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slowpoke-fics · 4 years ago

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The Run | The Good Doctor pt 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader slow burn

Summary: You had a bit more responsibility than you'd expected, not to say you didn't know what you were doing

Warnings: none really, cussing, ooc Negan, slow burn, it's cute, I miss some and am not perfect, read at your own risk

A/N: This is part three to the Good Doctor Part 3! Thank you for being patient and I hope to have part four up much quicker. I liked this even though it's just some logistical stuff and insight, here is part two!

Maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair.

When you woke up, Negan had his hand on your shoulder, you immediately grabbed the gun under your pillow, holding it under his chin. He immediately grabbed the gun and twisted it out of your hands, your eyes now fully open and awake. You didn't realize he was eye level with you, how hot it was for him to control your gun like that, how hot he was staring into your eyes, waiting for your next move. You were frozen, you're not sure he equated it with anything but sleep, but he was captivating.

He laughed, hands up, "Damn, doll, just trying to fuckin' wake you up without fuckin' scaring you, see that was fuckin' pointless," his eyebrows raised as he shook the gun by the barrel at you, "you want it back or not?" You shook your head in disbelief as you took your gun and put it down, shocked that you held a gun to someone for just trying to wake you up. "I-I'm sorry, I guess it was just-" Negan laughed, "No worries, doll, at least I know you can take care of yourself."

You smiled, throwing the blanket off of you and swinging your legs over the couch, “So,” you stood up and began folding the blanket, “what’s the plan?” He watched you fold the blanket, not trying to hide the fact that his eyes roamed your body. Taking in the battered bluejeans that hugged your body, the scratched and slightly torn tank top, your hair shining against the sun, really popping the color out. “We’re going to drive a little longer than I’d hoped but,” he huffed, “the towns supposed to have some more supplies left than we’d originally thought, we should be back by dark.” You shrugged, “Should be fun, are we ready to leave now?”

Negan leaned against the desk, you took all of him in. He was wearing his classic leather jacket over the tattered t-shirt and blue jeans that laid over his steel toe boots. He watched as you put your hair into a pony tail, shirt playing peekaboo with the skin on your torso, “Right after breakfast doll. You ready?” You nodded at him, heading to the door with him following close behind.

Once you had sat down for breakfast Negan started shoveling food down, a full plate compared to your half rations. You didn’t really have much of an appetite, worried about everything that could happen with Negan today. He didn’t seem to notice, and by the time you’d finished your small plate, he was already done eating too. He grabbed your plate so he could return it with his own. You picked up the bags and followed suit, following him out the door and to his truck.

The truck was huge. Had to have been able to fit half of Alexanndria's storage. You’d wondered how much he was planning to come back with. It started to make a little more sense when a small portion of his crew jumped into the back, probably for protection. You climbed into the truck after Negan opened the door for you, closing it once he’d known your feet were out of the way. Then proceeding to climb in his own side.

Negan started the truck, taking you in before he started rolling. Your legs crossed, fingers interlocked at the top of your thighs, thumbs picking at each other, ankle continuously moving. You watched the trucks behind you, following close, at least three others. Did all of them have people in the back? How big was this run?

You were clearly nervous and he hated that, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. He tried to ignore it, but after fifteen minutes of non stop thought through his head, he had to say something. "God damn doll," Negan bellowed, "you're gonna roll the damn truck if you don't stop shaking so much," Negan lightly rubbed your forearm, a foreign thing to you, "what're ya so fuckin' nervous about anyway princess?"

You shrugged, a look of uneasiness resting on your face at his nickname for you that didn't go unnoticed, "Just don't know how to act with your group, what're your run rules? Where do I not be in the way? Will I distract you and your men? I'm used to going solo, or with one or two people. There's so-" Negan had to stop your monologue, knowing you've asked these questions twenty times since yesterday. "Don't fuckin' worry about it," Negan smiled, "I made sure this was gonna be fun for you." Your eyebrows curled, needing him to explain.

Negan blushed? No way, you thought and left it alone. "What do you mean?" He shrugged, "You'll see, won't you doll?" You huffed, "Well that just makes me more nervous." Negan let out a hearty laugh, "Damn girl, pull at this old assholes strings huh?" He shook his head, "I'm your personal companion today," he giggled at your slap to his arm. "I don't need a baby sitter!" He raised he hands very quickly to show defense, "No! But, wherever you go, I do. Whatever you fuckin' say, that's law. Everyone else goes at your direction too," he paused, looking at you, "but you don't leave my fuckin' sight," his eyes bore into you, demanding confirmation. "Yeah, okay," you smiled lightly.

"So," Negan's fingers drilled the steering wheel as he hummed at you to continue, "what's in this place?" Negan shifted, "It's a little town, the rest is a surprise." He looked genuinely excited, and you wondered how this apocalypse had changed him as a man. He couldn't have always been this heartless. "Do I get any hints?" Negan hummed again, this time searching for something to give you, "You'll fuckin' like it." You shrugged, "Maybe." He glanced to your bag where you keep your notebook, a gentle reminder of his broken trust. "Oh," you cleared your throat, "hopefully." He beamed at you, "Come on lil' fuckin' firecracker," he pressed the gas a couple more times, gently swerving the car to play with you, "be more fuckin' excited! I'm fuckin' kidding!"

The rest of the way you could believe how different Negan was being. He was intently talking to you about the grid of the town, what his crew already know about, how his crew has already been briefed that you're running it, explained the teams to you and that you're header, leading the team leaders, and he's told you that he's confident you have this ability. You were shocked about him being completely different man that with other people. You were sure that you could be with the man sitting in the truck with you, and you were sure that you couldn't be with the man who murdered someone you considered to be your brother. You were torn between seeing his good and never forgiving him for killing Glenn, how could he do something so vile? You shook your head, drawing attention back to the road and off of your thoughts.

When you arrived, Negan placed his hand on your thigh, just barely touching you. "There is one rule," he smiled, "stay here." Negan was gone for no more than two minutes. He finally came to your door, opening it and revealing his many men standing behind him, "Make sure you're safe." He reached for your hand, dropping you down to the same man who stole from you in your clinic, you glared him hiding behind Negan.

Negan stepped out of the way, the man looking guilty, "Hello, Doctor Y/n," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for stealing from an honorable woman." He handed you a gum pack, missing a few pieces, and a small pack of skittles, "I couldn't find gum to replace what I'd stolen, so I hoped that the skittles would excuse my poor manners." You smiled hatefully at him, taking what was in his hand, "Apology accepted..." you waited for him to say his name, but Negan chimed in. "Brady," and he slapped the other man on the shoulder eliciting a smile, "and Simon." You smiled, reaching your hand out to shake Simon's hand, "I've heard." Negan smiled at you, "Good we're all fuckin' aquatinted," he roughly slapped Brady's shoulder, you didn't miss the wince he tried to hide, "these two travel with us period. So, Y/n," a bright smile, "what's the fucking plan?"

With that you noticed the other men had cleared a path for you, letting you view the town. At this point you took in the town, looking at the tiny shops and small streets. Negan wasn't kidding, it's a small town, surely the four trucks you bought could fit everything. You thought for a second, and it hit you, how much work he had put into this. You smiled to yourself, knowing that he wanted to make this go smoothly for you, hence the perfect amount of trucks, a grid, briefed men.

You walked a little behind you, looking at the different streets, looking at Negan, he smiled, giving you some confidence. "You said that you'd already separated these men by trucks? With their usual teams?" You whispered to Negan, "Yes ma'am, they're with their usual team leaders and already armored, just need you to tell them where to go n what to do."

"Okay, so here's my plan-" Negan put his hand up, gesturing to the men when you realized you should be talking to them. You cleared your throat, "Okay, so here's the plan," Negan's body was just barely pressing against you, standing behind you on your left side, his hands in his pockets, watching his men intently listen to you. How hard did he work on this for you?

"If you came in Negan's truck, you're with us on main," you motioned with your hand to have them move to the side, "Truck two-or rather-team two, you're going to our left, Combs Street, when you get to the library, we're looking for education books, if we have time and space after you've gotten everything else essential on the street, comb the library taking the fun books, that's a good part of life now." Negan nodded, liking your plan for education first, noting that the houses on the street might hold value, but acknowledging that we still need distractions like 'fun books' if circumstances allowed.

"Truck three, hit the residential area, on Langley Street," you continued when the men nodded their heads, "Truck four, hit the shops to our right on second street," everyone started moving and you shouted, "wait!" You cleared your throat once again, "Team leaders, I need you and your right hand man, everyone else stay put."

You pulled out the grid as the men surrounded you, "So you've got the left and right sides on your street, split in half, half on Side A, the left, half on side B, the right, this will increase the time we can spend in the houses and avoid stepping on each others feet. Every time you clear a house you call it in, for example, team four A, you would say 'Team Four, A1 clear, moving to A2,' or 'Team Four A Trapped, requesting Four B at A3.' I need you to do this so I can designate resources and men, keep up with the lives and walkers. No need for needless death, check in." Everyone nodded, you smiled, "Anybody have questions, comments or concerns?" The men shook their heads and you turned back towards the crowd, "Alright, everyone knows what you're doing, no-one goes anywhere alone or unarmed. Take everything useful. Do not let your guard down and watch your backs. Dismissed." At that the men dissipated, going on their own assignments.

"Was that okay?" You looked to Negan, the need for approval swimming through your eyes, Negan nodded, "I think it was great, Simon what about you?" Simon chirped up, "Oh yeah, couldn't have done it better myself, I don't make them check in that much but that's okay." You smiled at Simon, wondering how he could not worry about his men that much. You watched as Team One had already started moving toward the first building, them the first check-ins started.

"Team One, heading to A1," a pause, "Team One, heading to B1," another pause, "Team Two, heading to A1." You listened to the team list off their locations, smiling as everyone checked in. "Alright, doll," Negan leaned against the truck, "Where to first?"

#twd negan #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan angst #negan fluff #negan x you #negan imagine #negan fic #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Jdm fanfic

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dinpascal · 4 years ago

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All a Game — Din Djarin

warnings: (18+) language/dirty talk, rough sex (piv), oral (m+f), hair pulling, orgasm denial, (kind of) hate sex (piv) summary: As a fellow Mandalorian, you find yourself traveling with the bounty hunter and his kid despite the mutual dislike you seem to have for one another. Everything goes well (more or less), until he nearly gets both of you killed. He gets tired of your mouth.

He was infuriating.

Originally you had given him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to the (stupid) helmet debacle. If you had lived a certain way for the high majority of your life, your beliefs and sense of self completely and thoroughly twisted a particular way, it was difficult to simply step away from that when presented with something different — something that completely contrasted with what you staked your life on.

In other, simpler words, the silver Mandalorian’s response to your face was as expected.

However, as his arrogant and you’re-beneath-me attitude continued, the less patience you could continue to muster. He and his beliefs were superior to you just because he kept an oversized tin can over his head at at times? Don’t think so.

You were just as much a Mandalorian as him.

Nevertheless, here you were. Abandoning Bo Katan and the others for him and the little green bean foundling under his care and protection. While you argued it was for his sake, as no Mandalorian should ever stand alone, you knew it was primarily because of Bo Katan herself. While experienced and cunning, you grew tired of their quest you never saw happening — the retaking of Mandalore. It was a child’s dream. One you were no longer interested in entertaining.

Traveling with the nearly-mute Mandalorian held quite the learning curve. Neither of you were too thrilled with the other (considering the stark difference in beliefs), but there was enough respect for one another to quietly exist around one another. He would occupy himself in the cockpit doing whatever he did up there, while you fed the Child and listened to his cooing and babbling, occasionally offering your own opinions on subjects. You doubted his adopted father encouraged conversation much at all, given he wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself.

While the pair slept in their tiny, shared compartment, you were a few feet away in your own that he had (surprisingly) made out of another compartment that had originally been acting as some sort of storage. The little green bean would occasionally sneak out of his hammock and make his way to yours, often snuggling between your arms and snuggling his little body to your chest.

The three of you fell into a strangely comfortable arrangement, until he agreed to a certain bounty that, apparently, required the both of you. While you were not too keen to the guns-for-hire career he had undertaken, you understood the need to survive and instead stayed behind to watch the little one while he was out.

“I don’t understand who you could possibly be hunting that you can’t take on your own.” You had begun slipping your armor on, which had previously taken estate in your personal storage; there was no need to wear it when the majority of your time was spent in or near the Razor Crest. You could hear him rustling with something behind you, though you focused on the faded-scarlet color painted on your armor.

“They want them alive.” He stated simply, as if those four words completely and thoroughly explained the situation. You turned towards him then, eyes already rolling and an annoyed look sent in his general direction. There were only a few things you missed when it came to traveling with Bo Katan and the others — one of, if not the most major, being conversation.

“What about the little one?”

He glanced in the Child’s direction, currently drawing in his notebook he had been given when your companion had come across it in the shops of Tattooine. “He’ll be fine. No one will be able to come on board.”

You sighed. Of the few things you truly disliked about the Mandalorian, one of them was that he treated the little one as older than he truly was. It didn’t matter that he was soon hitting his 51st birthday. He was mentally as old as a two-year old child. He didn’t truly understand the difference between safety and danger. He was still trying to grasp the whole concept of using the vacc tube.

You must have pulled a face then, as you caught a muffled sigh and one of your blasters being pushed into yours hands. “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can return.” You imagined he held your gaze as you looked at him, his words offering a semblance of comfort and security. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, you tucked your blasters into their respective holsters and kneeled in front of the little one. He immediately softly cooed in greeting, head raising and ears flicking in your direction. He held a red crayon in one hand, seemingly drawing a big, red dust cloud. “Hey, green bean. You stay on the ship, okay? No opening the doors and exploring without us.” He released a sound you knew to be one of disappointment (the same one he made when you said dinner was over), ears and head dropping as if being scolded.

You smiled and touched his hand, heart fluttering as his three fingers curled around one of your own. “Draw your daddy a pretty picture, okay? We have to fill the entire cockpit.” He squealed at the idea, head dropping and resuming his drawing without another sound.

The sound of the airlock hissing open is what eventually tore you away.

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“Will you shut up?”

Your chest heaved as you forced oxygen into your lungs, currently behind the cover of a large tree and the Mandalorian a few feet away, seemingly doing the same as his chest rapidly rose and fell. You sent him a glare that spilled nothing but poison, wishing more than anything that he could see your face through your visor. “You’re the one who didn’t know the stupid bounty had a crew! It’s one against twenty!” You hissed, doing the utmost to ignore the burning in your shoulder. One had managed to a blaster shot in the tiny space between your armor and knew blood was no doubt staining the inside of it. At the back of your mind, you begrudgingly noted you’d have to paint the pretty armor again, once safe and sound in the ship. It was a painstakingly slow process.

The Mandalorian apparently didn’t feel that comment deserved a response, as he merely glanced from cover to the enemy before them. Their footsteps were nearing closer, close enough to hear the shouts they shared between one another.

“You’re insufferable!” You stood and dug into your pouch, eventually coming across the tiny discs you had developed yourself and tossing them about the bushes. If anything were on your side in your current predicament, it was the flush greenery the planet held. It didn’t matter your armor’s coloring was a stark contrast, it was cover nonetheless.

Your companion was forced to follow your lead, the sound of his blaster sounding off and quickly followed by screams of pain. As an ugly blue-colored Quarren neared you, you kicked out a foot to knock his knee out from under him.

It was official. You hated the Mandalorian.

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“You could have gotten us killed.” He dragged the body of the bounty behind him, knocked out cold and his arms cuffed. The two of you had hardly spoken on the way back to the ship, though there was no shortage of dirty looks (from you) aimed at the back of his helmet.

Per usual, there was no response from him as the ramp for the ship descended.

“All for what? A few hundred credits?” Discarding your helmet and tossing it aside, you watched as he froze the bounty in carbonite. It was official — talking to a wall was more entertaining than talking to him. “There are hundreds of different ways to survive! But no, you have to do this bullshit?”

Abruptly and suddenly, as quick as a flash of lightning, he was standing just a breath from you. “If this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you princess,” he spat, “Then, by all means, get the fuck off my ship.”

You stared into his visor for a moment, resisting the urge to take a step back and away from the aura of anger and distaste he was exerting. While you certainly weren’t his biggest fan in the galaxy, you weren’t ignorant. You were more than aware of how capable this man was. Nonetheless, you knew you’d be able to hold your own against him.

“And leave the kid with you?” You laughed, briefly enjoying the amount of sarcasm it dripped. “He’d be dead in a parsec.”

“I seem to remember how completely fine he was without you.” If you were being completely honest, that one hurt. You’d grown so attached to the little swamp rat and the idea of him being fine without you around made your stomach turn.

“You’re an asshole.” There was a brief sound of static before he laughed. As if you had told a fucking joke. He leaned even closer then, arm raising to lean his weight against the wall behind you. Briefly, the smell of leather and something untamed filled your every sense. It was intoxicating, you wanted to drown in it until it was seared in your very brain.

“Yeah?” He questioned, helmet dipped so low you could feel the coolness on your forehead. “Say it again.” He dared, a leather-covered hand inching up until his thumb touched your throat. It was nothing but a touch, but a thousand goosebumps blossomed at the contact alone.

“You’re an...” The breath whooshed from your lungs as the touch left your throat and down to your hip, spun one-eighty and chest suddenly pressed against the wall of the Razor Crest. A bite of metal stung at your back, his beskar pressing into the divot between your own. He remained painfully silent, though deft fingertips began to explore the crevice between your back armor and the waistband of your pants. “Asshole.”

Before the word was out of your throat and past your lips, the buckle that kept your back and abdomen armor was released and the red armor was left clattering to the floor. Large hands were shoving at your trousers until they were loose at your ankles, unsure of just what was happening until a hand roughly grasped your ass, so tightly you were positive fingerprint marks were left behind.

His touch returned to your neck, pulling you against his chest and causing the back of your head to painfully clash against his helmet. “You and that fucking mouth.” He murmured darkly, his own hips pressing against your bare skin. His length strained against his own slacks, offering a sick kind of relief that was anything but. It was a promise, but one you weren’t truly sure he would give — you knew he was enjoying the torment he was putting you through. “I’m going to shove my cock into that pretty mouth and make you shut up for once.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat, purposely shoving your hips further against him. “Then do it.”

Before you could blink, you were spun once more and a leg skillfully kicked your own out from under you until you were on your knees. His visor was tilted low enough to know he was watching you, his head tilting just enough to say, “well?”.

Without another thought, you were unclasping his slacks and releasing his cock. It sprung free wholeheartedly, his tip swollen a deep red and so pretty and so much.

As if able to hear your thoughts, you caught the faint sound of amusement from him before his fingers curled into your hair and wrenched your head upwards so you were forced to meet his unseen gaze. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever been silent since we met, an’edee.” He took a short moment to trace his thumb over the nape of your head, securely and effectively collecting your hair into his fist. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t argue, lips falling open just in time for the slight jar he gave to your head towards his dick. He pushed no further than past his tip, giving you ample time to explore and appreciate. You did just that with silent glee, tongue swiping slow and languid laps, beginning at his shift and slowly upwards. He remained silent as you continued your slow exploration, the only indication that was he remotely affected being the slight twitch of his fingers in your hair.

You lifted a hand to stroke his length with a lazy admiration, pushing your spit where your mouth had yet to touch... Yet. He was torturously thick and as your fingers traced the pulsing vein on the underside of him, he twitched and it seemed to surge forward on its own volition. As if it was attempting to push even more blood into his dick just to reach your mouth faster.

Nevertheless, he remained eerily but characteristically silent.

You took him in your mouth once more, daring to take that much more and gently caressing what remained. It was hardly more than a caress, but enough to keep him interested and wanting. You set a slow, but steady pace, ferociously ignoring the fiery blaze that licked at your own heat.

He stood there, still clad in his untouchable armor and blasters still in their holsters — untouchable. It didn’t matter his cock was in your mouth. He was still as much as in control as ever.

It became a game. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to fall apart.

Your gaze flickered back up to him as your pace quickened, more than aware that his own had never wavered from the sight of his cock steadily pumping into your hot mouth. You didn’t need to see through his darkened visor to know.

Just as you moved to caress one of his balls, still partially shielded by his slacks, he caught your wrist in a near-painful hold. A displeased growl echoed through his helmet, ripping you away from him and to your feet. You couldn’t help the wicked grin that settled on your lips, swiping your own spit from your bottom lip with a thumb.

“You want to tease?” He questioned, one hand roughly guiding you to the table he tended to use as a make-shift worktable, bending you over it with ease while his other hand swiped for something against the wall. It wasn’t until the lights flickered shut and the sound of heavy metal clashing against metal stung at your ears, that you knew what was happening.

He gave no warning as his tongue flirted between your folds, causing your body to naturally tighten at the abrupt intrusion. It was too good, too much, when there was little warning beforehand.

He lapped eagerly, rotating from languid, deep strokes of his tongue and abrupt, sharp sucking at your sensitive, singing clit. What his intentions were were incredibly clear. This wasn’t soft love between two people who loved one another. He was going to fuck you and tease your every limit, and make you love every fucking second of it.

Each time your body would instinctively jump away, either from a harsh nip at your sensitive thighs or it simply being too much at once, an unforgiving hand would tighten its hold on your leg and drag you back to his mouth.

In a matter of minutes, with his facial hair sharply biting at your skin and his unrelenting tongue, you were keening. However, he refused you any kind of release. The moment your thighs tightened or breath quickened, he would make a soft sound of amusement and deter his movements until your body sagged in anything but relief.

At the third or fourth rotation of the infuriating game, you finally caved. “If you don’t let me fucking cum, I’m going to—,” He cut you off before you could finish, lifting himself up until his lips were touching the shell of your ear.

“I thought you’d learned.” He used one hand to lick his fingers, rewetting his tip while the other caught you around your throat. Mid-breath, he impaled you with one thrust, seemingly unable to help his own gruff groan. “To keep that pretty mouth shut.” He breathed, using his grip at your throat to drag you back down with each thrust.

A soft sound spilled from you each time his hips met your pelvic bone, promising you’d feel him for days, each time you moved. His pace was unrelenting, hardly ever giving you the time to even realize he was gone before he was thrusting back in.

His teeth nipped at your ear as he fucked you near senselessly, quickly and nearly effortlessly drawing the orgasm you’d been begging for once more. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked like this.” A string of profanities fell from you then, so fucking close and wanting to cum so badly. If he were to give it to you, you would have given him anything.

“Want to cum, pretty thing?” He questioned, the lewd sounds of your fucking only worsening as he continued. “Beg for it.”

You did so without question. “Please, please, please—” A sharp sound from your throat cut you off, just as his free hand circled your clit once and you swore you saw the heavens above. Your orgasm was ripped out of you, squeezing yourself so tight around him, his grasp on your throat loosened and his forehead fell against your shoulder.

He came with a low grunt, pulling out from your warmth and spilling on your back. He stood unmoving for the faintest of moments, as if aware you still hadn’t returned to the present just yet.

You released a shaky breath and touched your forehead to the cool metal underneath you. “Well, fuck Mando. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He instantly sighed and you imagined the curt shake of his head. “That fucking mouth.”

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excitedlysuffering · 5 years ago

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Green With Envy

It’s past 2am and my eyes hurt so it’s unedited for now sorry y’all😅

Original Request (from Wattpad account): What makes the boys jealous, if possible?

Guest stars: Sasori and Sai!

Masterlist

Naruto~

Oh, this boy… he’s too oblivious sometimes he doesn’t even know to be jealous. He was at a hot spring with friends once and someone says, “(Y/N) is so hot…” Naruto just grinned and said, “Yeah, she really is.”

But that doesn’t mean he won’t protect your honor. If someone says something a little too… risque like ‘Yeah, I’d tap that’ for example, get ready for more Narutos than you can count all charging you with a Rasengan.

He will not stand other guys cozying up to you. He’s the one who should be blessed with your hugs and cuddles. Won’t hesitate to cause a scene and yell to the entire world that he loves you and won’t let any other guy make a pass at you.

“Naruto, you didn’t need to go that far! You blasted him through three walls!” He’s endearing, really.

Sasuke~

Is jealousy an Uchiha thing or just a Sasuke thing? One of life’s many mysteries. Anywho, unlike Naruto, the second your name is brought up in conversation, he goes on guard and he’s listening closely.

If anything is said that he deems inappropriate, whether it be disparaging or otherwise, Sasuke had better be held back or he just might punch you into next week.

