in spite of your fake irritation. you took his shirt off, eyes immediately glued on his arms. you always loved eunseok's tanned skin, the desire to sink your teeth into his skin has always been there but tonight you felt it even more, overwriting any semblance of self-control you had left.

you gasped softly, eyes tracing over his collarbone. you took in every curve and dip, mindlessly biting your bottom lip as you continued to admire him. you placed your hands on his arms, kneading his muscles with your palms.

eunseok couldn't be more satisfied, the smug smile on his face never once coming down as you admired the results of his hard work. there was always a part of him that strived for such a reaction from you, finding the way your mouth would drop open in surprise or how your eyes sparkled at the smallest peek of his skin adorable. admittedly, eunseok wasn't one to take his clothes off during intimate moments, only taking them off once you two were done to put it on you while you dozed off.

despite being together for quite some time, you were ashamed to admit that you've never really seen his body properly until tonight. you timidly glanced into his eyes, fingers ghosting over his defined collarbone, "is this all for me, seok? or is this all for your stupid mummy costume?"

eunseok couldn't help but laugh, cheeks turning pink as the sound of his laughter filled the room. he tilted his head back, smiling fondly as your lips grazed against each other's, "all for you, my love."

satisfied, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning down to kiss him passionately. eunseok groaned against the kiss, brows furrowing as he pressed you down onto his lap. you felt warm and soft against his bare skin, his chest already turning red at the contact.

you pulled away, panting softly. you were in a daze, hands never stopping its exploration of eunseok's built body. "i need to feel your body on me, seok," you whined, leaning in to gently bite on his collarbone.

eunseok shivers at the bite, skin turning an adorable shade of pink once you let go. fascinated by his reaction, you scattered more kisses around his chest, gently pushing him down the bed. the bandages on your hand were soon forgotten, running both your hands across his chest and gently clawing down to his stomach.

"y/n," eunseok sighs, eyes closing contentedly as you caressed his muscles, "you like it that much?"

you stared into his eyes, your own sparkling as you nod eagerly. he chuckles, caressing your arms as you continued your exploration of his body. you leaned in to kiss his right chest and you could've sworn you felt his heart pounding against your lips. you gently licked his skin, smiling when he shuddered at the sensation. you sucked on a small spot just below his collarbone, biting more eagerly once you heard his quiet moans.

you could feel eunseok's bulge growing and pushing up against your thigh as you continued to trail kisses down his lean stomach. you gently grazed your teeth over his undefined abs, licking up a small strip over the lines. you made sure to place a small kiss on every skin, his muscles tensing up at the feeling of your soft lips.

eunseok threw his head back when you kissed his cock through his sweatpants, fists balling up in an effort to control himself. he looked back down at you through hooded eyes, cheeks bright pink.

you smiled at him, hands pulling his sweatpants teasingly slow. his cock bounced right up as soon as you pulled them down, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at his impressive state. eunseok's tip was red, veins popping out angrily as it twitched at the feeling of your breath on his sensitive length.

"princess, be a good girl for me," it was almost like a breathless plea from eunseok. you give him a small nod, mouth hovering over his twitching cock. you licked up his shaft, tongue swirling over his red tip as you stare up at him. eunseok moaned, struggling to keep his eyes on you.

"i'll be good, promise," you rubbed your lips against his leaking tip, spreading his precum down his shaft, "just wanted to show how much i appreciate you, baby." he shuddered, clenching his jaw once you finally took him in your mouth.

a drawn out moan left his lips, face contorting in pleasure as you eagerly bobbed your head onto his cock. eunseok ran his hand through your messy hair, keeping rogue strands off of your face so he could keep on admiring you. "that's it, baby. that's my girl, doing so well," he coos, chest heaving as he watched your eyes well up with tears from his cock hitting the back of your throat.

eunseok gripped on the sheets by his sides, body starting to tense up as his orgasm approached. "baby, get up. ride me, now," he ordered shakily, biting down on his teeth at how quickly you pulled away. eunseok's cock was throbbing against the cold air, watching you get on top of him.

you hovered on top of his cock, lips all glossy from earlier. eunseok pulled you in his arms, hands needily gripping on your ass as he pressed kisses on your lips. "love you, baby. i love you so much," he whispered against the kiss, pushing you down onto his length without a warning. eunseok could've sworn that he almost came as soon as he entered, still feeling the rush from your earlier ministrations.

you cried out against his mouth, body trembling at the sudden stretch. eunseok continued to slowly move you up and down his length, breaking the kiss to leave his own marks on your neck.

eunseok groaned against your skin, sucking and biting down your throat. "fuck, i'd keep hitting the gym if i get to have this all the time, princess." you chuckled breathlessly, throwing your head back as he continued to leave marks all over your skin.

"you know you can get it anytime you want, baby," you murmured, looking back down into his eyes as you cup his face. eunseok smiled, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against your palm. he lifted your hips up before laying you down on the bed.

"i'll take your word for it," he teased, taking in your index finger in between his teeth as he thrusted deep and hard into your welcoming heat. eunseok panted softly, face contorting at your walls desperately swallowing him deeper. his pace was brutal, hips snapping against yours at an impossibly fast tempo. you could feel his tip pushing against your deepest walls, crying out at every thrust.

he leaned down, caging you in between his arms as he pressed kisses all over your flushed neck. you clenched down on his cock with every peck, spurring him on to keep going. you sobbed, scratching down his arms, the marks appearing almost immediately and leaving red lines against his skin.

"close?" eunseok asks breathily, hips starting to stutter as his release got closer. unable to utter a single cohesive thought, you nod dumbly. he chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "you just love getting fucked stupid, don't you?" his voice rumbled against your flushed skin, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.

you whimpered, tangling your fingers through the ends of his hair and tugging on them. eunseok moaned in response, brows furrowing as he looked at the expression you were making. you were completely fucked out, your mind was a mess and your body felt way too sensitive— all you could think about was his cock hitting deep inside you as your own orgasm began to build up.

"can't talk back, princess?" he taunts, "feeling too good?" you nod absentmindedly, moans stringing out of your parted lips in a complete daze. "then cum for me." you shuddered, closing your eyes shut as your body tensed up in no time.

"fuck! eunseok!" you cried out, gripping tightly on his arms, your nails scraping and almost digging into his flesh. eunseok winced, stilling deep inside and rolling his hips against yours. you felt your orgasm hitting you hard in a split second, thighs trembling pathetically as your arousal pooled onto the sheets. you held onto eunseok for support, rolling your hips against his twitching cock to draw out both of your pleasure.

eunseok smirks in satisfaction, arm muscles bulging as he wrapped them around your waist, leaning forward to rest his face against your chest. he let out a contented sigh, body slowly starting to relax at your comforting scent.

the dim room went silent, save for your soft breathing and the smooching noises eunseok kept making as he kissed your shoulder in appreciation. you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth that surrounded you.

"we're late," you murmured tiredly when eunseok pulled out of your still fluttering heat. his face twitched sensitively, letting out a deep breath before laying down beside you.

"it's fine, i'm sure taro will understand." you turned your head towards him, your body getting pulled into his embrace. eunseok was still half naked, his flushed skin feeling warm against yours. your fingers traced over the scattered marks you left all over his chest, drawing lines over them.

you hummed, a small smile on your lips as you take your time to appreciate his muscular arms once more. eunseok chuckles tiredly, deciding to play along and flex his arms for you. your eyes went wide, surprised to see how defined they looked.

eunseok grins, rolling over to pin you down the mattress. "still wanna go?" he whispered, peppering kisses all over your neck.

"tell me you don't want to go to the party and i'm all yours tonight, baby," eunseok pleaded, huge eyes staring into yours as his cock stirred back into life, "i need to make sure i return the favor."

you reach down to grab his hardened length, giggling, "fuck the party, you look way better with your stupid costume off anyway."

#૮ > ⤙ < ྀིა #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize smut #eunseok imagines #eunseok scenarios #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #ddollemons #ddlz: ses #✧₊⁺ kinktober24

256 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 1 month ago

Text

Pretty please - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Pretty please - Dua Lipa - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +3k

a/n: sorry for the unreasonable expectations i'm setting on this one.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

I sat at my desk, the glow of my laptop casting a harsh light across the piles of papers and open notebooks. The emails kept coming, ping after relentless ping, demanding my attention.

My head ached, my shoulders were stiff, and it felt like the world was closing in on me one deadline at a time. But I had to handle it. I always did.

My phone buzzed on the edge of the table, and I glanced at the screen. Lewis, of course.

Hey, how’s your day going?

I ignored it, not because I didn’t care, but because I knew he’d hear the tension in my reply. And I couldn’t afford to be distracted—not when I still had so much to do.

He was supposed to be in LA, anyway, probably getting involved in some other whoe new industry or just soaking up the sun. You never knew with him.

I rubbed my temples, willing myself to focus. But my mind was running wild, thoughts ricocheting between what I’d done and what I still needed to do. My coffee had gone cold an hour ago, but I didn’t bother to make some more.

A knock sounded at the door, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. Maybe I’d ordered something and didn’t remember.

But then there was a second knock, this one heavier, more deliberate. I hesitated, irritation bubbling up. Who the hell was showing up unannounced?

I swung open the door and my breath caught in my chest. There he was—Lewis, standing on my hall, looking way too put together in his black hoodie and sweatpants, like he’d just casually dropped by.

His face broke into that familiar, infuriatingly warm smile, ready to break any of my resolves. “Hey, love.”

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, and I could see the slight arch of his brow. But he just tilted his head, slipping his hands into his pockets like he had all the time in the world.

“I had a feeling you might need some company.” His eyes scanned my face, lingering on the shadows under my eyes. I hated how he could read me so easily, even when I was doing my best to keep it together.

“I’m busy, Lewis. I don’t have time for—” I waved a hand vaguely, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

He stepped closer, almost inside the doorway, crowding my space in a way that made my pulse quicken. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts in line. “You can’t just show up whenever you want, you know?. I have work, I have—”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, a light touch shut me up.

I hated how easily my body responded to him, how the heat of his hand on my skin made my mind go blank, even if just for a second.

“You’re doing it again” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. “Where you pretend like you don’t need anyone, like you can handle everything on your own.” He took a step closer, his chest nearly brushing mine, and I had to fight the urge to lean into him.

“That’s because I can handle it” I snapped, my voice lacking the conviction though.

“Of course you can.” He said it like it was a given, like he wasn’t doubting my strength for a second.

But then he tilted his head, and the edge of his smile softened. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a break.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. It was like he’d found the one chink in my armor, the one place where my stubbornness couldn’t quite hold up against the exhaustion pressing down on me. He took another step, closing the distance between us, his hands sliding to my waist, steadying me.

“Thought so” he murmured, a trace of a smile in his voice, but there was a seriousness behind it too—like he knew just how much I needed this, even if I couldn’t admit it.

I hated how easily he could disarm me, how his presence was enough to make all the chaos in my head slow down, how he could give me the relief I craved.

And God, I wanted to let go, to stop fighting for just a little while.

Then I realized what I was doing and I pulled back, trying to regain my footing. “I can’t just drop everything because you showed up, Lewis,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

God, even I could hear how unsteady I sounded, how much I was wavering.

His hands moved to cradle my face, tilting my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. “Y/n.” His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it too, like he wasn’t going to let me slip away this time.

I took a shaky breath. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the way he was looking at me, but suddenly all the fight went out of me, leaving behind only the aching need for someone to get my mind to shut up.

“Fine,” I said, the word coming out like a sigh, and his smile softened, turning almost tender. “But don’t think this means I’m—”

And his mouth was already pressing against mine in a kiss that stole the rest of my words. It was slow, deliberate, like he was taking his time, coaxing me out of my own head with every brush of his lips.

My hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and I couldn’t stop the way I melted into him, my body leaning into the solid strength of his.

His hands slid down to my waist, guiding me until we somehow ended up at my bedroom.

I felt my legs hit the edge of the bed and he eased me down, never breaking the kiss, and I let myself follow his lead, sinking into the mattress as he hovered over me, his weight pressing me down in a way that made my mind finally—blessedly—go quiet.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path down the side of my neck, and I couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped me, my hands threading through the hem of his hoodie as I arched into him.

His hands were everywhere—skimming down my sides, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, fingers dancing over my skin.

“You’re tense, love,” he murmured against my skin, his breath warm and teasing. “Let me take care of you.”

And for once, I didn’t argue. I just let him touch me, let the sensation of his hands on my body drown out everything else—every deadline, every worry, every thought that had been keeping me awake at night.

His mouth found mine again, and this time, I kissed him back with everything I had, pouring all my pent-up frustration and longing into the press of my lips against his.

His hands found the edge of my shirt, and I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head. The cool air hit my skin, but then his naked torso was pressing down against mine, his warmth seeping into me, making everything else fade away.

“Just let go, Y/n,” he whispered against my ear, his voice rough and breathless. “I’ve got you.”

His lips roamed over my body like he could go on for hours, grazing the curve of my jaw, then lower, pressing soft kisses down the column of my neck. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, the way he was taking his time, savoring each reaction that slipped out of me.

‘Because, clearly, taking your time is necessary when you surprise someone mid-meltdown’ I thought, trying to hold onto the irritation that was fading with every kiss. I couldn't deny how good it felt, even if he was showing up unannounced to dismantle my well-established stress routine.

