#i kept jumping from past tense to present | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sensitiveheartless · 8 months ago

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Written followup to the horrors comic! It got away from me lol. Most of it's under the cut, cause this part is also a bit long.

~*~

Minutes passed by on the quiet moonlit dock.

Despite the renewed serenity of the night, Chuuya’s heart continued to race sickeningly fast. It hammered away in his chest, as if unable to fully grasp that the danger had passed.

His clothes were heavy and waterlogged, so cold against his skin that he could barely keep from shivering. Icy trickles ran down the back of his neck and dripped from his hair.

Closing his eyes didn’t help. There were far too many twisted corpses engraved in the darkness whenever he blinked. So he kept his eyes open, staring at the planks beneath them as he tried to steady his breathing.

Don’t think about it, Chuuya told himself. Don’t think about them.

Instead, he forced himself to remain in the present moment. Beneath the planks, he could hear the swell of the ocean waters, each wave lapping at the posts in a quiet rhythm. Salt filled his lungs with every breath, the heavy tang of the sea-soaked wood wafting around him.

And against his chest was Dazai’s head, a steady and grounding pressure. His ear rested over Chuuya’s heart, his arms still tight around him.

In that position, Dazai must have been able to hear how hard Chuuya’s heart was pounding—but surprisingly, he didn’t remark upon it. He remained utterly silent.

In return, Chuuya didn’t say a word about the almost crushing strength of Dazai’s arms where they wrapped around his middle. Dazai’s fingers were digging into his ribs, twin rows of sharp pressure, and Chuuya could feel them shaking.

Dazai’s hair was coarse where Chuuya’s cheek rested against it. Back in the day, before Dazai’s defection, he never bothered with conditioner. It seemed some things never changed, even in the light.

For one wild moment, Chuuya wished that he wasn’t wearing a pair of gloves—then he could bury his bare fingers in Dazai’s hair and see if it was as tangled as it looked. And, perhaps, warm himself up. Dazai was like a radiator against him, heat seeping through Chuuya’s drenched layers of clothes at every point of contact, but his gloves remained cold, the sodden leather chilling him to the bone. His joints ached as he uncurled his fingers from around Dazai’s shoulders.

Perhaps it would be worth it to just…indulge for a moment, if only to have something else to needle Dazai about. Really, the man needed to learn how to groom himself properly one of these days.

As Chuuya’s hand hovered indecisively over Dazai’s head, however, he realized that his heart rate had already evened out. While he was reminiscing about Dazai’s damn mess of hair, of all things.

Ridiculous. But that meant that there was absolutely no excuse for the two of them to remain wrapped around each other any longer. Dazai’s shivering seemed to have calmed as well.

“We should—” Chuuya’s voice cracked when he tried to speak, so he paused and cleared his throat before going on. “We should make sure it’s really gone. I don’t want that thing getting the jump on me again.”

Dazai tensed, and his grip tightened so much that for a moment Chuuya could scarcely breathe.

“Oi. C’mon, you need to let me up,” Chuuya wheezed, swatting at Dazai’s shoulder. He strained his neck to look down at the head buried against his chest, a pang of something that was surely exasperation tightening his throat. “I need to be able to reach it, Dazai.”

Dazai remained still for another long moment, then abruptly loosened his grip. Instead of letting Chuuya up, however, he pushed him down to sit on the damp planks, and rose to his feet himself.

“I’ll go,” Dazai said quietly, and strode past Chuuya towards the small, oval mirror where it lay shattered on the dock.

Right. It did make sense to have Dazai touch it first, in case it was an ability that could be nullified.

…But what if it’s not? What if it’s something like Lovecraft? Dazai will be defenseless, Chuuya thought, and instinctively started to his feet as well.

“Stay back,” Dazai said sharply, without even turning to look. He was standing over the mirror, staring down at it. “Don’t move forward until I say so.”

Chuuya scowled, but remained in place. He watched as Dazai bent down and extended a careful hand towards the shards of glass.

One tap, with the tip of a finger. Then another, less cautious tap against the side of the wooden frame. Then another, and another, Dazai’s touches moving systematically across every inch of shattered glass and broken wood.

Nothing happened.

Dazai breathed out, and stepped back. “There. You are now welcome to crush it into dust,” he said lightly, waving Chuuya forward.

His head was still downturned, his eyes cast in the shadow of his bangs as Chuuya walked past him to do the deed.

It was with deep pleasure that Chuuya pressed each little bit of the mirror into nothingness, grinding it down with the overwhelming weight of gravity.

After it was done, Chuuya scattered the dust into the ocean waters below. “What the fuck was that thing, anyway?” he asked, turning back to face the other.

When he turned, however, he found Dazai had moved to sit on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling off the edge.

His back was facing Chuuya. It seemed deliberate.

At first, Dazai didn’t respond to Chuuya’s question. The silence stretched long enough that Chuuya began to shiver again, the cold wind cutting through his damp clothes.

“…A Face Like Glass,” Dazai said at last. “That’s what the ability was called.”

“So it was a gifted,” Chuuya muttered. He walked to Dazai’s side, and dropped down beside him with a heavy sigh. “That mean the user is still out there somewhere?”

“No,” Dazai said softly. “She died some time ago, I’m afraid.”

Chuuya looked at him sharply. “What?”

There wasn’t much light by which to see, but Chuuya knew Dazai’s face like the back of his own hand. Better, probably. And he could tell that the detective’s features had gone unnaturally still.

It was how Dazai looked whenever he was unsure of how much he should give away. Typically his poker faces were more natural, but when he was strongly conflicted, he would simply go blank.

“Explain,” Chuuya said, crossing his arms. “That thing almost killed me, I think I ought to know what it was.”

That got a reaction. Dazai’s lips twitched downward and he looked away, hiding his face from Chuuya once again.

After another lingering pause, however, he finally began to talk.

“A Face Like Glass was the ability of a woman named Hardinge,” Dazai said, as blandly as if he were reciting a history lesson. “She could reflect the darkest thoughts of anyone who looked into that mirror of hers, and give those thoughts physical form. Quite literally a nightmare to deal with, as one can imagine. She was the terror of England. However, after she rose to prominence, the mirror began to behave a bit oddly.

“The more renowned Hardinge became, the more people began to fear her ability. She kept the exact details of the mirror shrouded in mystery, so her enemies were always speculating what horrors it might do to them next.

“Naturally, over time, their darkest thoughts became consumed with fear of the mirror itself. And when Hardinge reflected those thoughts, manifesting them into reality…well. You can imagine what happened.”

Chuuya’s hands formed fists in his lap, so tight the leather of his gloves creaked. His fingers were somehow even colder than before. “A runaway effect,” he said. Despite his best efforts, his voice came out rough. “A singularity.”

“Quite,” Dazai said. “The heights of human imagination should never be underestimated. The more powerful anyone imagined the mirror was, the more powerful it became. When their fears manifested, their imaginations ran ever more wild with terrifying possibilities. Which it would also reflect. And so on, and so on. The only one who could control it was Hardinge herself, stopping the runaway cycle by covering the mirror. She acted as a control for the ability for many years, preventing it from going too far.

“But one day, one of her enemies had the dubiously clever idea to turn the mirror back on Hardinge herself. Which, ordinarily, would have been a mere scare tactic. I’m sure their only intent was to make her hesitate to use the mirror by making her own fears manifest.

“However, that is not what happened. Keep in mind, Hardinge had been watching this ability of hers grow with each battle she fought, gaining strength after strength, only barely containing it with her efforts. Sometimes it must have seemed so powerful that it nearly eclipsed her own self.

“Anyone would be frightened of that. It can’t be surprising that her darkest thoughts contained the fear that her mirror would one day consume her.”