“Sasuke, calm down! He just said I had good taste in clothes!”

Even though he can easily get jealous, he knows the importance of freedom and he trusts you. He won’t come guns blazing (or sword slashing rather) and drag you away unless you need it of course.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re dating your dad or something. He’s very blunt and if he becomes uneasy with the way another male is talking to you, he’ll let said male know. Maybe after scowling with his Sharingan activated, however.

Neji~

Neji doesn’t really get jealous per se, more like offended on your behalf. Because of his upbringing, which taught him manners and the utmost respect, he really can’t understand talking about girls like they’re objects? Will never refer to a woman as ‘hot’ or anything like that.

If someone even dares speak of you like that, (even if you’re not necessarily together yet) he will fight them, and they will experience the 64 palms technique.

He especially hates people in your personal space. He really does trust you, just not others. Is not afraid to embarrass someone on your behalf. Half the time his glare is enough to scare them off, but some people are just clueless. (They wake up in the hospital)

“Neji! You can’t just throw me over your shoulder and leave! And that guy looked like he had seen a ghost?!” Needless to say, even cool, calm, and collected Neji has his limits.

Shikamaru~

Shika is too laid back to get jealous over little things. Somewhat like Neji, he doesn’t get jealous. He might feel threatened on your behalf, but never jealous. He can trust you with his life why shouldn’t he trust you with your relationship?

However, if someone is clearly harassing you or just generally making you uncomfortable, he will not hesitate to step in and make them leave. He won’t resort to physical violence (too much work), but he will intimidate them or put his genius to use and play some kind of trick on them.

He honestly has endless patience and at the same time no patience? Patience with you if you’re having a pleasant conversation with someone, but will go from 0-100 (or 50, really, anything more is a lot of effort) real quick.

“Shika, that guy thought he was really paralyzed, thanks to your shadow possession!” Being jealous is a waste of time, but clever revenge is always a treat for Shika.

Kiba~

So. Jealous. So. Easily. Kiba is naturally animalistic (in the best way) and just like a dog, can be very possessive. If explicitly asked, he will try to tone down his jealous fits, but will still be protective. If he does have free reign, however, oh boy…

No chill at all, whatsoever. Whether it’s absolutely destroying the object of his rage or just simply making out with you right there. No matter how annoyed he may get, he respects you with every fiber of his being and would never tell you to change or try to control you. He wouldn’t ever embarrass you (unless Kiba and Akamaru pummeling a room full of guys is embarrassing).

Just let him FIND OUT someone is making you feel the slightest bit of unease. One second, they’re chatting you up and then BAM! There’s a flash of white and a huge dog ready to maul them.

“Kiba, what do you mean they all looked at me for too long?! We walked in the door, of course, they turned to look!”

Gaara~

Gaara is a bit of a conundrum, but in a way that makes sense? Like, he doesn’t feel the need to get jealous of guys because when you leave, he’s going to be kissing you goodnight, and he’s the one who gets to spoil you.

However, he will get jealous of little things. Oh, you’ve spent a good amount of time playing with an animal/pet? Be prepared to walk in on Gaara giving them a stern lecture on stealing you from them. Gaara knows he has any potential suitors beat, but tiny adorable animals and children? In his mind, he can never be too cautious.

He gets a little pouty but that can easily be cured with cuddles, sometimes with that evil little pet that stole your affections from him. He can never stay jealous for long, he views it as an unproductive waste of time. He could be actively trying to get your attention, but instead, he’s going to be sulking in a corner? Yeah, no.

“Gaara! Stop scolding my cat, that’s not doing anything!”

Sai~

On the rare occasion that this cinnamon roll gets jealous, he’s confused and shocked. Like just imagine the surprised Pikachu face and that’s him. He knows what jealousy is, he can identify it just fine, but he doesn’t know why he’s jealous.

You aren’t doing anything, all you did was laugh at someone else’s jokes, but still… do you find them funnier than him? Are you going to leave him because he’s not that funny?! Cue the slow onset into insanity… Poor Sai is losing his mind to paranoia and made-up scenarios.

Will most certainly drag you away (gently) from whoever is taking your attention and leave. He doesn’t even bother with a fake smile, they don’t deserve it. He’ll explain to you calmly even though he’s panicking on the inside. Once he is back to normal he’ll show you his nearest artwork.

“What the-! Sai, you can’t just draw caricatures on people’s car!” You don’t even want to know how he figures out which car is theirs...

Kakashi~

Too cocky to be jealous. He has the right to be though because one glance at him without his face mask can cause instant pregnancy. Anywho, he knows you love him and some guy trying to hit on you like some high school douche isn’t going to change that.

He does like to intervene, however, just to flex like ‘yeah, I’m the boyfriend, now get lost’.

He’s not big on PDA, so he won’t start kissing you to ward off strangers, but he will wrap on arm around you or hold your hand and ask who your ‘friend’ is.

When there’s that one stubborn person who won’t take a hint, Kakashi doesn’t mind rocking someone’s world or getting kicked out, he needed to perfect that one offense technique anyways. He’s pretty laid back though, so it has to be somewhat drastic for this though, plus he knows you can handle yourself.

“A thousand years of death?! Isn’t it weird to be poking old men in the butt?!

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

Pfft. Who does he have to be jealous of? He’s a god among mortals, after all. To him, you’re a goddess and as such you belong with someone like him, not the peasants around you.

But on the offhand chance that someone doesn’t heed his godly status, he will not hesitate to pull you into his side and yell ‘Almighty Push’ and totally obliterate that loser. (A/N: Holy crap I think that needs to be a one-shot cuz, wow, Pein being all protective is making me swoon?)

If it’s not a big deal, he’ll easily let you take care of it. If you’re strong enough to catch Pein’s attention, you’re more than strong enough to deal with some lowlife. That doesn’t mean, however, that they won’t feel his wrath too.

If you ever want to witness a true royal rumble, dare someone to mess with Pein’s S/O. It’d be an epic tag team match (slaughter, really) for the ages. One would d be surprised how quick he can lose his cool when it comes to you.

“Pein, that’s the fifth time this month! Kakuzu is going to murder me if I ask for money to fix this wall!”

Deidara~

Need I even say it? Jealous boy all the way. You’re his favorite masterpiece so why should let an uncultured swine who doesn’t even understand your worth touch you? Rhetorical question, he wouldn’t.

He is not above fighting or placing a bomb on someone who gives you one too many glances. He’d make sure they knew it wasn’t art, they weren’t good enough for that, before blowing the offender up.

No one and he means no one gets to talk bad about his S/O. If someone insults you in his presence they might as well as swallowed one of his explosives and trusted him not to blow them up.

Will one 100% hide you from view if you look too appealing. He thinks you look ravishing, but he’s the only one who should be able to think that, in his opinion. Don’t worry, no one’s ever gotten close enough to harass you with Dei around. His one-eyed scowl is a great deterrent.

“Deidara! You blew up my favorite restaurant! He didn’t even say anything to me!”

Sasori~

Would rather die before admitting he was jealous. As adamant about not being jealous as he is about art being eternal. That’s not to say that he won’t take action though. He will use chakra strings to make the perpetrator walk away, meanwhile making them bump into literally everything in the general vicinity.

The two of you don’t leave the base all that often so it’s unusual to see an envious Sasori action, but it’s a real treat when it happens. After he deals with whatever idiot crossed him, he’ll be a bit more affectionate that day/night.

Not huge things, but instead of working on puppets all night, he’d be more apt to hold you that night. Average people hitting on you make him insecure because he realizes he’s not that great at normal relationships but he still doesn’t want to lose you. That feeds into his jealousy and he figures the only way to get rid of it is to make sure those other guys can’t offer anything he doesn’t have.

“Sasori! If you wanted a hug, you could’ve said that instead of treating that guy like a ball inside of a pinball machine!”

#naruto x reader #sasuke x reader #neji x reader #shikamaru x reader #kiba x reader #gaara x reader #sai x reader #kakashi x reader #pein x reader #deidara x reader #sasori x reader #naruto scenarios #jealousy #naruto shippuden #request

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years ago

Text

Aliens made them do it - read on ao3

Second card is officially done!! I'll be posting the masterlist tomorrow and will start posting the third bingo card in August!

*-*

Peter doesn't cry. He doesn't. Not when he's separated from Tony and the others, and not when Ronan presses the barrel of an alien blaster to his head.

He didnt cry, because he knew this was a possible outcome to staying on the ship. He knew that there was a possibility that this would happen.

He told Tony he thought this through, and he had.

But damn was he terrified. He shook with fear and cold, on his knees. They'd stripped him of his suit, leaving him in his boxers. He knew space was cold, but he never expected it to be like this.

"They're recruiting young, I see," Ronan hummed, walking around Peter's hunched and trembling form. "They must be desperate."

"I'm stronger than I look," Peter said, putting on a brave face. He was going to die anyway. He wanted to die like Spiderman, not like Peter Parker.

"I'm sure," Ronan hummed. He finishes his lap around Peter before standing in front of him. "Has anyone told you what exactly you were up against before throwing you to the lions?"

The barrel of the gun presses under Peter's chin, forcing him to crane his neck. He swallows thickly, blinking rapidly against frightened tears.

"Something as tiny and fragile as you must know you stand no chance against the almighty Thanos," Ronan continued, not giving Peter a chance to answer -not that he would.

"Its a suicide mission," the blue alien continued. "One that landed you in my grasp, and no closer to Thanos.

"And what to do with you," Ronan hummed, looking deep in thought for a moment. Peter felt his mouth grow dry.

Aunt May would never know what happened to him. He'd leave her all alone. And what happened if none of the other Avengers could stop him?

Would she be one of the ones killed by Thanos? Or would she be left behind. Left wondering if Peter was alive somewhere or gone like the rest of half the population. Peter didn't know which was worse.

"Killing you would be a waste," Ronan continued, oblivious to Peter's inner turmoil. "I'm sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves, hmm?"

Peter's first thought was torture, and he felt his breath hitching. It made Ronan grin, dark teeth juxtaposing against his blue skin.

"Oh, yes, I have the perfect thing for you and your little friends."

Peter tried not to shout when Ronan grabbed him by the hair, but he tugged Peter from his knees, and he couldn't help it.

Peter gripped Ronan's wrist, wincing and whimpering as he was half dragged across the floor.

"I've always wondered how humans worked," Ronan mused. "And now I've got four of them."

"Please-" Peter gasped wetly, tears burning his eyes. Ronan takes him into a dark room and yanks him forward before dropping him.

Peter falls onto his chest, not having enough to catch himself. He coughs as he gets his hands under him, pushing himself off the ground.

A heavy boot lands on his back and shoves him back down, and Peter grunts, scrambling to get up off the floor.

"Now now, no need to make a fuss," Ronan murmured, voice deep. "Bring in the sarcastic one. Take the other two humans and have fun."

"No!" Peter shouted. "Le-leave them alone-"

He's cut off when the boot grinds down on his shoulder blade. He winces, chest heaving as two other blue aliens leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Its best you behave, human," Ronan presses, leaning over Peter, putting more weight on Peter's back. "Your behavior from here on out determines how fast you and your friends die at my hand."

Peter chokes on a sharp exhale, tears spilling over his eyelashes.

It doesn't take long for the doors to open again, and Peter can hear Tony, grumbling and digging himself into a hole, like always.

"Ah, just who we were waiting for," Ronan said cheerfully. "Come join us."

Peter lays on the floor under Ronan's boot, knowing he wasn't strong enough to buck him off.

Tony comes into his line of sight, and he looks pissed. Thdyd taken his suit too, though he had a track suit on underneath.

Peter stupidly wondered if Tony would make his suit able to hide clothes as well -so he didnt have to go around in his boxers- before remembering there wouldn't be a chance to.

"You okay, kid?" Tony asked, eyeing Peter. Peter could only nod.

Ronan removed his boot before bending down and grabbing Peter by the hair.

Peter yelped and scrambled to his feet, and Tony took a step forward, face contortions in rage before two other Kree grabbed him by the arms.

"Humans are so strange," Ronan hummed, pulling Peter in close by his hair. Peter held onto his wrist, wincing and stumbling as he was guided around. "Your customs and traditions have always been odd, though I've never seen them practiced."

Peter whimpers as Ronan draws his head back, exposing his neck. He looks down at Peter just as Peter feels cold metal press into his throat.

"Leave him alone," Tony demands. Peter can't see him, but he knows from the scuffle that he'd tried to charge at them again but was held back. "I swear to God, you kill him and I'll blow this ship to pieces."

Ronan chuckled, eyes alit with amusement. "I'm not going to hurt him yet," Ronan promised.

"Not until I see you fuck him."

Peter's eyes widen at that.

"Fuck you," Tony snapped. Ronan laughed. "No fucking way am I going to do-"

"Either you fuck him, or I kill you where you stand," Ronan growled, aiming the alien tech towards Tony.

"Do it," Tony growled back. "I'm not scared of you."

"No?" Ronan asked. Peter lets out a desperate sob, trembling against the alien. "He seems pretty scared of me."

Peter can't help flinching when the alien blaster is pressed back into his throat.

Ronan then leans down, dark purple tongue poking out between darker teeth. Peter cries out, struggling against his hold as the alien licks a strip up Peter's cheek, from jaw up to his eyebrow.

"Fuckin- leave him alone!" Tony nearly screams. Peter manages to turn his head, but it tightens the hold Ronan has on his hair.

"Fuck him, or I will," Ronan demanded. "And I wont be nice about it."

Peter doesn't think his knees will hold him much longer. He openly cries, breath heaving in his chest.

"You can't-" Peter gasped out.

"Oh, but I can," Ronan said. "Do you think your fragile human body can handle me, little one?"

Peter chokes on a sob, struggling in his hold a little more as Ronan licks at his jaw again.

"I've heard humans tear so easily," Ronan continues, loud enough for Tony to hear over Peter's crying. "Poor thing might die before I even get a chance to fuck him properly."

"Fine!" Tony shouted. "Fine, alright, I'll do it- just- just let him go."

Ronan smiles against Peter's skin, and he's suddenly released. Peter almost drops to the floor, but he catches himself and rushes from the alien, into Tony's chest.

The older man is quick to hold him tight, hashing Peter and holding him tight.

"I'm waiting," Ronan called. "Entertain me."

Peter buries his face deeper into Tony's chest, arms wrapped around his torso.

"Pete," Tony winces, lowering his head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Peter shakes his head, sobbing breathlessly. He doesn't fight him when Tony pulls him to the floor, the whole time apologizing over and over.

"Just- just lay down, Peter," Tony murmurs, his own hands shaking. "Close your eyes."

Peter sobs as he lays on the cold ground, body stiff and vision blurry.

He can see Ronan and the two other Kree watching them, sitting and smirking together. Peter tries so hard to calm his crying, but it seems to make it worse.

Tony takes Peter's boxers off, kneeling between his legs.

Peter covers himself with his hands, trembling.

"I'm so sorry," Tony murmured, leaning over him. Peter can't look as Tony takes himself out of his pants.

He's never prayed for death before now. He sobs and begs for this not to happen, for Ronan to just kill them and get this over with.

"I'm sorry."

Its the last thing Tony says before pressing into him. Peter arches, a strangled cry forced past his lips.

He can hear the Kree laughing, egging Tony on. Peter sobs as Tony presses all the way in, lowering himself.

Peter realizes he's hiding Peter as best he can, resting on his elbows. Peter wraps his arms around Tony's neck, burying his nose into his shoulder as Tony thrusts into him.

It lasts forever. He knows neither of them are enjoying it. But Peter knows why Tony's doing this. Knows why he chose to do it instead of letting Ronan.

And Peter can't help but love him for it. But he hates him too. Hates that the two of them are in this position.

Mostly he hates himself. He should've listened when Tony told him to go home. If he had just stayed on the bus, Tony and Dr. Strange might've gotten away.

"I'm so so sorry, Peter," Tony whispered against Peter's ear. He sounded wrecked, broken and disgusted with himself.

Peter whimpers against his shoulder as he's fucked into the cold floor.

"Its okay," he manages through his crying. "Its okay, its okay."

Tony just shakes his head, exhaling wetly against him.

Peter feels his balls tighten up, and he hates himself. He sobs and closes his eyes, hiding his face against Tony seconds before he cums.

"Shh, shh," Tony hushes, holding Peter tight. "I've got you."

But Peter knows he doesn't. Not really. He's just as defenseless as Peter is. They're trapped in space with aliens just slightly less villainous than Thanos himself.

He has to bite back a mewling sob as Tony cums moments later, painting Peter's inner walls in warm semen.

He doesn't stay attached to Peter for longer than needed. Peter's boxers are pulled back on and then Tony is pulling Peter into a seated position.

"There, you happy?" Tony snapped, hugging Peter to his chest. Peter trembles against him, burying his face in Tony's track suit.

"Very," Ronan hums. "Take them back to their cages. I might want to play with them a little later."

Peter can't stop crying when they're locked in their small four by four cage. Hes leaning against the bars, knees drawn up and arms holding his legs tightly.

Tony's on the other side, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Stephen and Quill's cage is still empty to the left of them, but to the right, Drax and Mantis sit. Peter can't even look at them.

Can't look at Tony.

He tucks his face into his knees and lets the sobs wrack his body, shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #starker #ironman #spiderman #my writing #ao3 #sfsummerbingo21 #nff

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talsiaa · 4 years ago

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Tattoo Shop AU - wolfstar

*not my art but it’s stunning <33 it’s by @savysami !*

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin (I love wolfstar sm)

Summary: Sirius owns a tattoo parlour. Wolfstar fluff ensues. Also, they’re not wizards and Remus isn’t a werewolf :)

Warnings: tattoo stuff -needles, blood, pain.

Word Count: 1420

A/N: This is apart of @band--psycho ‘s bingo challenge, I’m so excited to be apart of it :)) Disclaimer though, never once have I ever been into a tattoo parlour so this is what I assume happens but I could be wrong so read it with a pinch of salt if you actually know about tattoos. Hope you all enjoy <3

The soft glows of sunset brushed upon Remus’ skin, bringing out his freckles, as he paced back and forwards in front of the tattoo parlour he was booked into about 15 minutes ago. At first, he had not been phased by the idea of getting a tattoo - ever since he was a teen he thought they looked incredibly attractive and was so sure he wanted one. Now, however, as he stood reaching for the door handle for what must have been the fifth time, he was unusually nervous. What if it hurts too much? What if he hates it? What if he flinches and causes the artist to mess it up? With the many doubts running through his head, he had not yet spotted the amused-looking tattoo artist watching him through the window from the front desk. Deciding he could no longer sit and watch his 5 o’clock appointment pace in front of his shop, Sirius Black made his way outside, startling Remus as he opened the front door.

“So are you going to pace out here all night or would you like to come in?” Sirius mocked, still giving the other young man a warm smile as to not scare him off.

“S-sorry, I just, erm...well...” Remus stood like a deer in headlights at the (rather attractive) man in front of him, not really having a reason for his pacing that wouldn’t completely embarrass him.

“Don’t worry, most people who come in are nervous for their first tattoo.” Sirius reassured him, nodding his head into the parlour and holding the door open for Remus who very uncertainly took the hint to go inside.

The parlour was unexpectedly cosy - a small fireplace opposite the front desk making the art-covered walls glow orange. Pictures of past work hung above the desk and Remus couldn’t help thinking how beautifully talented you must be to be able to do any of it.

“I’m Sirius, by the way.” Sirius walked past Remus, towards a crooked spiral stair case in the corner of the room. Remus supposed he should follow.

“I’m Remus. Sorry, I am quite late.” Remus with his six-foot-something frame struggled to fit in the passageway at the top of the stairs, ducking his head when he went under a light.

“Oh, it’s okay. You’re my last appointment and anyway,” Sirius now turned around to smile at Remus once again, walking backwards through a door that let to a tiny break room. “I enjoyed watching you pace, it was cute,”

“Oh, er, you saw the full fifteen minutes, huh?” Remus decided to chuckle instead of just combusting with regret, scratching at the back of his neck. Sirius hummed in response, flicking a kettle on.

“It’s okay, though, honestly. Loads of people get nervous coming in for their first tattoo...” the reassuring speech Sirius started was muted in Remus’ mind as he finally got to look properly at the artist.

Sirius Black was covered with tattoos. Tiny doodles peppered his skin, filling the space between some of his bigger pieces. On his forearm Remus noticed a constellation, although half of it was covered by the white shirt arms he had rolled up and untidily buttoned halfway up his arm. His skinny jeans didn’t quite go with the rather smart looking shirt, but once again Remus’ mind was racing because wow, Sirius Black was hot.

“So yeah,” Remus tuned back into Sirius’ words, both of them sitting round a small coffee table in the middle of the room on battered leather armchairs. “Drink your tea and we’ll talk about what you actually want tattooed. I’ll draw some designs and you can pick your favourite - oh, you don’t take sugar, do you?” Sirius asked just as Remus put his mug to his lips and shook his head. “I’ll answer any questions you have too, it might make you less nervous?”

Remus gave a small, grateful smile at this and murmured a thank you, placing his mug onto the table while Sirius opened his sketch book. “I actually had a few ideas, but I’m not sure which I’d like to go with. So, one of them was the phases of the moon, maybe just below my collar bone. Or, this on my bicep,”

Remus quickly took out his phone and showed a picture he’d saved a few weeks prior.

“Not the writing, though, sort of just the circle bit,”

“Alright, great. Here, might be able to choose if you can see them drawn out.” Sirius thrust the sketch pad at Remus and he took it, biting his lip in concentration. The paper showed the tattoos he wanted drawn onto a rough sketch of both body parts. “If you want both that’s okay too. Like I said, you’re my last appointment so I really don’t mind if it takes a bit longer than expected.”

“Erm, can we do the moon phases one today and the other one another time? I’d hate to keep you late.” In reality, Remus wasn’t sure he’d stay 100% conscious if he got both done one after the other. He had just a little fear of needles. Sirius could definitely sense this was the real reason but didn’t push it.

“Definitely. Come on, we’ll go into the studio.” Remus followed him back out of the room and into the tiny corridor again but luckily went straight next door. In this room, everything was sleek and clean and smelled like disinfectant. A black couch stood against the wall, facing the tattoo chair. Drawers and plastic boxes of various equipment were organised about the room.

“Jump on the chair and pop your shirt off,” Sirius flicked the lamp attached to the chair on and sauntered across the room to get the tattoo gun, ink and disinfectant.

Pulling his David Bowie tshirt over his head, Remus started feeling even more shaky and nervous. A pit was starting to form in his stomach and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Nothing to worry about, okay? You’re perfectly safe, I promise.” Sirius had made his way back to sit on a stool next to Remus with everything he needed sprawled out next to him. His voice low and soothing, making Remus suppose that even if he was in an unbearable amount of pain in the next five minutes, at least he’d have a really attractive man telling him it’s okay in the most enchanting way he’d ever heard. “If you need me to stop for a few moments just tell me. Afterwards I’ll get you a lolly if you’re a really brave boy, yeah?”

Although mocking, there was a quite a suggestive undertone to Sirius’ words. Remus took a deep breath and nodded while the other boy got to work, cleaning the area under his collar bone. The tattoo gun then graced his soft skin, making him wince and screw his eyes shut, tensing up a little.

“Just try and relax for me, Remus. You’re doing great, it’ll be over in a minute.” Sirius’ soothing words caused Remus to relax into the chair a little, the pain becoming a little duller as blood prickled to the surface of his skin, making it numb.

After not long at all, the pain stopped and was replaced by an ache instead. Looking down, a perfect depiction of the moon phases was etched into his collar bone and he immediately loved it, even if it was reddened at the present.

“There we go, all done. See, that wasn’t too bad was it?” Sirius started cleaning the gun, putting various bits back where they came from and helping Remus out of the chair. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright. I really like it, thank you!” Remus was grinning at him, and Sirius couldn’t help but grin back.

Another five minutes and Remus had had his tattoo carefully wrapped up and was at the counter downstairs again, being given instructions on how to look after his tattoo until it heals.

“That’s a pack of all the stuff you’re gonna need to keep it from getting infected and swollen.” Remus was handed a plastic toiletries bag of different lotions and anti-bac stuff. “As promised, a lolly for being brave,” Sirius smirked as he handed Remus a strawberry flavoured lolly. “And, er, this is my number.” A small piece of paper with small digits was also handed over.

“In case I have any problems with it?”

“Yeah, I suppose that too. But also,” Sirius leaned in over the desk separating them, his smirk only growing. “In case you wanna text me so I can ask you on a date.”