“Lewis...” I murmured; a half-hearted protest caught in my throat. He chuckled softly against my collarbone, a low, rumbling sound that made my toes curl.

His mouth moved lower, tracing a path across my collarbone, then down to the swell of my chest. He took his time, planting kisses across every inch of skin he could reach, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot on my nipples.

My breath hitched, fingers tightening in his clothes, and he took it as encouragement, slipping out of his sweatpants, dragging out every moment until my thoughts began to unravel into the steady rhythm of his lips back on my skin.

“Relax, love,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against the curve of my breast.

I wanted to argue, to tell him that I couldn’t just relax on command, but the words caught when he started to kiss his way down my stomach, his hands trailing behind, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He reached the waistband of my leggings, his fingers toying with the fabric, and he looked up at me, eyes dark and focused, a question hanging in the air between us. I bit my lip, nodding once, and he flashed me that cocky little smile.

“Good girl,” he said, the words getting me wetter than I already was.

Then he peeled my leggings down my legs, slow and steady, like he was unwrapping a gift. I squirmed beneath him but he just pinned me with a look, like he wanted me to see just how much he was savoring every moment.

Because, of course, he just has to show off how he’s got all this control, while I’m lying here barely hanging on. Typical.

His hands settled on my thighs, spreading them apart, and I could feel the heat pooling low. He kissed the inside of my knee, then moved lower, trailing his lips along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, making my breath hitch.

“Lew” I whispered, my voice shaky, but he just hummed in response, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin until he reached the heat of my core. He paused there; his breath warm against me.

Seriously, he’s really going to take his sweet time, isn’t he? I thought, want twisting inside me.

And then he finally leaned in, his mouth pressing against me in a way that made my back arch off the bed, a soft moan escaping my lips before I could bite it back. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tasting every inch of me like he was committing it to memory, and I couldn’t help the way my hands fisted in the sheets.

He took his time, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place as he coaxed sounds out of me that I would be embarrassed to admit to. All I could focus on was the heat pooling low in my belly and the way his tongue was moving against me, driving me wild.

“Lew—oh my god,” I gasped, my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue flicked over my entrance, a finger making slow and round motions on my clit. My body trembled beneath him, walls clenching around his nothing as he held me in place, refusing to let up even when my legs began to shake.

“That’s it, love” he murmured against my skin, the words vibrating against me like they had the power to cloud my thoughts. “Let go for me.”

And then he doubled down, dragging his tongue across me with a precision that made my vision blur, sending me spiraling. I shattered around him, my body convulsing as he licked me through it, holding me steady.

When I finally came back down, my chest heaving with every shaky breath, he lifted his head, his lips and beard glistening, that smug grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Better now?” he asked, his voice rough, but a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Think I got some of that tension out?”

I let out a breathless laugh, my hands tugging him back for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips. “Not even close,” I shot back, my voice needy, a hunger that I couldn’t ignore. “I need you, Lewis. Now.”

His expression shifted, the teasing edge melting into something more intense. He brushed a thumb over my lower lip, his eyes searching mine like he was making sure I meant it, and when he saw the fire still there, his smile turned wicked.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing” he murmured, but he was already shifting above me, his body pressing me deeper into the mattress as his hands roamed over my skin. I could feel him through his boxers, hot and hard against my thigh, and a frustrated whine slipped out of me before I could stop it.

“You’re taking too damn long.” I muttered, arching up my hips against him, trying to close the distance between us.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound with a warning note to it. “You think I’m going too slow, huh?” His hand slid to the small of my back, flipping me over in one smooth motion before I could protest.

My chest hit the mattress, my breath catching as he pressed down on my lower back, keeping me in place.

“I’m gonna make that mind go blank” he growled against my ear, his hands ridding his dick out of the fabric, his voice dark and commanding, a promise in every word. “Stop squirming and let me take care of you.”

And then he thrust into me, hard and deep, and every thought scattered from my mind like glass shattering. A choked moan ripped from my throat, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the sheets as he set a relentless pace, his hips snapping against mine with enough force to make the bed creak.

My world narrowed down to the feel of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, each thrust sending me forward until I was trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he drove into me again and again, the sound of skin against skin mingling with our moans.

And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled my back against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist, and then in a smooth motion, he slipped out and flipped me onto my back.

My body felt like jelly beneath him, barely able to keep up with the shift, and my head spun.

He paused, leaning down to press a tender kiss to my lips. His movements slowed, and I could see something shift in his eyes—something that reached deeper than desire, like a vulnerability he wasn’t quite used to showing.

The rough edges of him softened, giving way to a quiet, unguarded expression that made my chest melt. My hand came up to touch his face, my thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone, and for a moment, the world felt like it was holding its breath.

The intensity drained from his features, replaced by gentleness, almost pleading, like he wanted me to understand all the things he couldn’t put into words.

Missionary. It was a language to him.

When he shifted into it, when he wrapped me in his arms and let his weight settle against mine, I knew he was saying something beyond touch.

His gaze held mine as he pushed inside me again, his forehead brushing against mine, and I felt that unspoken promise in every slow thrust. ‘I’m here, I’m yours, I won’t let you face this alone.’

And it wasn’t just about the pleasure; it was about the way he made me feel seen, peeling back every layer of my defenses, like he was taking the time to memorize every reaction, every shuddering breath and half-broken moan that slipped out of me.

His hips rolled in a rhythm that was almost gentle, each thrust angled just right, hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as I anchored myself against the tide of sensation that threatened to sweep me away.

“Baby” I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper. I could feel the tenderness in every movement, the way he looked at me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the way he felt, the way he made me feel.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breath mingling with mine as he kept that slow, steady pace. “Right here, love” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but there was a softness in it too, like he was letting me in on some kind of secret. “I’ve got you.”

I nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the way his body moved against mine, how he fit against me. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, his control faltering for a moment as he buried himself inside me to the hilt.

I held onto him like a lifeline, my heart pounding in my chest each thrust sent a wave of warmth spreading through me, settling deep in my bones. And every time he hit that spot, the one that made me see white, his eyes would flicker to watch my reaction, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Because of course he’s gotta make sure he’s doing it just right. Like he’s got some kind of checklist. Hit the spot, check. Make her breath hitch, check.

My thoughts slipped away into a haze of pleasure, my body arching against him, chasing that high that built with every roll of his hips. And just when it started to build, he slowed down, holding himself deep inside me, his forehead pressing against mine.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice almost too soft to hear over the sound of my ragged breathing. “You good?”

I let out a breathless laugh, my hand reaching up to brush the sweat from his cheek.

Gosh, the question was so him, so perfectly Lewis, checking in right at the edge. My chest tightened with something achingly tender, something that made me want to kiss him until I ran out of breath.

“Yeah” I replied, and there was a hint of awe in my voice that I couldn’t quite hide. “You—God, I don’t know how you’re real sometimes.”

He chuckled, but there was a flush of heat creeping up at his chest, a slight falter in the confidence that he usually wore like a second skin.

And that look in his eyes—soft, vulnerable—made my heart clench, like he wasn’t used to hearing that, even after everything.

“Real enough to keep going, yeah?” he teased, his smile turning mischievous as he shifted his hips just enough to draw a gasp from me. His hand brushed over my chin, the pad of his thumb stroking along my jaw as he held my gaze. “Or you need a minute, love?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, even as the corner of my mouth twitched with a smile. “What happened to making my mind go blank?” I shot back, my voice still breathy but with a bite to it, trying to keep up my bravado even as my body thrummed with every slight movement.

He grinned, that cocky little smirk that made something tighten low in my belly. “Already did. This one will be for us.” he promised, his voice dipping into that dark, velvety tone that made my toes curl. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Before I could fire back with something sarcastic, he angled his hips and thrust into me again, deeper this time, and the breath rushed out of my lungs in a sharp cry. My hands fisted in the sheets, clinging on for dear life as he started to move again, slow and deliberate again, like he was trying to draw every last bit of pleasure out of me.

And this time, there was no teasing. Just him, moving with a focus on my features that made my head spin, like he was determined to see me come apart in his arms. I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, couldn’t keep up the front, my head tipping back against the pillow as the pleasure built again.

It was almost too much—I could feel myself starting to unravel, my body trembling beneath him. And through it all, he never took his eyes off me, watching every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered.

When I finally came, the ringing in my ears and the white in my vision was almost like passing out. The pleasure made my mind go completely blank, like he’d promised.

My fingers digging into his shoulders as I held on, and he was right there with me, slowing his movements to help me ride out the high, his lips brushing against my temple, murmuring soft reassurances that I couldn’t quite make out.

My body went limp beneath him, a boneless, breathless mess, and he kissed me softly, his lips lingering against mine like he didn’t want to let go. I could feel his heart racing against my chest, his breath warm against my skin.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he teased, his voice rough but affectionate, his thumb tracing lazy circles along my hip. “Can’t even let yourself relax for five minutes.”

I let out a tired laugh, still not fully back to form a coherent come back, pressing a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You stay here and I’ll order some take out, I’m sure you haven’t eaten” He smiled, something soft and sweet in it, and then leaned in to kiss me again, properly this time, like he was sealing a promise.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #ella1k

297 notes · View notes

spacedace · 1 year ago

Text

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #jon kent #jon el kent #jon lane kent #damian wayne #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #justice league #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #ghost king danny #j'onn j'onzz #slightly eldritch Elle Phantom #super serious chaos #Ghosts Purr #Kryptonians Purr #Damian can't purr but he's not gonna let that stop him #Justice League watching slightly eldritch Elle fuss over Jon & Damian: 👀#Danny - trying to be reassuring: Don't worry if she wanted to violently murder you she totally would have already! 😀#Jon: I would never say that Damian & Elle are incredibly dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I'm scared of that #Jon: Damian & Elle are incredible dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I love that SO MUCH about them #Jon: *heart eyes and dreaming sighing*#J'onn just looks at Clark and the people he's in love with (Lois & Bruce most notably): yeah this tracks #Bruce: *stares into the middle distance as he realizes that at this rate King Phantom is going to be his in-law before the month is out*#Clark: You can't fake your death to avoid it I'd come find you #Bruce: *disgruntled bat noises*

1K notes · View notes

03jyh23 · 4 months ago

Text

🩶⌇nights like these┆choi san

established relationship, idol!san x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where you are san's priority

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: descriptions of chronic illness, pain, nausea, and emotional distress

│words: 2.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! this one is a requested work that is very important to me! the person who requested it shared their struggles with me, so i put a lot of care and effort into writing this piece. i hope it brings them comfort and resonates with anyone else going through similar challenges. thank you for trusting me with your story. ♡

love, monika ♡

you: sannie, im sorry but im not gonna make it tonight, have fun! love you x

You barely typed out the message and leaned deeper into the soft pillows. You hated feeling that way, feeling completely out of control of your own body. It was as if your own flesh and bones had turned against you, conspiring to ruin the moments you had been looking forward to. Another rush of nausea hit you, stronger this time, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. The persistent and haunting question lingered in your mind: Why were you so out of control? You wished you could muster the strength to push through, to be by San's side, but tonight, your body had other plans. You were helpless against a body that sabotaged all your important plans. You wanted the energy to be with San, to support him and not to disappoint the person you loved yet again, but tonight, you knew there was nothing you could do to feel better. You just needed to lay through it

After all this time of having this health problem, you learned just how to live with it, so since early morning you tried to push the symptoms aside, focusing on getting ready. It was a routine you had perfected—ignoring the pain, the nausea, the overwhelming fatigue. You had become a master of disguise, hiding your struggles behind a cheerful facade. But tonight, even your best efforts weren't enough.

Usually, you would go about with your day, that's why you were currently lying flat on your bed dressed in that pretty outfit San bought for you especially for tonight, all ready to go and celebrate with him. Just as you were about to leave, the usual symptoms hit you with the power of a train. It was as if your body had chosen this exact moment to remind you of its frailty, to assert its dominance over your will. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, you were supposed to be standing beside San, holding his hand and cheering for him. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, planning every detail. The thought of disappointing him weighed heavily on you, maybe even heavier than the nausea. You knew how much it meant to him to have you there, and the guilt gnawed at you from the inside.

A burning stomach pain flared up, adding to the discomfort. It felt as though your insides were on fire, each wave of pain more intense than the last. You clutched your stomach, curling up tighter, wishing for some relief. The pain was relentless, a cruel reminder of the battle you were fighting within your own body. It was moments like these when you felt most defeated, most vulnerable.

"Baby?" you opened your heavy eyes only to see San kneeling beside the bed, eye level with you. You didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. His eyes were filled with concern, his short, black hair was styled back, making him look incredibly elegant. He wore a white shirt with the first few buttons casually unbuttoned. His eye makeup was minimal, with just a hint of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, exactly the way you always liked it. He must have rushed out straight from his dressing room, you thought as you blinked a few times to get rid of the tiredness.

"Sannie? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

San reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"I just had a feeling that today is rough on you. You didn't reply to any of my calls, so I rushed home," he said softly, his voice filled with concern and love. "I couldn't just leave you here alone," he said softly. "I wanted to be here for you."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your night," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion.

San shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, don't say that. You could never ruin my night. I just want to be here with you, make sure you're okay," he reassured, his hand gently stroking your head. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, overwhelmed by his kindness.

"I just hate feeling like this, being a burden," you admitted, your voice trembling.