Silence stretched, frigid and fragile as ice.

“…So her own ability ate her,” Chuuya said flatly.

“Yes,” Dazai said. “And without anyone left to contain it, the mirror was unleashed.”

Chuuya rubbed wearily at his temples. “Okay. Then how did it get here? To Yokohama?”

“From what I hear, Hardinge was not popular with the Order of the Clock Tower,” Dazai said. “She had gone into hiding here when her ability overtook her. The Special Operations Division then sent out operatives to contain it.”

Chuuya raised his head. “Oh. They’re involved? Wait, does that mean…was that ex-drinking buddy of yours the one who told you all this?”

Dazai nodded, and Chuuya could faintly make out a crooked smile on his lips in the darkness. “Ango called to warn me of its escape. They had done everything they could to keep it locked away so it could be studied, but all it took was one researcher fearing that the creature had the ability to get out of its cell, and it immediately had that power,” he said, leaning back on his bandaged palms. He gave Chuuya a sidelong look, heavy with significance. “Then, of course, while Ango was briefing me on A Face Like Glass, I also got word that a certain tiny mafioso had gone out to fight an unknown monster that was terrorizing the shipyards.”

Chuuya met his stare with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, so?” he said. “It was scaring my subordinates. Someone had to do something.”

Dazai’s gaze darkened further. “Chuuya, you went alone,” he said. “You tried to face it all by yourself, without even knowing what it was. You could have —” He broke off, and looked away once more. His nails were digging into the wood of the dock, his shoulders stiff.

Hiding again, Chuuya thought.

For a moment, Chuuya considered pointing out that there wasn’t anyone for him to call for help. Very few of the other mafia members could stand up to an otherworldly threat—and even those who could, like Akutagawa, were not anyone who Chuuya would want exposed to a fear-monster. Everyone in the mafia had far too much darkness to reflect.

Besides, Dazai had no room to scold Chuuya when he was the one who had left him without a partner in the first place.

But even as Chuuya contemplated speaking those cutting words aloud, he found himself unable to.

Because even though Chuuya hadn’t called, Dazai had come anyway.

And, if the reflections of that ability could be believed, one of Dazai’s darkest thoughts was losing Chuuya to Corruption. Right alongside Dazai’s fear of his own past self, and his fear of disappointing his old friend. That…changed some things.

Chuuya sighed, releasing a long-held weight. Then he prodded Dazai’s shoulder with a cold, gloved fingertip. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

Dazai’s shoulders hitched higher, but he didn’t turn.

“What’s your deal?” Chuuya demanded, poking him again. “You don’t have to hide from me, idiot. What, you think I’m gonna make fun of you for having emotions?”

That, apparently, surprised Dazai enough to glance back at Chuuya, his brow furrowed.

“Because I won’t,” Chuuya said. “Not about this. I mean…look, before you showed up, that mirror motherfucker had already reflected a lot of people at me. The Flags, the Sheep, Murase, even N. That’s how it got close enough to me to grab me and drag me under in the first place. So if you’re embarrassed of breaking down or some shit, you shouldn’t be. I did too.”

“It’s not that,” Dazai muttered, his eyes darting away across the dark ocean waters once again.

“Then what?” Chuuya prompted impatiently, leaning closer.

“I froze,” Dazai said, his lips twisting in disgust. “Under the slightest amount of pressure, I broke. You could have died, just because I couldn’t bring myself to fire at a poor imitation of my friend.”

Chuuya blinked. “What’s wrong with that? I broke too. And you were there to pull me out of the water. I saved you, and you saved me. That’s what partners are for, right?”

That finally got Dazai to face him, whipping around so quickly it must have hurt his neck. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise.

Chuuya knew why. It had been years since he had called Dazai his partner.

All too aware that his cheeks were beginning to heat, Chuuya reached out to pull the infuriating man into his arms, tucking Dazai’s head against his shoulder. “Not a word,” he growled, squeezing Dazai tightly in warning. “Make fun of me for this and I’m kicking you into the ocean.”

Dazai let out a choked noise, and suddenly he was clinging to Chuuya just as tight, his fingers practically clawing into his back.

He was shaking again. Or maybe they both were.

“It—it had been so long since I heard his voice,” Dazai cried against Chuuya’s neck, muffled and damp on his skin. “I don’t want that to be how I remember him, I don’t, I hate it…”

Chuuya closed his eyes and saw Albatross laying on the ground in pieces, staring up at him in betrayal. He let out a slow, careful breath, and held Dazai closer.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know. I get it.”

Dazai was still so warm. And Chuuya’s hands were still so terribly cold.

Making a reckless decision, Chuuya pulled off his soaked gloves and tossed them aside, then sunk his fingers into Dazai’s mess of curls without hesitation. He felt more than heard the sharp inhale against his neck, and the quiet questioning hum that followed. Chuuya ignored it and continued to card his fingers through Dazai’s hair.

“…Chuuya?” Dazai breathed.

Chuuya tugged absently at a knot. “Tangled,” he grunted. “It was bothering me.”

“Mm,” Dazai hummed, and his hands slid up the back of Chuuya’s jacket. “Chuuya’s cold.”

“No shit,” Chuuya said grumpily. “I fell in the fucking ocean, and it’s freezing out here.”

There was a soft laugh, then a strange sensation ghosted across the side of Chuuya’s neck just above his choker, almost like a pair of lips had pressed there. Chuuya’s hands tightened in Dazai’s hair, stiffening in surprise. He could only wonder if he had imagined it, unable to comprehend any other possibility.

He certainly didn’t imagine what Dazai said next, however.

“Come home with me,” Dazai whispered, his lips brushing against Chuuya’s skin once again.

Chuuya made a very strange noise, somewhere between a shriek and a gasp, and used his grip on Dazai’s hair to haul him away just enough for their eyes to meet. “The fuck?” he spluttered, face burning. “What do you mean, where did that — hah?”

Dazai’s eyes were rimmed in red, dulled with weariness. One of his hands wandered up to Chuuya’s cheek and rested there, circling the blush with his thumb. “I don’t want you out of my sight right now,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

Ah. Right. The reflection of Corruption.

Well. Chuuya couldn’t really deny that he wasn’t looking forward to a night spent alone in his own apartment. He might not dream, but that didn’t matter if he couldn’t even get to sleep. Having someone beside him might help.

And beyond all that—this was the first time that Dazai had ever asked Chuuya to stay with him.

So, dazed and still a little flushed, Chuuya abandoned all common sense and replied, “Okay.”

Dazai captured one of Chuuya’s hands between his own, and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, and pulled Chuuya to his feet. A slight smile flitted across his features. “I think I spotted Chuuya’s dreadful hat further towards the shore. Shall we find it first?”

Chuuya’s knuckles were still tingling. “Okay,” he repeated, strangled and utterly bewildered. His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles like a pack of confused terriers, but he allowed Dazai to tow him away towards the lights of the city.

And if Chuuya’s fingers ended up intertwined with Dazai’s as they traversed the shadows…well.

The streets were too dark for anyone to prove it.

“…Wait, is there even room at your place? You’re still living in that shitty dorm, aren’t you?”

A familiar grin and a pair of twinkling eyes turned back to him as they passed through a dimly lit alley. “Hmm? Chuuya has been tracking where I live? How sentimental of you, slug.”

At least he’s getting back to normal, Chuuya thought. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled aloud. “Of course I’d keep an eye on your annoying ass.”

A scandalized, yet delighted gasp. “Chuuya likes looking at my ass?”

“…?! Shut up! That is not what I said—!”