Remus had never blushed so hard.

#band--pyschos bingo challenge 2021 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #gay #fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #au #tattoo shop AU #harry potter #tattoos #harry potter au

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palettepainter · 3 years ago

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A friend for Shizen

(tried a new drawing style for Ecto and honestly super proud how it came out! I wanna draw this dork as best I can so we really fun to try drawing how he looks in cannon) Shizen doesn’t like socialising. She doesn’t like talking. She doesn’t like people. She prefers the company of animals over most of her coworkers, with the exception of a few UA students who she has become fond of, and so - like a good friend - Ectoplasm drags her to teachers karaoke night against her will. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Why am I here again?” Shizen asked aloud, boredly “Because you need to learn how to have some fun” Ectoplasm answered as though it was obvious, Shizen replied with a not so subtle eye role and a groan. “Who knows, you may actually enjoy it” Ectoplasm said hopefully, turning to Shizen with a smile. She met his joyful expression with a flat frown “..With all due respect, you are one of the few people I can tolerate. Secondly, I’m not looking forward to hearing Hizashi sing, he’s already obnoxiously loud enough on the daily. Thirdly, I don’t sing. And finally-“ she pointed a finger towards him, scowling “The only reason I’m here is because you forced me to” Ectoplasm hummed and nodded “True..” he didn’t seem upset, which made Shizen scowl more. For how smart and polite Ectoplasm could be she sometimes wondered if he was deep down just as much as gremlin as her cousin. She let out a long sigh “Why would you lot want to come here of all places anyway?” Shizen regarded the small building with a look It was tucked away in the side of a alley way, hardly noticeable it if wasn’t for the giant karaoke sign hanging above the door. It looked dingy and suspicious with the location it was in, not somewhere you’d expect pro heroes to spend their Friday nights. Certainly not somewhere she would spend a Friday night. She wanted to be at home. “I know some of the workers” Ectoplasm answered “Plus it’s not as crowded as some of the more popular karaoke places, it’s nice to not be interrupted by the public sometimes.” “Hm..Yeah, that makes sense I guess” Shizen answered, the last thing she needed from this evening was the public. It wasn’t that she had any bad experience with the press or some of the occasional fans that would bombarded UA’s gates - but her social battery was already run down from the counselling sessions she had to do that day, especially since the last and longest session had been for Bakugo Katsuki, not popular for the good reasons in her books. “If you really don’t want to stay you can always leave early” Ectoplasm proposed, Shizen peered up to him through the corner of her eye “At leash stay an hour or two? It’d be nice to see you have some fun with everyone - we always have a good laugh!” Ectoplasm suddenly chuckled, remembering something “Last Christmas we came here Aizawa actually got himself drunk! Don’t tell him I told you that” he whispered that last part quickly Admittedly that got a tiny smile to her face, but as the two began to get closer to the door it fell And no sooner then when they opened the door did Shizen feel her hopes for a peaceful evening slip away. “Hey hey hey!!” Mic cheered with his signature grin, throwing two finger guns smoothly in Ecto’s and her��s direction as they stepped inside. “Here’s our main microphone master himself! Bout time you showed you Ecto! Would hate for you to be a no show!” Ectoplasm chuckled in good nature, walking over to the little reception desk where the Friday evening worker he knew well was already preparing keys to their booked booths for the evening. “Would hate to be a killjoy” Ecto joked back as the man behind the counter handed him the keys. The main reception area plus the front desk was barely big enough to hold all of the group inside, the miniature bar towards the left was full to the brim, lest forget the obvious drunks that where lurking in the corners or the ones who where laying face first on the bar in their spilt drinks. The music from the already booked rooms was just barely being muffled by the heavy doors, and of course, her enthusiastic coworker Hizashi who looked far too hyped already and the singing hadn’t even started - she could already sense an on coming headache While Ecto sorted out his share of the payment Shizen stood off to the side, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed, scuffing her shoe on the floor. This was dumb. Why did Ecto drag her into this?? Shizen didn’t hate her coworkers, but they where just so..different then from what she was used to. She was a private person with little to say unless she felt as though she had something to bring to the table, someone who didn’t like big lengthy conversations or talking about how hot the weather had been. She didn’t like being interrupted from her work with someone reminding her to get lunch on time, or the constant gossiping from Midnight and Mic just next to her at their desks. Shizen’s idea of happy was different from theres In short: Shizen didn’t fit it. She would have at least felt a little better if Higari or Hounddog could have come along. Alas the two where fortunate enough to escape such an evening, though she had a feeling Higari would have jumped at the opportunity of a night out rather then cleaning up the clutter in the lab. Hounddog on the other hand, now that she was thinking of him, she didn’t think she’d be all that pleased if he was here either. After all: instead of defending her like she thought he would, he actually encouraged Ectoplasm’s plan to bring her along! The traitor. A voice suddenly chimed in her ear “Looks like Ecto really did hold up his word. Ready for a fun night out?~” With effort, Shizen turned her head slowly to the side. Midnight was giving her her trademark half open eyed smirk, her brow cocked. “...You want the honest answer?” Shizen grumbled “Or the nice one?” “Oh don’t be such a grump!” Midnight patted Shizen’s back fondly, causing the smaller women to look back at her. “For once pretend that legendary stick isn’t up your rear end, this isn’t work. It’s a fun night out!” Midnight tried to encourage and then giggled at the unimpressed face Shizen had. Shizen scowled “I don’t care if it’s a night out. I don’t like karaoke” “How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t even tried it?” Midnight reasoned cooly, pushing Shizen forward while she had no choice but to go along. “I don’t like singing” Shizen reasoned, growing more uncomfortable the closer the group got to their karaoke booth. “No ones going to make you sign your name in blood if you don’t sing! Just enjoy the evening!~ Loosen up!” there was a pause and for a moment, Shizen was convinced - until.. “All that scowling and glaring will give you wrinkles~” Shizen heaved a sigh “And you where just starting to win me over..” Two hours later and Shizen was sure she had seen more chaos happen in that one karaoke room then her entire time working at UA. Hizashi was the first to get drunk then followed shortly after by Nemuri, multiple rounds of shots left the two wobbly on their feet. Aizawa, though not as drunk, was easily persuaded by Mic who he then quick left the room with, only after Midnight had wolf whistled and yelled a saucy comment after them. They had disappeared into the men’s bathroom down the hall twenty minutes ago, and..Shizen didn’t want to imagine what they where doing. Then Midnight had walked her way over to Snipe with a hazy glossy look in her eyes, giggling away at nothing - Shizen was grateful he hadn’t been drinking because he would have defiantly spat all over the table and ergo herself after Midnighr whispered something dirty in his ear. Not as subtly or as quite as Midnight thought. Bursting back into the room returned Mic and Aizawa, their shirt collars undone Shizen noted, and then the singing and partying resumed. While everyone else was having a lovely time grooving to the music and singing horribly out of tune, Shizen’s sober rump was off in the corner with a glass of water, rubbing her temples. “Here” A frothy beer was placed in front of her “On me, I thought you might like something better then water” Shizen looked up to Ectoplasm standing next to her, holding his own cup of beer. Shizen eyed the drink briefly before she looked back up “I don’t really drink” she said with a shrug. “...Really?” Ectoplasm asked. “Why are you so surprised at that?” Shizen rose a brow and then shuffled along to allow Ectoplasm some space to sit “I didn’t mean anything rude. It just wasn’t what I expected. Higari and his siblings all drink so..” he trailed off, seeming emabressed “..Sorry, that does sound pretty rude..I should have asked” “Don’t worry about it” Shizen brushed it off and then took an unhurried sip of her water “It’s not that I have a zero alcohol policy, I just don’t drink a lot that’s all” she placed her cup back down on the table “I didn’t really drink all that much before UA anyway so..never broke the habit I guess” “Just not fond of it?” Ectoplasm asked curiously “Hm..” Shizen hummed, thinking, head in her hand “...Not exactly.” She finally answered “My dad wasn’t a big drinker either so, when I was old enough to buy alcohol I just never did. Sometimes I would on birthdays or celebrations but I wouldn’t every time” “Oh” A moment of silence passed over them, a true miracle with how they where sitting in a karaoke room. It seemed Hizashi and Nemuri where struggling to find a new song to sing to and where lightly squabbling with Aizawa laying with his cheek pressed into one of the room’s leather sofa’s and Snipe seeming to eagerly agree with whatever it was that was being said by the other two, placing his cowboy hat playfully atop of Mic’s head “...It’s been a while since I had a beer” Shizen said aloud, pulling the drink closer, the glass wet from the chilled beverage. She swirled it around, watching as the frothy bubbles popped with the motion. Curiously, she brought the mug to her lips- and then gagged Ectoplasm snickered into his drink and then quickly turned away to wipe his mouth “Hey.” Shizen snapped at him, embaressed “Like I said, it’s been a while! Alright?!” “Sorry sorry!” Ectoplasm waved his hand in a feeble attempt to resolve the conflict, but his snickering and the amused glint in his eye didn’t convince Shizen. Her eyes narrowed, cheeks hot “Oh yeah har har, laugh it up essay-plasm” “Essay-plasm?” Ectoplasm blinked, tilting his head “What? I think it’s a fitting name” “Shizen having a sense of humour?? Someone call the papers” In that very moment Shizen’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile, and Ectoplasm caught it “It seems I am capable of moving boulders with my humour” He praised with a hand on his chest, Shizen rolled her eyes. “And you ruined it” She deadpanned. Shizen looked back to her beer and hummed, the flavour had shocked her, it really had a while since she’d had a good drink. Sure she’d had a coffee or other beverage with a small splash of alcohol with it, but honestly she didn’t keep a whole lot of alcohol at the teacher dorms anyway. She slowly brought the mug back to her lips and, not wanting to be seen as a coward in front of her coworker, took a big gulp. And then gagged again. “Bleh..” Shizen stuck her tongue out “Did beer always taste like this?..” She drawled, wiping the beer that had dribbled down her chin with the back of her hand. With ease Ectoplasm brought his own glass to his mouth and took a smooth gulp - the show off, Shizen thought “It’s a required taste” he said, clearly amused at Shizen’s suffering. “God if Higari could see me now he’d laugh in my face” Shizen’s brows furrowed in annoyance at the very thought. Her cousin had a knack for being especially frustrating when he desired to be “I don’t doubt that” Ectoplasm agreed, he could certainly remember the way Higari hollered at him when he tried his first shot. He’d joked about it for days! “Still...” Shizen voice became quite, the combined sound of the muffled chatter from Hizashi, Nemuri and Snipe combined with the purring of the air fan made for a pleasant atmosphere. Ectoplasm was certainly making for a good conversation partner, then again he’d always been good at keeping things from getting boring. Perhaps she was..enjoying it a little. “I guess this is...nice” She admitted, giving Ectoplasm a sideways glance to catch his reaction. Ectoplasm was giving her what had to be the most smuggest look she’d seen from him. Head in his head with one brow cocked, the other slowly swirling his beer as he slowly nodded “Mhm - not as bad as you thought then?” He teased, bringing his beer up to his mouth to take a slow sip. Shizen snickered at the bubbly moustache it left below the area his nose would have been “Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s..okay. But don’t expect me to sing anytime soon” “One day it’ll happen” Ectoplasm reassured calmly with a light shrug “Pft, keep dreaming” ///time skip/// What had happened between their conversation and now had been a bit of a blur. Ectoplasm wasn’t drunk, he figured they’d need at least one functioning adult to make sure everyone got home safely. He’d had a few drinks and was feeling a bit more light on his feet then usual, but he wasn’t tripping on air. Shizen on the other hand.. “There there..” Ectoplasm patted her back as Shizen groaned into the toilet of the cramped cubical in the ladies bathroom, Ectoplasm hunched at her side holding what hair had fallen loosen from her bun out of the way as the other rubbed her upper back. Ectoplasm wasn’t sure when Shizen had gotten drunk, and he had no idea why she called him of all people to come and help. Maybe it was because he was the only one still sober? He wasn’t sure. As far as he knew Shizen only had the beer he’d gotten her and maybe a shot or two, he didn’t think it’d take that much to turn Shizen to this - puking up her dinner pathetically into the toilet, and it seemed that with the way things had been going, Shizen and drunk nausea where going to be well acquainted after this night. Shizen had up and left all wobbly, and then five minutes later called him by his cell. Though obviously unsure if he should even enter the ladies room, he reasoned that Shizen would have only called him if it was something serious - so he went in, and that’s how he’d gotten there “Uuuughhh..” Shizen let out a long groan “..UUUUGHHH” and then a louder groan after that, her hands that clung to the toilet as if it was a life support gripping tighter “Blergh...Everything is...thing is..spinnin’..” “When did you even start to get drunk!” Ectoplasm asked, quickly turning to peer out of the cubical to see if anyone else had come in “I thought you said you didn’t like drinking” “I don’t!..Ugh-HRCK!-“ Shizen heaved a drag gag into the toilet and groaned again “Bleh.. “ “Then why would you have more drinks?” Ectoplasm asked, trying to find reason in this confusing situation. Shizen went quite and seemed to want to curl in on herself, pulling herself closer to the toilet, almost whimpering with guilt. Thinking he’d upset her or made her embarrassed Ectoplasm went to apologise- “I’m a..” Shizen’s slurred drunk tone echoed into the toilet, grateful she had something to hide her sickly red face in “I-I’m a......lightweight..” “...Pardon?” Ectoplasm blinked “Urgh!” Shizen groaned in annoyance, pulling her head up from the toilet to turn to him “I said I’m a light-!!!” Shizen’s hand flew to her mouth, her face paling as she felt the icky crawl up her throat. She whirled back round to the toilet clumsily and then emptied out what was left in her stomach. “W-Why didn’t you say anything!” Ectoplasm, recovering from his surprise, quickly reached over to hold her hair out of her way again as Shizen breathed deeply through her nose. “Cuz-“ she heaved again and then gasped for air “Ugh...Nemuri ‘n’ the others wouldn’t shut up bout it if they...t-they-oh no..” Ectoplasm cringed at more sickly noises and then splashing as Shizen hurled once again, the smell not making things any better. Shizen groaned, hands that had been death hugging the toilet dropping to her sides like sand bags. Humiliated, sick, and defeated Shizen let out a feeble groan into the toilet A truly sad sight, Shizen of all people - one of if not the most serious person from Higari’s family Ecto knew, puking up their lunch into a stingy karoke toilet. There truly was a first time for everything “...Come on-“ Ecto picked you Shizen’s arm and looped it round his shoulder, heaving her as gently as he could to her feet “On your feet!” Shizen tried to pathetically push him away, muttering weak protests, but she was honestly too weak in her sickly drunken state so in the end reluctantly allowed Ectoplasm to help. “Sit here” Ectoplasm carefully sat her down after flipping down the toilet lid. Shizen slurred something illegible but did so “Hm..” Ecto glanced to his watch “It’s late anyway, we should all start heading back soon-“ “N-No!” Shizen threw her hands out, and then pushed them against either side of the toilet cubical walls to steady herself. “Shizen please be careful!” Ectoplasm said, having thrown his arms out ready to catch her if she fell forward off the toilet. Shizen groaned, hand on her head. “N-No...No” Shizen sniffled “Don’t want...others to..t-to-Ugh..t-to see..” In defeat, Shizen pathetically gestured to herself, looking away Ectoplasm hummed again understanding what Shizen meant “..I’ll just let them know we’ll be leaving early.” He looked back to Shizen who merely nodded in agreement. After making sure Shizen would be okay Ectoplasm quickly slipped out of the bathroom and into the karaoke room they had booked to grab his coat. “Aaayyyy! Ecto!~” Mic in all his drunken glory, slapped an arm round his shoulders microphone in hand “Where ya been my man!! Parties just gettin’ started and we’re just ‘bout to bust out the duo songs! Howza bout it?!” He eagerly tried to hold the microphone to Ecto’s mouth, but in his intoxicated state he nearly poked him in the eye “Sorry Mic, Higari called, he needs some extra hands moving his hero suit to be cleaned for tomorrow” - Which wasn’t a lie, Higari was going to be cleaning his suit tomorrow. He gently pushed away the microphone from his face as Mic let out a whine. “Already??” Mic frowned, almost pouting as Ecto nodded and pulled on his coat “Sorry Mic, next time I’ll stay longer!” “Bu-bye Ecto!!~” Midnight sang happily with a waggle of her fingers, looking to be enjoying herself as she sat on a very flustered Snipe’s lap. Snipe barely managed a wave before Midnight was on him with kisses. He rolled his eyes with a huff, things like this where just the norm with their karaoke outings. Waking back to the ladies bathrooms Ecto felt a moment of panic when he saw Shizen laying on the floor on her side. He worried she may have fallen - however when Shizen groaned a rather annoyed ‘fuck off’ when Ecto attempted to turn her head to check for injuries he sighed, she was fine. “What are you doing on the floor?..” he asked, kneeling besides her Shizen half turned her head to him, then mushed her cheek back into the cold tiled floor “My head was hurtin’...and standing made it-..it worse..shoo I decided to lay down..” A part of him was chuckling at her slurred speech, but the other part, the majority of him, felt pity at seeing her look so miserable. “I just want this pain to go away..” “..Well-“ Like before Ectoplasm pulled her arm over his shoulder and hauled her to her feet, Shizen groaning in the process “I can’t work miracles and I can’t walk on water..but I can make sure you get back to your dorm safely” Shizen gave him a look of disbelief, her hair frizzy and dis-shelved. She looked ready to argue but Ectoplasm beat her to the punch “With all due respect I doubt you could even open your door without help, considering you where just laying on the floor moments ago.” Ectoplasm reasoned sternly, giving Shizen a cocked brow “And I’ve had my fair share of having to nurse Higari when he got drunk, so it’s not as though this type of situation is new to me” “...Ugh” Shizen groaned, then flopped her head against Ectoplasm as she felt another throb of pain in her head “Just take me back to UA..” Ectoplasm smiled, grateful there wasn’t going to be an argument. Higari could be stubborn when drunk and he feared Shizen could be the same, but it seemed she’d lost the bite to her bark. Walking her to front lobby area - which was thankfully pretty desolate of life besides themselves and those left in the mini bar- called up a cab and then helped Shizen clamber in. All through the drive she was practically leaning on him, groaning the whole way about her headache. It was a stark change to her usual serious, blunt and authoritative front she put up at work. It seemed she knew this as whenever she had to lean against him she would give him a sharp look as if to say “not a word”. Ectoplasm didn’t speak, he figured it was for the best, she was probably embarrassed enough Not to mention how insistent she was on not wanting the others to see her like this Shizen did her best to stay awake, nearly nodding off three times during the ride. When the car came to a halt at UA’s gates her eyes jerked back open. It was dark and the air was bitter cold, the late evening chill settling on the campus with the eerie silence making the place feel deserted. With Ecto as her walking stick Shizen hobbled along beside him, Ecto making sure she didn’t fall or trip on any stones as they slowly made their way to the teacher dorms. A quick check of the ground floor and no one was around, must all be in their rooms “Almost there” Ecto said quietly as the elevator dinged to a stop at Shizen’s floor. Shizen mumbled, showing she’d heard him but was clearly too tired to try and mumble something that made sense. Pushing open her door Shizen instantly made an unsteady bee line for her bed, blissfully sinking her head into her pillow “Sleep on your side” Ecto said as he tried to pull Shizen to roll over. After a bit of coaxing she did so, hair askew over her pillow and face. “..Everything still hurts” She muttered, spitting out the hair that was in her mouth. Ecto reached over and politely brushed it over her shoulder “Yes it will, it’ll be like that for a while” “Mnngghrrr..” Ectoplasm reached over to slide the balcony door closed, the room slightly chilly as he drew the curtains. Shizen muffled a response into her blankets as she lazily tugged them over her and kicked off her boots “...Don’t you want to change into something more comfy?” “..’M drunk” Shizen deadpanned “I couldn’t even take off my sock right like this” “I can always call Higari to come a-“ Shizen had never snapped a glare to him so quick. “NO.” Ectoplasm was quick to hold up his hands, never get on the wrong side of an enraged animal “Alright alright!” He sputtered “I won’t call him” Shizen have a sharp nod, and then flopped her head back down, Ectoplasm sighed. “...Why dont you want people knowing you’re a light weight?” “Please don’t say that..” Shizen murmured pathetically. She tugged the blankets over her head, only parts of her brunette hair still visible “..It’s embarrassin’..” she finally answered, still hiding under her covers “I don’t like bein’ teased...makes me feel..” she didn’t finish her sentence “..Last thing I need is the others pokin’ fun at me for it” Ectoplasm paused, he didn’t think Shizen was one to care for being teased. “...Im sure Nemuri would tease a little, maybe Hizashi too” Shizen muffled a groan from under her blanket and curled up on her side. Ectoplasm moved to pick up Shizen’s shoes that had landed on the floor by her door “But they wouldn’t mean any malice, Nemuri and Mic just like to mess around.” Ectoplasm dropped Shizen’s boots to the side where they wouldn’t be in the way when she woke up, before standing back up straight “I’ve had my fair share of being a victim to their teasing too, they never mean any harm” He said in an attempt to lighten Shizen’s spirits, Shizen shifted under the blankets and peaked her head out just slightly “...For real?” She asked “For real” Ectoplasm repeated with a nod “I had gotten tired of Nemuri’s and Hizashi’s April fools gags, and so I decided it would be a fun idea to give the two a little office surprise with Hizashi’s air horn” “..And?” Shizen asked “I took Hizashi’s air horn and decided it would be extra fun to fill the horn with flour. I planned to wait till the two where relaxing at their lunch break, and sneak up behind them both with it...Turns out-“ Ectoplasm shyly looked away, the memory instantly popping to mind and replying in his head in vivid detail “Hizashi and Nemuri decided it would also be funny to use that same air horn to wake me up” Shizen tried to hard to contain her smile “A-And Uh-...” she cleared her throat, faking seriousness “What happened?” “Oh..” Ectoplasm shrugged “Just about what you’d expect” “Pfft-“ the dams broke as Shizen’s mouth broke open into a grin, honest to god laughter tumbling freely from her mouth at Ecto’s hilarious tale. “Oh god!” Her body relaxed against her mattress, the laughter making her forget almost entirely about her headache “I would’ve gotten so mad if they tried something like that with me” “I don’t doubt that...You know, if you asked them they probably would ease off on the teasing. I’m sure they only tease you because you’re so serious all the time” “Hah..” Shizen’s laughter drowned to an end, her smile now having a more harsh look to it “Yeah.” “...You know-“ Ectoplasm walked to the end of Shizen’s bed, when she didn’t say anything he sat himself down, hands together as he gazed off at the wall “I don’t think you’re as uncaring and mean as you make out to be” Shizen promptly threw her head to him “What?” “You heard me” Ectoplasm said, unthreatened by Shizen’s glare “I actually think deep down you care a lot for your co-workers, despite how you insist otherwise” “I-You-..I’m not-“ Shizen sputtered, failing miserably to come back Ecto’s utter accusation in her still drunk state “I do not.” Shizen hissed, flushing an angry red Ectoplasm failed to cower “Really?” He asked with a sarcastic tone. Ectoplasm gazed back off at Shizen’s bedroom wall to collect his thoughts “...Do you remember what you told me after me and Higari got married?” “...No?” Shizen replied with uncertainty, not sure what Ectoplasm was planning. “After the ceremony you congratulated us, that you where happy I was the one Higari ended up with and...” Though his face was hard to read, it was clear his smile had turned warm, his eyes soft as he looked back on that day, the happiest day of his life “That I made him happy” Ectoplasm smiled wider, turning back to Shizen who had fallen quite, but she was no longer glaring “..I feel like you wanted to say something more judgemental, but you said that instead” “......” Shizen turned away with a huff “..That proves nothing” Her blunt delivery seemed to put a damper on Ectoplasm’s mood, the reminder of his wedding and his happy smile fading as he looked away with a small sigh, shoulders slumped Shizen gave him a glance “...Look-“ Shizen sat up, the blanket lazily wrapped around her shoulders as she scooted a bit closer “Out of everyone here you’re not..the most annoying.” It was obvious Shizen wasn’t used to being this open with her opinions on people, evident in how she refused to look at him, her eyes trained on the floor as Ectoplasm blinked innocently “You’re intelligent, patient, good in a fight..you train your students well, you never half arse things. And..you’re good to Higari. He lived with me and my dad when he was at UA and I see how happy you make him!..You’re clearly passionate about teaching and-...and..” Shizen caught sight of the grateful smile Ectoplasm had on his face and she suddenly felt very embarrassed. “A-And don’t expect any more compliments“ Ecto huffed a small chuckle “Thank you Shizen” “...Thank you too” Shizen replied “For..Well-“ Shizen once again gestured to herself “Helping me out” “You’re welcome” Ectoplasm stood, remembering it was still late and more so that he still had paperwork to finish, even if it was a weekend. “I’ll be back up with a glass of water for you, and leave your phone out on your nightstand. You have mine and Higari’s contacts if you need anything, though I suppose you still won’t want Higari to see you like this so perhaps it’s better you just call me to make things quicker” “Yeah yeah..” Shizen said with an eye role, thought her usual snark wasn’t in her tone. She laid back down, resting the side of her head on her pillows are already feeling the drowsiness of sleep taking affect. “..You tell anyone about this-“ “My metaphorical lips are sealed” Ectoplasm said before Shizen could finish. Shizen gave him a hard look just to make sure he was telling the truth, before she laid back down again, muttering a “good” under her breath as Ectoplasm softly closed the door and slipped back out into the hall. ///One day later/// To no surprises Shizen had spent the whole of Saturday asleep, cursing the world for the head splitting hangover she had to endure. Thankfully she hadn’t called him, yet at least, so it seemed she was able to handle herself just fine without his assistance. He just hoped she was feeling better by the time Monday came around, he had no doubt that Nezu would be understanding of the situation (not impressed, but understanding), but Shizen was as stubborn as a mule, knowing her she’d tried to work regardless of if she still had a hangover. “Still slavin’ away huh?” Higari announced as he walked past the table Ectoplasm was working at. “Ya know a weekend is supposed ta be a break right?” He teased, picking up some of Ecto’s marked papers to briefly scim his eyes over them before returning them back to the table “It’s only a few more” Ectoplasm reached over and picked up a smaller pile of papers to his right “Besides, this means come Monday evening I won’t have any extra work to worry about” “Good” Higari said, casually walking to Ecto’s side to give him a small squeeze “You look way more sexy in bed then markin’ papers” Ectoplasm chuckled, his cheeks tinting pink “Flirting? At this hour??” He pretended to tut and shake his head “Not even gone lunch and you’re already off with your shenanigans” Higari chuckled, a smirk gracing his lips as he shrugged “What can I say? It’s your fault for being too cute” “Are you blaming me?” Ecto asked, resting his chin on the back of his hand, placing his pen down - just what Higari wanted, all his attention on him. Boldly, Higari rested his hand on the back of Ecto’s chair and leaned in “Never said bein’ cute was a bad thing. Yer a real beauty~” Ectoplasm’s cheeks went a bright pink as he huffed a chuckle “..I suppose I am quite a luxury~” Higari’s hand reached up into the back of Ectoplasm’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. Ecto relaxed at the affection, eyes closing - totally missing the mischievous turn in Higari’s smirk “Damn right you are~” In a swift motion Higari tugged Ecto’s head down to him, Ecto expected a kiss - what he got instead was Higari whispering something shamefully dirty into his ear, something that he dare not say out loud. His cheeks burnt crimson, his glasses askew over his face as his gaping white eyes shot open to the size of plates, uncaring of his papers as the one had been marking fell to the floor by his feet. Higari chuckled into his ear, pleased with Ecto’s rather flustered reaction- “You have zero shame” Ecto jumped in his seat and then whirled his head round to the newcomer, feeling a rush of relief when he saw it was only Shizen - God forbid if it had been Midnight, he would never hear the end of it. “Guilty as charged~” Higari said with a mock surrender motion, obviously unashamed at being caught flirting. Shizen narrowed her eyes at him in disgust “Sometimes I question how us two are related” “Love you too” Higari replied back, releasing his hand from Ecto’s hair but not before he threw in a sly wink. Ecto’s entire face and upper neck where a deep red as he clumsily fixed his glasses, Higari’s dirty words causing him to need a reboot. Higari let out one last chuckle before he went off on his way back to his and Ectoplasm’s shared dorm Shizen watched him leave and then looked back to Ecto in all his pink faced state “Ah-Uh-“ Ecto, failing you think of an excuse, cleared his throat and tried to distract himself from Shizen’s gaze by picking up the paper he had dropped earlier “S-Shizen! Glad to see you up, feeling better?” Shizen hummed, making her way over towards Ecto’s table with two cups in hand, steam rising from them indicated both had a hot drink in them. Shizen stopped besides him and then took a sip from one of the cups “Been better” she said “But not as crappy as yesterday” Ecto nodded “Oh, well- t-that’s good to hear” he hoped Shizen wasn’t going to comment on what she had seen. Shizen rose a brow at his red face, apparently that was all that needed to be said on the matter she had unintentionally walked in on. “Hm, looks like you’re having a good morning” Ecto’s face went hot as he choked on air, fumbling with his own before he dropped it. Shizen slowly slurped from her drink, Ecto coughed hard into his hand “W-Well Uh-It has-...Uhm..” Ecto couldn’t answer that question with a straight or calm face, not sure if Shizen was teasing him or if she was genuinely trying to start conversation. “...Itsbeengood..” he finally answered, barely above a mumble “Hm” Shizen nodded “That’s nice” she replied For a moment silence fell over them, for Ecto it was horribly awkward, he had no clue if he should try and say something to change the subject, if he should just suffer silently, or wish for the floor to swallow him into non-existence. Maybe a combo of all three- Clink “Hm?” Ecto peered up as a cup of piping hot coffee was placed before him, the smell already causing him to perk up and realise just how tired he was from all the paperwork he’d done. Ecto peered to Shizen, who looked to be pretending he wasn’t there - slowly, he reached for the cup. “Don’t expect this every morning” Shizen finally spoke, still avoiding eye contact as she swirled her drink in her cup. “...Just see it as a..final thanks, for helping me out...A-And Uh-“ Shizen cleated her throat, fingers awkwardly tugging at her bandana as she half turned around “Let’s just forget all the..Uhm, uncharacteristic things I may have done or said” Ectoplasm nodded humbly, bringing his cup closer towards him to take a drink. His body sunk into his chair, the warmth of the drink pleasant, shaking away the drowsy feeling of an early morning start hanging over him “Hm...you mean like when you where laying on the ladies bathroom floor looking rather sorry for yourself?” Shizen gave him a sharp look “...Yes-“ “Or maybe when you kept nearly falling asleep and then you would stubbornly jerk you’re eyes back open again because you found out you where half falling asleep on me?” Ectoplasm teased, his eyes narrowed Shizen’s brow twitched, face growing red “Ectoplasm I am not above hitting my cousins husband in the teachers dorms” Ectoplasm let out a hearty laugh, Shizen’s threat flying over his head as the smaller women merely narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t worry I’m only teasing! I won’t tell, I promise” Shizen narrowed her eyes one final time, as if to double check he was being truthful. Sensing her doubt Ectoplasm spoke again “Like I said before my lips are sealed, you don’t have to worry about me spreading gossip about the dorms. And being a lightweight is nothing to be ashamed off” “Hm..” Shizen thought for a moment “...Yeah well, next time I’M picking where we go for teachers night out” “Oh?” Ectoplasm rose a brow “Are you implying you enjoy spending time with your coworkers after all?” Despite herself, the tiniest of smiles came to Shizen’s face, she let herself laugh a little “Heh..well, maybe you’re not so bad”