San’s expression softened even more. His fingers traced the few tears that managed to escape your eyes, then he kissed your forehead whispering, "You never are nor never will be a burden." You closed your eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his soft lips against your skin, a tingling warmth spreading through you. The tension in your muscles began to melt away as San’s fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm. You took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you. The pain and nausea, though still present, seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his touch.

"But the party?" you mumbled out, "The boys must be so disappointed."

San shook his head gently, his expression softening even more. "Don't worry about them right now. The boys understood, and Hongjoong reassured me it was all good. What's important is that we take care of you," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace comforting patterns on your arm.

"Thank you, Sannie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "For being here."

He kissed your forehead again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Of course, my love. Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against your skin. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it eased some of the guilt that had been weighing you down. "Can you stand up? We need to get you in something comfortable first," San suggested gently, his hands ready to help you. You nodded weakly, grateful for his help as he eased you out of the outfit and into something more comfortable.

"Is it any better now that you've slept for a while?" he asked, his voice filled with gentle concern as he rearranged the pillows on the bed. He brought an extra blanket, knowing you would likely get cold.

"A little," you admitted, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. "But I can feel the migraine creeping in slowly," you added, your voice tinged with fatigue and frustration.

San nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry. "I'll get your medication and some water," he said, standing up to fetch the items.

"I don't think I can take the medications," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It feels like if I swallow anything, I would just rush to the toilet."

San paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Okay, let's not push it then," he said softly, returning to your side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a soothing rhythm that started to calm your racing thoughts. He began drawing gentle patterns on your back, a gesture that always made you relax, his touch tender.

You breathed in his cologne and felt your stomach clenching. The scent, usually comforting and familiar, now seemed overwhelming to your already sensitive senses. You backed out from his arms, holding a hand to your face to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you. San looked at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion and concern before it hit him. "Love, I'm so sorry, it's the perfume? Too strong? I'm gonna change," he said hurriedly, already moving towards the closet to find something else to wear.

"It's okay, Sannie," you mumbled, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I just need a moment."

But San had already swapped his formal shirt for something more comfortable and less scented. He returned to your side, "Better now?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for any sign of relief.

You only nodded, and he took your hand, guiding you to the bed. "You are babying me too much," you mumbled as you followed in his steps, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment.

San shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hm...." he scoffed dramatically, "I think I don't baby you enough, though?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the pain and discomfort you were feeling. San's dramatic tone and exaggerated expression brought a moment of lightness to an otherwise heavy night. "Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to match his playful energy.

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin, sitting down beside you. "Now, let's get you settled." You settled back into the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with San by your side. The pain and nausea were still there, but somehow, with his presence, they seemed a little more bearable. "Do you need me to bring something?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head slightly, feeling the weight of his love and care enveloping you. "Just stay here with me, that's all I need," you whispered.

"Alright, I will just put the curtains in case the migraine hits," he said as he quickly darted through the room to the windows. You watched him with tired eyes, the room dimmed as he drew the curtains, blocking out the harsh light that often worsened your migraines. The soft, muted light that remained was much gentler on your senses.

San returned to your side, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if he were afraid of causing you any more discomfort. "Scoot over," San said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the bed. He carefully climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you for being so patient with me. I really needed you tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude.

San held you a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured softly. San was drawing small circles on your back, your face buried in his chest. Your eyes were heavy, the migraine setting in, and you could feel the pressure building behind your temples. The gentle, rhythmic motion of his hand was soothing, a small comfort amidst the pain and discomfort, allowing you to relax slightly despite the throbbing in your head.

Just as you began to drift off to sleep, your body started trembling uncontrollably. The sudden tremors jarred you awake, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. San immediately noticed, his grip tightening around you in a protective embrace.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered, his voice steady and calming. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe your body. "Just breathe, love. I'm right here with you." You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his presence, trying to steady your breath. The trembling slowly began to subside, and you clung to San, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. "Are you feeling dizzy again? Like the last time?" San asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You nodded weakly, the dizziness making it hard to focus on anything. "Yeah, it's just... everything is spinning," you managed to whisper, clutching onto him. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as San's presence provided a comforting anchor. The room seemed to tilt and spin, but his calming voice and gentle touch helped you stay grounded. "I'm sorry, San," you murmured, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.

San shook his head, his expression filled with love and reassurance. "Don't apologize, my love. You can't control this, and I'm here to help you through it," he murmured softly. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination and love. "Just rest," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here with you." You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. San's hand continued to trace soothing patterns on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace.

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you could feel San's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a rhythm that grounded you. Hours passed in a blur of half-conscious moments and deep, dreamless sleep. Every time you stirred, San was there, his presence a steady source of comfort and love. You could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head. He held you through the worst of it, never once leaving your side.

When you finally woke, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb, and the nausea had receded enough for you to sit up slightly. San was still there, his eyes filled with concern and relief as he saw you stir.

"Hey," he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you with concern. "How are you feeling?"

You took a deep breath, assessing your condition and trying to gather your thoughts. "A bit better," you admitted, your voice still weak but more stable than before. The remnants of fatigue lingered, but you felt a small spark of improvement.

"I'm glad to hear that," San replied, his smile growing a bit wider with relief. "Do you think you can eat something light? Maybe some broth or a bit of toast?"

You nodded slowly, appreciating his care and the gentle way he always seemed to know what you needed. "I think I could try," you said, feeling a bit more hopeful at the thought of eating something.

"Alright, let me order something, hm?" San said, giving you a reassuring smile as he gently helped you sit up against the pillows, adjusting them to make sure you were comfortable.

"Thank you, Sannie," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unending support and the way he always put your well-being first.

San smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "Anything for you, my love," he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his touch gentle and comforting. As he reached for his phone to place the order, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and love for having someone like San by your side, through thick and thin.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

#san x reader #san x you #san x y/n #san x gn reader #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x gn reader #san fluff #choi san fluff #san fanfic #san drabble

294 notes · View notes

btsmosphere · 7 months ago

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

masterlist | next>

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities @parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack @oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

Let me know in a comment or ask if you would like to join the taglist🥰

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook mafia #jungkook scenario #bts mafia au #jungkook supervillain #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #bts series #jungkook series #superhero bts #supervillain bts

339 notes · View notes

xcherricutie · 8 months ago

Text

🪷 it's over, isn't it 🪷

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, mentions of alcohol and drinking]

[Notes: I am just churning these out, these are so easy and fun to write lol]

It was an understatement to say you fell after everything. It was more like you crashed and burned, any semblance of a life in Heaven disappearing after your attack on Hell. You had quite literally raised Hell in Heaven, tearing your way down into the depths just to get your revenge. You had struck down the Princess of Hell, nearly erasing all of her memories, had her friends not helped her. And in the end, you backed down, your guilt finally catching up to you. You thought if you had let your anger control you, you would easily be able to kill Charlie and her friends. But the more time you spent in Hell, the more your anger ebbed away, leaving an empty shell in its place.

In the end, the story remained the same. Your happy ending faded from view, and Charlie remained the hero of the story, along with her father, Lucifer. You were nothing but the bad guy, just another person standing in the way of the true story. Everything felt like a game to you, and you had to figure out how to climb your way to the top, to win. Losing this fight to Lucifer had dropped you all the way down to the very, very beginning. You had nothing. This time, you didn’t even have any friends. You were all alone. Or so, you had wished. Oh, how it was quite the opposite, actually.

When you were cast from Heaven, Sera and Emily made absolutely certain that you didn’t end up in some rotten corner of Hell. Oh no, they had you fall right into the lap of Lucifer himself. They had begged and pleaded for him and Charlie to take you in, try to redeem you. Or at the very least, take care of you. It was what you deserved, Sera had said. Charlie was immediately all in, happy to have you despite what you had done. You had nearly wiped the demonic side of her clean, which would have ruined her life and stolen her memories. Yet, she happily accepted you with open arms, literally. She squeezed you in an almost deathly tight hug, promising to make up for what had happened to you. After you had shown her your memories, Charlie had become especially clingy to you, to make sure you were happy, that you weren’t lonely.

The other hotel residents didn’t take to you as kindly as Charlie. Vaggie hated you with every fiber in her being, which you didn’t blame her for. Angel Dust and Husk both would team up on you and constantly remind you of what you had done. Alastor had been about as normal as you expected him to be, but you did notice he was rather pushy about information on your past, of which you indulged him none. Knowing he was either coveting your soul, or information on Lucifer, you tended to keep your distance from him.

As for Lucifer himself, you hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in the week you had moved into the hotel. You didn’t want to speak to him, not after everything. Not after what he put you through. It was hard enough not getting to have your happy ending, you didn’t need him rubbing salt in the wound. Just his smile alone was enough to sour your whole day. And it seemed others knew that too, as Angel Dust would constantly question your relationship with Lucifer, and what it used to be like. Knowing it would end up getting back to Charlie, you kept quiet on the finer details of your past with him. Nobody, not even Charlie, knew he was once your husband in the eyes of Heaven. All that mattered now was that he was a nobody to you, a stranger.

Your life in Hell hadn’t been all that bad though. Aside from Charlie forcing her friendship down your throat, you had actually managed to make one friend in the hotel, and it hadn’t surprised anyone a single bit when it happened. Adam, First Man, died during the exterminations, had become your closest friend in Hell. You could barely tolerate his attitude, but relating to him when it came to getting the short end of the stick was fun sometimes. You could spend hours with Adam, talking about how shitty Hell and the hotel was, getting lost in drinks and partying all night long. It was the first time you had genuinely smiled in the last ten thousand years.

Tonight had been one of those nights. You and Adam stayed in the bar long after Husk had retired for the night. Drinking away afterlife’s issues, listening to music, talking about everything and nothing. Adam could talk a lot, and you were happy to finally listen to someone and just bask in their presence once again. But the nightly hour began to crawl up, taking its toll on you. You let out a soft yawn, leaning into the bar.

“Adam, I’m pretty tired, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” You muttered, your voice slurring slightly. Adam hardly paid you any mind as he chugged his drink, giving you a thumbs up.

“’Kay, ‘night, bitch,” He mumbled back, keeping his attention focused on the drinks that melted away his memories. You sighed, pushing yourself off the barstool, making your way back to bed.

Your body felt sluggish, dragging behind you as you walked down the long, never-ending halls. You didn’t remember the hallways being so long. You groaned sleepily, trying to steady your body as you pressed a hand to the wall, letting the surface lead you down the hall. You leaned your weight onto your palm, barely picking your feet up off the floor. You were so tired. Tired of living here. Tired of eternity. Eternity was simply too long.

You let out a yelp as the wall disappeared from underneath your hand, stumbling to the side and into the open bedroom doorway you had tripped up on. Your eyes snapped up to try and identify whose room you had fallen into, your gaze falling upon the open balcony door. The red light of the sky streamed into the room, making your eyes blur with sleepiness. Rubbing them, you leaned against the door, squinting your eyes at the person who leaned against the balcony railing.

“I was fine with the men, who would come into her life now and again,”

A familiar voice sung a soft tune, instantly sobering you up. Your vision cleared almost immediately, the sight of Lucifer holding a red rose making your throat close. He sighed, bringing the rose to his face, letting the petals tickle his skin.

“I was fine cause I knew that they didn’t really matter until you,” His voice was somewhat breathy, as if he were on the brink of tears. You had to wonder what had pushed him to such a point, curious as to whom he was singing about. You found yourself planted in his doorway, watching as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the petals of the rose.

“I was fine, when you came, and we fought like it was all some silly game, over her,” Lucifer took a deep breath, looking up into the deep red sky. “Who she’d choose. After all those years, I never thought I’d lose...”

Pulling his hat off his head, Lucifer squeezed the brim tightly in his fist, before dropping it on the floor. Holding the rose with both hands, he stared out into the bright lights of Pentagram City, the lights reflecting and glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” He leaned into the railing, standing on his tiptoes, threatening to tip over the edge at any second as he reached out into the city lights. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?”

Dropping back down onto the heels of his feet, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain his emotions. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone,”

You watched with wide eyes as Lucifer’s wings sprouted from his back, giving a soft flap and lifting him into the air. His shoes landed on the edge of the railing with a soft tap, a shaky sigh coming from within him. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Lucifer looked down at the red rose in his hand, the thorns breaking the skin of his palm. Golden liquid pooled in his palm, soaking the stem, staining the petals, giving it an otherworldly glow. He glared at the sight, his emotions pooling over, overflowing.

“War and glory, reinvention, the garden, freedom, her attention,” Lucifer walked along the edge of the railing, his body tipping back and forth between threatening to fall over and sinking back into his room.

Your brows furrowed deeply at the mention of the garden, fingers digging into the doorframe. Was he singing about Lilith? You knew he and Lilith had split, Lilith disappearing over seven years ago now. You had even accidentally let out a laugh in Lucifer’s face when Charlie had told you that fact, furthering the man’s sadness. Not that you felt bad about it.

But now, a sickness began to twist within your gut, making you want to hide away and never be seen again. He missed Lilith. You shouldn’t have been as upset about that as you were. If anything, you should’ve been laughing at his misery. But it only left a souring taste in your mouth, bile threatening to come up.

“Out in daylight, my potential, bold, precise, experimental,” Lucifer smiled as the memories of a time gone by came and went in his mind. Back when he still fought for his dreams, back when he wanted to give humanity the greatest gift imaginable. If only he had known just what his gift would entail, maybe things wouldn’t be like this today. “Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her,”

You turned your back to Lucifer, unable to continue listening to his depressing serenade anymore. You glanced back, eyes wide to find Lucifer lying on the balcony’s edge, as if uncaring what would happen to him should he fall.