#...possibly I should also put this on ao3 for ease of reading #do I know what I'm doing? nope #no thoughts only vibing #but anyway I hope this was an enjoyable explanation of the Creature in the horrors comic!#'A Face Like Glass' is a book I absolutely adore by Frances Hardinge :D It's got a lot of mind-bending concepts in it!#so it seemed like a fun thing to turn into a bsd oc monster #can you believe this started as an attempt to give Chuuya hugs lol #technically succeeded! but at what cost #the horrors comic #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #skk #senhart's writing

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hwaightme · 1 year ago

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Cat named Mars (catboy!hwa hcs)

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😻 pairing: catboy!seonghwa x gn!reader 😻 genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, demon? to cat? to roommate? to lover? 😻 summary: the longest bulletpoints about what it would be like to have catboy!hwa as your bf - the whole story 😻 wordcount: 4.5k 😻 warnings/tags: editing? who is she, unhinged crack part nyah, catboy!hwa, cute catboy!hwa, soft and polite catboy!hwa- okay i will stop |, language, food/eating, mention of others not treating animals well, sweater paws, mention of adorable nerdy hobbies, domestic, cuddle, a surprise about how hwa ended up being a cat in the first place, both past and present tense used, mainly lowercase 😻 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 😻 a/n: let me drift in the soft and fluffy catboy!hwa lands until waterbomb strikes, for my own healing; my braincells are out of service but i hope you enjoy <3 all reblogs, thoughts and notes appreciated! big hugs!

once upon a time he was a cat

there was never a moment to think about anything except work, and maybe about groceries and bills (but even those things normally hit you at two o'clock in the morning, leading you to check your phone and make make amendments to your schedule in a panicked state). there was never any room for a cat. until there was.

of course there just had to be an adorable kitty, at most maybe a couple of years old, lean and with jet black fur that was surprisingly shiny for an abandoned cat, sitting square in the middle of a cardboard box on the side of the street that formed a part of your regular path and commute to and from work. in the morning, you had locked eyes with the cat, heart bleeding and hurting for the poor creature but secretly hoping that someone else would take it - you couldn't take care of it, could you? in the evening, you were huffing and puffing with the cardboard box in your hands and the cat happily meowing, its tail stretched out upwards into a chimney pipe, slightly tilted to the side at the very end. you read somewhere that it meant the cat was happy, so you were going to take that as a good sign.

sat on the floor at the entrance to your apartment, you eyed the beautiful creature as it kept on purring and trying to hop out of the box and towards you, while you were insistent on keeping it in, lifting a cardboard flap repeatedly in an effort to prevent it from jumping. so. now you had a cat. there was nothing in the box, and on the outside, in horrific scrawl was a message suggesting whoever took the kitty either "kept him, or throw him away, whatever". non-humans. "that's who your previous owners were, right kitty?" you mumbled to no one in particular, but it seemed that the cat picked up on your speech and inched closer to you, ears moving like disks to pick up signals. "so you are a he, yeah?" a meow. so you were right. at least the beasts from this cat's past got one thing right. "do you have a name? actually… you know what do you want a… new name?" you were fast on the attachment scale, you realised. it had been barely a few minutes and you were already trying to name the cat who you had not even checked for diseases, nor had any basic facilities to take care of him. but he was more than excited by the prospect, and mewled in what sounded like gratitude. you began to list off names, eventually boring the kitty, and he started to falter in his enthusiasm. all until one name rang a bell.

"Mars?"

and that was how you ended up with a black cat named Mars.

by the power of actually having to shake paws with a cat, and you promising to get him quality snacks, you managed to get Mars checked at the vet who confirmed everything was fine, and was equally as amazed as you that he was so well groomed and neat. while you knew you did not have much of a right to do this, your inner pride still swelled and, to yourself, you said that 'yes, my Mars is really neat and handsome'.

you took to addressing Mars as 'your handsome boy' and that seemed to wake him up and get him speeding towards you faster than anything else could. also 'the prettiest star' and 'my universe' and 'marvellous Mars' all worked wonders.

at the same time, he was shy, as if he did not want to disturb you with his antics. always tip-toeing around you as silently as a cat could (which was very silent, to the point where he jumpscared you a couple of times but that is okay because excuse me did you see his precious face????) and never taking up much space, even though… hello? Mars? you are a cat?? he would rarely ever hop on any surfaces unless you explicitly told him to do so - this had left you convinced that your cat was well-versed in human-speak. he never meowed for food until you had told him to vocalise and tell you if he was very hungry, and gave him a rundown of his eating schedule and how it was important that he drank water. he was the politest cat you had ever met, while at the same time his timidness made you wonder if you were in any way intimidating. not once did Mars ever enter your bedroom, even though you left the door wide open for him, preferring to crash on the couch or on the floor of some other room. the first couple of times you joked about it saying "are you scared you'll see something, Marsy?" but when your cat actually looked away and hunched over, you were convinced that you hit the nail on the head, and that you were probably either hallucinating or were slowly turning into Doctor Dolittle.

but you were persistent. and insistent. and you took the little blanket with kuromi decor on it from him (yes this was that extreme of a situation) and put it at the edge of your bed. climbing in and covering yourself in the many layers, you looked at the terrified figure hovering at the entrance to the room, boba eyes as wide as saucers. he kept on looking at the blanket, then at you, then again at the blanket, then again at you, probably wondering if he could snatch the thing and make a run for it. you were on the verge of giving up at this point. sleepy, with work tomorrow, you were not about to engage in a whole war with your cat.

"you know what, if you want to stay, you can stay. i promise i will not hurt you, nor will i push you out. if you want to come closer, do. if you just want to take the blanket and leave, you can do that. your choice. i won't be hurt. i promise. you are already super brave and i love you either way. okay, Mars?" he did not respond, frozen in place. "my handsome boy?" his head twisted towards you. "precious?" a blink. another blink. one paw in front of the other. "are you actua- wow! I am so proud of you my baby! my brave boy!" you were cooing praises at him like there was nothing else in the world that existed as soon as he hopped onto the bed, foregoing the blanket and making a beeline towards your face, as though that was his read source of comfort. he was afraid to look away, focusing on your every expression as you patted his head and let him nuzzle into you. "you are so so brave, you know that? i know this is hard, so if at any point you want to leave, you can, okay?" purring louder than a powerdrill was the response you received. along with kitty cuddles through the whole night. because apparently, your cat was a koala all along.

and even in his cuddles he was gentle. you did not think you had ever seen him use his claws… ever. except maybe on a few toys but as soon as you were in sight poof gone, soft Mars activated. he was like your personal heater, careful to wrap himself closer to you not to push you out, but to instead complete whatever curled up position you were lying in. if you were stretched out to the side, he would find a place. if you were in a ball? he would find a place again. if you were lying down straight for whatever reason? give him a couple of nights to get comfortable, and now you had the ultimate cat comforter either on you, or around your head. and yes, you were blessed with a cat who barely shed, somehow. some of your friends who had cats almost cursed you when they found out, but you only smiled, looking at your lockscreen. nowadays, even during the workday you were thinking of Mars at least a little bit.

maybe you were spoiling him a little bit, but it was too adorable to see him watching you play legend of zelda or animal crossing on your nintendo switch. and when he saw that you got a gift from a friend in the form of a lego set? well. you were literally afraid to open the box because of how hyper your cat got - perhaps not today…

you fell into the most pleasant routines with Mars, from waking up and going to bed together, to eating breakfast and then 'parting ways' for you to attend to human business and him to his 'cat business'. it was cute. it made your head sing. you were happier than you had ever been. all thanks to that one random day. one random box. and one black haired kitty who radiated sunshine.

it was the eve of the one year anniversary of you being the proud owner of, or how you preferred to say it, the best friend of 'L/n Mars', and you were as sure as his ears were pointy in wanting to go all out with your celebration - minus the guests (because the last time you had invited a male friend of yours over your cat turned into a whole other creature and then sulked for at least three days until you took a day off work and called it 'Mars day', but you just assumed it was some territorial thing). you had set up little themed decorations, found a cute little headband with the number '1' that is suitable and safe for a cat and would not hurt his head, got a matching, human-sized one for yourself, made a whole dinner for your favourite kitty from scratch - the ingredients all checked with the vet who you now casually called by first name because you did not dare ever give Mars anything that might harm him and would rather panic call the doctor.

you were sat at the coffee table, so that it would be easier for Mars to reach the food (you set pillows on the floor for extra comfort, for which he thanked you with a loud meow), and had your respective mini-cakes set out in front of either of you. you had given up on making him ever eat kitty food - another peculiar quirk of your cat, so the 'cake', which was more a protein gift than anything, was fully home made. but Mars was happy. more than happy. if cats could smile, that was exactly what he was doing, right at you, squinting his eyes, threatening to hop over the table. you told him to wait, and quietly whispered your gratitude to him. much to your delight, he waited and listened, clinging onto every word.