#MHA #Ectpplasm #Shizen #MHA OC #OC #Palettes rat #My OC

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bungou-stray-dingus · 4 years ago

Note

I’ve just read the head cannons of Chuuya and Dazai’s bebes and I love it 🥰 can you write how they’ll react when someone kidnapped their babies and how they would get them back? QwQ

A/N : I've been gone for so long and I'm so sorry. This request and many others have laid dormant in my ask box for many many months and I'm so sorry. I went through big depression kick, and I didn't write for a while. I ended up getting laid off from my job because of the rona, and everything just felt uncertain for a while and I honestly didn't really know what to do. I slowly got back into writing, starting off with my fanfiction just to get back into the swing of it, and now I'm ready to make y'all proud and finish all the requests! I'm sorry for making you all wait so long, and I want this request and all other requests that I answer to be amazing for all of you. So, here we go! -Hopefully (still) Your Favorite Dingus

T/W : angst; kidnapping; slight mention of blood;

Osamu Dazai

Kazue was the literal light of his life, aside from you... obviously. You and his son were the center of his entire universe, he would do anything for you and his son. He made that quite known, considering how spoiled your son was already. At three years old, Dazai had already managed to buy your son everything he did, and sometimes didn't need.

Your son was a lot like his dad in the way that he liked to run off often, having you worried sick in the middle of the grocery store of mall. Dazai would often find him at the gumball machines or the tiny change eating rides in the middle of the mall. Your son hated to be confined in his stroller, and Dazai agreed that strollers were awful contraptions and that your son should be allowed to walk around.

His views quickly changed when you were out shopping for groceries one afternoon. Dazai was at work, and trying to keep your son in the shopping cart proved to be impossible, so you had agreed to let him out of the cart as long as he stayed close to you and hold your hand. You promised to get him candy if he followed those two simple rules, but thanks to Dazais relaxed parenting, your son just assumed he'd get candy no matter what. (Thanks Dazai)

You had only let go of his hand for a second, kneeling down to grab something from the bottom shelf. The last thing you heard was the small cry of "Momma!" and when you shot up and turned around he was gone. Your heart sank as you dropped the item in your hand and ran to the front of the store, asking the employees if they had seen your son, showing them the pictures in your wallet, and all of them shook their head, only able to offer their sympathies to you.

Calling your husband was the hardest part, trying to keep your voice and your hands steady as you held your phone up to your ear. The employees had already called the police for you, and they were scouring the entire store trying to look for any clue as to where your son could be.

When you had managed to tell Dazai what happened, he was on his way to the store, he didn't waste any time at all. He was furious, and at first he took his anger out on you. "I thought you were watching him!" "How could you let this happen?!" "Why would you let him go!?" He was angry and he wasn't thinking straight, but as soon as he saw how his words affected you, he quickly pulled you into a hug, peppering the top of your head with kisses. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, darling. It's not your fault."

An officer brought over Kazue's stuffed kitty cat which was a gift from Fukuzawa. He had gotten it on his first birthday and refused to part with it, he brought it with him everywhere. The sight of the kitty cat not being held by Kazue made you throw up immediately, your mind jumping to the worst possible scenario. You heard Dazai grit his teeth, his arm was wrapped around you tightly, and his grip on your shirt tightened.

The two of you race to the Agency, every other case that they had been working on is dropped instantly. Desks are cleared and pushed together to draw out a map of the entirety of Yokohama. You're sitting on one of the couches in the office, Kazue's kitten clutched against your chest, your tears soaking the top of the plushy. The light in Dazais eyes has disappeared completely, he's stern, on edge. His voice is hard but you can hear it break occasionally at the end of his sentences, especially when he says his sons name.

Ranpo and Atsushi are the main people Dazai communicates with, his voice is mixed with the constant slamming of his fists on the desk when his emotions take over completely. "Where the hell is my son!?" He shouts as he drops his head into his hands. That's the only time he'll cry, his body shaking violently. You walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as you both sob.

Everyone had been sitting around the office quietly watching you and Dazai have your moment. They all felt hopeless, especially when Dazai had initially went to Ranpo and he didn't seem to have a clue as to where Kazue was or who had taken him. "Why... Why would anyone take him? What's the reason? I want to know a reason!" Dazai shouted, his fists once again coming down on the desk. You pulled away quickly, giving him his space to lash out. He threw everything off the desk, his head dropping into his arms that were folded against the desk and letting out a scream.

His strength was being tested, he was breaking. It killed you to see him like this, you knew that there was nothing you could do to calm him. There was nothing worse that could ever happen to him, his son was everything to him. Kazue was the reason he had stopped attempting suicide, Kazue gave him a reason to stay alive, Kazue was his life line. Dazai loved his son with every fiber of his being, and right now he not only lost his son, he lost his reason for living. If anything were to happen to your son, if the worst case scenario was the actual case, you were sure that you would lose your husband as well.

All hope had seemed lost, the sun was quickly setting over the city. Everyone was emotionally exhausted. You were curled up on the couch, your head resting on Dazai's lap, his fingers massaging your scalp. "Please, get some rest darling. You need it." He whispered to you when he saw you slowly drift to sleep only to have your eyes open quickly. You felt bad for falling asleep, knowing that your son was out there somewhere without you or his father.

You handed Dazai the stuffed kitten before rolling over and trying to get comfortable. "Here, if anything comes up.. he's gonna need his Fuwa." You said sleepily, and you heard Dazai's chuckle, it sounded like he was being choked. He sniffled as he grabbed the kitten and brought it up to his face, silently crying into it.

Ranpo stood up from his chair and made his way over to the desk, pulling the map up off the floor and laying it flat on the desk. His eyes were wide open, the soft emerald green had long since turned as hard as the gem itself. Dazai shifted you off his lap and made his way over to Ranpo, stuffing Fuwa into his coat pocket. Atsushi followed him over and they both peered over Ranpo's shoulder, looking down at the map, following where Ranpo pointed with his fingers.

"The warehouse... next to the Port. Whoever it was quick enough to be gone before Y/N could notice, but he was still able to drop his cat. That means the person was on foot, so this person would have to be somewhere close to the store so a scene wouldn't be made, but somewhere they could hide him. They're most likely expecting us to show up, they want something in return, this is a ransom kidnapping." Ranpo said and Dazai nodded, trusting him with 100% of his being. He had to be right, but Dazai also knew how some ransom situations worked out. If it took too long...

"We have to go now." Dazai growled, and Ranpo nodded, Atsushi "hmph"ing in agreement. Kunikida stood up from his chair, joining the three of them by the door.

"None of you know how to drive. Let's go." Kunikida had a soft spot for Kazue, he wanted your son home safe as much as everyone else. (Even if he thought his father was a complete dunce.)

Everyone in the office agreed to stay with you just in case you woke up before the four of them got back, and with that they all ran out the door, hopping into Kunikida's car and speeding off towards the warehouse.

When they got there, they snuck up to the doors of the warehouse. Dazai leaned his head against the door, hoping to hear something, anything that would indicate that his son was in there. His heart was beating fast, and as much as he wanted to murder someone for stealing his son in the first place, he wanted to bring Kazue home with him, bring him back to you safe and sound more than anything else.

"Momma... Daddy..." He heard the soft whimpers of his son coming from the inside of the warehouse. It sounded like he was crying and Dazai to control his urge to kick down the door right then and there. He needed to be careful so that no harm would come to his son, but the sounds of his son softly crying had him seeing red. "Pwease..." He heard his son again and his heart shattered, the sound of his son pleading with his captor had him on the verge of an anger induced emotional breakdown.

Kunikida pulled the gun from the back of his pants and silently counted down from three before they pulled the door open. All four of them had guns, refusing to let Atsushi use his ability out of fear of hurting Kazue. There was one man in the corner of the room, a gun pointed at the head of your son as he smirked up at the four men. They all stopped dead in their tracks, dropping their guns to the ground and holding their hands up in the air. "Please, don't hurt him..." Dazai choked out, his eyes locking with his son in the corner.

"Took you all long enough to show up, thought you guys were detectives. He was becoming a pain in my ass, constantly crying, asking for his mommy and daddy and his Fuwa." The man chuckled as he cocked the gun back and pointed it back at your son. "Do you know why I'm doing this? Do you know?!" The guy shouted and Kazue cried out, his arms outstretched for Dazai.

He felt like he was going to collapse, the room was spinning, he had to compose himself though, he had to stay focused. He looked to Kunikida and Atsushi, hoping the plan would work out how they had said.

Kunikida quickly bent down and grabbed his gun off the floor, firing one shot at the arm of the man, making him drop the gun. Kazue let out a shrill scream and Dazai took this moment to run over and scoop him up off the floor, holding him close against his chest. The other three ran over to the man, Atsushi and Kunikida pinned him down on the ground as Ranpo cuffed his arms behind his back.

After the police took the man away they all made their way back to the Agency building, Dazai was in the back of the car holding Kazue on his lap, rocking him back and forth as his son fell asleep in his arms. The man had been one of the criminals they had captured before Kazue was even born. He had held an entire bank and its customers hostage, but had never actually killed someone, so he was let out on good behavior recently. He had been stalking Dazai, and he found out about you and Kazue and decided that he would have his revenge for the Agency ruining his life. None of them ever found out if the man would have actually hurt Kazue, and honestly, they didn't want to know, they were all just happy that he was unharmed.

When they walked through the door and you saw Kazue being cradled in Dazais arms you fell to your knees and cried. Tanizaki and Yosano had to help you stand up, and as soon as you found your footing you ran over to Dazai. "Hi Momma!"

Dazai now sternly enforced the stroller rule, he didn't want to go through anything like that ever again.

Chuuya Nakahara

Asa was his princess and you were his queen. But his daughter, oof, if anyone even looked at his daughter wrong for crying he would kill someone. Do not test Chuuya when it comes to his child. He would kiss the ground that she crawls on, he loves her so much.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think his office was a shrine dedicated to her and you. There were framed pictures of you and her, and sometimes the three of you hung on his wall, propped up on his desk and coffee table, pretty much any surface that could have pictures, they were covered.

She had just celebrated her first birthday, she was learning how to walk which Chuuya would not shut up about. If there was ever a moment to talk about his daughter he would. The Mafia members had all learned to just deal with it, knowing that if they looked agitated about the constant talk of his daughter they would either be demoted or have their asses kicked.

"Does she really have to start sleeping in her own room? She's got a crib in our room, I don't see the problem." Chuuya whispered to you from the couch as you made your way into the room opposite of yours and his. She had an entire nursery that was practically unused due to protective parenting. He really didn't see a reason in having her in a completely different room when it was so much easier to have her in yours and his room. If she woke up, he could get her immediately and get her back to sleep in the bed between the two of you.

When you came out of the bedroom you sat with him on the couch, his arm habitually wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer. He turned down the television so he could hear the monitor clearly. "If she gets too used to sleeping with us in our room, she'll never want to sleep in her own room. She's not that much further. You're spoiling her, honey." He groaned and you stifled your laughter, propping yourself up to press a quick peck to his cheek. "We should try to get some rest while she's sleeping. Come on."

The two of you laid in your bed, he held you close against his chest while you traced hearts against his bare chest with your finger. "I don't know why she has to sleep in her own room now though. She's only a year old. She's still my baby. I feel better having her close." He sighed, adjusting his free hand behind his head as he turned to look over at the video monitor, the corner of his lips twitching up slightly as he watched his daughter sleep peacefully in her crib.

"You're scared of her growing up. She's turned you into a big softy. You know, she's gonna keep growing."

"Don't say that. She's only one." He pulled his arm out from underneath you and ran his hands over his face. He hated thinking of her getting bigger, growing older. The thought of her not being the adorable, babbling baby that waddled over to the door whenever he walked in with open arms was enough to make him almost cry. ALMOST.

"You know... we can have more..." You said almost too seductively as you peppered kisses across his shoulders. It was supposed to be a joke, but he didn't take it as such. He wouldn't mind one or two more little princesses or princes teetering around the house.

The two of you thoroughly tired each other out, the night seemed to be going perfectly. Asa hadn't woken up yet, and this was the first time the two of you had been able to be intimate in that way since she had reached the eight month mark. You fully blamed Chuuya for that though, he had spoiled her so much, but he didn't seem to mind it at the time. Now he seemed to be convinced that having her in a separate room wasn't such a bad thing.

Everything was silent, the only sound was the crickets chirping outside and the occasional sound of a car passing by in the distance. That would shortly come to an end though, the sound of glass breaking and Asa's blood curdling scream coming from both the monitor and the room across the hall had jolted you and Chuuya from your peaceful slumber. You grabbed the monitor off the nightstand and Chuuya ordered you to stay in bed as he ran out of the room and into Asa's room. You knew though, it was too late as you saw the cloaked man who was holding your daughter jump out of the window just as the door flew open and Chuuya came into view on the screen.

"NO! Son of a BITCH!" His screeching voice was just as loud as your daughters cries had been and you dropped the monitor into your lap on the bed as the realization hit you. This wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to Chuuya, if you had let her sleep in your bedroom as she always had. He ran back into the room, flicking the lights on as he went over to the closet and quickly got dressed.

"This... this is my fault... if I would have listened..." You said, not able to face your him at all. He turned to face you, sighing as he tried to calm his nerves. He was already fully dressed, ready to hunt down and murder the asshole who had the nerve to take HIS daughter. He made his way around the bed to the side you were on, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Don't you even dare blame yourself. I'm gonna get her back. I need you to stay here though, I can't have you getting hurt." You knew what he meant. The way that he felt right now, this would probably turn into an all out war, and if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time you could end up injured. You nodded slowly, kissing him one last time before he ran out of the room and out the front door.

He barely gave the car time to start up before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, peeling out of the parking spot and speeding down the street. His vision was blurry as the tears started to stream out of his eyes, he was only able to keep his composure long enough to hopefully make you feel better. Now that he was alone he had hurdled the thin line between lashing out and having a complete mental and emotional breakdown.

The only thing keeping him from getting into a severe car accident was knowing that he had to stay alive to save Asa. Although he couldn't see where he was going through his clouded vision, he had dedicated the route to muscle memory, and he could luckily see faint streaks of red and green lights indicating braking cars and traffic lights.

When he got to the headquarters he got some questionable stares from the guards, it was three o'clock in the morning, considerably late, or maybe early, to be coming into work. When they attempted to speak to him he couldn't even mumble out a "fuck off" through his sobs. He raced up the stairs, not having the patience to deal with waiting for the elevator to get him up to the floor he needed to be on.

He stormed into Mori's office, and, not unlike his boss, he found him sitting at his desk, his hands folded under his chin as he stared down at the papers in front of him. "They said you'd be on your way up. What's wrong Chuuya?" Mori asked, motioning to the armchair in front of his desk. Chuuya didn't want to sit though, so he strode over to the desk, slamming the note that had been left in Asa's room down in front of Mori. "What is this?" Mori asked, grabbing the note between his gloved fingers and unfolding it.

"He got my Asa. I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Chuuya screamed, remembering the words that had been carefully scripted out on the thick note paper.

"For the beautiful woman who was murdered by one of your own. I shall avenge her. An eye for an eye. -H"

He knew exactly who "H" was, and he knew exactly who the beautiful woman was that he was speaking of. What he didn't understand was why he would target his family, his daughter to get back at the Mafia for what had happened. Chuuya hadn't even taken part in the situation that had sparked this outcome, so it made absolutely no sense to him.

"Chuuya, you need to stay calm. Asa is loved dearly by everyone here, I will get together everyone needed to find her." Chuuya found his bosses strange sense of composure to be infuriatingly irritating.

"How could I possibly stay calm!?" Chuuya shouted, he wanted to lash out, he wanted to go off on someone, anyone.

"I would feel the same way if it was my darling Elise who had been taken." Mori said, but that was a mistake. Chuuya sighed, exasperated. He was pacing the floor, but when Mori had the audacity to utter those words, he punched the wall that he was closest to, leaving a large hole.

"She's your god damn ability! You wouldn't understand half of what I was feeling because this is my actual fucking DAUGHTER! So don't tell me I need to stay calm!" Chuuya screamed, the tears seemed to flow endlessly, staining his cheeks as they ran down to his chin, hanging on for only a second before splashing down onto the hard wood floors. Mori didn't argue back, he knew that Chuuya was emotionally unstable right now, so he just nodded in agreement.

"So what is it that you need me to do?" He asked, the phone already in his hand as his fingers hovered over the dial.

"Get everyone here..." Chuuya muttered before finally crashing down in the armchair. His sobs had eventually become choked off, and he was left shaking in the chair, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest as he tried to hold himself together.

Everyone had filed into the office, some of them looked agitated, others looked tired and pissed off that they had been woken up, but when they saw Chuuya's current state they knew that something was wrong. His usual smug, cocky smirk seemed to have been erased, the only emotion that was left to be read on his face was pain.

Chuuya didn't need to say much, no one needed a thorough explanation to jump into action. Asa was the one beacon of light that graced the walls of the Mafia headquarters whenever Chuuya brought her in. She had even managed to make Akutagawa crack a small smile when she had burped in Chuuya's face and then spit up on his freshly laundered coat.