“What does it matter? It’s already done, now I’ve got to be there for her redemption,”

Your whole body froze, blood going still in your body. Even your heart seemed to quieten down, barely thumping against your chest. Surely you hadn’t heard that right. Surely, he didn’t say redemption. Your redemption. He was singing about you.

Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, trying to understand what was happening. Why would Lucifer, the man who abandoned you for ten thousand years, sing about missing you? You scraped your memories for any reason he would suddenly miss you, wondering what you had done to earn such attention. You had purposely been avoiding him, you thought you had taken the proper measure to never form another connection with that demon ever again.

Your mind drifted back to what you had been doing before stumbling across Lucifer’s room. You had been spending time with Adam, the man who, apparently, Lucifer stole everything from. Lucifer had stolen both his wives, Lilith and Eve, and had made an eternal enemy out of the man. You felt the air in your lungs hitch in your throat, realization washing over you, drowning you in misery once more. Lucifer was jealous.

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” Lucifer closed his eyes, leaning over the inner edge of the railing, dropping onto the floor, landing on his feet with a thud. He held the rose to his lips, ignoring the cold feeling of the breeze brushing past his face, teardrops falling down his cheeks and drenching the rose. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?”

He turned to face the city once more, the bright lights reflecting in his tears. He furrowed his brows in frustration, squeezing the rose tight enough to snap the stem. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone!”

Lucifer threw the rose over the edge, the golden shimmer of his blood glittering as it poured like rain. He watched as the glitter disappeared in the bright city lights, his tears drying against his cheeks. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Looking down at the teardrops that had fallen to the ground, mixing with the droplets of blood dotting his balcony floor, Lucifer sighed deeply. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Silence filled the air once more, with the occasional sniffle from Lucifer as he wiped his teary eyes on his sleeves. He looked down at his hand, the shallow cuts already beginning the process of healing. Clenching his hand into a tight fist, he turned around, his energy fizzled out after his burst of emotions. He had just so happened to see you spending another long night with Adam in the lobby, and everything within him finally snapped.

Turning around to retire to his bed, Lucifer’s eyes widened as they instead found you standing in his doorway. You visibly flinched, your blood running cold. You should’ve left long ago, but you found yourself stuck in place, watching the man before you break down. Now he was faced toward you, and the air suddenly felt suffocating.

Without thinking, you whipped around, taking off running down the hall. Your sleepiness was replaced with a sense of panic, your feet thundering down the hall as you ran as fast as you could. You heard Lucifer’s voice, calling out to you, begging for you to wait, but you didn’t dare stop. You didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. You didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to the desire for older times. You knew, deep down, that if given the opportunity, you would willingly sink back into Lucifer’s hold, allowing yourself to be vulnerable to him once more. You also knew it would never end well.

So, you ran. And eventually, you no longer heard Lucifer calling and chasing after you. You made it back to the safety of your room, curled into your bed, and passed out. You didn’t want to be awake and present in the moment, not when he could show up at any moment. You just wanted everything to disappear.

And yet, you couldn’t get his voice out of your head, even long after falling asleep...

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #Spotify

319 notes · View notes

benevolentspidey · 2 months ago

Note

What’re your bakudeku hcs?

honestly what are they NOT lmao

izuku cannot cook to save his life but he always feels slightly guilty because katsuki is always cooking them food, so every now and then katsuki will let him cook them lunch for work the next day and if anyone even gives a sideways glance at how truly awful their food smells during lunch, katsuki will glare daggers into them while taking mouthfuls of the stuff. he just loves to see the proud smile on izukus face when he finishes the entire meal raving about how good it was.

the one thing izuku is good at making is bread, even better than katsuki (katsuki is still totally the better bread baker but AGAIN he lies and claims he’s not great at it because he is in love and a simp for izuku and loves to make his boy happy)

katsuki took night classes on massage therapy during their lasy year at UA because he knows how bad izuku's hands and arms hurt (ESPECIALLY when the weather changes) and the only way he knows how to fix it is by massaging them. (he literally has to force izuku to sit down and let him because he’ll deny it till he’s blue in the face that he's in any pain)

they have codependency issues so bad after the war that they’re literally inseparable for WEEKS before adults intervene and force them into therapy. like they have some part of their body touching each other at all times type of separation anxiety. (the final straw was when aizawa walked into the dorm kitchen to find katsuki giving izuku a piggyback ride while he walked all about in the kitchen trying to cook dinner for the class. izuku was passed out taking a nap during the whole ordeal.)

katsuki always washes izukus hair and does his curly hair haircare routine because no matter how many time he takes izuku through it, he always manages to fuck it up on his own.

Izuku pretends to be bad at it on purpose because he loves katsuki washing his hair he finds it hilarious that katsuki hasn’t figured it out yet

katsuki knows

they never outright confirm to the media if they’re dating or not, they don’t do PDA a whole lot, but they’re close enough that questions and rumors run wild. even when the media outright asks them they’re so vague it’s actually annoying

��dynamight, what are your feelings towards deku?’ ‘right now? pretty fucking pissed he took down the villain right as I was closing in on him. took all the lime light away from me, the fucker.’

'hero deku! how are you and dynamight going to celebrate his new ranking in the hero chart? I'm sure it's going to be... explosive.' 'I think we're all going out with our former class mates for dinner or drinks or something. And kacchan is really good at controlling his quirk, so there's not going to be any unnecessary explosions, thats why he made it into the top 10!'

they are literally REQUIRED by their government issued therapist to not engage in PDA because:

1. their therapist is damn good at their job and knows the media coverage and public opinion on their relationship will send the pair of them into a tailspin and

2. engaging in PDA will increase their codependency issues

They have a love-hate relationship with their therapist

the first time they argue after they get together is literally over groceries. because katsuki and izuku didn’t have any semblance of a friendship when they got to their teen years, katsuki didn’t see the midoriyas growing struggle with money. so when bakugo comes back from the store spending an extortionate amount on groceries that should've cost like ¥20,000 and he comes back having spent over ¥70,000 , izuku goes on an anxiety induced lecture about how careless katsuki was with their money, katsuki gets PISSED because he’s not careless and it spirals out of control until izuku finally burst out with ‘what are we gonna eat when all the food runs out and we have no more money’ and then, shocked and having no idea where izuku would that impression from has them sit down to have a conversation (okay actually i need someone to make this into a fic. shit i think i might make this into fic)

katsuki has a soft spot for mange-y and abandoned cats and will bring them home and take care of them until they're fully healed before rehoming them.

Izuku would never tell katsuki this, but he is very allergic to cats. He would rather die though than tell him and ruin his rehoming hobby.

izukus guilty pleasure is trash reality tv. (im talking like KUWTK and jersey shore type of trash reality tv) katsuki rolls his eyes at it and will tease izuku over it, but izuku will always find him standing behind the couch watching it while izuku is binging watching the episodes he's missed.

katsuki's love language is definitely words of affirmation but like done in the right way (aka the deku way) and physical touch (and also acts of service but it really depends on the person and the day)

izukus is acts of service and quality time (literally, katsuki will just sit next to him on the couch and let him ramble and ramble about what ever is in his notebook or on his mind for hours and izuku gets so much joy and love from that one small action)

i will fight tooth and nail for this take but katsuki is NOT the space heater everyone thinks he is. he's got very warm hands because of his quirk but out of the pair of them, izuku is the hot box when they're sleeping.

even though one of katsuki's love languages is physical touch he doesn't like people touching him or being in his personal space. besides izuku, the only other person allowed in his personal space is surprisingly todoroki

here's just a few headcanons i have. i'll probably add to this at different points because i definitely have more i just haven't ever written them down before

#spideyasks #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bkdk headcanons #bkdk #bakudeku #bakudeku headcanons #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

62 notes · View notes

that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years ago

Text

Protection of the Abyss

Synopsis: When Childe's too injured to think, Foul Legacy soothes him to sleep in search of you.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Injuries, mentions of crying, near-death experience, pain, mentions of medical supplies

Requested by Cottagecore Anon 💐: hihi! so uhm i have a FL scenario brainrot rn and i might forget about it cause there's so much im doing rn in college (AAA—) so imma immediately send this. 💐 what if foul legacy takes over childe, like, not to transform into his foul legacy form but like, takes over childe's consciousness and body and tries to find reader as childe and reader just doesn't know its FL. its okay if you dont wanna do this request btw!! (since it is a bit uncomfortable for a being to take over —) - cottagecore anon 💐

~ * ~ Childe is used to injuries. As the Eleventh Harbinger, he holds an unprecedented position of power over the endless troops of the Fatui, and as such it seems only natural for others to be against him, to fear his control and desire to put an end to it. The Fatui are distrusted in all other nations- that much he knows- but very few are courageous or foolish enough to attempt to confront the infamous Tartaglia, the Fatuus renowned across Teyvat for his battle prowess, and the ones that are quickly find themselves left for dead with a warning to never approach again. They would return home, terrified, whispering to their companions that yes, Tartaglia is truly unmatched amongst the common folk of the world. Childe has heard the rumors, and allows them to grow and flourish. He sees them as true- of course he’s unbeatable by simpletons like treasure hoarders and hilichurls- with the power he wields, how could he not be? He keeps his Foul Legacy, the art of the Abyss, grasped tightly in his hand; powerful, deadly, controlled; ready to unleash at a moment’s notice, and together he and the Abyss could even tear down the heavens from the sky. How foolish. Trembles run through Childe’s body as he limps away from a pile of dead bodies, slumping against a rocky cliffside and letting out a slow exhale. The twin blades in his hands lose their shape before dissipating into mist, the effort of using his Vision too taxing on his weakened body, and Childe curses himself and his idiotic hubris. He got sloppy- thought he wouldn’t be attacked so far from civilization- although he won, his opponents were smart with how they used their own blades. He squeezes his eyes shut as another wave of pain washes over him, awful and nauseating. His Foul Legacy whines in the back of his head, echoing faintly, distressed at Childe’s wounds and attempting to soothe his rapid, delirious thoughts, a moment of calm in the turbulent ocean of memories. He grasps and clings to a bright piece of the past amidst the Harbinger’s flickering consciousness- the first time he met you, at Bubu Pharmacy, and how you had held his heart and treasured it like it wasn’t corrupted by the Abyss and the starry sea. Childe hears Foul Legacy growl determinedly, once, twice, before everything fades to darkness. Foul Legacy blinks, squinting at the sun and sitting up. Everything is numb, a thin blanket spread over the searing pain of their shared body, and he glances down at his- Childe’s- hands, tentatively flexing them. They’re human enough, minus the way his skin is stained night-color from his forearms down, even fitting inside the bloodstained gloves Childe always wears as part of his uniform. The monster shivers- everything feels smaller in this form, squishier, more vulnerable- he hates it. Briefly he considers slipping the mask on the side of his head over his face, for some semblance of protection, but ignores it in favor of rising to his feet, the pain of Childe’s injuries just barely masked by Abyssal power. You- he needs to find you. You’ll help him and Childe, with your gentle hands, and erase the fear that lingers so steadily in his being. The sun is setting as you write up another prescription, clicking your tongue. What a horrible cold going around! The number of people falling ill only rises by the day, and you’re simply grateful that neither you nor Baizhu have gotten sick yet, with seemingly the entire city needing the Pharmacy’s services. With a flick of your wrist you sign the paper, stamping and rolling it into a scroll to take to work the next day. At least Qiqi can’t catch any bugs going around, you’re not sure what you’d do without your best herb collector, and you toss the scroll into your open bag where at least ten others of the same type are waiting. There’s a knock at your door, and the lateness of the hour makes you tilt your head in slight surprise as you set down your empty mug and venture out of your office. Idly humming a tune, you unlatch and open your front door, your little song dying away in an instant when you’re greeted by the sight of Childe, blood splattered across his clothes. Immediately you panic, brain going into overdrive as your eyes jump from injury to injury, only stopping to wonder how in the world he’s still standing upright. “Wh- Childe?! What happened?!” You pull him inside, sitting him on the couch and turning to run for your medical supplies when a hand catches your wrist. Childe tugs gently on your arm, and slowly you lower yourself and sit beside him, worried at his silence. His fingers brush your chin, urging you to look up into his shining blue eyes. Shining. Your own eyes widen as you stare, the sparkle in Childe’s eyes unnatural yet beautiful all at once. You begin noticing other unusual features, from the staining on his hands to his pointed ears to his hair, now fading from ginger to white at the tips, and your next words are hushed, whispered. “You’re not Childe… are you?” A head shake, and the sensation of a face buried in the crook of your neck prompts you to wrap your arms around Foul Legacy, running your fingers up and down the back of an Abyssal creature in a human body. You can feel him shaking- partially out of fear, partially from adrenaline- and your heart almost shatters right there and then. Without another word you slip away and climb the stairs, Foul Legacy following right behind you, to retrieve your medical kit. The next moments are filled with comfortable silence as you tend to the injuries peppering Childe’s body, cleaning the dried blood with a delicate touch. Foul Legacy merely watches, eyes glimmering and flicking from your face to your hands and back again, fascinated by the process and how the veil over the pain grows stronger and stronger. A few times you catch him mumbling quietly in Childe’s voice, then hastily covering his mouth, blinking in confusion as you attempt to hide your laughter before hunching over the bandages once more. Finally, finally, Childe’s body is wrapped and treated, the snow-white gauze stained deep red in several places, and you let out a tired sigh and lean against the wall, Foul Legacy slotting himself in place beside you. There’s a tentative brush of his hand against your wrist, the deep purple-charcoal color strange but familiar, and without thinking you lace your fingers with his and hold tight. Foul Legacy squeaks in surprise, the sound coming out as more of a yelp in Childe’s voice, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, pointed ears twitching in embarrassment. You smile, raising a hand to ruffle his copper locks, and suddenly there’s a cheek smushed against your palm, Legacy closing his eyes and pouting. His sulky expression, adorable as it is, quickly fades as you begin rubbing your thumb against his cheekbone, turning into one of awe and contentment. This- This is what Childe feels when you cup his face in the morning, at times when Foul Legacy is securely locked away. Everything is soft and gentle, his blackened hands holding yours as you trace across all of Childe’s freckles, making little galaxies and constellations out of them, and Foul Legacy wishes he could stay forever even if he feels his strength waning. He shifts slightly, attempting to curl around your body like he usually does, but settles for resting his weary head in your lap, consciousness faltering as Childe’s body begins to heal. Just barely does Legacy feel your hand stroking his hair, and involuntarily he lets out a whimper, not wanting to leave just yet. There’s a slight pressure on his forehead, your voice whispering something he can’t quite place, and Foul Legacy’s eyes drift closed into slumber. Childe wakes up aching, pain humming constantly in his bones, but not unbearably. Golden rays of sun splash across the blanket tucked over his body, the scent of food wafting from the kitchen- your kitchen- a tasty-smelling broth simmering while you read at the table. Your head jerks up when Childe peeks around the doorway, a broad smile gracing your features as you leave whatever novel you were skimming behind in favor of pulling the Harbinger into a gentle hug. He doesn’t even bother to wipe his tears as he mumbles out “thank you”s and “I’m sorry”s, merely leaning into your touch with a hum of relief. He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’s here with you, where he can heal safely unlike all the times before, accepting the soft blanket and warm broth you bring as he nestles back down onto the couch. The tips of your fingers dance from freckle to freckle, and with a quiet laugh Childe asks you what exactly you’re doing. There’s a little gleam in your eyes as you chuckle. “Oh, I just thought I’d give you some attention, too.” In the back of Childe’s mind, Foul Legacy purrs sleepily, treasuring the memory of your gentle hands ghosting over his face.