"you know, i really think you are an angel. before you i was quite… how do i say this… life was just passing by. and now i look forward to it. and to be able to see you every day, to have fun days with you, to talk with you… all of that brings me so much joy and i hope that i can make you at least a little bit happy too. i wish you could tell me what you want, of course, but i really do think you know what i am thinking, what i am saying. and i hope that i am right in saying that i can understand you a bit too. you really are the smartest, most precious Mars. light of my life. i love you so much, my gorgeous, and here is to many years more, cheers~" you clinked your glass with orange juice with his water bowl, and giggled when he took a couple of neat laps to match with your gulps, only to lick his lips and hop off the pillows and go under the table.

in a matter of seconds, he reappeared at your side of the table, and poked at your lap with his paw, looking up at you with his bead-like eyes that seemed to contain the whole universe in them. you pat him between his ears, scratched under his chin, delighting him, and then stretched out your legs, gesturing towards your legs to signify that lap-napping season was open. Mars did not need to be told twice, and soon enough you had a black cat curled up on your lap, purring away, mewling a couple of times when you started eating to remind you that he was hungry too.

"so you want me to feed you now, too? aren't you cheeky-"

as if you could refuse him. you would be lying if you said you could. so there you were, on the floor and feeding Mars, quiet music playing from your phone, not quite sure if you could be any happier.

"i love you."

quite the contrast to what happened the next morning.

suddenly he is a catboy

when you wake up, Mars is nowhere in sight, and even when you call him, to which he would reply with at least a meow, you are only met with silence. you are alarmed, but wait in bed for just a little longer to see if Mars would come to you. nothing. you call again, 'pspspsps' him, all to no avail. only the breeze and the birds outside, along with inexplicable rustling from another room in your apartment. you raise an eyebrow and prop yourself up on your elbows. more rustling. a door opening, which sounds like the closet where you kept your warmer clothes. what is going on? another door closing. footsteps? you are on high alert. grabbing your phone and the light saber model which you had made a while back and kept safe by your bed, as it turned out exactly for this kind of moment, you head out to face whatever, or whoever is the source of the sound.

you are stealth itself, rounding the corner with weapon in hand, ready to face the attacker - or so you thought. until you come face to face with the tall, young man dressed head to toe in your clothing, namely a tracksuit that you had accidentally gotten in the wrong size and then somehow ended up being refunded for without returning the item, and a beanie that he had pulled over his head. spikes of jet black hair are poking from under the hat in all directions, and his deep brown eyes are widened in shock as he freezes on the spot and stares back at you.

"so, what the hell are you doing in my clothes?"

"y/n- i-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"i can explain-"

"nope do NOT get closer what-"

"Mars…. i…. it's me… your uh… cat."

"what?"

he looks embarrassed beyond belief, and crumbles to the floor, sliding until his back is against the wardrobe. wrapping his arms around his knees, he is scared to look up at you, worried that you would never recognise him, never accept him. this is exactly what he has been dreading all this time, and was heartbroken when the curse was finally broken, despite him technically being free now. he does not want to be away from you. this is his home. you are his home. you are the one who showed him true love.

"if it is okay… may i take this beanie off for a second?"

"i didn't even let you put it on in the first place," he winces. you feel a little bad, but hold your ground. his eyes sparkle in a way that is a little too familiar, reminding you of a certain someone. the cat who he mentioned. your precious cat. Mars.

"okay… here goes…" he slides the material off, making you gasp. hidden under the beanie is a pair of cat ears, fluffy, the same colour as his hair, and twitching as he adjusts after having flattened them to minimise their visibility.

"yo what."

"i have… a tail too."

"WHAT?"

he is not joking. a black tail to go with the black ears, sliding out from under the oversized hoodie. you are not sure what happened next, but you wake up on the sofa with the man, who you are now guessing is some human cat hybrid version of Mars fanning you with a magazine.

"I AM SORRY, Y/N PLEASE WAKE UP I AM SO- oh you are awake thank goodness i missed you i am really so sorry…" he drops the magazine almost instantly, leaning towards you and wrapping you in a warm embrace, much to your surprise. you yelp, but the softness, as well as his ears moving in the cutest way while he hugs you make you accept the gesture, and return it.

you never thought you would hear a grown man purr exactly like a cat, but here you are. well, you never thought you would have a catboy in your apartment either, but this is already happening so...

"so, Mars?"

"yeah?"

"you have some explaining to do."

after what turned out to be at least two hours of you and him going back and forth about what had unfolded and what was the history of the young catboy's state, you find out that, in reality, his name is Park Seonghwa, and that he is a demon, of all things. that is right, a demon. set out to curse and haunt and spread sin. but no, he is cast out of hell because he is too kind and soft. and so he had been cursed to be a cat, until for a full year, someone could give him their whole heart, their full love. while he explains this to you with a fondness unlike anything you had ever seen before in your life (except in what you perceived from cat Mars's eyes), you begin to blush, realising that all this time, you were talking to and confessing to him. Seonghwa. this handsome man who was always by your side and-

oh. and he was sleeping in the same bed as you. just great. you flush an even deeper shade and cover your face. and he had been jealous, not territorial, when your friend had come over.

"are you okay?"

"so okay."

"hug?"

"i, uh-"

"you give really good hugs."

"Park Seonghwa do you really want to make me suffer?"

"I AM SO SORRY ARE YOU HURT? DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG I AM SO SORRY?!"

"no you are too cute. come here"

catboy!hwa headcanons

is initially cautious because well… you got used to him being a cat and now suddenly you have a whole man with cat ears and a tail walking around your house. he catches on to the fact that you are kind of shy around him too, but he does not push it, at least not straight away.

because that would mean that he has to get over his own shyness towards you extra quickly, and that proves to be difficult when it hits him that, well, he is now a person too, and you are a person, and he fell in love with you, and you told him you loved him before - on occasion he just walks around blushing with his ears pressed flat to his head but don't point it out he is already struggling ;~;

you might have to be the one to initiate the contact again because he is literally too scared to overstep anything and everything - even when you bought him his own first few sets of clothes as a 'human edition anniversary gift'. you approach him to give him a hug and he groups up as if he is about to dive into a pool, hands to his chest, eyes wide. but is he moving anywhere? no. does his purring give him away? yes. after that the two of you gently reintroduce physical touch and it makes you realise just how much you miss Mars, particularly because Seonghwa is still a little distant for understandable reasons. But you both are trying your best.

if you massage his head and scratch behind his hears he will melt - his favourite thing in the world is having his head rest on your lap with his eyes closed while you ruffle his hair really slowly and run your fingers through it.