Around five o'clock in the morning he got a call from you. He answered it quickly, and it broke his heart to hear how distraught you were. "H-Hi honey... It's almost time for her bottle. She'll need to eat soon, and she'll need to be changed, and and and... god, please tell me you've found her..." You were a mess, and he could only imagine how much harder it was for you to be there in your home, surrounded by all of her things but not her.

"Not yet... but I swear, I'm gonna bring her home to you, okay? Trust me." He needed you to trust him, because right now all hope seemed lost. There was no possible leads as to where the jackass could be keeping her, nobody knew where to find the guy.

"It's... It's so quiet... please bring her home." You whispered out between broken sobs, he heard you try to swallow back the lump that had been building in your throat. He could only nod, giving you a small hum as an answer.

After you had hung up, whispering out a solemn "I love you." Before ending the call he was right back at it. He was dead set on catching this guy today. Not only had he stolen away his daughter, but he had destroyed his wife, his love... This man had crossed a line and he was going to pay for it.

"Oi, Chuuya. Look, at the bottom of the note." Tachihara said, he had the note close up to his face, his eyes squinting as he focused on the tiny scrawling at the bottom of the page. Chuuya ran over and snatched the paper out of his hands, walking over to the large window to try to shine some light onto the paper and see the writing clearer.

"For fucks sake, they're coordinates! They were here the entire time!" Chuuya was seething now, this must have been a sick game to that man. Chuuya grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and headed for the door, but he was stopped by Mori who placed a hand on his chest.

"This might be a trap, how do you know it's not?" Mori said and there was a soft murmur of agreement from the group of people that were standing around.

"Does it matter!? She could be there and that's all that matters!" Chuuya screamed, the tears that threatened to spill were stinging his eyes. The fact that they thought he cared about his own safety as this moment was almost laughable, he would have laughed if his throat didn't feel like it was closing in on itself. "If you're so fucking worried than I'll take Akutagawa..." This is all his fault anyway, isn't it? Akutagawa was the one who had murdered the woman who he was avenging, so he might as well come along.

Chuuya pulled the coordinates up on his phone and it pinpointed a building that seemed on the map to be rundown and abandoned. A princess like Asa didn't belong in a place like that, it made him sick to even imagine his beautiful, precious daughter in such a desolate area. He growled as the directions read that it would take an hour and a half, maybe two hours to get there.

He would make it in half the time though. He could give a shit less about traffic rules, and if the cops even dared to try to stop him on his mission, the wrath of Hell and Chuuya would be brought down upon them. He sped down the streets, winding through traffic like it was nothing. He didn't speak a word to Akutagawa, and Akutagawa knew not to talk to him right now either. Chuuyas mind was a frenzy, a whirlwind of emotions. A mixture of anger, depression, rage, and heartache, and all of those emotions were just simmering.

The devil himself wouldn't be able to stomach what Chuuya planned on doing to the man who took his daughter from him.

He made it there in record time, the drive only took fifty five minutes, an hour tops to get there. The entire drive, Chuuya's eyes would glance in the windshield mirror, looking back at the empty car seat, hoping that it would soon be filled with his perfect little bundle of joy to be brought home.

Chuuya kicked the door in and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the trail of blood droplets on the floor. His heart sank while his stomach rose, he tried to control his dry heaving as horrid images and scenes filled his mind. "Remember his ability, it uses blood." Akutagawa said sternly, trying to keep Chuuya from losing it completely already.

They followed the trail up a case of stairs that seemed like a safety hazard, and Chuuya hated to think that his daughter was in this place at all. It wasn't safe enough for her to be in, she could get hurt at any point. This place needed to be demolished as soon as he got her out of here. He would do it himself if the city didn't want to.

The blood stopped in front of a door, and as soon as Chuuya heard the soft whimpering of his daughter behind the door he kicked it in. She was sitting in a small dingy playpen in the corner of the room, and Akutagawa had to hold Chuuya back to keep him from running straight for her.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? SHE'S RIGHT THERE!" Chuuya shouted, alerting his daughter to his presence. She pulled herself up on the rails of the playpen, stomping her feet to show him that she was becoming impatient.

"This might be the trap. We need to be careful." Akutagawa hissed, and Chuuya knew he was right. He sighed and peaked into the room, scanning it entirely to make sure it was empty before stepping in. Akutagawa followed close behind, Rashomon creating a shield around himself and Chuuya as they made their way over to Asa.

As soon as Chuuya got close enough he pulled her out of the playpen, holding her tight against his chest. He breathed her in, finding instant comfort in the smell of the all too familiar baby lotion and lavender shampoo that you used for her nightly baths. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting, princess. My beautiful baby girl, daddy loves you so much." He cooed to her, but just as things seemed to be going flawlessly, a loud scream escaped her tiny rose petal lips.

A hail of what seemed like bullets were fired across the room, and one of them managed to hit her leg. Chuuya held onto his composure long enough to check her leg, it had just skimmed by, but it was enough to make her bleed and to make her cry. He was trembling, all of his emotions had formed into one cluster fuck of pure, unfiltered rage. He passed Asa over to Akutagawa and ordered him to leave the room through his teeth. Akutagawa didn't bother to argue, instead wrapping Rashomon around himself and Asa completely and running out of the room and down the stairs.

Chuuyas teeth were barred as the man stepped out from the darkest shadow of the room. He didn't have time to speak before Chuuya charged at him, tackling him to the ground and pummeling him with his bare hands, the force of his ability behind each and every punch would leave the man unrecognizable. He was going to kill him, he wanted to kill him, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket made him stop. He pulled his phone out and when he saw it was you it brought him back to reality, the reality that his daughter was waiting for him, and you were still at home waiting for him to bring her home.

He answered it, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he wiped the blood of the man off his hands. "Did you find her? Tell me you found her!" Your voice was hoarse, he knew that you hadn't stopped crying. He couldn't keep you waiting any longer, you deserved to hold Asa in your arms as well.

"We'll be home in an hour or two." He said, and it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders when he heard your sigh of relief at his words.

Two Months Later

Chuuya was propped up on the floor, his head resting in his open palm as he bounced Asa's plush horse across the floor, making the horse noises as he did so. The sound of Asa's laughter was music to his ears, and her wide smile was just as beautiful as she flaunted her newly sprouted bottom two teeth. She crawled across the floor towards Chuuya who quickly lifted her up in the air. "Airplane Asa coming in for the landing!" He said playfully as he lowered her down to her his face and pressed a quick kiss to her nose.

His head shot up as he heard the bedroom door open. You had your hands behind your back, and the wide smile that spread across your face when you saw him made his heart flutter. He sat up, his back against the couch now, Asa on his lap attempting to imitate her fathers horse sounds as she bounced the plush horse across her lap. "What's up, baby?" Chuuya asked, wondering what could possibly be behind your back.

You moved your hands to the front, holding the white stick between two fingers and smiling down at him. "Congratulations, daddy."

a/n : I hope you enjoyed my first request after my ridiculously long hiatus. Again, I apologize for being gone so long, but I can't wait to start working on all the requests that are in my inbox. I love you all!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd headcanons #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya headcanons #dazai headcanons

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the-darklings · 5 years ago

Text

—𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆;

—PART XIV. | WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE

pairing: john wick x f!reader x santino d’antonio

word count: 10.4k+

summary: A part of you has missed this quiet, this dark.

warnings: aside from pain? none.

notes: well this will either be the saddest or the happiest chapter of COA so far. Let's roll!

children of ares series: 01 | …. | 12 | 13 | . . | 15 |

“My mother who was a great lover of art always told me that life is like poetry. It rhymes.”

Inhale.

“I believe that everything eventually comes around full circle.”

Exhale.

The silver viper ring between your fingers rotates for the hundredth time.

For the first time in days your hands are not shaking.

A stillness has fallen over you; a hush that has wiped away all else. A part of you has missed this quiet, this dark. It has given you back a sense of ease. You can’t even feel the pain in your body anymore. There is just…nothing.

Crisp footsteps approach the spot where you are sitting and you don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Winston sits down beside you with deliberate slowness but there is a heaviness to it. Distantly, you wonder if anything like this has ever happened before. The man next to you is unmerciful in enforcing the rules in his hotel and city at large. Such a violation must be a first.

You sit in silence for several minutes, neither of you moving. Your elbows keep digging into your thighs but all you can focus on is the ring between your fingers. On the faint traces of blood still lingering beneath your nails and cracks of your skin.

The stillness between you is the loudest thing you have ever experienced. Matched in magnitude only by the initial few seconds following the gunshot—

“What happens now?”

Your question is so steady, so calm—it surprises you. You might as well be asking him about the weather.

The older man doesn’t answer right away even though you feel his attention turn to you.

“The High Table has been informed,” he tells you flatly, his hands clasped in front of him. “This will…echo.”

There’s just enough trepidation in the final word for you to know that a more accurate expression would be a “shitstorm”. You wait for something—anything—to hit you but nothing comes. Panic, fear, dread that have always followed any possibility of invoking the Table’s wrath is absent. Winston’s words barely register. Maybe you can go into hysterics later. Maybe not.

“Is there anything I can do—”

“You could come to Paris with me. You still owe me a trip, carissima.”

The ring in your hand rotates again.

Winston focuses on the movement but doesn’t comment. You’re not quite sure if he knows the significants of the ring in your hand, if he’s ever even guessed it. He has certainly seen it before. He knows you’ve had it for years.

The silence stretches for what seems like hours.

“Are you—”

“No.”

It’s an empty answer to an empty question. You’re very not alright right now.

Your fingers still, folding around the ring till the viper disappears, devoured by your hand. By the prison of darkness.

Your head finally turns to look at the older man and his expression draws tighter at whatever he finds on your face.

“Will you—”

“Yes,” he cuts you off before you can finish, nodding his head just once with a pointed stare. “Even if it wasn’t a part of my job—and it certainly is—yes, of course. You need not ask.”

It’s one of those few, serene moments where you feel immensely grateful for having him in your life. To a point you doubt there are any words that could aptly express it. Neither of you is prone to displays of sentimentality though so you choose to say nothing. Still, you think he can read it on your face. See it in the way you blink just a little too fast and swallow thickly with a grateful dip of your head.

Your fingers stiffen into a fist, and you feel the metal ridges of the ring cut into your flesh. It’s a dull, vague discomfort and you turn to stare at the too-clean floor for another beat before you rise smoothly, your joints clicking.

Nothing hurts and the fingers of your other hand flex. Experimental. Deliberate.

Your turn to go.

“Where are you going?”

You pause, but don’t look at him. “I have unfinished business.”

More hollow, calm words that drag from somewhere deep down. From the abyss.

But because Winston is Winston, he doesn’t drop it like most would. “I know what Johnathan did was—”

Inhaling sharply at that name, you begin walking away.

“V,” Winston calls out, and you hear him rise. “(Name).”

It halts your feet, that tone. The authority in it.

But you don’t stop because you fear Winston. You stop because you respect him enough to do so. Care for him enough to at least hear what he has to say if he’s so insistent on saying it.

“If you do this,” he begins, and there is such worn heaviness in his voice that it almost makes you falter. Almost. “You will regret it for the rest of your life.”

Don’t go down this path again.

He doesn’t have to add it verbally for you to hear the words in the space between you. Be it because he doesn’t want a bigger mess than this has already become or because he wants to shield Jo—

Or maybe he just cares about you in his own way.

He knows what revenge does to a person. He knows how slippery of a slope hate can be. He has seen what resentment has turned you into once.

That, you think coldly, was child’s play compared to now.

You look back at him over your shoulder. His face is still drawn, his eyes narrowed, but you know that if you choose this, he will not stand in your way.

A man who believes that everyone is a master of their own fate. That one has to learn how to live with the consequences of one’s actions.

You are the father I wish I had. You taught me well.

It’s what you want to say but don’t.

Instead, something far less kind leaves your mouth, “The only thing I regret right now is not letting him bleed out on that platform.”

With that, you turn to go, and he doesn’t try to stop you again.

Kimber Super Carry.

A custom semi-automatic model with a good sturdy handle and sleek edges, making aiming easy and reloading smooth due to lightweight casing. The seven-round magazine is the smallest capacity it’s manufactured to as far as you know but it’s undoubtedly a weapon crafted for death all the same.

A gun that was fired on Continental grounds.

A gun that—

Your feet halt in the debris of a dream.

John’s home is now rubble.

You haven’t seen it since the news about its destruction reached you and you drag your eyes over the ruined space. Once upon a time, you think it would have made you sad to see this. Now, you don’t feel much besides an inkling of satisfaction.

Consequences.

The echoes of them are everywhere you look as you move through the ash and the dirt. Your footsteps crunch underneath you, and the charred remains still stink of smoke even with the heavy deluge of rain falling down on it.

Your grip on the pistol doesn’t loosen as you step slowly through John’s home.

As if there’s anywhere else he would go to mourn, to wait for what he already knows he will not escape.

Like a ghost, you move across the graveyard of John’s dream. Your eyes linger on the half-burned photograph of him and Helen that still sits on the crumbling mantelpiece. Half of John’s face is burned away, leaving an echo of a smile and love and you stare at it for longer than intended, your jaw set.

You find him minutes later, sitting alone and hunched over on a blackened armchair.

He doesn’t move.

Even though you know he’s aware of your presence.

Rain trails down your face and you blink the tiny droplets out of your lashes as you step into the room unhurriedly.

The dog suddenly appears, dashing towards you from behind the seat and wags his tail happily at the sight of you. He nudges your hand with his nose and your fingers absentmindedly play with his ear, patting him a few times.

Your eyes don’t leave John’s prone figure once.

A dark spectre haunting the ruins of his own life.

Lips parted, he lifts his head towards you eventually, a thin bracelet tangled in between his bloodied fingers—the same hand you injured with your blade only hours ago. His face is bruised just like yours, and through the space between you, the roar of rain washes away the would-be silence.

He doesn’t say anything.

Your lips curve.

“No apology this time?”

John with his sorrowful, dark eyes who is always quick to plead for forgiveness. As if you have the power to absolve him of his many sins. You are not his absolution. He has shown that time and time again.

There is, perhaps, no one left on your side now.

John’s shoulders slant backwards with a deep breath, his voice a rasp, “Not when I did something I know there will be no forgiveness for.”

You stare at him.

He’s not wrong.

He doesn’t look at the gun but you’re both intimately aware of it. His hand had forged your own after all. Right now all you can think about is those long months of work you had to put in just to barely keep up with him—too slow, too erratic, too rigid. His grip on your wrist and the low, measured words of instruction, of guidance.

Viggo Tarasov never made you. He gave you the tool to make yourself.

John Wick never made you. He guided the creation with his careful, deadly hands and an unspoken promise that he will be by your side, always.

Santino D’Antonio never made you, either.

You did it all yourself.

“I spent the journey here thinking how I’m going to put a bullet in your head,” you inform him calmly, amiably. “How far we have come, Jardani.”

His sad, worn expression goes rigid at your gentle murmur of his real name. A name you have held sacred in your heart and hidden so meticulously underneath your tongue for years.

This is not anger, or rage, or hurt.

This is just…nothing. The final stage perhaps.

“He had me hunted,” John mutters in defeat, his voice thick with pain as he stares up at you. “I gave you time, (Name). What was I supposed to do?”

“Stop, Jardani,” you whisper sadly. “You could have stopped for me. Like he did.”

John’s expression creases and you watch as rain trickles down his nose and lips. His confusion is palpable. You take a single step towards him and the dog whines, sensing the shift in the air.

“I was taken after we split apart,” you reveal to him and make sure that every word sinks in, your words slow and deliberate. “That trouble you wanted to help me with initially, remember? The Black Dragon and the Lovers. You won’t know much about the latter because it was after you left. But you know how it goes. Bad blood from years ago come back to haunt me. I was taken but managed to break out with some help. I rushed to the gallery. I got there only minutes before you did. And then I asked him to stop. Call the contract off. Do you know what he said to me?” you wonder bitterly and don’t wait for his reply. “That he’ll do it. You were minutes away from freedom, Jardani, and now look at you.”

Doomed.

One way or another.

Now, there will be no ticket back. No peace.

You watch the realisation sink in. The quiet agony that follows right after.

“I—”

“I don’t care that you didn’t know,” you choke out, pained, watching the planes of his face crease at your wet words. “I just wanted you to listen. How much more? How much more can you take from me?”

You wait for his answer but this time he has nothing to say. Nothing, at least, that won’t be empty words designed to make you forgiving and docile.

“I walked through your home and figured it would be symbolic to finish it here,” you continue through the thundering of rain and the dog whines again, quieter this time. “But then I realised something. You want this. You want it to be by my hand. The moment you pulled that trigger you knew exactly what would follow. All that carnage. An attack on Continental grounds. A forfeited life debt that makes your life mine. You knew that I would never forgive you for almost taking the people I consider my family away.”

Drawing a breath, you lift the gun in your hand but don’t aim it at him. The gleaming, silver surface greets you and in it, you see a blurred reflection of your eyes. The shadow of emptiness there. The hollowed out person staring back at you reminds you of a girl from years ago.

“You did love me,” you go on after another moment, still staring at the gun. Your body is soaked from the rain by now but you ignore the heavy weight of your clothes clinging to your skin. “I think a part of you still does. But the sad truth is that you never loved me more than this. This dream of a normal life. You leaving was never about a choice between Helen and I. It was always a choice between being John or being Baba Yaga. You didn’t stop for me because you couldn’t. Because you don’t know how to stop. Not even for yourself. I bet you used to wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and feel just as empty as I do. Maybe you thought that by running from this life—from yourself—you could be happy. And I think you were for a while. But Tarasov was right to say that we’re cursed, the three of us. We don’t get happy endings.”

You lower the gun and take another few steps closer towards him, watching his expression as you feet creak on the damaged floor. He looks accepting of whatever you will say or do next.

“You said…almost.”

A brief, harsh smile contorts your face. “Yeah,” you acknowledge quietly, viciously, your grip on the gun creaking. “You failed. I made you fail. Santino lived. I don’t know…I don’t know for how long…or if he will ever—”

You can’t continue because it hurts too much.

Because you remember a haze of blood and Winston pulling you back. You sobbing that Santino is still warm, that he’s still breathing.

A bullet that had hit the side of his head, creating what had appeared like a river of gushing blood.

Missed shattering his skull by 2 millimetres. You saved him, (Name).

Winston’s hand on your shoulder, gripping, gripping, trying to tug you back and over the edge with his words.

“Critical care,” you spit out and press your lips together to stop yourself from cracking now. “They don’t—he might still not make it and even if he does…there is a high chance of permanent damage. It’s too early to say yet.”

John exhales, staring up at you in wonder. Maybe even relief. You don’t care enough to search deeper than that.

You simply don’t care. About any of this.

Taking another step towards him, you reach into your pocket, pulling out the ring that’s been with you for years. Your only reminder of him.

The man in question goes as still as death at the sight of it.

You can still remember his muted disappointment at the fact that you no longer wore it. He no doubt thought that you had gotten rid of it.

“I wonder what it says about me that I still have it,” you mutter with a bitter chuckle and droplets of rain cover the metal in moments. “I kept it with me for years. And when Santino asked me if the fact that I still have it means that I love you, I told him no. But that was a fucking lie. I convinced myself that I wanted to mend our relationship because of what happened to Marcus. So I would never have regrets but that was only half the truth. I just…missed you. A tiny part of me never stopped loving you. Despite everything,” you exhale weakly, pausing, and your expression hardens with your next words. “Until you pulled that trigger I would have still forgiven you. I still loved you. Even after all these years. Now…Now I don’t know what you are to me. Not anymore.”

John’s breathing has picked up, his chest moving up and down as he stares up at you. For once, his calm has fled and his dark eyes are desperate, wilder.

“(Name)—”

“You will never stop,” you state frankly, knowingly, your tone wooden. “You will destroy yourself, Jardani. This vengeance will consume you till the man Helen and I both loved is long gone. I don’t hate you. I pity you for that. I pity you.”

The ring in your hand stills. It hovers against your skin. This familiar warmth of metal you’ve clung to for years.

The rain falls harder, beating against your skin, a distant rumbling of thunder echoing in your bones.

The girl who had needed this blanket of safety and comfort is gone now.

You don’t need anchors to the past.

You just need Santino to live. You need Roberto to recover.

You just need yourself.

No one else.

Your hand tips to the side and gravity does the rest.

The ring sails through the rush of falling rain and drops at John’s feet and into the ruin surrounding you both soundlessly.

Like a stroke of the sharpest blade, it cleaves the past from the present.

“I will not kill you,” you tell him simply, but you’re not sure if John is listening. He’s staring at the ground, at the ring, and you can no longer see his face. “You will live and reap the consequences of your decisions. Maybe one day I can find a way to forgive you for this. I…I don’t know. But know that if you ever touch the people I love and care about again…” you give him a grim, empty smile. “You’re as good as dead to me.”

Silence.

You’re not quite sure how much time passes.

Eventually, the downpour eases up, a few minutes of tranquillity following that.

There’s a dull crack of someone stepping onto burned wood and your head slants to the side.

Charon stands still and silent in the ruined doorway of the living room. His face is solemn and like a messenger of death, he chills the space at least a few degrees.

Behind his glasses, his eyes glow with quiet, unspoken regret as he looks at John.

The High Table has been informed. This will…echo.

This, you know then, is about to go South in the worst way possible.

His stare is full of relief when it meets yours though, and you know that he was prepared to find a very different sight.

John dead. Or maybe you dead, or even both of you. Destroyed by the others’ hand.

Won’t that be ironic?

“Mr Wick,�� Charon begins and John’s head rises slightly at the call, just barely. “You have been summoned, Sir.”

There is a breath of quiet and then Charon’s eyes transfer to you. Something about the look on his face makes you release a slow breath.

“As have you, Miss.”

The dog naps draped across you both, seemingly the only one enjoying the heavy hush hanging over the car.

John doesn’t speak. You don’t either.

Charon knows better than to even begin and untangle this mess of a situation. So he does what he’s always done, and that’s obey his orders without comment.

You stare out of the window, taking in the scenery of your city and wonder if you are still living in a world that has Santino in it. You have no way to contact anyone and his condition—

“You’re right,” John’s voice slices through your thoughts and you almost flinch, your fingers stilling against the dog’s ribs. “Everything you said back there. You were right. I love Helen but a part of me…a part of me never let you go either, (Name).”

You don’t reply.

He’s not expecting it either because he no doubt realises that his confession is ill-timed.

You imagine it’s less about forgiveness and more about…

You’re not sure what it’s about. Not anymore.

What’s done is done.

It will not change anything now.

Your fingers play with the chain around your neck as you continue staring out of the window.

The quiet stretches on and by the time the car crawls to a stop just outside of Bethesda Fountain, you know that Winston is waiting for you. The fountain is the man’s favourite spot at Central Park and both of you have taken walks here several times over the years. As have—

As have you and Santino.

Cockiness in his step and a sly smirk on his face.

You rip the door open, gasping for breath, and try to blink away the phantom of him beside you, offering the crook of his arm to you.

Walk with me, cara mia?

He’s not dead.

Yet, adds Kishi’s cold voice inside your head.

No, let him live. Let him live even if I—

“It has been a pleasure, Mr Wick,” Charon says politely, offering his hand to John as you round the car. The two men shake hands and you can see John’s hesitation, his attempt to read the situation. Charon stares at him for a beat before adding a quieter, “Goodbye.”

John’s head lowers in understanding and he moves in the direction Charon extends his arm towards, leaving you behind.

For a few moments, you stare at the man who has been a part of your life for years. Who has seen you at some of your best and worst.

“Miss Vipress.”

Charon’s voice sounds defeated, a touch sad, and behind his glasses, you see a glimmer of remorse.

“Take care of the old man for me, would you?” you request softly, taking a step closer when you notice John pause, realising you’re not following him. “The safe in my room. There are two letters inside. One for Winston and one for Santino—”

You work your jaw, trying to bite back your emotion and Charon’s neutral expression strains, too.

“The combination is 29091942.”

For the first time since you’ve met him all those years ago when you were nothing more than a young naive girl, lost and alone, you see Charon’s expression crack. Just slightly. Just enough.

He knows what those numbers mean.

Winston’s birthday.

“Would you—” your wet whisper breaks off and he nods his head promptly.

“Of course, Miss,” he tells you quietly and offers his hand to you, his eyes sad. “It has truly been an honour and a joy.”