1K notes · View notes

racheyace · 6 months ago

Text

Running Into Fire

A Luke and Matt sizeshifter short story, this story takes place immediately after 'Be the Hero'.

TW: Life threatening scenarios involving being trapped in a burning building, some swearing, mentions of self-hate and shame

Approx 4.2k words

“Come on dude please! This will be so good for your image!” Matt was pacing the living room practically giddy with excitement; he was shaking like a squirrel on caffeine.

Luke on the other hand was largely less enthused, mostly embarrassed, and deadly scared of revealing his unique abilities to anyone else, he’d already let too many people see what he was capable of in the last few months.

“Matt I can’t, I can’t just go around shifting for the whole world to see, you don’t get it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t going to let this drop, it had been two weeks since the incident at the bank and Matt was convinced, he was now somewhat of a vigilante. Luke had used his size shifting abilities during a bank robbery, the robber had turned suicidal when it was clear there was no sign of escape and had set a bomb.

Luke, thinking quickly had shifted into his larger size of approximately 60 feet to smother the bomb and apprehend the criminal. The police had then discovered what was going on and promised Luke they would keep his secret, for which he was grateful.

Matt on the other hand was only convinced further that Luke should continue to use his powers for fighting crime.

“Honestly Luke what the hell is the point in having kickass superpowers if you aren’t ever gonna use them!”

“I’m not a superhero Matt, I’m a freak of nature and this has to be kept a secret.” Luke stood then, feeling his blood pressure rise with the feeling of anger, he didn’t want to fight with Matt, but he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the minute.

Another reason Luke couldn’t rely on his own abilities, though he had some semblance of control to shift at will, his shifting was also controlled by his heightened emotions.

Feelings such as anger or stress could cause him to grow and feelings of sadness and exhaustion would make him shrink, all out of his control, if he didn’t have a handle on his emotions.

“I’ve kept your secret Luke, and I don’t plan on going around revealing your powers to the world, but I at least think you should be using them to save people.” Matt was firm, his arms crossed over his chest, all excitement of a child gone in an attempt to help his friend see his own potential.

“Fuck man you don’t seem to understand that if this gets out, people will come after me, either the general public who think I’m dangerous or the government who will see me as a science project. I won’t be helping anyone if I’m locked up in some government facility.” Luke pushed his fingers through his short brown locks.

“This isn’t like in the movies Matt, superheroes aren’t real, in real life freaks like me need to stay hidden, for our own protection and for the protection of others.” Sighing deeply, Luke finished his rant, he wasn’t usually a man of very many words, but he needed to get Matt to understand this.

“Fine, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” The tall blonde walked away from the conversation, it was clear they were not going to agree on this tonight, but he knew his friend and he knew that when push comes to shove, he would be the hero.

Luke fell back into the soft cushions of the couch, he didn’t feel like he’d won that, and he knew he hadn’t, but at least for now Matt would drop the issue and stop sketching potential superhero disguises for him.

Luke and Matt had known each other since they were in the first grade and had been thick as thieves since. When Lukes abilities made themselves known when he was six years old, he was sworn by his parents to keep it a secret even from his best friend, so it wasn’t until high school that Matt actually learned of Luke’s gift and even that had been by accident.

Luke had been stressed about a major test and feeling the tightness in his body and the push of shifting coursing through him all day, when the test was over, he had bolted into the forest that backed onto the school oval so he could shift.

He had not expected anyone to follow him, but he was grateful that it had been Matt and not someone else, though it had been a scary revelation for Matt he had quickly overcome his fears and was stoked to be in on the secret. Luke had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t have to hide a huge part of who he was from his best friend.

Now some 10 years later, both of them in their mid-twenties and sharing an apartment in New York, still best friends and trying to lead a somewhat normal life, this had clearly grown boring for Matt though.

Matt was the more charismatic of the two where Luke was the quiet nerdy type, overly emotional and anxious as all hell, which didn’t bode well for him considering the nature of his abilities.

Luke’s biggest fear is still to lose control of his abilities and hurt someone he cares about, there had been way too many close calls throughout the course of his life so far and it was so easy to lose control. He couldn’t let that happen, and if he were to play the superhero then the probability of something going horribly wrong was much higher, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why can’t I just be fucking normal.” Luke sighed through gritted teeth; life would be so much simpler.

A loud explosion sounded nearby, shaking Luke from his self-depreciating thoughts, the crash could be felt like an earthquake through the floor and rattled the windows. Quickly jumping to the window, he could see flames coming from a nearby apartment building, only a block or two away, it looked as though a few cars had crashed into the building followed by an explosion.

Hearing the quick pads of feet down the hall he turned to see Matt had emerged with his shoes on and a hoodie over his pajama top.

“Oh, hell no.” Luke said, already knowing exactly what Matt was thinking.

“We will get there faster than the emergency services Luke, we have to go and help.” Matt was already heading for the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not doing it Matt; I won’t shift in front of all those people.”

Matt sighed turning away from him, clearly still either pissed or just disappointed in him, he opened the door as he spoke “I’m not asking you too, I’m going to go and help, whether you come with me or not, that’s what good people do.”

Matt closed the door behind him, and Luke turned his pale blue eyes skyward as if the ceiling might provide him with a reasonable excuse to stay in his apartment. Groaning loudly, he pushed off from the window to put his shoes on.

He wouldn’t let his friend go alone with the potential that he could and would recklessly put his own life in danger to help, he was the real hero after all, Luke was the coward.

Luke quickly raced down the two flights of stairs and chased after Matt who was already approaching the smoky scene. Now seeing things up close, it was clear that two cars had crashed into each other before rolling into the building and crashing into what must have been a gas pipe.

The six-story building was in flames, four of the six floors already engulfed with the fire rapidly escalating higher by the minute, many residents of the building were standing outside already disheveled and, in their nightwear, crying and hugging each other.

“Is everyone out? Has anyone called 911?�� Matt was asking the crowd, a few people were on their phones already, presumably calling emergency services.

“No, there’s an elderly couple on the sixth floor, I can’t see them, there’s also a family with kids and I think a few others, I can’t see them anywhere they must be still inside, of god I wish they would hurry!” A stocky woman shouted, she had short, cropped hair and was clutching a small dog to her chest sobbing into his fur.

Matt nodded at the woman before running towards the entry way into the apartment, Luke followed after him grabbing his arm to pull him back.

“No fucking way Matt, there’s no way I let you go in there.” Matt tugged on his arm trying to shake Luke off of him, he had a sharp look in his hazel eyes.

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch it burn, the firefighters are ten minutes away, they’ll be dead by then.”

“And you’ll be dead too, fuck!” Look shut his eyes tightly thinking of a way to get those people out, they couldn’t go up from the bottom, it was already unstable and engulfed by flame, they needed to go in from the top. He had a plan, but he didn’t like it.

“Damnit Matt, come with me, quickly!” He shouted at his friend pulling him around the corner and into the shadow of the neighboring building.

“We do this quickly okay, I’ll shift and let you in to the sixth floor, get the people to the window and I’ll carry them down and then we go before emergency services get here, got it?”

Without waiting for his friend to respond he quickly shot up to his 65-foot height, he pulled his hoodie over his face to hopefully hide his identity from onlookers, he then knelt down in front of his friend, laying his hand palm up for Matt to climb onto.

It never ceased to amaze Matt each time he saw his best friend grow into a literal giant, but there was no time to stare slack jawed, he quickly climbed on sitting with crossed legs in the center of the massive palm as it rose into the air.

With only a brief moment to hesitate, Luke carefully stepped out of the shadows of the building and rounded the corner, his footsteps quaked the ground below him and the multitude of gasps from the ground made him flinch. Ignoring the gawking stares, he went straight up to the building trying his best to keep his steps light lest he cause the unstable building to collapse.

At his impressive height of 65 feet, he stood eye level with the windows of the sixth floor, carefully and mindful of his small passenger he raised his hand up to the sixth floor, knocking one of the windows with the tip of his finger to break it and allow Matt to enter.

Once his hand was level with one of the windows, Matt stood and jumped through the open window, immediately shouting to anyone that might be there.

“If your still up here, shout out, make a noise, we need to get you out of here now!”

With nothing else to do but anxiously wait while the crowd of small people below him stared up at him in most likely fear, he fiddled with the edge of his hood and tried his best not to look at them.

He could feel their stares though, and the click of photographs being taken.

In the distance he could hear sirens and he cursed under his breathe.

“Come on Matt.” Luke muttered impatiently.

As if reading his mind, Matt made an appearance at the window, he had an elderly woman in a nightgown on his left with her arm over his shoulder for support and an elderly man on his right also leaning against him and coughing from the smoke in the air.

Luke raised his hand to the window, making it level and flush against the side of the building so it was easier for them to step onto, the woman looked up probably expecting to see a fireman and a ladder but instead was greeted with large blue eyes peering in.

She screamed bloody murder and clung to Matt, urging him to back away from the window.

“Ma’am it’s okay, he’s a friend, we are here to help I promise.” He assured her.

“M-monster!” She wailed, Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the word, he’d always referred to himself as a monster, a freak but never once had he heard someone cry that name at him before, not his family, not Matt, not even the frightened onlookers during the bank incident.

The word pierced through him, and he hesitated, he didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, he knew what it felt like to literally put your life in someone else’s hands, and they didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him.

Matt rubbed the woman’s back soothingly, while the old man stood silently, his shirt pulled over his mouth so he could breathe easier, he stared at Luke as if calculating if it was worth the risk.

At that very moment Matt had just managed to calm down the old woman when there was more commotion behind him and soon a young woman with two young children, a little girl of around six years old and an older boy maybe ten, came into view of the window. The mother skidded in her tracks when she took in the scene before her, backing away towards the fiery hallway they had just come from.

“No wait!” Matt cried, quickly becoming frustrated with everyone’s hesitance towards his friend.

“Listen! This is Luke! He’s a friend, I swear, we only want to get you down from this building, you only have to trust him for one minute then I swear you can walk away!”

The mother and two children walked a little closer, but the old woman was firm in place.

“Do you want to wait for the fire fighters to get here and risk your lives while you wait or do you want to get down now!”

That was enough to convince the young mother and she skirted around the wailing woman, she then helped her children up onto the ledge and onto the awaiting palm, once seated in the center she held both her children close to her.

Luke raised his other hand as a sort of safety ledge before carefully pulling his hands away from the building and lowering the small family to the ground.

Another round of gasps erupted from the people around him and he kept his head tilted downwards in hopes that no one would get a good angle of his face. Once his hand was on the ground, he moved his other away from the family so they could step off easily, his eyes met the little girls, she reminded him so much of his own little sister when he was younger.

The young woman stood on shaky legs and pulled her children along with her, Luke had to suppress the automatic impulse to flinch from the feeling of small limbs tickling his sensitive palm. The little girl toddled after her mother and gave him a little wave, her other hand gripping a small brown bear to her chest.