desperately misses the times when you would call him handsome and pretty and smart, and every single affectionate word in the universe so he tries his damn hardest to get you to do that again, first by trying to be nice and helping you around the house, and when the results are not to his satisfaction and when cuddle sessions are pretty much the norm, but words of affection aren't… he pouts and openly asks you why you don't call him that anymore. you squeak the words out but the reaction makes every next attempt easier than anything.

he is scared to approach your room again, though, and this time you say nothing because well, this is a whole other territory. a couple of months pass before you consider and that is because you find him sleeping on the floor a couple of times, curled up with is tail covering his face a little, and he said it was because "he is scared otherwise and here is safe". so you take out a futon for now, but he is more than happy with this progress.

he learns how to cook both from you and from tutorials online, and then starts remembering what he used to cook a long time before - you basically stop cooking altogether because now he is insistent on waking you up with breakfast, packing you lunch and greeting you with dinner. he sometimes gets a bit too experimental, but you do not mind it too much because at least he cleans everything up.

you think you can ignore the lego in the corner of your living room? no :) it is a date now. a lego building date. for four hours straight. on the floor. him running this ship like you run your team at work. and his focus, his professional approach to the matter is a little too attractive, you admit to yourself. and somewhere along the way that translates into you planting a kiss on Hwa's cheek. this is the only time over the whole four hours that he drops the pieces he is holding in his hands, gazing at you, not quite sure if what he felt just now was real or not.

but nope, judging by your attempts to avoid his gaze this was very real. so he gets real bold real quick and guess who finds themselves trapped by two tones arms on either side of you, back on the floor, a curious and mischievous face a mere inch away? that's right, you. wants to build a starship, accidentally builds a relationship along with it - a major win.

there isn't ever a platonic stage really. an extensive awkward stage? sure. a roommates-maybe stage? sure. two people who like each other? sure. and now, after many months of you settling into a new routine, two people who love each other and keep telling each other that.

he finds a job that he can do remotely, and in this way remains mainly at home and around the neighbourhood with his beloved hobbies and balancing you out. in this way he now starts to sneak support to pay bills and to buy you little gifts (as a little apology for taking your clothes sometimes - read often)

it is not Hwa's fault that he misses you very quickly. it just happens. then one thing leads to another and he is lying on your shared bed hugging a hoodie of yours. eventually that leads to him dragging a couple more items out of your wardrobe and making a little nest out of them - only then does his worry go down and he goes for a nap while curled up in a ball.

when he knows that you should be arriving soon he starts walking up to the window, then away then back to the window, and away again. cycle repeats itself until he can spot you from a distance, and then he just stays by the window.

he helps you redecorate and rearrange your apartment, considering that you now have a 5'10'' human cat instead of one you can hold with two hands, and shocks you with just how many details he remembers about you, down to allergies, what colours irritate you when it comes to interiors, what plants you had to give away to keep him 'in cat form' safe - even though yes, he would not eat them, but how were you to know that?

he remembers all your special days, and hopes you remember his, too. thankfully, he knows his own birthday and using cat mathematics, converted from demon to cat to human. and so, now you can celebrate him wholeheartedly, only this time that also involves you taking him to go have a picnic under the cherry blossoms.

you and Seonghwa go to pick out and buy him a phone together, and you spend a whole day teaching him how to use it. soon enough your own phone goes off with notifications from him. he sends you fun things throughout the day and if he is busy, he sends you a selfie or a heartfelt message.

likes to curl up and read poetry with you. doesn't matter if out loud of in silence. what matters to him is that you are close. and good luck trying to get away - he has a tail and it is wrapped around your leg like an alert system so that he can tackle you right back to the couch or the bed. because it is you and Seonghwa time.

occasionally sings you lullabies that he either overheard somewhere or remembers, breaking into a smile when you wriggle closer to him and fall asleep, stress melting away from your every feature.

overall you are now living with a catboy Hwa cast out of hell for being too nice, who also turned out to be a big nerd, with heart eyes for you, sweater paws instead of actual paws, the occasional feline habits still coming through (like him rubbing his face against your shoulder, or your own face, or him hissing when frustrated or threatened, or him having the widest stretch in the morning, or… actually he is still part cat so, you have to deal with it), and all the love to give. thankfully not in the form of something he hunted. he buys birds at a store now. meant to be cooked. human-friendly.

he brings you a limited edition starship instead. if you display it he will look at you like he is falling in love with you all over again - if that is even possible because that would mean stopping loving you now, and that is the one thing he cannot do <3

😻 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pocketjoong-reads @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

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mychoombatheroomba · 10 months ago

Text

Firing Range

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 10

As the weeks go by, you and Leon get closer.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Weeks went by, quick as the slash of a knife. Leon learned to think of each day as a step by step - get through each task, each lesson, then worry about the next. He didn’t give himself a chance to pause, or let the fatigue set in. Not if he could help it. What had him out of breath once, now he could weather with greater and greater ease. He could feel the change in his body; muscles hardening, his reflexes improving. His legs would carry him further, and his aim was steadier. He could feel himself being honed into something sharper, and there was some grim satisfaction in that. Even so, he preferred to focus on the other changes those weeks brought.

Changes like the way you, on an unremarkable day, had set your tray down beside his at lunch, and didn’t look bothered when he did the same the following day. Or the way the conversations the two of you shared had slowly been growing longer. Many of those conversations were about the present - ways to improve, not just with knives, but with many aspects of STRATCOM training. Sometimes you would discuss music. Movies. Other interests. Leon clung to every piece of information you would give him, wanting to know more about you.

And, of course, some conversations were about the past. Those ones were more painful, but no less important to Leon.

“Is it alright,” he’d begun one night, a few days after your initial talk, “if I ask you about what happened that night?”

You hadn’t looked too thrilled, but you didn’t look surprised, either. “You can ask,” you said, “but I may not answer.”

“You said you weren’t in Raccoon City when you saw bioweapons. Where were you?”

You’d blinked, braced yourself. “On base in Finland.”

“Was it the same night you got hurt?”

“Yes.”

“But . . . you were stabbed, weren’t you? With a knife?”

“I was.”

“But it wasn’t a bioweapon?”

“No.”

“So then how did it happen?”

You frowned, and whatever your reasons, Leon knew not to press further after you answered: “Pass.”

A few days later, you had a question for him.

“Do you know how the outbreak started in Raccoon City?”

He’d been told not to speak on the matter. Why, he couldn’t say. Still, when it came to you, Leon decided that you deserved to know.

“Umbrella. The pharmaceutical company. They were experimenting with viral weaponry underneath the city.” Thinking of what he’d seen made Leon tense. Grip his knife tighter.

“Umbrella.” You’d looked a little distant as you heard the words. “So, they . . . what, infected everyone up top?”

“Not intentionally, I think. It was an accident.” And then he told you what he’d seen of the camera footage - the doctor, the armed men sent after him, and the broken vials of the viruses. “Rats found the vials. I think they spread it.”

“And the men that went after the doctor. Do you know who they were working for?”

“No, I’m not sure. He knew they were coming, though.”

You’d hummed, thinking. “And you found all this on security camera footage? From inside the Umbrella labs?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell were you doing down there?”

“I was looking for a sample of the virus. I . . .” he’d paused, choking on the memory of a woman in a red dress pressing her lips to his, and then holding a gun to his heart. “I thought it would help bring Umbrella down.”

“Did you get it?”

“. . . Pass.”

You respected the end of the conversation just as much as Leon did, and just like that, the two of you had a system. An easy way out. A way to jump ship, to stop either of you from being lost in the memories.

He told you the abstract. Zombies. Umbrella. The city being lost.