You grasp it firmly, squeezing the gloved fingers before leaning forward and wrapping one arm around him too. Charon is rigid but doesn’t push you away.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his woollen coat, scratchy and comforting and him. He smells like the Continental. Like home and you soak in that scent one last time. “Take care of them for me. Please.”

“I will.”

You step back but he doesn’t let go of your hand, giving it another gentle squeeze before releasing your digits.

You both know this is goodbye.

There is no other reason as to why you would be summoned.

With one last look, you turn to go, straightening your spine into a rigid, unyielding line. Whatever it is, you will face it as always.

There she is, a sly voice hums in your ear. My sea on a stormy night, hm?

John is still waiting for you a respectful distance away, his eyes downcast, and you move past him without a word. The dog trails after you, his tail wagging and you hear John follow moments later.

Winston is waiting for you by the fountain, his head tilted towards the sky like his thoughts are miles away, and the muted glow of the setting sun paints him in a golden light.

You come to a stop before him as always and his eyes go to you first before John halts at your side, too.

Your stare is desperate, you know that, but something in your heart eases when Winston simply dips his head in a tiny nod of reassurance.

Still alive.

Oh, Santino.

You cling to that knowledge with every shred of your being.

The older man takes you and John in, all limbs attached, and his eyes flicker to you again. He doesn’t say anything but you can’t help but think that perhaps some minute part of him is proud. Maybe just a little bit. If you’re foolish enough to allow yourself such a pathetic thought.

“Johnathan. V.”

“Winston.”

John’s voice is weary, guarded. There is subtle tension coiling those limbs that tells you he’s expecting an open attack at any given moment. But if that were a case it would have happened by now. Something else is going on and Winston’s thoughtful hum as he stares at his old friend only confirms it.

“What am I looking at?” John asks eventually when Winston does nothing more than gaze at him blankly.

The older man bobs his leg up and down, still staring, but the look in those blue eyes is cutting. It surprises you a touch—the lack of pity you see there.

“Camorra has doubled Santino’s open contract. It’s gone international.”

14 million.

Your blood chills in your veins.

Gianna dead. Santino clinging onto threads of life.

It surprises you it’s not more. For Camorra, that kind of money is pocket change.

John exhales. “The High Table,” he assumes.

Winston hums again, nodding. He looks no less weary, then, and something tells you that the worst is yet to come.

“And the Continental?”

Your muscles lock. For one, sluggish second you see red. Almost go for him with your bare hands alone.

After what he did—

Winston’s head snaps up, and this time something old and merciless stares back at you both. “You shot a member of the High Table on company grounds, Jonathan,” he reminds him coldly, the corners of his mouth tilting downwards. “You leave me no choice but to declare you Excommunicado. The doors to any service or provider in connection with the Continental are now closed to you.”

No weapons. No medicine. No supplies.

Every helping hand cut off and your body effectively tossed to the very bowels of the pit that is the underground world ready to be devoured.

You’re not surprised that it takes John a few moments to digest something like that.

Your eyes lower and you smile.

A sad, accepting thing.

“I am so sorry,” Winston says with an exhale.

Your eyes lift and his stare is on you.

“Winston,” John growls under his breath. “She had nothing to do with this.”

The man before you blinks, sparing his old friend a brief look before he nods his head. “Oh, I am well aware of that. The High Table, however, does not see it that way.”

You look towards the lake, towards the sky, towards the trees.

“Santino lived because of (Name) interference,” John insists, his voice growing colder, harder. “She saved his life.”

Winston rises to his feet, his hands slipping into his pockets as he strolls closer. His steps are forceful though, and there is just a trace, a glint, of anger there as he stares at John flatly.

“Do you believe that I do not know that, Johnathan? The fact that Santino lives is the only reason why, unlike with you, there is no bounty on her head. Yet.”

“But—”

“There are no buts about this,” Winston cuts in, his calm words laced with ice. “The security footage from the museum was retrieved. Can you guess what it showed? V saving your life time and time again. The High Table believes that she should have shot you in the head the first chance she got and been done with it. Her inaction with Tarasov and subsequent saving of your life when you came after Santino—one of their own—has been deemed treasonous.”

John is quiet after that; a rolling, barely contained storm.

You’re still staring at the trees, silent.

In the far distance, kids screech happily as they chase pigeons.

You wonder if any of them belong to the Bowery King.

Winston steps closer and you meet his stare calmly, expectant. “I told you this would happen, my dear. I did warn you,” he remarks unhappily but his words lack accusation. They’re just…sad. “You can’t expect to walk this line between both sides forever and come away unscathed every time.”

Luck runs out. Consequences follow.

His words from your last summoning right after Tarasov’s death.

You should have known that it’s only a matter of time before they came back to haunt you.

“Keep him safe.”

It’s the only request you can think of.

The only one that matters right now.

Because the list of people that would rather see Santino D’Antonio dead is a long one.

Winston’s mouth thins into a hard line but he dips his head in agreement, his gaze solemn, and the relief that follows that is immense. He will keep his promise. Even if he doesn’t like the Italian. You would trust no one else with it.

“I’m sorry but both of your lives are now forfeited.”

There is regret there. Genuine and plain to hear and see.

The older man looks like he rather be doing anything but standing here with you and delivering this news.

“Then why are we not dead?” John wonders carefully, his words low.

Winston’s head tilts, almost insulted, and that ruthless man you have come to respect and rely on and even love over the years stares at John like he has said something incredibly funny.

“Because I deemed it not to be,” he replies bluntly, his head turning to nod at someone behind John.

You hear a faint command of “now” and every person in the Bethesda Fountain Square simply stops.

They turn to face you as one, and your eyes track over the crowd, taking in all the faces surrounding you.

Winston’s eyebrows arch, amused, and you think that on any other day you might have been both amazed and terrified by such a casual display of power. Of influence.

Winston is the beating iron heart of New York City.

He nods once, and every person in your line of sight turns around and walks away.

Dozens of people. Gone.

Just like that.

The older man pulls back his sleeve, checking his watch before calmly informing you, “You have one hour. Couldn’t delay it any longer.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out an all too familiar object and offers it to John. “You might need this. Down the road.”

A Marker.

Your jaw clenches subtly.

Another trap for someone.

Those wise blue eyes move towards you, and you force back a scornful smile. “Let me guess? Locked down?”

Winston sighs and slants his head in agreement. “Yes, any and all of your arsenal located at the Continental is hereby locked down and no longer accessible to you,” he informs you coolly. “They have forbidden anyone from so much as touching it. Everything is now under the Table’s jurisdiction.”

Your lips pull back but it’s not a smile. “Good luck to them,” you mutter tightly. “They will never get their hands on my work.”

You had made sure of it.

His lips twitch slightly, a gleam in his eyes. “But of course not,” he agrees easily, knowingly. “However, this was in my personal possession and as such I see no reason as to why the Table’s restriction rule should apply to it.”

A tiny box rests in his palm, even smaller than the Marker he offered John moments prior.

You know that dark gleaming surface well.

Your breath hitches, your wide-eyed stare flying up to his. “Is that…”

“Mhm.”

He offers it to you and you reach for it, having to draw a few deep breaths to keep your voice steady. “Thank you, Winston.”

A possible lifeline down the road. And a personal risk if anyone ever finds out he gave it to you.

His weathered, warm fingers linger against yours for a beat. “You know what you have to do,” he tells you pointedly, sternly.

You will always make the same mistakes. You will always lose.

Yes, you do know.

You’ve always known.

Fight, Winston’s expression tells you and you straighten, your fingers clenching around the tiny box. Make me proud.

I will.

His mouth twitches again.

“I do.”

Here at the most critical time in your life—and even with the lingering, awful dread churning in your gut about Santino—you feel calm.

You feel the calmest you’ve ever been.

Santino will live and I will succeed.

You repeat it in your head. Over and over. In the beat with your usual counting.

Those words will be forged into reality and you don’t care who you have to go through to make it happen.

The significance of your exchange with Winston might have escaped John, but that doesn’t stop his next, icy words. “Winston, tell them, tell them all,” he starts and for the first time since his house, your look towards him. It isn’t John speaking, not right now. “Whoever comes, whoever it is, we’ll kill them all.”

We.

Before you can interject, Winston speaks with a faint smile, his previous coldness easing a touch. “Of course you will.”

For several moments, you all stand unmoving but you know you can’t delay any longer.

“Johnathan.”

“Winston.”

The man glances at you, a furrow between his brows accenting the deep lines of his face. “It’s a goodbye, my dear.”

You don’t so much as blink. “For now,” you note coolly.

“Coffee and brandy are 7pm sharp every night,” he remarks casually, seemingly pleased at the steel in your voice, and his hands slip into his coat pockets. “I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

You read his words for what they are.

I’ll be waiting for you back home.

Nodding your head once, you turn to go. You don’t look back, either. It would hurt too much. There is always a chance—

No, no chances. Not this time.

With every step, you repeat your new mantra in your head. Form a new plan.

Continental first. Not for weapons. But because you need—

“(Name).”

“Make it quick, John.”

His fingers brush over your hand and you pull back, halting on top of the stairs. He stands a few steps below and dog joins you at the top.

“We should stick together,” he tells you urgently, his voice soft, cautious. “If there are people out there who are after you then they will use this opportunity.”

“Let them.”

Let Lucien come. He wanted you over the edge.

Right now, you feel ready to rip his spine out with your bare hands.

Lucien. The pale-haired monster who robbed you of the precious hours that could have averted this entire mess in the first place.

He might not have pulled the trigger but he took from you the only chance of fixing this peacefully.

His name has joined the list of those who will be dead soon enough.

He wanted a dance. You will give him a hurricane.

“In an hour we’ll be hunted by at least half of this city.”

Your eyes sweep over the park before they drag back to him and your brief smile is cold. “No, John,” you disagree mildly and watch him blink. “What will happen is that you will be hunted by 90% of them because they’re money hungry and 14 million is a pretty price to pay for someone’s head. People will come for me, too, but they will be so eager to get to you first that I will be long gone from this city by then. Buy me at least an hour, would you?”

You turn to go but he grips your wrist and you tense, rotating your body back in his direction.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“(Name), please.”

Your eyes narrow and you tug your wrist back. “I don’t owe you anything, John. Good luck. And I mean that, but you’re on your own.”

It’s started raining again.

The harsh, cold liquid slides down your arms and clothes as you dash up the staircase of the Continental.

The doorman pauses when he sees you, inclining his head in polite greeting. You only spare him a brief smile before dashing inside. Ignoring the wet squelch of your shoes against the gleaming floor, you go straight for the elevator, not needing to look towards the reception to know that Charon is not back yet.

Your eyes track over the people in the lobby, watching for any threats. Even with 35min still on the clock, you’re not about to take chances.

Wiping the water from your face, your partially numb fingers press on the floor one level below the basement. The basement floor only Charon and Winston have access to. The vaults. But you know better than to tempt fate. You’re not here for your solutions or poison.

The door pings open and you pull the door to the side, pushing ahead as quickly as possible.

Continental’s medical floor is eerily still. Most visitors receive care in their own rooms. This floor is for emergencies only. For worst of the worst.

Hurrying along the hall, you stumble to stop at the sight of a lithe frame of a woman sitting alone on a bench ahead. Her tattooed fingers rest on her other heavily bandaged hand and you exhale slowly, approaching cautiously.

Ares looks up, her expression pinched. She doesn’t look surprised to see you.

The clinical, dim light makes her face look more gaunt and the usually fierce glow in her blue eyes is dimmed too.

She rises slowly and you can see the difficulty in the action.

Your paralyser, as always, has done its job well.

“Ares—”

It’s slow and clumsy and you see it coming but don’t try to dodge.

Her punch connects with your lower jaw and your head snaps to the side, the impact rattling your teeth.

You steady yourself with a wince, your fingers rising to nurse your tender skin and meet her raging eyes with a single, understanding nod.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” you mutter tiredly, wiping at your still damp skin. Your eyes lower for a second with a shaky swallow. “Can I see him?”

It’s a faint question, brimming with uncertainty.

For several minutes she only glowers at you, unmoving.

You’re about to plead with her that you have to see him but her hands lift before you can open your mouth again.

Alive. For now, she signs and her movements are more sluggish than usual. But no one is allowed to see him. Still in operation.

Swallowing, you glance towards the floor.

Few droplets of water have fallen to the floor from your dripping clothes.

“And the blood?”

They had enough.

The puncture wound in the crook of your arm twinges at those words.

An emergency transfusion had been a priority after the doctors just barely managed to stop the bleeding.

Noting the still furious twist of her features, you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe quietly. “But what was I suppose to do?”

Ares doesn’t hesitate.

Shoot him in the face.

Your jaw clenches and you shake your head. “You know I couldn’t do that.”

And my friend and boss might die because you could not, is her angry reply and your throat closes up. I thought you cared about him more than that.

“I do care for him. I—” you shoot back immediately but your words twist around your tongue, halting you. “You have no idea just how much I care about him,” you add quietly, your voice thin, and something about the hard set of her features eases a smidge at that.

“I guess the punishment fits the crime,” you continue with a sardonic twist of your lips. Your eyes meet hers and the confusion you see on her face, in turn, confuses you. “I’m being made Excommunicado, Ares. I have 35 minutes before it goes live,” you explain slowly, your voice pinching with pain.

She blinks, her lips parting slightly.

The morose curve of your lips stretches. She knows full well what this means.

That’s why you move closer towards her even as your jaw still aches from her earlier punch. Reaching deep behind the layers of your clothing, you pull out an ordinary looking flip phone, holding it out to her.

“So please. I know you’re angry at me. I know, but—” you plead for her and tighten your grip on the burner phone. “I need to know. Whatever happens to him I—please, Ares. Please.”

After everything that’s just happened, she doesn’t have to do anything you’ve asked of her. She doesn’t owe you anything.

But her hand grasps yours, tightening her thin but worn fingers around your own. Your shoulders sag in relief as she pulls the phone from your hand and slips it into her pocket with a single, reluctant nod.

She still looks angry but—

“Thank you,” you whisper with a wobbly smile and focus on her bandaged hand. “Your hand?”

Roberto, you know, is recovering already.

She doesn’t get to answer though.

Because before she can do so, a door opens from behind you, and a group of purposeful footsteps approaches.

At least four pairs.

“Well, well, look who it is.”

Your expression slackens.

Ares doesn’t react fast enough.

Hector reacts just fast enough.

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline or that humming dark or desperation or just anger and poor timing on his part, but you slam the man twice your size against the wall with a strength that causes a bang to rip through the empty hallway.

“Where were you?” you snarl, furious and low, your blade against the curve of his throat as you other tangles in his silky, dark suit. “Where the fuck were you?”

“Careful, sweetheart,” Hector warns softly, his mouth twitching into a sneer, but something glints in those icy eyes for a brief second. Surprise. “I’ll give you one free pass given the circumstances but there won’t be a second.”

Bodies surround you, but you ignore them, still glaring at the man before you.

“V, stop!”

“Oh, let her beat his ass, Julian,” another familiar voice drawls, unconcerned, his voice full of amusement. “I’ve been waiting for a rematch for years.”

A frustrated sigh. “Shut up, Step, you’re not helping.”

Another tall figure comes to a stop beside you—one that towers even over Hector but neither of you looks away from the other. “Let’s cool it, everyone,” that deep rumble of a voice tries to ease the tension. Dario. If Julian fails to mediate, then the burden falls onto him. Some things truly never change. “Come now, bella. Ease it up. V.”

You ignore Ares. You ignore the other members of the Four who are watching you and Hector with clear worry.

“Where were you?” you wonder with a quiet exhale, your fury palpable.

Hector scowls at you and leans into your blade. The metal kisses those mighty wings but there is no fear in his eyes and your expression warps with rage. “Did you hit your head?” he mocks, annoyed. His grip on your hands constricts, his rings scoring your skin. “I was covering your slow ass and taking on a small army so you could get to Santino quicker but oopsie, am I right?”

You drop your hands away from him with disgust, breathing heavily and Hector rolls his eyes, fixing the cuffs of his suit with a bored expression.

“You failed him,” you whisper, choked, your voice soft with vicious sort of accusation. “You failed Camorra.”

The lowest insult you can offer him. His loyalty to Camorra is absolute. He may not follow the individual but this harms the entire family.

It goes so quiet at your words that you could hear a pin drop. Even Step’s not so subtle snickering ceases. Like they can all appreciate that this situation may take a turn for worse very quickly.

The last time you two fought, there was blood spilt.

This time, you imagine it might come down to more than just blood.

Hector straightens, his sharp features stony. “I know.”

But it’s not enough.

And you can’t stop the avalanche now that it’s been unleashed.

“He needed you to be there for him and where were you?” you continue on, spitting out every word out like a curse, an anathema. “You should have been faster getting to the gallery. You should have been better.”

Hector peers at you, unblinking.

“Are we still talking about me?”

You leap at him but this time he’s ready for you and catches you in his grip, his back hitting the wall again, quieter this time.

Julian and Dario are there at once, their hands trying to drive you apart but a cool, calm command freezes you all.

“Enough.”

Charon.

Others look towards the man at the other end of the hallway but you and Hector are unmoving, still glaring at each other. You’re practically shaking with fury.

He’s right.

Your words were directed more at yourself than they were ever directed at him.

And yet.

“This doesn’t concern you, butler,” Hector calls out coolly, his quicksilver stare drilling into you and his grip on you doesn’t loosen. Smart man. “This is a Camorra matter.”

“Miss Vipress is not, however, Camorra.”

The unspoken Get your hands off her is clear to anyone with any semblance of common sense.

Hector relaxes against the wall, his head tilting as he waits.

“If you’re done with your hissy fit, sweetheart,” he speaks gruffly after another tense few seconds and clicks his tongue. “We need to talk. In private.”

All eyes are on you.

Hector only blinks, bored.

You release your grip abruptly, your fingers flexing, and Ares practically materialises by your side while Dario partially places himself between you and the Camorra Devil.

Your eyes slide towards Charon who stands with his hands clasped behind him. He’s still clad in his coat and scarf from earlier, indicating that he’s just returned. Winston is nowhere to be seen. You incline your head in a silent thanks and cut a brief look at the Camorra Elite.

All four are rigged out in their typical dark suits. The deep burgundy you have also seen them wear is for Camorra’s special occasions only. Like births, deaths and coronations.

You suddenly recall that Julian and Dario never wore the typical Camorra wine red on Gianna’s coronation and your curiosity peaks. Except, of course, you have no time for a catch up with them now. No matter how welcomed the distraction would be.

“Fine,” you mutter, your muscles still taut. “Hurry it up.”

Hector brushes past Dario and the Four part for him, following his lead effortlessly. They move like a well-oiled machine. Dario shares a brief look with Julian, and the shorter man looks like he’s forcing back a sigh, his dark moustache twitching.

Hector wrenches the first door in the hallway open, slanting his head in your direction impatiently.

Ares, Dario and Julian walk in first; all of them varying degrees of uneasy.

Step moves to follow, too, but Hector raises his hand, stopping him halfway.

“Not you.”

Step with his thin, wiry frame and pale face looks like a kid picking a fight with a bull. Even though he’s the youngest from the guard, that makes him no less dangerous. You can’t quite see his eyes behind those customary round sunglasses he usually wears everywhere but you can see the irritated strain on his face.

“You’re joking.”

His voice is low and stark with bitter disbelief but Hector doesn’t so much as twitch.

“No,” Hector deadpans without missing a beat. “Guard the hallway. We don’t need ears.”

For a second, those pale eyes jump over your shoulder where Charon no doubt lingers.

“Fine,” Step forces out, forcefully cheerful and his head tips in your direction, his grin bright. His tattoos stretch across his neck and he wiggles his fingers at you, his own Camorra rings gleaming in the artificial light. “Would thy fair lady like anything from the vending machine? My treat.”

Your eyes go to Hector for a second.

“Skittles.”

Step grins even wider, if possible. “Only if you let me eat the yellow ones.”

You almost smile, then. If all this wasn’t going on, if Santino wasn’t clinging to life and you weren’t about to become one of the most wanted individuals in the world, you might have.

“Sure,” you agree before adding a deliberate, “I reckon I owe you after the last time.”

Hector’s eyes narrow at that, becoming two slits, and Step’s strained grin transforms into something slyer, more biting.

He always enjoys having something over Hector’s head.

He pushes the glasses up his nose and gives you a staged nod. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he gives Hector another stare before wandering off without a backwards glance.

The leader of the Elite’s gestures for you to get into the room and you push past him.

Julian is signing something to Ares when you enter, and Dario stands beside them, his hands burrowed deep into his suit pockets. His long hair is pulled back into a high bun as always and loose strands brush against his beard when he turns towards you.

Beneath their pitch-black jackets, you can just make out the gleam of their weapons.

They’re armed to the teeth.

Good.

The other two turn to you when you enter the room and you try for a smile, no matter how forced.

“It’s good to see you both,” you tell them and mean it and both men smile, too. Your attention swings back to Hector, however, just as the Devil closes the door behind him, sealing you all inside. “But whatever it is that you want from me make it quick.”

A subtle threat.

The man doesn’t outwardly react, simply lifting his arm.

“Catch.”

Your hand snaps out, your actions instinct alone, and grab the tiny object that sails through the air towards you.

It’s small and cool to the touch.

Your fingers loosen from a fist, blinking in confusion and something in your gut hardens at the realisation of what exactly you’re looking at.

“They—” your voice cracks and you pause, forcing calm back into your demeanour as you turn your attention to Hector who only stares at you emotionless. “They will not follow me. I’m an outsider. Half of them don’t even like me.”

The ring of Camorra sits in your outstretched palm.

The ring only the Head of Camorra is permitted to wear.

Or, in this case, the Acting Boss appointed prior.

Your stomach churns.

You have seen this ring on Giovanni’s hand many times. The golden metal that gleams like new even though you know it’s been in the D’Antonio family for generations. The blood-red ruby the size of your thumb nail glimmers in the light and you stare at it in disbelief. You can’t even begin to imagine this ring’s worth.

“You’re right,” Hector retorts blankly, unfeeling, and crosses his arms over his chest. A ripple of his muscles teases the deadly strength there. In dimmer light, his pale eyes seem to almost glow with wry mirth as he addresses you. “Frankly, they rather shoot you dead than follow you. But there are still those who value what that ring represents. That believe the order and the command that comes with it. Those who answer to that ring will obey. Princeling at least had enough foresight to prepare for the worst case scenario. Little Saint has made you his heir, sweetheart. And until he either dies or revokes the title himself, it’s binding.”

Binding because it came from Hector himself and no one would ever question his loyalty or integrity towards Camorra.

Santino has outmanoeuvred everyone by giving away his symbol of power. The very ring he’s been desperate to wear since he was a little boy.

A safety net in case he dies.

The realisation makes your heart hurt.

The families of Camorra will not obey you because, to them, you are nothing. You have not been sworn in, do not answer to their laws and their authority. But they cannot harm you either. And anyone who does, Camorra or not, risk invoking the wrath of the entire family if they do.

But above all that—

Those who answer to that ring will obey.

Your head turns towards the other two Elites’ and Ares. They’re already looking at you and not one of them looks surprised by this turn of events. Either they already knew beforehand or know Santino well enough to not put a gamble like that past him.

Almost in sync, the three of them bow their heads.

A show of respect. An unspoken promise that what you command, they will do.

A shuddering breath rushes out of your lungs that has nothing to do with your damp hair or clothes.

Clenching your jaw, your eyes drag towards Hector who hasn’t moved from his spot by the door.

He doesn’t budge, his arms still crossed over his chest, stretching the seams of his suit.

The Devil of Camorra does not bow his head to you.

He bows to no one.

The only man he’s ever respected enough for such a gesture is rotting six feet under the dirt and his ring is now in your hands. You don’t think there will ever be another individual alive that Hector will ever respect enough to bow his head to them. Oh, if only Giovanni had known years ago that one day you will be bestowed the most valuable heirloom in his family’s possession.

You imagine he would have killed you on the spot.

He laughed, and he said, ‘He is more like me than I realised. He would let this whole world burn to ash, as long as she’s the one standing beside him in the flames.’

Gianna’s words echo at the back of your mind, and a part of you wonders if perhaps Giovanni always did know. If perhaps he always suspected that due to whatever circumstances you might reach this moment in time one day.

You think about your brief conversation on that snowy balcony at Prague and know that you’re right.

“Stay here,” you tell the trio on the other side of the room. Your words sound far away, distant, but strong too. Focused. “No one who isn’t us or the doctor comes near him, understood?”

Your stare drifts to the far off wall in a daze, and you know that somewhere in this building, Santino is out there fighting.