“Thank you, Luke.” She said, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, he nodded once to her before he addressed the growing crowd.

“I’m gonna stand up again.” He muttered, he knew his voice no matter how soft would carry and echo through the streets, he felt he at least owed them a little warning.

Then standing again, he raised his hand once more to the window ledge, the fire had entered the room now and the woman still stood shaking her head, now however the old man was at her side also trying to convince her to get on.

“Come on Brenda love, we can’t stay here.”

Matt had had enough though, he approached the window trying to get a glimpse of the emergency services, he could hear them getting faintly louder, still a minute or two away, but the building could give way at any second.

“Luke your gonna have to grab her.”

Luke gulped audibly, not only did he really not want to do that, but he hated grabbing anyone against their will, even holding the robber in a firm fist had made him feel sick to his stomach. No one should have their free will taken from them like that, especially a frightened old woman.

“Matt, you can’t ask me to, I can’t.”

“Do it lad, she won’t listen to reason, please help us out of here.” The old man spoke up then, his wife was in a state of panic and not listening to anything happening around her, there was no way to convince her to get on his hand willingly and Matt couldn’t lift her onto it on his own.

The building groaned and that made up his decision, they had to do this now.

“Okay, alright, you two get on first.” The old man wasted no time, he climbed on and sat himself down holding on tight to Luke’s thumb that had curled into his palm, Matt hopped on shortly after.

Luke moved them towards his chest, so they had some kind of shield from the drop below before his other hand crowded the window, the old woman was backing up, but she wasn’t fast enough for the large appendage that invaded the small space of the room.

She screamed so loudly that it could surely be heard from a few blocks away, Luke held his breathe, hating himself as his fingers wrapped around her frail frame, he held her in a loose fist, not wanting to squeeze too tightly on her fragile body.

Then as carefully as he could he pulled her from the building, he knelt down once more, letting off his two passengers and carefully opening his other hand next to Matt so he could help her if she was unstable.

Luke hadn’t realized until now, but the old woman had become silent in his hand, as he let her go, Matt caught her and lowered her onto the ground.

A deafening groan came from the building behind them, and Luke turned to see the sixth floor begin to collapse, he stood and stretched his arms out hoping to shield the civilians from the crash, He pushed the building upright with a grunt and then let it concave in on itself. God, he hoped that they had gotten everyone out.

The dust and smoke filtered out through the streets, causing the people on the sidelines to cough and choke, it was then that the fire truck rounded the corner, screeching tires and sirens blazing casting the site in red and blue light. Luke decided to pay them no mind, they were late to the scene, and he had other things to worry about now.

Once he was sure the building wouldn’t fall further into the crowd, he turned back to Matt and the elderly woman on the ground, his eyes widened when he saw that Matt was pushing his hands into her chest, performing CPR.

All colour drained from Luke’s face and he crouched down so his face was hovering over them, Matt’s brow was slick with sweat from the exertion.

“W-what happened? D-did I-?”

“I think she had a heart attack.” Matt panted as he continued pressing rhythmically into her chest.

“No no no.” Luke muttered, he thought for sure his own heart had stopped, this is what he feared most, he’d actually done it, he’d hurt someone, unintentionally but nevertheless proved he was indeed what she had called him, a monster.

“Step back!” A burly looking man pushed through the crowed, he held a first aid kit and a portable defibrillator slinging across his chest and an ambulance emblem on his uniform, he must be a paramedic.

“Suspected heart attack, she’s been unresponsive for about a minute.” Matt told the paramedic as he took over, Matt was a paramedic also but obviously off duty, he helped the man cut the woman’s shirt down the middle before sticking two defibrillation tabs onto her chest.

“Clear!” The man shouted before proceeding to shock the woman, her body jolted, and a deafening single beep resounded. He rebooted the device and went for it once again, jolting her body, it felt like time stood still as everyone waited to listen to the beeping of her heart.

“Beep, beep, beep.” A rhythm, Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the breeze blew the hair of those directly under his looming face, and then the paramedic looked up at him.

“He’s cool.” Matt said, he spoke to the man with familiarity, like they knew each other, they probably did seeing as Matt was also a paramedic.

“I don’t wanna know man.” He shook his head and waved for them to get out of there, Luke wasted no time, he stood without waiting for Matt to follow, rounded the corner and when he saw no one was looking he shrunk back to an average height of 6 foot 5.

Matt jogged around the corner to catch up with him and immediately pulled his mate into a tight hug.

“Luke, I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re a hero, those people would not still be alive without you.”

Luke couldn’t shake the image of the old woman, literally scared to death, he may have actually killed her had Matt not been there to start CPR she would still be dead.

“Heroes don’t kill people Matt.” He said quietly, he couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, instead he only stared at his hands like they were alien to him. “let’s just go.” Luke turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward their apartment, the shaky feeling of adrenalin leaving his body and now all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

“Come on man, don’t blame yourself.” But he could tell that he wasn’t hearing him, he knew Luke felt responsible for the old woman Brenda’s near-death experience.

“The stress from the fire, inhaling all that smoke, and probably partly you all contributed to her heart attack, you didn’t kill her Luke, she’s breathing, she will live to breathe another day because of you.”

Luke couldn’t hear him, the woman’s screams drowning out any other sounds to his ears, the look of sheer terror on her face and the way she writhed in his grasp before she ceased moving all together, and then the way she hung limp against his fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t shake those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

“Luke!” He turned sharply to tell Matt to quit with the lecture already when he realized he had to look up at his friend’s face, currently staring squarely at Matt’s chest and definitely not the height he should be.

He let a tear fall down his cheek then, he should have expected this, he could feel himself feeling more and more down about himself, beating himself up until he felt raw inside. This is what he felt he deserved after all, after being a dangerous giant, he deserved to be weak and small now, at the mercy of large hands other than his own.

“Oh, Luke buddy.” Matt sighed, watching his friend slowly dwindle in height until he stood no taller than his ankle, at which point Luke collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, large sobs wracking his small body.

Matt looked around the street to ensure no one else was around, everyone nearby was too busy focused on the fire and supporting the victims and witnesses of the event. He then knelt down in front of Luke and laid out a palm for him much like Luke had done for him only ten minutes ago.

“Come on dude, let’s get you home.” Luke crawled on hands and knees into the safety of his best friends warm and slightly sweaty palm. Matt had bore witness to his shifting abilities in all its forms and was well versed in handling his friend when he was this small.

Matt carefully raised Luke up to his chest and held him securely there, blocking him from view with his other hand from anyone who might walk by or look out their windows. All they would see was a hooded young man holding something to his chest, they would probably assume he’d been to a drug deal or something, but he didn’t care what they thought as long as he kept his friend safe.

Once inside the apartment, Matt asked Luke if he wanted to stay up and talk about what happened, hoping to raise his friends spirits enough for him to grow back but Luke only shook his head requesting to be put on his bed for the night. Matt reluctantly let him go, not wanting to push the issue any further before heading to his own bed.

That night both friends slept like the dead and Luke wondered if being a hero would ever become easier.

#gt #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t #giant #tiny #gtfluff #size shifter #sizedifference #gtangst #LukeandMatt

62 notes · View notes

kerubimcrepin · 8 months ago

Text

An analysis of Joris Jurgen’s various fears and insecurities

Aka, Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 9]

This scene is one of the most important pieces of Joris's characterization,  — because of what it shows us about Joris's inner thoughts, and how he came to be the person that he is.

Joris knows what he said to Kerubim was cruel. And the things that terrify him are both the guilt and the reaction Kerubim might have:

The guilt of knowing why Kerubim is like that: His life full of nothing but horrible things and tragedies, that made him vulnerable. And Joris just called him an old wreck, as if it's Kerubim's fault that he was wrecked to begin with.

And the fear that he will be too distraught to reason with. That Joris will have to grovel and beg for him to calm him down.

He probably deems himself selfish, for feeling bad about the idea of giving Kerubim an apology for everything he said. Selfish, because really, he does owe everything to him, does he not?

Joris is perfectly aware of his place in the world as an orphan. Kerubim didn't have to adopt him.

He could have tossed him out like a hot potato, and perhaps, for how grateful Joris is, it might be just what he deserves, as far as Joris is concerned.

Joris is more than aware that he's fortunate to even have a roof over his head and some semblance of a family. Both because of Lilotte, and Kerubim himself.

So feeling bad about anything concerning Kerubim is like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

And here's the jealousy I spoke of, earlier. He views Lilotte both as a friend, and as a rival for Kerubim's affections, — because his survival has always depended on Kerubim liking him.

It's why he's so anxious, and why his thoughts are so quick to spiral out of control, just like at this moment of the movie.

He has nothing going for him besides Kerubim. Absolutely no family to speak of. So, if Kerubim can't, or doesn't want to take care of him, he has nobody left.

Children learn very early on how to please their parents: and for Kerubim it's pure, uncomplicated love, with no drama, no hate involved.

And it's the reason he fears Joris growing up, and keeps treating him like a little kid, trying to offset the inevitable:

Subtly, these feelings of love become more and more complicated, as someone grows older.

It's why Joris tries so hard to mold himself into a comfortable image for him.

And yet, despite all his attempts, Joris finds himself growing up into yet another person scorned, — doomed to hurt Kerubim. Even though growing up and hurting Kerubim, whom he loves so much, is the last thing he wants.

Even though he has his own needs for respect and personal space now. These childhood experiences and pain make him into a very guarded person. To him, deep friendship is all about emotional labour and being infantilized.

Joris can't really be his own person as Kerubim's son, and nobody will ever take him seriously from a first glance, — he's faced with reminders of that in every aspect of his life. This has made him a creature of pride.

He has to work with every fibre of his being to seem serious, cool, and professional, — because otherwise, he is doomed to not be taken serious, and be considered a child yet again.

And he has every reason to feel that way. It's just a constant uphill battle to be recognized as an adult.

It's why he wants Kerubim and Atcham to act as his children, — he can't, he just can't have people he actually likes knowing about Kerubim, and risking them seeing him as subservient to the man, as his son.

It's a way of having Kerubim and Atcham treat him as an equal — as a superior, even.

Though he knows that Kerubim and Atcham will never actually think that way of him, it is enough.

They keep protecting him. And also, softly, making fun of him for these neuroticisms. But at least they don't think of him as child anymore.

And at least, he doesn't have to care about offending them, — a father is a creature that offends often, after all.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmovie #joris jurgen

77 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 23 days ago

Note

In vol10, how do you think they’ll play the specific ramifications of what Yatsuhashi did to Jax at the end of before the dawn?

The book left me with the impression that Jax would be a shell of his former self. In the animatic we get a glimpse of Gill and Jax but the gist of that interaction is a smile they share. Likely this is meant to suggest their bond is stronger after the events of before the dawn; but in this case I’m more interested in the possibilities/impacts Yatsuhashi’s mind wipe may have on a main vol10 antagonist’s mental state; and how that may effect the story and its themes.

I don’t love the idea of sweeping this “wound” Yatsuhashi inflicted on Jax under the rug with a hard reset. Kind of want it to matter for these characters, y’know?

Maybe Jax is a little spacy and this time he’s going along with what he thinks Gill wants because he vaguely remembers her as his one anchor and doesn’t exactly remember why he wanted this so much in the first place? (I knew someone who had dementia and he wouldn’t always admit that he didn’t know what was going on and he just went with it; but he was so scared and confused all the time.) Jax is following Gill now.

Maybe instead Jax has brief moments of clarity where he is exactly the person he was before Yatsuhashi domed him but then most of the time he’s dissociative, glassy eyed, and barely there; and Gill’s pulling him along trying to jolt him back to who he used to be. All while hiding his condition from their followers.

I’m not married to any one manifestation/interpretation but I am interested in this being a further exploration of the unraveling of the Self and self-actualization. What are your thoughts?

we-ell as is often the case (lol) im pretty far out of step with most of the fandom here because i am and have always been really skeptical of the face value reading of that scene. like “yatsu completely erased jax’s memory and the book ends with jax in a vegetative state” never made sense to me to begin with –

that is an outcome yatsu spend the entire story worrying about because he’s scared of his own semblance to the point of hating it whenever he has to use it, so i’m inclined to take any “oh god what have i done!?” freak outs in that vein, in the heat of the moment while there’s a battle happening and yatsu was just fighting for his life with a guy determinedly trying to turn his memories into porridge, with a large grain of salt.

in addition:

yatsu and jax have counter-semblances; yatsu can completely negate the effect of jax’s semblance on somebodies mind by literally just jostling them – erasing the most recent couple seconds of their memory. he doesn’t even need to target the false memories specifically, just touching their mind with his semblance is sufficient to negate jax’s.

because of this, yatsu is naturally resistant to jax’s semblance.

doesn’t it follow logically that jax might likewise have a natural resistance to yatsu’s? oil doesn’t mix with water any better than water mixes with oil.

furthermore,

The boy shook his head. “No, no—he’s fine. The meditation exercises Yatsuhashi taught him seem to be helping his memory.” Velvet nodded. She had a suspicion it was more than just the mediation exercises that were helping Edward. No one knew for sure what Yatsuhashi had done with his Semblance when he’d tried to heal Edward’s mind … even Yatsuhashi wasn’t sure. His ability was to erase memories, but it was possible that there was more to Yatsu’s Semblance than that. It was something Glynda had emphasized in their second-year classes at Beacon: Semblances can grow as people do. It was reasonable to assume that he might have been able to nudge Edward’s mind enough to give him better recall and help reverse his degenerative mental disease. But Yatsu had always focused more on controlling his power than testing its limits and seeing what else he could do. He hated messing with people’s minds.

edward caspian is an elderly man living with some type of dementia whose mind yatsu tried to heal with his semblance, and evidently he succeeded to some degree. and the narrative framing contrasts this fact—that yatsu can heal damaged minds—explicitly with yatsu’s fear and dislike of his semblance in a way that suggests his fear is not necessarily rational. it’s rooted in a traumatic childhood incident where he did cause very real harm by accident, yes, but because of that trauma, yatsu focused very narrowly on restricting and controlling his semblance and consequently thinks of it as strictly a horrible, dangerous curse with no potential for anything good.