He kept other things closer to his chest. Marvin, the glimpse into the life that could have been. Claire, the girl he’d come to respect more than almost anyone else. Sherry, the child who he’d given up his freedom for. Ada, the woman who he’d lost, not that he’d ever really had her to begin with. You didn’t need to know about them, and he didn’t need to know everyone you’d lost, either.

It felt good to have someone who understood. Someone who had been through that same hell. You didn’t pity him or what he’d been through, and what questions you asked weren’t an interrogation. Even if he wished that neither of you had been through what you’d been through, or seen what you’d seen, he was glad to have you - for company, and for help. The latter became all the more true when Krauser announced that Leon’s squad would be going through assessments.

“Already?” you asked, when Leon mentioned it over lunch. “He’s moving fast.”

“What’s he ‘assessing’? He wasn’t very clear,” Leon said, glad for the conversation taking his mind off the tasteless food he shoveled into his mouth.

“Everything,” you said before taking a sip of water.

“Everything.” Leon huffed. “Everything ‘soldier’ or everything ‘they’re going to make me retake the SAT?”

You deadpanned in the way you usually would, raising a brow and almost - almost - letting the side of your mouth curl up into a smirk. “Fitness, marksmanship, combat. Everything he’s taught you so far . . .” you paused, considering something, “. . . and maybe some things he hasn’t.”

“That is . . . not a whole lot more helpful.”

“Well, giving away everything would defeat the point of the test.”

“Right. So, if we pass, then what?”

“Then you move to the next phase of training.” You took another sip. Your eyes didn’t break from his own. “Same as my unit.”

The idea shouldn’t have made him as excited as it did. Advanced training meant more pain. More demanding exercises. More blood and bruises. It also meant that he would be one step closer to being ready. It meant that he would be able to manage whatever came his way. It meant, perhaps, that he would be in like company more often than just mealtimes and personal hours. That shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.

“So, maybe we branch out,” you offered, interrupting his thoughts as you rested your arms against the table. “Focus on more than just knives.”

And that was how Leon found himself at the firing range that evening, holding a handgun instead of a knife. He might have hated how natural it felt to him, a few months ago. Now, it was a welcome relief. There was even some twisted excitement to it, because he’d agreed to this not only for the practice. You were at his side, holding your own gun like you’d been born with one in your hand. Part of him wouldn’t have been surprised if that were really the case.

The two of you had headphones on, though something told Leon that both of you had long since begun to damage your hearing with the sound of gunfire. Still, any words would be muffled, so you didn’t speak. You just tilted your head towards the targets downrange.

That was all the signal Leon needed.

Live rounds. STRATCOM wanted the best from their recruits and didn’t mind fronting the money for the munitions. It meant that an officer stood on duty by the door, there to observe. Neither of you paid him much mind.

There were twelve rounds in the magazine of his gun. Twelve times, as he pointed the gun forward, he squeezed the trigger. Twelve little ringing sounds as the shells fell to the floor.

When those twelve rounds were fired, Leon felt a little swell of pride in him as he looked through twelve holes punched through the target. Not quite dead center on all of them, but damned close.

He couldn’t help but look over at you, grinning like a bandit because, at last, he got to prove that he was good at something. If he was being honest with himself, that was part of why he’d agreed to this. He knew that you didn’t think less of him for his skill level in anything - you had never given him anything but respect. Still, it felt good to be able to show you that he wasn’t some helpless rookie. Not in every aspect, at least.

It made the impressed look you gave him all the better. “Not bad,” Leon read your lips before you turned towards your own target, your eyes narrowing as you took aim. You were fast, firing with a practiced precision. Quick and efficient, the same way you fought. Leon watched as you tore through the target, his eyes switching between the range and the steady iron of your arms.

When it was done, you stepped back, setting your pistol down and taking your headphones off. “Not so bad yourself,” Leon gestured down range. You’d shot about the same as he had, from the look of things, and he wouldn't have expected anything less.

“Years of practice,” you said, matter-of-factly. “You’ve got a natural talent, looks like. Or beginner’s luck.”

“What? Don’t think I’ve had ‘years of practice’ too?”

“Not with the military, you haven’t.”

“That obvious?”

“No soldiers I know have that haircut.”

Leon, for all he had been through, all the times you’d handed his ass to him, felt himself go a little red at the comment. It must have been obvious, because you looked entirely too pleased with yourself. The grin you let slip made it worth it, he supposed. “You’ve been holding on to that one for a while now, haven’t you?”

“Since day one,” you nodded, shifting your weight onto one leg and grabbing at the headphones around your neck.

“Well, it’s not beginner’s luck,” Leon insisted, “I did have some training. I was going to be a cop.”

“Of course, you were,” you shook your head, not at all surprised. “But what do you mean ‘going to be’?”

He wasn’t sure if that night was getting easier to talk about, exactly, but Leon found the answer escaping him quickly all the same. “I really only got one day in.”

“Ah,” you nodded, understanding as you always did. So much of what the two of you had shared about that night were the monstrosities. The why and how. Not so much what life was like before.

“What about you?” he asked, eager to switch the subject off of his only day on the job. “How long have you been serving?”

Before you answered, your eyes flitted off to the side like you were doing the math in your mind. “Four . . . almost five years, now.”

Leon let out a little huff of air, his eyebrows rising. “Did you join right out of high school?” You had to have - if he was guessing your age correctly.

“Yep,” you nodded, your answer short and stiff.

He wondered if he’d interpreted it correctly for only a moment before he asked another question. “Never thought of doing anything else?” He almost couldn’t picture it - you working some normal job in a city, spending hours a day at a desk or rushing between tables. You seemed so natural in this life . . . but he knew better than anyone that not everyone who was here had chosen to live this way.

You paused, eyebrows drawn together as you thought. “I thought about it,” you finally admitted, and the resignation in your voice gave Leon pause. “Not sure what I would have done, to be honest.”

“What made you join?”

He expected the answer he got before you even opened your mouth. “Pass.”

Another missing piece, but if it wasn’t one you wanted him to have, then he could do without.

“Well,” Leon breathed, “you’re a damn good soldier. Whatever your reasons.”

You looked up at him then, something flickering behind your eyes. “That wouldn’t be flattery, would it?” Your voice was low. Why was it so low? So the officer at the door wouldn’t hear? That had to be it.

“Not flattery,” Leon shook his head, speaking earnestly. “Just fact.”

You huffed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Alright, pretty boy-” you said it and Leon might have choked because he never - never - thought to hear those words from you, “-less talking, more shooting.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that here. He’d heard Valeria and some of the others refer to him that way - even Krauser, on a rare occasion. Always mocking, when it came to the Major. Hearing it from you . . . it shouldn’t have thrown him for a loop, but here he was, reeling like you’d knocked him in the back of the head.

The last time he’d felt like that-

He wouldn’t let himself think of it. Not when he knew where that spiral of thoughts would lead him. Instead, he moved back to the firing range, about to slide the headphones back over his ears when your voice stopped him.

“Tell you what,” you grinned, “we’ll keep score tonight. Whoever wins gets the knife tomorrow.”

And whoever lost . . . “Fighting full out?” he asked, glad of the distraction - both from Ada’s memory and from the effect your words had on him.

“Full out,” you nodded.

“. . . I don’t think I’d do very well against you unarmed,” Leon admitted, because he knew damn well that it was the truth.

“Well,” you shrugged, pulling your headphones back on and glancing over at him with a smirk, “then I guess you’d better shoot straight.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Leon is down so bad and who could blame him?

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

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captain-mj · 2 years ago

Note

Can we get another part of soap becoming monsterghosts handler???

Screaming!! Crying!! So happy someone was interested in that au!!!

Part 1 and part 2

Ghost quietly got ready. He tied his wings down flat and attempted at making himself presentable. His... muzzle was made to still look like a skull and prevent anyone from seeing his face. All for "his comfort", they had explained.