As will you.

Nodding your head at them, you turn to go.

Hector’s arms loosen across his chest and he steps after you when you move in the direction of the door.

You halt at once, your head snapping to face him.

“What are you doing?”

A slow, lazy roll of his eyes as he fishes for a cigarette.

“Coming with you. Were you not listening? I go where that ring goes,” he informs you dully, and lights a cigarette with expert ease. He takes a deep drag, savouring it, and frowns at you, the deep curve of his eyebrows pinching together. “Drop the fucking scowl, sweetheart. I know you think that just because you’re in New York and your connections here run deep, you’re untouchable or some shit but you’re wrong.”

Smoke rolls from between his lips as he talks and your scowl only deepens. In return, he looks amused at best. “In twenty minutes half the scum of this city will come for you just to prove a point,” he reminds you, tapping the glass of his expensive watch, and the bird tattoo on the back of his hand flutters like your slipping time. “Don’t let your over-inflated sense of self-importance cloud your common sense.”

Your turn towards him fully, your chin tilting.

“You will stay here,” you tell him calmly, ignoring the way his eyes narrow and every strong muscle in his body quivers as if in anticipation. “And you will guard him with your life.”

You think you hear Julian curse under this breath. Dario takes a step towards you both.

“Are you ordering me?”

A dark, silky snarl of a question.

Your expression is as rigid as your body. Your fingers around the Camorra ring tighten. “I’m asking you. And I only do that once out of respect.”

A glint of something in his eyes that’s gone too quickly for you to examine.

He retreats and it feels like missing disaster by a breath.

The cigarette returns to his mouth and he grins around it. It’s a callous, mocking thing.

“Fine. Enjoy being hunted, sweetheart.”

You stare at him for a beat, too aware of your time constraint.

Camorra ring rolls in your damp palm again. Grasping it, you drag the heavy metal onto the middle finger of your left hand. Your fist clenches, the skin under your knuckles straining. The ring glimmers in the light, filling your veins with…purpose.

I will see you again, Santino.

Inclining your head in an equally disdainful manner, you only offer the man before you an aloof, “Blood for blood.”

Camorra’s words.

D’Antonio family words.

This time Hector’s version of a smile reveals teeth, almost pleased.

“Blood for blood.”

Streets blur around you.

Stumbling through the rain and the puddles drowning the New York streets, you count every breath you take, focusing on both not exerting too much energy but also your surroundings.

Everyone is an enemy.

In 7 minutes that will become a painful reality.

No one has tried anything yet. But you have seen and felt far too many eyes on you already. Many are no doubt weighing the risks. There is no reward for killing you, and most know the danger that shadows your every step.

You don’t need to touch them to kill them.

Ducking into a narrow alleyway, you slam your body weight against the sturdy metal door. Your fists follow, slamming against the door over and over again.

“Doc! Let me in! It’s me!” you shout over the pour of rain and slam your fist against the metal a few more times. “Doc!”

The door swings open suddenly and you brace yourself against the door frame.

Doc’s frantic stare meets yours and all he forces out is a shaky, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Bowing your head in respect, you push past him. “Yeah, I know,” you mutter under your breath, working on steadying your breathing. “I just need a few things. I still have time so—”

Your words die on your tongue and you halt, your eyes narrowing.

John sits on the patient chair, his white shirt undone and a lamp shining over his bloodied shoulder.

Fresh blood.

He grips a gun in his hand but doesn’t raise it in your direction.

You hate the fact that he looks relieved—happy, even—to see you.

Blinking, you swipe your forearm over your face and move towards the shelves. Doc rushes back towards John and you glance at the clock on the wall.

4 minutes.

“What happened?” you question coldly and start opening different drawers and pulling ingredients apart.

“Ernest.”

“Funny guy but always lacked common sense,” you drone without looking at him and rip another drawer open, rummaging through the content inside. “Did you know that he tried to ask me out on a date once?”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

3 minutes.

Grabbing a familiar-looking vial, you give it a shake, lifting it to the light before you unscrew the top and drown the liquid inside.

The taste is bitter and numbs your tongue a little. You allow your face to scrunch up in disgust and shake your head harshly.

“I’m going to pay you back, Doc,” you wheeze, continuing your frantic search.

The older man huffs and you hear the fatigue there. “Just try and not make a mess.”

A few beats of quiet follow aside from your hurried rooting around Doc’s supply closet.

“Where is it, Doc?”

“Indonesian Green Erla—”

“I’ve found the plant,” you cut him off, glancing at the clock on the wall again. “Where is it?”

2 minutes.

Doc works with nimble, experienced fingers but he’s meticulous and his focus remains on John’s wound. The man in question looks bewildered by your exchange but doesn’t interject.

“Doc—”

“You gave it to me because you told me that you were afraid of what it can do—”

“Where is it?”

You have never dared to take that tone with him. Because you like him and respect him too much. But your frayed temper strains and the coldness in your voice stills both Doc and John.

“Doc, I need it.”

The clock keeps ticking.

Your head snaps towards the wall for the hundredth time.

1 minute.

“Floorboards. Under the table by the wall.”

You rush towards it, pushing the table aside roughly, and ignore the clatter of glass as vials and medical supplies fall.

Slipping free a blade, you wedge it between floorboards, trying to rip it open.

John is urging the Doc to hurry but you focus only on your task.

“Five.”

John counts and your breathing kicks up a notch.

The wood creaks, finally coming loose and you rip it away, dropping it unceremoniously beside you.

“Four.”

You pull different boxes and packages apart. You know what you’re looking for.

“Three.”

Your eyes snag onto a tiny box and you grab it. It’s a twin—the same dark, smooth material that fits into your palm—to another tiny box already sitting in your pocket courtesy of Winston.

“Two.”

Your two deadliest creations. One created out of hate and malice and another out of hope for a better future.

One finished. One incomplete.

“One.”

Your gaze snaps to John’s just as the clock above head strikes 6pm.

Time’s up.

. . .

an: And so everyones’ favourite Italian lives. For now. :) also the man really said “fuck tradition, I do what I want” and we love to see it!!!

Fun fact, I was planning to do Chicago (finally) right after C13 but since Chicago will be a 2 parter, I imagined that waiting for six weeks to know if Santino lives might not have been that much fun for you lot lol.

Also a few people really worried about Team John after C13 and were like “Team J is ded” and actually as you can see from the events of this chapter the exact opposite is true. Now, you may be reading this and be like “how is this positive for them?” but this had to happen. V needed to realise that she still clung to John and loved him but it wasn’t the right kind of love. A love for a man gone, a spectre, a dream. Her dropping the ring represents her letting go of the past and starting completely fresh. Their mend after Marcus was just a prelude oppose to actual break. This is the break. All these years, V has blamed herself for John leaving by assuming that she wasn’t good enough or that John loved Helen more. Neither is true. The choice was always between who John was and who he wanted to be. He loved both V and Helen the same and it really could have gone either way. Now, at this juncture, they can start again on the same page. Now, this is not to say he’s magically forgiven for all the shit he did. He isn’t. A lot still hinges on Santino and how he will get on in the upcoming chapters. But a lot of you were like “um kat wtf?” and I hope this chapter proves that I do things for a reason and that this build up has been coming for a while now.

There’s been a lot of things set up that are yet to be revealed.

As always, all my love to all of you for your support and encouraging comments <33 and love for my dumb OCs, too! Love you guys and hope you’re all staying safe!

#john wick #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fic #john wick fanfic #riccardo scamarcio #keanu reeves #fanfic #fic: children of ares

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sometipsygnostalgic · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think Pen Ward is over AT? Like mentally. To my knowledge he isn't part of creating Distant Lands (I'm sure he could have worked on it if he wanted to) and unlike other cartoon creators whose shows have finished he rarely mentions it or draws stuff from it. I don't know if I'm projecting but it seems like Pen has completely moved on from AT and that makes me sad because it makes me think he got so burnt out from it he doesn't care about his most well known work anymore :(

I think you’re projecting a bit. Sure, some creators do get burnt out and eventually want nothing to do with their work (Andrew Hussie), but Pen’s circumstances are different.

Pendleton Ward did get burnt out with AT, but that’s because he was sick of dealing with people at press conferences, Cartoon Network, etc, not because he hated working on the show. Pen was a very private individual. He hated dealing with people on the business side of things, he just wanted to be a writer.

He stayed in the writer’s room until much later, the end of Season 6.

He did leave the show eventually, but he kept storyboarding for it even. Pen also continued to voice act, primarily as LSP, which is probably why they kept bringing LSP back so much from season 7 onwards. They wanted Pen back in the studio!!!!

Around the time that he left, Pen wrote and storyboarded the game “Explore the Dungeon because I Don’t Know”, which was an early peak at some very late-series lore. It was the big reveal of PB’s age and origin, and it contains tons of material relating to the shift in tone of the later seasons. It makes me think that the show went EXACTLY in the direction he wanted it to.

In fact the eps he worked on are some of the most unsettling of all:

Bad Timing, which has LSP bombing a castle and killing her love interest, a joke about eating cyanide gum if youre captured by raiders, and drinking to cope, with one of the most surprisingly heartbreaking endings of the series. This ep is to this day unresolved - Johnny is permanently stuck in the other dimension, and LSP has still forgotten his existence, and Peebs still knows all about what happened but can’t do shit. Also what ARE those little guys? Are they micro bacteria? They are definitely a Pen Ward idea.

High Strangeness. This is the one where Tree Trunks is in a relationship with an alien and she has alien kids, but one of PB’s rockets crashes into the space ship and infects it with little pink best buds, who tear the aliens to pieces. TT stages a coup and wants guns and makes “fascist!” signs, PB retreats the program, and says she only did it because she thinks Ooo’s going to get destroyed. Pb’s anxieties are resolved by TT sending her space husband away with the tiny rocket for 40 years, and... uhh.... Ooo getting destroyed in the future. Oh and poor Mr Pig found out at the end. He didn’t seem happy. I love this episode so much.

Imaginary Resources. This ep won a fucking Emmy! Pen Ward co-storyboarded this and it takes place in VR, because it turns out the Humans built an entire island of people who wanted to escape to virtual reality. They’ve become consumed by it and need to keep using it to cope, their bodies no longer fit to move around freely. And how is this conflict resolved? BMO repairs the VR system and sends them all back to their slumber, where they live the rest of their days. The thing all 3 of these eps have in common is they dont have a neat lil bow wrapped on them by the end. They’re not neatly resolved, and the dark situations still exist. Johnny is still dead and it’s up to the viewer to decide whether reverting LSP was the right thing to do, Ooo is still going to get destroyed but there’s hope the candy people can rebuild elsewhere, and the people are still stuck in the VR world where they’re happy but unable to experience the joys of real life.

Anyway I’m getting ahead of myself. What I meant to say is that Adventure Time getting really grim and uncomfortable with a sugary coating on the top is a Pen Ward thing, and I think it retained a lot of his identity up to the very end. I bring this up because lots of people argue it changed a lot under Muto, when in reality he just expanded on Pen’s ideas. Pen was still in the writer’s room for the entire season 5 and 6 breakup arc, for example.

And as I said, he has been constantly involved on the voice acting side of things. I think if he truly wanted nothing to do with it, he’d tell them to involve LSP less, but he seems overjoyed to play as her!

But if you’re talking about his twitter... it’s no surprise he doesn’t engage there. Historically, none of the AT crew have talked much on twitter about the show. Even Adam Muto, who could go on making AT eps for quite some time before giving up, doesn’t talk to anyone about the show on social media. It’s a big fandom, and the crew NEVER were that open. They’d occasionally talk on stuff like Formspring, but it’s a bit redundant to do so these days.

I don’t think it’s terrible. I know what it’s like to be in fandoms where the crew talk FAR too much.

I do miss the days of watching Pen, Steve, Andy and Jesse banter on twitter.

Pen probably at this point wants to move forward with new projects. Imagine looking back at your old art all the time, you’d feel embarrassed!

#adventure time

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sanstropfremir · 4 years ago

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Okay, time for my weekly rant so buckle up. The vocal stages were okay-I cant really remember them well because I watched them only once so take what I say with a grain of salt. Well I watched the Spark one once and I only got through half of the other one because I can’t stand ballads especially when there’s no interesting movement on stage to keep me engaged. Like it’s no fault of the members themselves or the song (I actually think their singing was incredibly beautiful and Eunkwang always sings like his wife just left him with the kids which is how you know he’s good) but I physically could not pay attention. That’s why I liked the spark stage a bit better-there was enough movement that I was able to focus on it. I really liked the use of the fire and the way they were walking in and out of the frame trading off parts so there weren’t too many awkward moments where the other members where on stage but not doing anything. The opening was gorgeous with each members being lit by the spotlight as they harmonize. So stagewise, I prefer Spark but vocally I think the other group was stronger. I love Spark and Taeyon is such an incredible vocalist (I mean the song is great because of her) so I don’t get why their delivery was, I don’t want to say weak, but subdued might be a better word. The only one that really stood out was Junhoe (but also that man couldn’t not stand out even if he tried, not with that incredibly rasp) and even he seemed to be holding himself back a bit. Though it was a bit slow it built up well to the two last choruses but still the first half could have been stronger. I know they were trying to draw it out to a strong pay off but I don’t really know if it was enough. And yes the suits were *chef’s kiss*. I think at this point in their career the FNC stylist has put SF9 in so many suits they’ve got it down to a science. Also I’m a sucker for those shirts with the triangle cut out and we got not one but two of them here.

Okay moving on, I’m not sure which group was next but I’ll talk about the Ikon stage. It seems like they finally realized that they’re on a performance based competition show so they decided to pull out the big guns. Love the little skit at the beginning (making sure people don’t forget that they’re YG), it was cute and refreshing. I really appreciated how they leaned into the campy acting in this stage (Stray kids did it too-just adding to the similarities between their stages). The song was meh but I also don’t really like BP especially not their recent stuff so it’s not a big deal. I would have preferred if they had gone with another song maybe Whistle or As If It’s Your Last or if they’d done a 2NE1 song like Chanwoo mentioned some point in the episode. I also think the stage would have been way smoother if they’d let Ikon and Lisa interact. Like if the boys appeared in her set after her section and then they all moved back to the first jungle set and then the whole thing turns gold and they did a dramatic outfit change (but with better jackets because theirs look like they came out of Party City). I also get what you mean about the dancers outfits not being that great. I actually really liked the outfits of Lisa’s dancers in isolation but they didn’t match with her or the set so they threw me off a bit. At least with the ikon members they were going for a modern look so the dancers outfits didn’t look that strange in comparison. Do you think it would have been better if they were white? How would you have improved then? The best way I can describe this performance was that it was a stage, stuff happened, I enjoyed myself but I don’t plan to revisit it anytime soon. Oh and we also have to give points for them cursing on national television not once but twice (at this point Jinwan deserves to say fuck).

Now to Stray Kids. So I feel like I need to preface this with the fact that I am actually a stray kids fan (I won’t call myself a stay because I don’t associate with the fandom) and though I’ve been really critical of them and their stages tend to be my least favorite I still have a soft spot for them (I got into this show because of them after all). I loved, loved, loved the intro with Felix (and yes his biggest flaw is that he’s Australian but I forgive him for it) and the way it immediately transitions into the chorus of DDD-the abrupt transition does fit really well with the Deadpool theme and I guess it is the closest they’re going to get to the feeling of yeeting themselves into traffic like in the movie. Interesting choice to start with the chorus. Now that I’m rewatching it I do really wish they stuck with the comic theme. I think that’s my gripe with SKZ-they have a lot of good ideas but they move on too quickly from them. Just pick a handful of things and sprinkle them throughout instead of cycling through them at breakneck speed. Like okay they’re doing Deadpool and he’s a comic character so keep the comic styling (it would have been a good thing to put in the projection behind Seungmin’s scene), maybe in the subway they could have had some fight choreo so the guns coming in at Lee Knows part aren’t out of nowhere (also someone please tell me they were trying to recreate the meme with the cat and the knives, please I need to know). I absolutely agree that them having a goal or an antagonist would have really helped the story along. I mean they literally have a spoken intro so why couldn’t Felix just tell us who they were fighting (and I’m pretty sure in the movie Wade tells us he’s trying to kill Francis in that scene sooo). As always they put more focus on the rappers (please can we get less Changbin and more Seungmin, Jeongin, or Lee Know or at least give Felix more parts). Seungmin was the real mvp of this stage and he had the best outfit (I think it qualifies for Hanya’s best gay little outfit list). Personally I with they hadn’t gone with Gods Menu again. I’ve been hoping that they would perform My Pace (and maybe remix it with their B-side TA off their Go Live album) because that would be such a fun stage. Again, I enjoyed myself but I won’t revisit it anytime soon. At this point the only groups I actually look forward to are BTOB and SF9 (they’re doing fucking Move and I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified-there’s a clip of Taeyang covering Move from a variety show or interview and I think he does it really well so I know at least one of them can pull it off). Again thanks for creating space where I can info dump and I hope I said something of interest to you!

i think you wrote more than me!! i love this, im gonna put my response under a cut im not being super obnoxious on the dash.

i get that the mayfly stage would be not as visually stimulating for people and usually i would count myself in with that crowd because i love a good spectacle but i think because i watched the spark stage first and my colour perception is sometimes weird so when there's a lot of movement with very little colour variation my tiny pea brain loses track of whats happening really quickly. especially with red. so it was kind of difficult for me to pay attention to the spark stage in the second half. also i absolutely HATE watching people flub on stage because it brings up such visceral secondhand feelings that i couldn't even watch the stage when i started the full episode today.

i love a good suit but you know what i would also love: sf9 in more costume variations. tbh im just getting nitpicky about it because im a costume designer down to the core and i got trained by a designer who specialized in doing avant garde costuming so i tend to skew more towards wild than reserved. it looks like the move stage wont be be suits so ill take it, but oh man to do i want to see some really crazy stuff. which i know they'll never do because idols have to be pretty at all times or the fans get mad but oh i want it so badly.

do you mean how i would improve ikon's backup dancers outfits or lisa's? here why dont i do both. for lisa's dancers i would have just done away with that harness shape all together, its almost exclusively a military style. the jackets by themselves would have been fine but really what they should have done was put them in something that matched the gold but contrasted enough to give them shape. by having at least her dancers in all black on a gold stage there was a lot of "haha look at me do a duck walk because lets throw in some voguing for spice." they could have gone with a mesh bodysuit idea similar to what she was wearing or even just different colour coats. as for ikon's backup dancers, firstly pants. not black. or even a longer skirt. genuinely a part of the reason why i dont watch girl group content is because i HATE the hem length of the shorts they make everyone wear. words cannot describe how much i hate that cut. kpop is so obsessed with showing off women's bodies and especially their legs but they do it in the LEAST flattering way possible because it "can't be too risqué," just shoot me now. i hate it. i hate it so fucking much. yea yea everybody was on cocaine in the 80s whatever but at least they were all wearing french cut bodysuits so their legs looked fantastic. stop interrupting the lines!! anyways. pants so the only section of skin showing is thigh to mid calf, especially because they weren't even doing any fun legwork! if they really wanted to keep the full sleeve bodysuits they shout have done them in a fabric with a texture or external embellishments, like a patent/vinyl or sequins/rhinestones. something to catch the stage lights so we can actually see the shape of the limb. but the easiest way to fix it is literally just cut the arms off the bodysuits. stages are lit to show off skin, sometimes the best way to have something be seen is just to have it bare.

i agreed skz cycles through ideas way too fast, they need to just pick a couple and stick them out through the stage instead of just adding more and more different ones throughout. also ok good someone else noticed that there is just...so much changbin. we don't need that much changbin. i know there's other boys in the group let them do something! also im pretty sure theyre not recreating the cat knife meme but actually the promo image from john wick chapter two, which i also could have sworn i saw a deadpool version of as an instagram ad back when movies were happening, but now that im looking for it it doesn't exist so i might be crazy.

im excited for the move stage but im also trepidatious because...its move. i have NO clue what the concept is from the previews so i just hope its weird enough to take it enough out of the taemin context for me to enjoy it.

#kingdom #youre very sweet im glad you like sending asks in!!#realistically im just trying to replace going out to the pub and talking about art with people #this is my virtual pub you are welcome to a have a pint at my table!!#theres some costume talk in this one for anyone who reads the tags first #as you can see do not get me started on the shorts issue because it is one of the few things that gets me irrationally angry #i can ignore it most of the time by willfully not thinking about it #kpop questions #text #kingdom asks

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Space orcs, “Not the Hero

Alright guys, here is the ending to all the angst, everything after this is recovery, so you may rest easy. You should thank @heerojiro for the comment they posted earlier today b/c I was thinking about posting something else and making you guys wait for the end of this arc. In fact, I had most of that other idea written.

However apparently I have been causing a tiny bit of anxiety for some of you lol. So I have decided to end your pain today. hope you enjoy, and look forward to having a little more fun tomorrow.

Also, sorry for the pacing. It was very hard to write this scene in two hours.

“Any movement?”

“No, except for those drones anyway, those suckers have been flying around for the last few days, almost nonstop.’

“Well that’s the first thing we’re going to have to deal with then.”

“Yeah, I was thinking we have our pilots feign an air strike, head in from the left and right and draw away their drones, then get in behind them with another group to cover our advance. I want to start up with trucks going straight down the middle, but send the real attack team in from the side. We have enough of those hand-held energy shields we could probably break through their line on the inside, toss a bunch of grenades to clear them out, and then use the light machine guns to mow down the rest. There are so many of them jammed in there that it shouldn’t be a problem, be like shooting at the broad side of a barn.”

“What did the commander say he wanted?”

“He wanted the Delta units light machine guns, or paired with someone with a light machine gun. The delta units will carry the gunner to the barrier and then set them up with a perimeter once inside.”

“How the hell do we plan on destroying their ship, a little C4 isn’t going to matter.”

“Yes, but a little C4 in their open engine compartment might.”

“That would kill everyone inside.”

“Which is why we will pull out before that happens. The explosion of their energy core will be contained inside their shields protecting the rest of us from what is going on inside.

“That…. Sounds good enough, I guess.”

Sunny listened only halfheartedly as the two officers planned their attack. Of course the Commander had given his orders, though at the moment he wasn’t capable of thinking past more than a few sentences. Though the nerve block was designed to stop pain, the Steel eye suit was apparently capable of partially overriding the block and sending nerve signals into the brain.

He couldn’t move, but was also in pain, though only marginally in comparison to what he could be under at that moment. She glanced over her shoulder towards the tent which had been erected for his privacy, and found that a lot of other people were staring too. Operation steel eye had been a largely publicized moved by the UNSC during the Drev war, a lot of people had heard about it though no one had actually seen one of the suits in combat, accept for a very special few, and even then they had only been witness to a few moments before the suits vanished into the ash.

The steel eye soldiers were to fast and too strong for your average soldier, and so generally tended to leave them in the dust.

Everyone was curious.

And now, it was almost time.

The delta units, other Drev, were gathering at the edge of the camp. They had come from all across the galaxy to participate in battle, and Sunny was glad to have them. They were a strange bunch in comparison to those in her childhood, carrying weapons and equipment that would have been considered heretical during the more traditional days.

It wasn’t every day you would have seen a Nine foot tall Drev carrying a belt fed light machine gun , but these were new times.

“We ready?”

She nodded her head, “Send of the pilots to draw away their fire….. I will get the commander.”

They nodded calling in on their radios for the jets to begin their flight, and Sunny turned walking towards the small tent her footsteps growing heavier with each moment she approached.”

She pushed aside the tent flap with one of her upper arms stepping into the dark interior of the tent. Light from above was filtered somewhat through the green canvas, and paired with the somewhat hot, humid nature of the little enclosure, it almost felt tropical.

Commander Vir lay on his back on a cot in the center of the room, his eyes closed, his face screwed up into an expression of immense pain and anguish.

It made her sick to see.

His body trembled lightly against the pain despite the spinal block.

She walked over kneeling next to him, taking one of his cold clammy hands in hers.

His skin was cold, though the metal of the steel-eye exo suit was warm with humidity.

“Adam….. It’s almost time.”

His eyes opened after a moment. The mechanical eye adjusted almost immediately,followed more slowly by his real eye which glistened with an unshed layer of water.

His lips trembled.

She squeezed his hand tight.

The tent flap opened behind her, and she turned around to find the ex admiral standing over them. He paused hesitantly as if not entirely sure he should be here, though when no one said anything he stepped forward, “I understand that I can’t make you stop but….. At least save yourself some pain.”