(he is, in this way, very like qrow.)

now! the specific circumstances of the struggle between jax and yatsu are, i think, worth taking into consideration here. jax is trying to pull yatsu under control again by twisting his memories; yatsu counters by trying to make jax forget an unspecified (but likely quite brief) amount of time in order to neutralize jax’s semblance.

(i think the motivation is very important: regardless of whether yatsu did or didn’t push his semblance harder than he meant to, he was pushing it toward the goal of eliminating the threat posed by jax’s semblance, under the kind of stakes we’ve seen incite changes in semblances for other characters, and this is in the context of the narrative already being pretty unsubtle about setting up for yatsu’s semblance to evolve in some way.)

this occurs at a point during the battle in which it is now clear to everyone that the crown has been defeated. jax is injured (“A bullet pierced his left arm. He cried out and saw blood. He felt the burning pain.”)

moments ago used his semblance on his twin sister to force her to keep giving him aura, believing she would otherwise leave him to die. the reason yatsu wins this struggle is gill funnels her own aura from jax to yatsu at a critical moment, and then tells yatsu that 1. she was never under jax’s control at all, and 2. she did all of this, including betraying him, because he’s her brother and she loves him and she knew she and he would both die if she didn’t stop him.

in every other instance, when yatsu jostles someone out of jax’s control, they’re disoriented and hazy for a little while afterward. so jax has that on top of having just been shot and his sister betraying him but also revealing that his long-held self-hating belief that the only reason she stuck with him and gave him the aura he needed to live was because his semblance compelled her obedience was completely untrue because his semblance doesn’t work on her at all, and he’s just suffered a crushing martial defeat in the cause he staked his whole life on.

of course he’s just laying there sobbing silently in stupefied shock!! i just don’t think that jax having what is a completely understandable emotional reaction to, waves hands, all that as seen through the eyes of a boy who’s terrified of his own semblance is a cut and dry case of tabula rasa.

what i think might have happened is that yatsu did something to jax’s semblance. think about it like this: on top of being the kind of high stakes crisis that could easily have caused yatsu’s semblance to evolve on its own, the pivotal moment occurred when gill took the aura that was powering jax’s semblance and gave it to yatsu instead.

jax’s semblance can:

twist real memories

implant false memories

yatsu’s semblance can:

repair memory damage

erase real memories

we know, from what’s going on with oscar and ozma, that mingling two people’s auras over a long period of time results in a convergence between the two consciousnesses; and we know, from jaune’s discovery of his semblance, that a similar but far more limited phenomenon occurs when two auras are mixed temporarily—jaune is able to amplify weiss’ aura for her while she is unconscious. and we know from qrow and clover that even without any aura-mixing, two people with similar-but-opposite semblances can incite growth in each other’s semblances by way of shifting perceptions and challenging beliefs about what is possible—qrow gains more control over his semblance by learning to see it from clover’s point of view.

so what happens if you mix the auras of two people with similar-but-opposite semblances while those two people are actively semblance-wrestling? well,

i’d think that the likeliest outcome is for the semblance receiving aura to change in a way that reflects or imitates the semblance it’s receiving from, and perhaps vice-versa.

and if you think about what jax’s semblance does and what yatsu’s semblance does and the way yatsu’s negates jax’s—what do you get if you add memory-twisting to a semblance that can both erase memory and heal damage to the mind’s ability to remember, and refract the memory-twisting through the prism of a character who finds the very idea of messing with someone’s mind repulsive? well, my answer would be that you change the memory-twisting into something that seeks to heal instead of seeking to control… like, say, untwisting cognitive distortions to cause the target to see something clearly. for example.

alternately: what happens if you give yatsu jax’s ability to use his semblance on many people all at once, while yatsu is striving to block jax’s semblance? maybe breaking every binding jax had all at once, rather than (as before) having to jog every victim’s memory one at a time.

or maybe you inflict that horror and fear of messing people’s minds on jax, essentially reflecting his semblance back at him in a way that causes him to feel how yatsu feels about these powers—even if only fleetingly.

or—well, we know it’s possible to steal somebody’s semblance, and the basic essence of yatsu’s is about erasure. might it be possible to erase a semblance? wipe the semblance itself back to whatever inchoate protean state a semblance has before it manifests for the first time? push it back down into the unconscious again?

now that we’ve gotten clear confirmation that jax isn’t, like, in a vegetative state, i think it’s pretty likely that either,

yatsu really did wipe way more of jax’s memory than intended and has since used the healing side of his semblance to repair most if not all of the damage, even at the risk of making jax dangerous again, because his conscience (rightly!) compelled him to do so – a thematically salient narrative direction vis-a-vis salem and, ultimately, also the god of light, or

yatsu made an incorrect assumption and what actually happened is more along the lines of similar semblances ricocheting in an unpredictable way – which opens doors for a lot of dynamic things to do with jax as a character and potentially allows for his semblance to be more/less of a danger now depending upon the needs of the vacuo arc.

so there’s some narrative advantages in either direction. i do tend to think that the relationship between the asturias twins will be different and specifically more balanced than in the book, less because of semblance-induced changes to jax’s psyche than because he knows now that he not only can’t but doesn’t need to compel her to not abandon him. there’s a layer of fear/resentment in the way jax views her in the book that is pretty effectively shattered at the end and her betrayal was explicitly predicated on gill facing the choice to save herself by letting him die, and her not being able to do it.

all that said i think it would be fun if jax didn’t really remember much of the battle, because those are the minutes that yatsu was specifically trying to erase, so he remembers gill not leaving him to die and those revelations but also has to trust her account of how the battle turned so decisively against them prior and you get the push-pull between the new revelations and his older resentment and distrust of her motives.

30 notes · View notes

communicationthroughlyrics · 5 months ago

Text

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 19

You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

TW: Sexual Assault, Description of injuries and assault, substance abuse

2.7K Word Count

CH. 19 : I’ll Be Hurtin’ When I Wake Up On The Floor

You sit up, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your body aches, and your head feels like it's full of cotton. You hadn't realized how drained you were from the past week. The doctor hands you a prescription for some painkillers and some OTC contraceptives. You nod your thanks, already starting to feel the weight of the new information. A week gone by, and you had no memory of it. You try to piece together what might have happened during that time. The doctor excuses herself to speak with Kris, leaving you alone for a moment. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Your mind feels foggy, and your body aches. It's like you're waking up from a long, terrible dream, but you know this is reality. Your reality.

You glance over at Kris, who is listening intently to the doctor. She catches your eye and offers you a small smile, trying to reassure you. But you can see the worry in her expression, and it only makes you feel more unsettled. You hate when people worry. Especially about you. The last time that happened, people died. As the doctor finishes up with Kris, she comes back over to you. "I've given Kris instructions on how to care for you at home. She'll stay with you for a few more days, just to make sure you're doing alright. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." She pauses, then adds, "And don't forget to take your medication. It's important that you rest and let your body heal."

You nod, still feeling a little dazed. You're not sure what you need, exactly, but you know you need someone. You glance at Kris, and she smiles reassuringly, squeezing your hand. Feeling the pit in your stomach forming, you get antsy as the urge to want to leave takes over.

"I think I'm okay to go home," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time, you know?" The doctor frowns but doesn't object. She nods, giving Kris a sympathetic look.

"I'll get your discharge paperwork going." Dr. Stef walks out, leaving you and Kris alone.

"You know," Kris says softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, "if you want to talk about it... anything at all... I'm here for you." She looks at you with those big, blue, worried eyes. You look away from her not wanting to see the pity and remorse on her features, and not wanting to let her see the pain in yours. Instead, you focus on fiddling with your hospital bracelet, twisting it around your wrist. You're not ready to talk about it yet, and you don't know if you ever will be. The memories are still too fresh, too raw. Waters had gotten to you, yet again. You felt like you were back at square one.

"I'm not sure what I want to do right now," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some time to think."

Kris nods, squeezing your hand. "Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here for you whenever you're ready to talk." She stands up, gathering your things from the bedside table.

"I need to do that alone, Kris."

You don't want her to misunderstand. You need to sort out your own thoughts, and your own feelings. You need to find some semblance of control in this mess.

The doctor hands you the discharge paperwork, along with a set of instructions for the next few days. You nod in understanding, but you're not sure if you can even focus on that right now. The painkillers are starting to kick in, and the haze in your mind is beginning to clear. As Kris helps you into your clothes and gets you settled into the wheelchair, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. She keeps glancing at you, worry etched into her features, and it's all you can do to not break down right here. You don't want her to see you like this. You don't want anyone to see you like this. Jim had made his way into the room, and his presence was calming you down. He was there after the last time this had happened, and he is here now.

"Hey, kiddo," he speaks lowly, grabbing the wheelchair and slowly pushing you out of the room. "I know you do not want to talk about it just yet, but you will need to soon."

Your throat tightens at his words. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The hallway outside the room seems to stretch on forever, but finally, you reach the discharge area. The nurse at the desk glances up, then quickly looks back down at her paperwork when she sees Jim.

"Here's your paperwork and instructions," the doctor says, handing them to you. "Your friend Kris has everything she needs to care for you at home. If you have any questions, or if anything comes up, don't hesitate to call."

You take the paperwork from her, barely registering her words. Your focus is on getting out of here, away from the sterile hospital environment, and back into the relative safety of your own home. Kris helps you into the waiting wheelchair, and Jim takes up position behind it, ready to push you out.

You suck in a deep breath as you are pushed out of the sliding doors, the fresh air hitting your lungs as the smell of the trees surrounding the hospital waken your senses.

"Where to, kid?" Jim asks, already knowing the answer. You stand out of the wheelchair, slightly unsteady as you turn to the pair behind you.

"I'm going home," you internally winced at how harsh that sounded. "I need some time...alone."

Jim nods, not looking surprised. "Of course, kiddo. We'll get you home, and then we can figure out the next steps." He glances over at Kris, then back at you. "But you're not going to be alone for too long. I'll stay close by, and we'll get through this together, okay?"

Kris scoffs, looking annoyed that Jim is humoring this. "Jim, she cannot be alone right now! Even the doctor said that!"

But you ignore them, steeling yourself against the pain in your side. You nod, even though it hurts. "Thank you, Jim. And Kris. I appreciate it." You turn to face the car that was waiting for you, the driver holding open the back door to the blacked-out SUV.

You climb inside, grateful for the familiarity of the vehicle, and the scent of leather and air freshener that greets you. As the driver closes the door and gets back behind the wheel, you lean back in your seat, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. "To the office, please."

The driver nods and pulls out of the parking spot, heading toward the city. You close your eyes, trying to shut out everything but the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement. The pain in your side throbs in time with your heartbeat, and you fight the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. Instead, you focus on the feel of the seat beneath you, the cool air from the vents blowing across your face. You don't know how you're going to face your team after this. You can't help but feel like a disappointment, or a burden, like you have let them all down. You wish you could just disappear, be somewhere else, anywhere else. You think about the look on Kris's face when she found you in your apartment, or how she looked at you as she talked to the doctor.

You wonder what she's thinking right now. If she's mad at you for not telling her how bad this assignment was, or if she's just relieved that you're alive. You close your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. The pain in your side is constant, a throbbing ache that sometimes makes it hard to breathe. You wish you could just make it stop Finally, your mind drifts to Scarlett. The blonde had come by the hospital to check on you, and who knows how often. you had only woken up one time to hear her voice in your room. The voice you secretly found so much comfort in. You were supposed to be protecting her. Yet- you got yourself holed up in a hospital room instead. You felt like a failure.

The car pulls up to the elevator door inside your office building, and you gather your things, trying not to wince as you stand. You limp out of the car, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. You stalk towards the elevator door as the driver pulls away, your finger pressing the button, and you look at all the damage on your hands and wrists from being bound.

When the elevator doors slide open, you step inside and lean against the back wall, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. You can feel the tension in your shoulders and neck, the pain in your side making every movement a chore. You wish you could just disappear, be somewhere else, anywhere else. The doors ding open, and you walk past Kris's office to yours, slipping inside unnoticed by your bosses. You walk to your desk, flipping a switch on the side to darken all your windows so nothing could be seen from the outside.

You knew you had to wait a bit before you could fly home to McCall. So, you were going to bunk here for the night. You lock the office door and pull down the panel for the hidden Murphy bed.

You lie down, but the pain in your side keeps you up. You roll onto your side, staring up at the ceiling. The lights from the city below twinkle through the windows, casting an eerie glow across the room. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in your side. You wish you could just sleep, but you know that's not going to happen. So, you head to the bathroom, gingerly peeling the tee-shirt Kris had brought for you to wear off. You began to survey your injuries in front of the mirror, growing more and more angry as you saw the various cuts and scrapes, bruises, and bumps that littered your body. Some of the bruises were dark enough to hide some of your tattoos.