Ghost avoided thinking of when he woke up like this. Roba had found out about the experiments used to make things like him and tried his hand at it. It had been horrible. Waking up flawed. Fundamentally changed.

When Price had found him, he explained that he should've been able to shift back. Had gotten advice and tried to help him. Unfortunately, Ghost was wrong and stuck like this.

He avoided looking in mirrors usually, but he had to check now. The thing staring at him was unnatural. Too big and bulky, even with his wings tied flat. His eyes stared back. Still human at least. Still Simon.

He covered his mirror back up and went outside, marching to the meeting. Ghost perched in the back, mostly hidden by the shadows of the room and stayed there, only visible by the white of his mask.

Soap came in first and almost jumped out of his skin. He smiled at him once he realized who it was and stood nearby. Not within reach, just... nearby. It unsettled Ghost.

Price talked the entire time. Gaz was there, another human though Ghost didn't talk with him much, and Alejandro. Ghost wasn't sure about Alejandro. He never stated he was human, but he never did anything to suggest otherwise. Though if he was like Ghost, he was much better at keeping it hidden. Rodolfo... maybe was one. He was second in command, made more sense for him. But he had never shown anything to indicate he was anything but human either.

Alejandro flashed him a smile, as if he felt Ghost staring at him and Ghost quickly looked to Soap instead.

Soap was... a person. He was pretty normal. His hair looked dumb though. Ghost kept staring, tracing his features and looking him over. He'd steal his file later, to learn more. It wouldn't exactly be the worst thing he'd done recently. Price would be a little upset at him but Price was Price.

"Ghost." Speak of the devil.

Ghost flicked his eyes over to Price. "Yes, sir."

"You'll be showing Soap the base, understood?"

"Affirmative, sir." He hissed it through gritted teeth and he could see how Gaz tensed just a little at the tone.

"Good. You two are dismissed. Colonel Alejandro I believe...." They started talking but Ghost paid in no mind. He had his orders and he wasn't interested in whatever they had going on. Soap looked up at him.

"It's going to be great getting to work with you, sir." He smiled.

Ghost narrowed his eyes and brushed past him. He kept a brisk pace so Soap had to job to keep up with him. To his credit, he didn't complain, just walked faster.

"It's exciting right? We worked so well together on the previous mission."

Ghost side eyed him but Soap did not get the hint.

"Now, I know I'll be your handler, but like before, you're still my Lt, yeah? I was thinking you could call most of the shots until we ge-"

"Shut up." Ghost said coldly.

"Oh." Soap paused. "Not happy about the change?"

"To you, this is an exciting chance for fucking career development. For me, I just got a fucking demotion. The fact I have to have a handler is fucking stupid. Do you think I'm untrustworthy and feral?" He swung around, leaning down so he was in Soap's face.

"Only a little feral. I trust you." Soap smiled again. He did that a lot.

Ghost huffed at him and kept walking.

"So where's your room?"

"Why?"

"I'll need to know for later."

"You're not allowed in my room."

"I feel you're being unnecessarily cruel to me, Simon." Soap teased.

Ghost faltered before quietly saying. "Don't call me that."

"It's your name, isn't it?" He didn’t sound mean, just confused.

"Ghost. My name is Ghost. Simon is a dead man."

Soap gave him a side eyed glance this time, as if weighing his options.

“Alright, Ghost.”

Ghost did show him his room. Reluctantly. He didn’t let him in, just let him look around for a moment from the door and then shoved him forward so he could show him the mess.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ghost remembered how Soap acted around the other guys. Class clown behavior.

“Why is it so easy to shoot a fish in a barrel?”

Soap smiled. “Why?”

“Its already in the gun.” Ghost deadpanned. There was a beat of silence before Soap started laughing.

“Good one, Lt.” Soap hummed and eventually thought of one. They traded jokes back and forth for a minute. The dumb man had to ruin it.

“Why are you still shifted?” Soap’s eyes flicked to the muzzle and Ghost knew what he really meant. His ears flicked and those blue eyes moved to catch it.

“Can’t shift back. But you knew that. They would’ve given you a file that went over it all. You want to know why i can’t shift back.”

“I did ask why, yes.”

Ghost just managed to keep his composure. “You read the file. Defective is in Fucking bold.”

“But I’m asking you. Not the file.” Soap put his arms behind his back in a parade stance. “Why?”

Ghost reached over and patted his head. His giant hands looked even bigger next to him. It was odd. He knew Soap was average sized, but still. “Go Fuck yourself. And that’s the end of the tour.” He walked away from him.

“We’ll train tomorrow Yeah?”

“You hope.”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #The Remains au

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hold-him-down · 6 months ago

Note

8) How would you describe your whumpee?

For all of Leo’s past (and present) contract holders :))

from this ask game.

“Alright,” the leader says, clasping his hands together. His gaze lingers on each of the men for a moment before shifting to the next. He doesn’t get paid enough for this, he thinks. “Who wants to start?”

The question, How would you describe Leo Evans?, sits heavily between them.

No one jumps to answer, so the leader says, “Ms. Smith,” tersely, and waits.

“Oh,” she says, her voice oozing condescension. “Now you want to hear from me?”

The leader stares blanky ahead, catching Senator Luke Bennett’s eyes briefly. Why he is here is anyone’s guess, but he’s here, and he’s an ally.

“Well,” she continues, dragging out each sound. “I would say Leo was a silly little boy who helped me pass time. I enjoy first-time contracts, and Leo was no exception. He was particularly responsive–” She smiles, and her words are met with general sounds of agreement. In the corner, rage radiates from the senator. Kylie’s eyes flick his way briefly and her smile widens. “Don’t tell me that’s no longer the case? It was his most charming trait–”

“Parker?” the leader interrupts, just as Luke shifts in his chair. Parker raises his eyebrows, leveling his own kind of smile on Senator Bennett.

“Agreed,” he says simply.

The leader writes it down, rubbing his temples briefly beforehand. “I would say Leo was incredibly responsive. To touch, praise, shifts in my mood, whatever it be. It’s my understanding that they take a worker’s natural inclinations and work to increase the positive ones while weeding out the negative, and I think they hit mark. Besides that?” He stretches his arms in front of him, craning his neck in thought. “I think he generally aimed to please, but got too comfortable too quickly. I think that, as much as he fights it, he’s a dreamer, and he thought he could have something he could not have, and it made his daily life infinitely harder. But I think he’s a good boy, and ultimately, I think I’m happy that he’s found someone who can manage his needs appropriately.”

From his spot, the senator coughs, his fingers tense as they grip the seat of the chair.

“Right,” the leader says. “Mr. Peterson?”

Mr. Peterson, in stark contrast to the first two, does not immediately seek out the senator’s eyes. Instead, he stares intently at a spot on the floor. “The other descriptions were fine,” he says. “If asked to elaborate, I might say he was smart, he was kind, he was pleasant to be around. He cared a great deal about Will, the other worker on my staff that overlapped him. He enjoyed being outdoors in the gardens and vineyards, he was artistic.”

“What about in bed?” Cooper interrupts abruptly. “I think that’s really the spirit of the question, and we all know that’s why you really kept him.”

Mr. Peterson’s eyes snap toward his son, but the leader jumps in. “Mr. Petrov?”

“Feisty?” Mr. Petrov supplies. “I think that is the best word for how I would describe my Leo. A massive pain in my ass almost always, but it made the moments when he would finally bend to my desires that much sweeter. My little fighter–”

Mr. Petrov is poised to continue, but the leader clears his throat and says, “Senator Bennett?”