He offered something out to them, and sunny looked down to find a small black box proffered in his palm.

She recognized it almost immediately.

The box meant to be plugged into the drug port

“No-”

“I know you said no drugs, but commander…. I at least take it with you. Just in case.” There was a long silence, but Adam didn’t protest and Sunny grudgingly let the man through to clip the box to the waist belt where it would easily be in reach.

The door opened again, and one of the officers stepped inside.

“It’s time, Commander.”

Adam didn’t acknowledge verbally, but turned his eyes to look up at Sunny.

She hated this.

She hated this more than anything she had ever done, but she reached out and disengaged the nerve block.

The response was almost immediate. Adam gasped in pain curled over teeth gritted and groaned hissing and whimpering through his teeth in agony. The cries that broke through his lips were like that of a wounded animal.

Sunny found herself panicking unsure of what to do.

Everyone around the tent was quiet, and even the voices outside the tent had gone still.

Eventually the cries died away, and he sat up body shaking.

They watched in silence as he threw one leg off the cot and then the other, standing slowly.

The machine hissed and chatted with his movements, ready for battle.

He took one step, and then another, and then another forcing his back straight forcing his body to relax as he threw open the tent flap and walked into daylight, his movements accompanied by the hydraulic hiss and click of a machine.

The entire camp turned to look eyes wide as it fell on him inside his armor, a dark god preparing to lay waste on their enemy. Rays of light bounded across the metal skeleton rolling in waves up and down lengths of parasitic metal.

His mechanical green eye opened opened wide against the sun, black aperture clicking open.

Everyone stared silently.

He held out his hands to either side, and the ex admiral hurried forward, placing the rest of the attachments onto the limbs,, blades for close quarters combat, a helmet to protect his head, and a few more pieces to protect his torso leaving him mostly covered.

The longer he stood still, the more his legs shook.

“LET’S MOVE!” he barked, voice raspy and ragged from screaming.

Sunny took up her spear.

She turned to look at him, seeing as a memory coalesced from the back of her mind resolving itself into a dark shape of power and anger emerging from the ash painted orange with the blood of a dying Drev Clan.

***

He hurt so much.

The pain was debilitating, maddening. The kind of pain that is visceral within the stomach, where all you can do is lay down and rock back and forth because the more still you are the more the pain consumes you.

He had to move, had to keep going, or risk the pain catching up with him, and consuming him from the inside working out.

As his legs thundered over the ground he wished for nothing more than to lay down and die. To fall into the sweet grip of blackness and be silenced from the pain. As if that weren’t enough, memories filled his head coming unbidden to the front of his mind, memories of battles, memories of brutal executions by his own hand, memories of the rocks painted orange, memories of crawling through inches of ash face first as his body began to shut down. And when that wasn’t enough it came with mocking laughter, agner, hopelessness.

And a horrible sense of loneliness he once though he had forgotten, but now remembered.

Tears streamed openly and quietly down his face as he ran, there was no point in hiding them.

He wasn’t strong enough to keep them at bay either.

Overhead jets roared and drones hissed in that way they had.

He could hear the sound of missiles, gunshots.

His feet pounded against the dirt rattling him to his core as the Drev clans followed after him, their spears held at the ready, their weapons polished to a shine.

On their backs, the human gunners waited.

And next to him, she ran, the cool electric blue of her armor the only soothing thing in a landscape of pain and misery.

The only thing, accept for that box on his belt

NO! He couldn't think of that.

A set of armored trucks rolled past in the distance, drawing fire from the open amber dome as the burg swarmed outwards to respond.

Machine guns rattled, and burg bodies jerked falling to the ground. An energy weapons caught one of the trucks disrupting the engine and sending it into a jackknifing somersault through the air.

He was one fire.

They continued to run, and with the thumb of one hand he engaged the delicate purple energy shield just as they were approaching the outer rim.

He was running through a fog of horrendous pain, but the power through his limbs spurred him on.

He broke into the first line of burg warriors sweeping them into the air with a bat of his energy shield. Bones and carapace shattered and cracked with the power of the blow. The mechanical suit screeched in glee.

Guns rattled behind him.

He dropped the shield for a moment bringing up his own weapon to fire into the churning mass. There was really no point in aiming. It would be impossible not to hit something.

The shield went up again, absorbing and pulsing as an energy bolt surged through it.

He crashed through another line, mechanical assistance whirring, pushing his body past the limits of his humanity, turning him into something more, something greater.

Bodies flew.

He was a machine.

A god.

A burg roared up at him from nowhere its pincers out, ready to dig into his flesh.

But like a spitting cobra, he reacted on the instant sending the creature hissing back screaming and clutching at its face as the human saliva burned it horrifically.

More screaming.

At the head of a pack of Drev they sunk into the burg line annihilating everything that came into their path.

Blue blood coated the ground, mingling with red and orange.

He practically broke through the line himself slaying the Burg who was attempting to close the breach.

The gunners leaped form the back of their Drev companions, posting up on the doors and fiering inward the continued report of their weapons no more than continuous background thunder.

He fell back so as not to get in their way.

His vision was graying around the edges leaning toward black as the roaring pain ripped through his body.

His head was light and he felt as if he was about to tip over.

How long had he been fighting?

It felt like it had only been seconds, though his implant was telling hi they had been at it for almost an hour now.

His stomach churned, and he fell to his hands and knees vomiting violently, mouth filling with bile.

He continued to wretch, though there was nothing left in his stomach.

Something grabbed him by the shoulder, and he was hauled to his feet, just as the inner line broke and the gunners were stepping inwards.

THe trucks had stopped behind them and jets roared overhead.

He turned to his companion only to find sunny standing with him, her spear coated in blue sludge, her already blue carapace tinted with the enemy’s blood.

She urged him onward and he followed, and together they broke through the forward line and out into the amber light of the Burg dome.

The interior of the space echoed with a deafening sound. Gunfire was absolutely deafening.

The burg shouted and cried out in panic as they were systematically gunned down. Their small group of Drev and Gunmen advanced into the space covered by other soldiers pouring into the gap.

A burg ran at hi, and for a moment they were overwhelmed with bodies.

Energy fire rattled against his shield which only glowed brighter. Sunny held at his back with another energy shield, and together they plowed through the line.

He watched her spear two burg with one thrust, one through the neck and the other through the mouth before withdrawing her weapon and brutally smashing another set to the ground.

He ground his heel into the head of another burg as another bout of gunfire tore up the crowd just to his right.

A human body lay on the ground just to the right.

A marine with their eyes glazed over in death.

He thought he was going to be sick.

The fire in his bones was building. His body was screaming with an absolute horrendous and madding pain, the blackness at the edge of his vision was encroaching inward. The roaring in his ears was absolutely deafening.

In his pain, one of the burg caught onto his upper arm, and bit down hard.

He screamed, grabbed the creature with both hands.

And ripped it apart.

The moment was so explosive that bits of the creature were hurled many feet to the side, all the soldiers that saw it backed away in fear and terror screaming.

But for hi, it was the last straw, his vision went white, he felt himself drop to his knees as pain thundered through him. He was going to pass out.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t move.

All around him, the Drev soldiers were filling his place in the line swarming around to cover him as he trembled and moaned at the center of the battle.

He couldn’t move.

Tears rolled down his face and into the dust.

He didn’t even have the energy to heave….. He just, couldn't, move.

It was as if his body was filled with fire reaching upwards threatening to engulf him.

And then a cold hand one his face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stave off the fire and bring his vision back from the brink of collapse, his heart hammered weakly in his chest as his eyes lifted upwards.

Green met gold.

The world around him went dull and dim muffled accept for a bubble five feet by five feet.

Sunny knelt in front of him, her gold eyes calm and cool against the raging of battle, familiar and safe. Two of her hands rested on either of his arms, one hand rested on his shoulder and the other hand was cool on his cheek.

She forced him to keep eye contact with her as the blackness receded from his vision.

“I can’t do it sunny.” He whispered, “I ca-” His voice choked off

His body quaked with horrific pain.

She leaned forward a little until he felt like he would fall into deep pools of gold, soothing and warm.

“It will be over soon.”

Her voice came to him, though very far away.

She leaned in resting her forehead against his four hands gripping him even as one of his hands held onto her arm.

“It will all be over soon, you just have to fight with me one, last time.”

If it had been simply her words and his will, he would have been able to get up. He would have hauled himself to his feet, and he did, a little.

But his body failed him.

He sunk back to the ground in a well of mental misery as bad as the pain of his flesh.

He wanted to get up so bad.

But he wasn’t special, he wasn’t a hero, and simple words weren’t going to be enough to get him to his feet, no matter how badly he wanted it. This wasn’t a moment of cinema, but this was reality, a true story of the failing of the human body and the human mind.

He couldn't not make himself get up.

But he knew something that could.

The battle roared around him as he reached downwards and plucked the little black box from his belt. He saw sunny reaching out a hand to stop him, but she was too late as he slammed the little box home.

It clicked, and after only a few seconds of agony, his body was flooded with relief and a high so intense that the pain didn’t matter anyway.

He roared to his feet.

The world around him was a cloud of white and distant noise, but he was untouchable.

No pain could stop him now.

No exhaustion even hinted at bringing itself forward, and together he and Sunny broke a line through the burg ranks.

Their artillery was useless in this space for fear of killing their own. Their ships weapons were likewise but only worse, leaving the burg with their simple weapons packed together at close quarters with a raging machine and the drev, Ares and the Spartans, as they came to lay waste. They were destroying angels, and the burg were mandated by god to perish here.

Neither he nor sunny were the ones to finally place the charges in the burg engine.

They were too busy holding off wave after wave.

He had to be screamed at on multiple occasions to fall back.

There were at times where he thought they were dead, though internally he didn’t really care, but somehow they always managed to break through partially because of their weapons and partially because the burg morale had been shattered. They were being physically ripped apart, pulled in half, and many of their comrades lay writhing on the ground hands clutching at their faces slowly being dissolved by human venom.

He tripped over a body and had to be dragged through the open port, the last one out as the shield was locked shut.

And one of the marines detonated the button.

The explosion on the interior of the shield would have leveled the city if not contained as the burg ship’s engine combusted with a wave powerful enough to atomize everything inside.. The first wave turned everything within the dome to dust and fused everything after that into glass. The shield itself was the most powerful piece of equipment the burg had ever made, and if they had just managed to close it off, the humans would never have gotten through.

And now it was their tomb.

Off to the side Adam was having trouble breathing. His chest hurt, and his body shivered with cold that shouldn’t have been there.

People were trying to talk to him, but the glorious high from earlier was gone leaving him with chest pain, difficulty breathing, and the slow creeping of agony back into his limbs.

He was so cold.

The world around him grew white.

And he collapsed to the ground.

Finally allowed to sleep.

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hbosscreations · 4 years ago

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Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

It’s a little later than I’d hoped for, but here is my contribution to @redvsbluesecretsanta for @artesoterica! You asked for Southalina, with a general positive mood! This fic is an AU taking place on Season 15′s Chorus moon in a universe where the Reds and Blues actually get to rest and build a life for themselves. I hope you like it.

Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

When South heard Carolina’s coded message, left in such a way that any of her former people would find it if they were looking, she…didn’t really know what to expect. She wasn’t certain it was meant for her with the way South left things, what with her and Wash trying to kill one another, but it was so damn earnest that South couldn’t ignore it.

‘Wash and I are alive, we’ve shut down the Project and made a safe space for all of us to live. If you see this, come find us. Come home.’

She wasn’t keen at first on going to find anyone, let alone other members of Project Freelancer, but Carolina was good on her word Chorus’s moon wasn’t what she thought it would be. It sounded like isolation, like hiding in a long-abandoned base or in a tiny apartment sleeping in shifts, but Carolina and her people had turned it to something else entirely. The Reds and Blues regularly communicated with the planet below, a shuttle came up more than once to drop off and pick-up soldiers for no reason South could figure out aside from play dates with weapons.

Just like this one.

A shuttle had arrived earlier that day carrying a new face along with a few others that South recognized from the deliveries every other week. The Sim Troopers had quite the fan club, and it was very normal for the shuttle to arrive and stay overnight so the troops could hang out. This time, the newcomer seemed to get all of the attention. It was such a relief to not feel the pointed stares from both the Reds and Blues and the Chorus soldiers.

South blew up her bangs and retied the bandana around her head to keep her hair out of the way while she worked on Sarge’s warthog, the perfect vantage point to observe without staring and be present without having to actually interact with anyone. The Sim Troopers weren’t as bad as South expected them to be most days, Washington’s influence excluded, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with them yet.

The strange woman who arrived in the shuttle, wearing bright yellow armor and a swagger that told everyone who saw her that she was hot shit and she knew it, immediately screamed for Grif to get his lazy butt outside and come help move her shit inside the base.

It didn’t take long for her to start chatting and then chasing the Sim Troopers around. She hooted and hollered and pelted the soldiers with paintballs from a gun that should not have been shooting paintballs in the first place, all the while crowing ‘GO BLUE!’.

Despite the fact she didn’t seem to care if she was hitting a Red or a Blue.

Judging by the yelling and giggles, they didn’t seem to mind it either.

South’s helmet was dropped next to her on the engine while she watched, contemplating if she had earned enough good will to join in considering practically everyone on the moon was playing already, and Carolina put a hand on South’s shoulder to draw her attention.

New Carolina was the day to Old Carolina’s night. More emotionally mature, more secure in herself, and more confident. The dark shadows had finally passed, but she was still the same woman South had served under.

“You should probably put that on. It would be horrible if Kai accidentally shot you in the eye; the only medical treatment you’re likely to get is CPR and orange juice.”

The hand shifted from her shoulder and brushed the back of her neck. South barely held in her shiver.

New Carolina was more tactile, taking the time to make contact outside of training. She always had time for a smile, something kind to say even if the comment was odd, and casual touching that felt out of place coming from her former leader.

South had to admit that it was nice to be appreciated, though.

“Which army is Kai from, Fed or New Republic? I don’t recognize her or the paint job.”

“She’s the youngest of our Sims, Grif’s little sister, not from Chorus.”

The Reds looked to have begun their retaliation, pulling out buckets of paint, paint balloons, and paint ball guns of their own. They ran around screaming with her instead of running from her, and South laughed a little.

“They’re like a bunch of goofy teenagers, aren’t they? I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep them all alive so long.”

She pulled her helmet on, ignoring the fact that most of her armor was on the ground. She could handle paintball welts and didn’t feel like trading the extra protection of the armor for the contact she got when Carolina watched her work. Standing just a little too close, with her hand on South’s lower back, it felt like things were actually right.

“She’s going to be staying.”

The warthog got regular work, practically daily maintenance and fine tuning, but for some reason it felt like everything South did to it was undone at the end of the day.

“Hmm.”

“She talks a lot, but you can’t be mean unless you want the Reds and Blues both mad at you. Grif is really protective of her; they all are.”

Knowing Sarge, it probably was. He probably came in as soon as she walked away and fiddled with it, bickering with Lopez as he used a wrench on the wrong pieces and broke screwdrivers inside.

“South? Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, Yellow is a wild child and I shouldn’t pick on her. The Sims don’t talk to me much, why would I bother with Grif’s little sister?”

Was Lopez doing this? Normally he fixed things, but maybe he resented her coming in and doing his job for him. It did prevent him from avoiding the rest of Red Team.

“South, will you stop for a second? Look at me?”

Shit. South must have missed a tone thing again, it happened sometimes. Between the military and being on her own for so long, South didn’t always know how to read casual conversation anymore. She preferred direct conversation any day.

“I’m worried about you.”

That flash of guilt that flared up any time Carolina wanted to take care of her was back.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m coping.”

“You’re stagnating. Soon you’re going to start tearing your hair out and alienating the guys because you’re bored and looking for stimulation. Trust me, antagonizing the Reds and Blues will only lead to problems and you do not want that. I care about you and I would hate for you to end up with mustard in your blankets or a bucket of snakes above your door. Let me introduce you to Kaikaina Grif.”

“I don’t understand what meeting her has got to do with antagonizing anybody or the strangely bizarre and specific pranks.”

“You’re bored, and Kai is definitely not boring. I think spending some time with her will be good for you.”

Carolina didn’t accept Wash and South tiptoeing around one another or South trying to sneak out in the middle of the night because of her insomnia, and she apparently wasn’t going to rest until South had made some friends, even if that meant flying friends in for her.

The hand on her neck started to massage gently, feeling the tension that had settled there. South let out a groan.

“You’re what? Assigning her to me?”

“Oh no, Kai’s been a Blue longer than you’ve been here, she outranks you. I’m assigning you to her.”

“What?”

Carolina called out to Kai and waved her in before she firmly turned South to face the Sim Trooper charging at them. The moment the woman in yellow skidded to a stop in front of them, she took a beat to look South up and down before she turned and did the same to Carolina.

“Carolina, lookin’ fine-ah! Still bangin’ as always! How are the jam sessions with the band?”

“They have yet to comment on my being tone deaf and I’m not spoiling the game, so it’s been fun. Kai, this is South, she’s an old friend of mine in need of someone to teach her how to have a good time. Can you do that?”

“Ch, yeah! I am great at fun!”

“Fantastic. Kai, from now on, South follows your orders the way she used to follow mine. She won’t like it, she’ll bitch, but she’s a great soldier and a good friend to have at your back.”

“If you want a knife put in it.”

Washington came around the warthog, a large splash of red down his left side and a steady spattering of blue on the right. He must have gotten caught in the middle of the fight.

“Hey, Kai. What’s up?”

“Hey, Cop. You still being a cop? You have to tell me, you know!”

“That’s still not a law.”

That easy amused tone shook South. He sounded so much older; more world weary. It fit him.

“Washington,” Carolina bit out, “If you’re not going to play nice, go away.”

He saluted, patted Kai on the shoulder, and moved back into the fray. The soldiers cheered as he snagged a balloon and smashed it into the side of Tucker’s head.

“Anyway, Kai, South is my gift to you. Think of her like you’ve just been given a very angry puppy and you’ll be great.”

“Carolina, you cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious; you need someone to help you transition to our way of life and Kai is the best person to do that. Kai, her job is to do what you tell her, your job is to keep her from going off the deep end. Don’t order anything I wouldn’t approve of, but other than that, go nuts.”

South scowled at the thought of a woman at least ten years younger than her, a stranger, issuing orders. She didn’t exactly have a choice but to go on with it, where else was she going to go?

“This is ridiculous.”

And it’s not like she wanted to leave anyway. Not again. Not after everything she’d gone through to get there.

Not after finally getting her chance to be with Carolina again.

“I’m not your commanding officer anymore. You could always say no, but if that’s the case I’m giving you to the Reds, and their chaos is unbridled. Think of it this way, Donut will do your nails, but Kai excels at doing hair and your purple has been missing for too long.”

South shrugged and Kai immediately dragged her toward the base.

“You’re the one with purple tips, right? I’ve seen the pics. We’re doing your hair right now. I know that you haven’t had a dye job since you got here, there’s no one here that does hair even half as good as me!”

She jabbered endlessly while she set up a chair at the big sink on the base. Her steady stream of increasingly weird stories about herself and her sex life made South laugh, and the commentary about the guys on base made South sure she never wanted to get on this girl’s bad side.

Once they were gone, Carolina wheeled a large box into the room.

“Your portable salon, madame. Don’t scare her off, ok? It took forever to bring her home.”

“Pshaw! She likes me already! Don’t you, baby?”

Both women looked at South and she shrugged.

“You’re fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to work.”

“I’ll take that as a win for now! You’ll warm up.”

With that, Kai pushed South into the chair and threw a cape around her shoulders. Kai’s hands were sturdy and soothing as they carded through South’s hair and scratched at her scalp, talking about what she thought would look best for a minute before she realized South wasn’t listening in the slightest and switched back to talking about herself again. How she’d wanted to go to beauty school when she was younger, and that she used to do everyone’s hair at the circus. South only half listened.

God, her fingers were like magic.

South melted into the chair and decided to let the woman have her way with her hair. Worst case scenario, South would shave her head and let it grow back. And it was worth it to have her hair ruined if Kai would just keep working on her hair.

“She’s funny, right?”

South made a questioning noise.

“Carolina. She shows her love weird. She’s been trying for weeks now to get me out here, telling me Grif misses me, that the team is trying to set up a training center here. Didn’t fly, cause that sounds awful, so she talked to the freaking president of Chorus and got me a training gig putting together events and festivals on the planet’s surface. Someone decided they needed events for good public relations and off world traffic, and I’m pretty good at it!”

Carolina laughed a little from where she was pointedly not hovering.

“She got you a job, huh?”

“She got me a good paying job where my brother can keep an eye on me, so he’s happy. From there, it’s like a waterfall, making him happy makes Simmons happy, which makes Donut and Sarge happy, which makes Caboose happy, which makes Tucker happy, which makes Wash happy, which makes Carolina happy. Everyone here is sooooo codependent. You, I don’t know about, but that’s ok. We’re gonna party and I’ll learn all your secrets.”

God, the thought of going to the planet’s surface to ‘party’ made South’s whole body tense up. Way too much exposure, to high a risk of being seen.

“I don’t really party these days.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll fix that. Once I get you sorted, Carolina can finally stop worrying about her little circle and relax. Anything you want in particular? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna trim you up and give you crazy purple hair, it’s gonna take some time, but it’ll look fabulous.”

“I’m in your hands, gorgeous.”

“You’re a flirt! I like that.”

South did her best to keep up the chatting, thankful that Kai held the majority of the conversation herself, and when she might have lulled, Carolina stepped in and stoked the conversation back up.

She did the whole nine yards; washed South’s hair, massaged her scalp, trimmed her up to something more akin to her preferred style, bleached her hair for coloring and mixed colors. South honestly didn’t give a shit about what Kai did, so she gleefully went to town.

Once she started putting color on, Carolina frowned.

“You’re doing her whole head?”

“I have creative license here, so yeah, I’m doing her whole head! It’s gonna be fucking badass, just you wait!”

Carolina pulled up a chair and sat across from South with a nervous smile and stretched her leg out to brush ankles with South. South smiled back and tapped Carolina with the side of her boot. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want or need to.

Kai wasn’t wrong, Carolina did show her love in weird ways. She never said it, but she showed it in a thousand different ways. South watched Carolina work with the Reds and Blues every day, watched her interact with the people from Chorus who flew up to the moon to ‘train’, how she took the time to touch and ground the people around her despite her own discomfort with the process.

How she understood that South needed help and care but was too angry and proud to ever ask for it.

“I trust you, Kai, just don’t make her look like a clown.”

“I would never! This gorgeous face can pull all kinds of looks, and I intend to make her look fucking sexy as fuck! Chill, Carolina, I’m not going to mess your other girlfriend’s look up.”

South tried to look up at Kai, confused, but Kai grabbed South’s head and held it in place.

“Don’t move, you’ll ruin my hard work.”

Carolina laughed a little and rubbed her ankle against South’s and asked Kai about her most recent exploits. South just closed her eyes and listened to the women talk.

The color was washed out, her hair blow dried and style, and with a cheeky grin, Kai shoved a mirror into South’s face.

“Well?”

It looked…good.

Her head was covered multiple tones of purples, blues, and reds, in a way that looked like it shouldn’t have worked, but it really did. Dark and bold, her hair felt soft and fell nicely. Honestly, it was too good for the life South lived. Between helmet time and working on trucks, she was sure she wouldn’t do it justice in the long run.

But Carolina looked really happy, and judging by Kai’s bright smile, she was too.

“You like it, right?”

“Don’t push her.”

South smirked.

“She can push me if she wants, you’re the one who told her to boss me around. I like it.”

“Great!” Kai crowed. “We’re gonna get our nails done tonight, no fighting, I brought Donut a new gel kit and he’s dying to use it!”

Carolina stood up and pressed a kiss to Kai’s cheek and praised her for a job well done, before she kiss to South’s cheek as well.

“I’m glad you like it. Kai’s great, you to are going to get along like a house on fire.”

“Uh, I’m not lighting anything on fire.”

South hadn’t expected anything good when she came here, came home, but everything was genuinely better than she expected. Carolina took her hand and kissed the knuckles before idly telling Kai that she hoped they’d also brought decent alcohol because Donut’s wine and cheese hour was dreadful without actual wine to drink.

She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t known how badly she wanted it, but she was so glad she’d come.

#redvsbluesecretsanta #artesoterica #Red vs Blue #fanfiction

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