You splash some cold water on your face to clear your thoughts. You can't believe you let yourself get into this mess. You should have been more careful, and more alert. You shouldn't have trusted the system. But, you did. And now look at you. You're lucky to be alive. You cannot let Waters get to you like this anymore. That's what you keep telling yourself. Deciding enough is enough, you cut the dressing on your side off, as well as the dressing wrapping your head. You wince as the gauze snags on some of the stitches before freeing itself. Grabbing a clean washcloth, you clean yourself up, before pulling the tee back over your torso and walking out to your bed.

You collapse onto the mattress, the cool sheets pressing against your sweat-dampened skin. You close your eyes, trying to find some semblance of rest, but it's no use. Your mind refuses to shut off. You keep thinking about Scarlett, and how she must feel about all of this. You wish you could just go to her, hold her, protect her. But you can't. Not right now. You have to focus on yourself and get better. The clock on the bedside table glows softly, casting a dim light over the room. The minutes tick by, each one seeming to weigh a ton. You decide enough is enough. You know you need to take your medicine, but you can't until you are home. So, you pack your things, hide the bed away, and walk up to where your helicopter sits on the roof.

The wind whips through your hair as you step outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the office. You make your way to the helicopter, wincing as you climb up into the cockpit. You buckle yourself in, start the engine, and take off. The cityscape below you blurs into a kaleidoscope of neon and darkness as you ascend higher and higher into the sky. You keep your mind focused on the flight before you, and soon enough you are landing at your cabin, weary and sore. You know it wasn't the brightest idea to make that flight alone, but right now you cannot help but feel like a crash landing wouldn't have been the worst thing for you.

You stumble inside, dropping your bag by the door. The cabin is cool and dark, the fireplace crackling softly in the corner. You head to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of whiskey, and down it in one gulp. The burn of the liquor is welcome, but it does little to dull the ache in your side. You pour another glass and sit down at the table, staring out the window as you sip.

The stars twinkle above the treetops, their light casting a soft glow on the snow-covered ground. It's beautiful, but it only serves to remind you of how far away from everything you feel right now. You wish you could talk to someone, anyone, about what happened. But you can't. Not yet. You take another sip of your whiskey, letting the warmth spread through your body. As you sit there, lost in thought, you hear a vibration coming from the kitchen. You walk over to the counter, seeing your phone screen light up as the notifications keep pouring in. The device had been dead since that day, and this was the first it was being charged. Your heart drops when you see Scarlett's name pop up on the screen, noticing she had tried to text you, and is now calling you.

Your body reacts on impulse, accepting the call before you can think.

"Hello?" you croak out, your voice hoarse from disuse. There's a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Oh, thank God," Scarlett whispers. "I've been so worried about you."

Your heart sinks further as you hear the tears in her voice. "I'm okay," you tell her, though the lie feels hollow even as it leaves your lips. "I just need some time to myself."

There's another long pause, and then Scarlett lets out a shaky breath. "I understand that, Y/N. I do. But I wish you'd let me be there for you. I want to help.”

Your heart twists at her words. You know she means well, but you also can't pull yourself to let her in. Not yet. "I appreciate that, Scarlett," you say, your voice softening. "But I need some time to sort things out on my own.” There's a long silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear her taking deep breaths to calm herself down. You want to reach out to her, to comfort her, but you know you can't.

"I... I understand," she finally says, her voice shaky. "Just promise me you'll call me if you need anything, okay? Or if you change your mind about wanting to be alone..." she starts. "But, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"He had been torturing me too, just in a different way. We can help each other, you know?” Your heart clenches at her words. You know she's right, that he's been tormenting you both. But you can't bring yourself to trust anyone right now. "I'll think about it," you manage to say, your voice sounding even more distant than you feel. You hang up, not wanting any more words to be said.

You stand there, staring at the phone in your hand, feeling guilty for how you just treated her. But you can't help it. You need this time to yourself. You take another sip of your whiskey, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. It's not enough. It will never be enough. You go over to the bag with your medicine in it and get out what you need to take. Hopefully, this will allow you to sleep.

CHAPTER 20

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #ilybomtjaltm #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #scarlett johansson

39 notes · View notes

eksvaized · 8 months ago

Text

Part Six [ Previous 〡 Next ]

As you sit on the bed, your posture is rigid, almost painfully so. Your back is unnaturally straight, thighs pressed tightly together in a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of control. Your eyes are fixed on Simon, unblinking, as if you're trying to memorize every single detail you hate about him. Your hair, drenched and heavy with water, clings to your neck and shoulders. The cool droplets are slowly seeping into the fabric of your shirt, soaking it until it clings to your skin. Despite all appearances suggesting that you are fully immersed in the present, that you're hanging onto every word the man in front of you is saying, your mind is a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts and emotions.

As much as you yearn to silence your mind, to eradicate the incessant thoughts that relentlessly hark back to the bathroom and what had happened there, they persist. They circle your mind like vultures waiting to swoop down on their prey.

The ghost of Simon's touch lingers on your skin. The memory of it branded deep into your memory. His touch is still palpable, almost as if his palms are still there, resting against your wet soapy skin. Even though his hands are now at his sides, the memory of how his fingertips traced your flesh, how they mapped your body, seeking out the spots that made you squirm, that elicited any reaction other than crying or whimpering, is still fresh in your mind.

"Are you even listening to me, Y/N?" Simon sighs deeply. It's a quiet sound filled with exasperation and something else that you can't quite identify. He shakes his head, and that gesture seems to hold more significance than you can comprehend right now. Uprooting himself from his spot, he grabs the chair from the desk and positions it next to the bed. He sits down. His body is now directly in front of you, his gaze unwavering.

You lower your chin in a slight nod, acknowledging him. Yet, no words manage to make their way past your lips. Your throat constricts at the mere thought of speaking.

"Then repeat the rules."

You bit the inside of your cheek. There's a pause that stretches between the two of you. A long, tense pause that has Simon leaning closer to you. His hands rub together anxiously before he wipes his palms against the fabric of his shorts. You catch a fleeting glimpse of an emotion etched onto his face, a longing for something that you can't quite place. Something about his expression tells you, whispers to your gut instinct, that if you don't want this conversation to veer into dangerous territory, you need to come up with an answer. And you need to do it quick.

"If I want to stay in... in my room—" You echo the first thing he has said to you, and you try not to cringe because this doesn't feel like your bedroom at all. It's too big, devoid of any personal touches, lacking in colour and warmth. And most importantly, it doesn't even feel like a room. It's just another cell that you will be confined in, a gilded prison with invisible bars. "—and not be put back in the basement, I have to behave."

You hope the answer will be enough to satisfy him, but Simon jerks his chin, urging you to continue, to say more. Your heart drops like a stone in a still pond, ripples of anxiety spreading outwards. You didn't listen to him. Well, you did, but only superficially, so now recalling what he was speaking about is a challenge that you are terrified of failing.

"I can't leave the room unless I need to go to the bathroom, and even then, I'm not allowed to turn the shower on or fill the bath by myself. If I want to bathe, first I need to get permission from you."

Each word is wrenched from your lips, akin to plucking thorns from a deeply embedded wound, one excruciating prick at a time. You speak at a snail's pace. Your voice is barely a murmur. And while you talk, you can't help but wonder why Simon suddenly allows you to wander around the house, even if it's only limited to one long corridor. Something seems off. The only reason he might allow it that you can think of is that he wants to test you, to see if you will attempt to escape. All of this leads to a sudden realization, one that you might have had once but forgotten in the haze of your fear — your attempts to flee must cease. The mere notion of escape must be buried deep within, hidden away like a priceless treasure, until you have earned enough of his trust.

"Downstairs is off-limits." That's the second rule.

"Good," Simon reclines in the chair, making it creak under his weight. After crossing his arms over his broad chest, he asks "What else?"

"I must learn how to fold paper flowers." Out of the three rules, this is by far the most peculiar. The rationale behind it is unclear. It leaves you puzzled as to why this skill is necessary, why he wants you to learn it. When Simon first informed you of this rule, he gestured towards a book which you had failed to notice earlier, resting inconspicuously on the nightstand. Instead of using plain, white sheets of paper, he specified that flowers must be made of the pages of the book.

When you tried to ask how to fold them, an art foreign to your hands, you were met with Simon's curt reply: Figure it out. His answer made it clear he probably didn't know how to do it, either.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room again. It's heavy and oppressive. You find it impossible to maintain eye contact, as if his gaze is a blazing sun that blinds you. Your eyes droop to your lap, tracing the pattern of goosebumps on your legs — physical manifestation of the unease that you feel.

Simon's watchful gaze is ever-present, observing your every move with hawk-like intensity. You felt like a mouse under his scrutiny, small and vulnerable. These silent moments are the ones you hate the most. When he is talking, it's easier to tune him out, to lose yourself in your own thoughts. But when he is silent, it's harder to ignore his presence, harder to pretend that you are anywhere but here. You long to be back in the comfort of your own home, nestled securely in your bedroom, far from here and far from Simon.

"Later tonight, you must get ready for our first date," he says and stands up. A hint of anticipation flickers in his eyes.

A sensation, unfamiliar and as intoxicating as a sip of aged wine, akin to hope, burns within your chest. The hope is like a lone candle illuminating the vast darkness of uncertainty. Could it be that he is planning to take you out to some remote restaurant? The idea dances in your mind. It's a sweet symphony of possibilities that you allow yourself to indulge in, if only for a fleeting moment. But reality, ever so cruel, crushes the budding dream before it can bloom. Simon, you remind yourself, is not one to act recklessly. He would never risk setting you free, letting you wander outside the confines of this house. This realization sends a shiver of anxiety rippling through you, leaving you to dread the unknown plans he has for you.

"In the wardrobe, there's a pretty skirt you could wear. I think it would fit you nicely," he suggests, but the tone of his voice leaves little room for disagreement. His words, veiled as a gentle suggestion, carry the weight of an unmistakable command.

"You should rest now," he continues, crossing the room like a prowling lion until the space separating you is no more than a whisper. As you raise your chin, the sight of his toned abdomen greets your eyes. The faint outlines of his muscles are visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.

With a firm yet gentle grip, he encircles your elbow, pulling you up. He steers you towards the bed. A part of you resists the notion of surrendering to sleep in his presence, but the prospect of temporary oblivion proves too enticing. Perhaps, you think, the comforting embrace of slumber will grant you a temporary reprieve from your grim reality.

Before leaving the room, Simon tucks you in with a gentleness that seems almost foreign. His lips softly press a ghostly kiss against your forehead. The touch is so unexpected that it makes you recoil instinctively. You clutch at the covers, pulling them tighter around your body, drawing them up until they're almost grazing your jawline.

The door closes with a soft, almost imperceptible click. Your ears strain, leaning into the silence, awaiting the metallic sigh of the lock sliding into its place. But it never comes. The tantalizing possibility of an unlocked door tempts you, whispers sweet promises of freedom, urges you to shake off the covers and confirm it for yourself. But something holds you back, an invisible chain forged from fear, and you remain as motionless as a statue.

All of this seems too good to be true, like a mirage shimmering on the horizon of a parched desert, too pristine, too perfect to be anything but a cruel illusion. After enduring what felt like an eon trapped within the lightless, cold basement, being in a room with windows, with the sunlight streaming in, feels like a dream. Yet, it's not merely a dream - it's a bewitching siren's song, luring you in with its alluring beauty only to hide a monstrous nightmare beneath its captivating guise.

You sigh and close your eyes, letting the sun's warm tendrils brush against your eyelids. Maybe you — Simon — should have closed the curtains.

You struggle, you really do, to fully comprehend what Simon wants from you. His behavior is a complex puzzle that is difficult to decipher. There are times when he treats you terribly — his temper flares easily, driving you to the brink of tears, and his harsh treatment makes you want to bash your head against the wall until it all is over. You are trapped, kept like a captive in the prison, unable to escape or breathe. He treats you like some kind of pet, an object under his control. He toys with you as if you are a doll, a plaything that existed solely for his amusement and whims.

But then, like the flick of a switch, his demeanor would change. He would morph into a boyfriend who appears to be overly controlling. Yet, if you squint and tilt your head just right, you could convince yourself that his actions are because of an overbearing concern for your welfare.

This is all so twisted, so warped. Just thinking about him, trying to unravel the enigma that he is, and formulating plausible explanations for his actions, is a mental exercise that leaves you with a headache.

And yet, despite it all, a tiny part of you, a minuscule fragment of your consciousness, betrays you. You don't want to feel any form of gratitude towards him; you resist the urge to be thankful. But no matter how hard you try, you can't quell the burgeoning feelings of gratitude that are taking root deep within you. Because, despite everything you had to endure thus far, you find a slight comfort in the fact that you are no longer confined to the dank, dreary basement.

A/N: I appreciate all the comments, likes and reblogs! you guys liking this really makes my day <3 and since this is a story that I write when I have free time, and when I just want to unwind, I don't have an outline for it yet and am just winging it, so if you have any ideas or suggestions for what you would like to see happen, I'm all ears! :) also, I was thinking of creating a taglist, so if you want to be added -- let me know.

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #malheur #dead dove fic #fem!reader

58 notes · View notes