All eyes fall on Luke Bennett, who looks dangerously close to either direct homicide or becoming violently ill. It’s hard to tell which.

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, his jaw set.

“Tough shit,” Cooper helpfully supplies. “No one wants to do this.”

Luke wrings his hands, and states calmly, “He’s too good for this world.” He stands up and leaves without another word.

#whumper support group #ask game #the fighter #roll credits

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delicategardenervoid · 3 months ago

Text

You Promised

(Sequel to “I Promised”)

Seth’s knee hurt.

No, his knee was in agony.

It felt like it had been ripped apart and torn to shreds, which technically was true. His knee had been put through the ringer for the past two nights. Trying to stand, let alone walk was an insane challenge.

And as Kevin helped Seth hobble backstage, handing him off to the trainer and giving him a ‘good luck’ pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile, Seth was on his way. The new trainer asking him question after question as they entered the cold room, his body covering in goosebumps as he did so. “I’ll get you ice, okay? You just hang tight.” He said, rushing out the door.

“Not like I can go anywhere.” Seth mumbled, laying his head against the cold paint covered cinder block wall. For a while, the only sound he heard was his own breathing, slightly faster than normal from the throbbing and ever present pain in his knee that wouldn’t go away. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the raging pain now shooting up his entire leg. ‘You’re okay. It’ll be okay.’ He kept repeating to himself as he focused on his breathing, trying to calm himself from the panic of what answers there might be to how badly he was injured.

Seth was snapped out of his thoughts of panic by the door slamming open. Seth jumped, his head shooting to see who was standing in the door. His eyes widened, and his blood went cold.

Standing in the doorway was the tear stained face of Roman Reigns. His hair tied up cleanly into a bun, his shirt still off, not having changed from his ring gear.

He had been waiting for Seth.

Roman took a shaky breath, Seth could tell his body was buzzing from adrenaline. “You promised.” He said, his voice trembling. “You promised me Seth.” Roman took a slow step towards him. “I…I lost everything. And you helped.” Roman’s voice was full of pain and confusion. Roman began to take bigger steps toward Seth, the smaller man subconsciously sinking down. “Do you really hate me that much?” He asked.

Seth’s lips formed a narrow line. “Roman.” He whispered.

“I love you.” He paused. “You told me you loved me more than you hated me.”

Seth’s eyes fell to the linoleum floor below. “I do.” His voice was soft.

“Then why?” Roman’s voice was almost a yell.

Seth winced as his knee shot up pain up to his hip. “I just-the company needed a change.”

Roman was now at Seth’s side. “A change?” His eyes were full of disbelief. “I carried it on its back for four years. I was the reason people came, I got asses in seats, I sold tickets. And you thought it needed a change?” Roman’s hands were squeezed at his sides. “I saved this business.” Roman huffed. “I did.” His finger poked himself in his chest, seemingly to reassert his point.

Seth frowned, slowly looking up at Roman. “And look at what it did to you.” Roman paused, taken aback by Seth’s statement. He looked at Roman, his eyes glossy. “Look who it made you become.” Seth shook his head. “You’re not my Roman. You’re not Jon’s Roman.” Seth reached for Roman’s wrist, who tensed up but allowed it. “You’re a Roman who you think those people need you to be.” Seth’s thumb gently ran over Roman’s pulse. “Ro-“ he started, pausing as he took a deep breath. “I needed you to come back to me.” His eyes pleading with the taller man.

Roman’s lip quivered as he stared down at Seth. “You promised me.” His voice sounded full of defeat and sadness. “You said you’d never wear this again. You said-“ Roman began getting choked up, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “I told you…your promises don’t mean shit.”

Seth furrowed his eyebrows. “I know you did Ro.” He whispered. “I didn’t…it wasn’t my first choice.” He shook his head, gripping Roman’s wrist tighter. “It wasn’t really my idea.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Who suggested it? Was it Cody? I’ll fuck that little twerp up, I swear to god!” He growled, attempting to storm out of the room, Seth gripping his wrist tighter to keep him in place.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s done.” Seth grabbed Roman’s attention again. He slowly turned towards Seth; Roman’s body began to slump in exhaustion. “C’mere.” He waved with his hand, signaling for Roman to get on his knees at eye level with Seth. Roman did so and instantly pressed his forehead against Seth’s.

He took a long shaky breath. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to beat your ass.”

Seth smirked, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He put his hand against Roman’s cheek. “It’s okay baby.” Seth mumbled.

Roman broke down in sobs once more, gripping into Seth’s shoulder tight. “Seth…” he whimpered.

Seth shushed him, wiping his tears away. “You can rest now Roman.” Roman leant more into Seth, pressing almost his whole body weight into the other man. “I’ve got you.” He whispered.

#Seth Rollins #Roman Reigns #rolleigns #tribal chief #Wrestlemania

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3pirouette · 2 months ago

Text

Fic: Timeless (1/1)

Title: Timeless

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: Loki Season 2 (especially Episode 6), MCU through Endgame, Several of my own Steggy Fic

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3/Tumblr Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: for @behindthelabels for Steggymas2023/Steggy Week 2024 Day 5 “Inspired by”! Hauhet spends her days languishing in the Decoding and Intelligence office at the TVA, but when things start to unravel into chaos, she finds she, too, had a normal life on the timestream as one Agent Peggy Carter.

AN: Inspired by the Taylor Swift song Timeless (Which is irrevocably Steggy) and Season 2 of Loki and the character of Oroborus. This was put on the back burner once I found out Behindthelabels actually HADN’T watched Loki season 2 and would understand none of this. I wrote her another fic, and said she’d get this as the non-returnable stocking stuffer she never asked for. Almost a year late, but, here you go! Thanks @steggyfanevents

Also, I decided to be REALLY self indulgent and reference a bunch of my own fic as AUs. I tried to include some of my "Greatest hits."

I highly recommend either listening to this song or looking up the lyrics before reading the story. From a random lyrics website: "The song is ultimately about a love so powerful that it would still come to fruition even under circumstances that made it close to impossible to exist."

Hauhet- Egyptian goddess of infinity

Tenses jump back and forth between past and present on purpose. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I felt it would be an interesting way to portray that everything is happening all at once and yet over and over again…

Also see notes at the end of the fic…

~*~

Read below or HERE on AO3

~*~

It was, in a word, chaos. Time was branching, and without the branches being snipped, she didn’t know what would happen.

That wasn’t her department, though. The little sign that said “Decoding and Intelligence” on her door kept her separated from the rest of the TVA and though she felt the need to jump into the fray, there was also a deep fear that she’d done that before and it had come to no good.

That she’d suffered great loss.

Some days, her little isolated office of books and codes felt like home. People so rarely needed her or visited her, but when she was needed to decode messages or break complicated cyphers, Hauhet knew she was appreciated.

Yet, sometimes, her little office felt like a prison.

If she thought too long, she couldn’t remember, exactly, how long she’d been there. She couldn’t remember when or how she’d gotten her job. She couldn’t quite remember what her home even looked like. But those thoughts vanished like the ether, quickly replaced with the urge to update her codex or rearrange her shelves of gadgets. The impetus to think never really left her though, and she spent most of her time alone feeling unsettled, like she was meant for more.

She just knew she had to be ready, available, for when a time agent would come to her, needing help. Those were the times she felt like she was doing what she was meant to do: breaking cyphers, deciphering codes, solving mysteries. They never let her outside of the TVA, never took her with them on site, but she felt just a hint of value inside her.

She had so much more to give. She knew that. She just didn’t know how to tell anyone else.

Not that anyone asked, anyway.

But the chaos outside of her door today stirred something deep inside her, and within a few minutes she hacked her data pad, listening to the conversations of those agents floors and floors away, discussing things that shocked her.

They had been people. People in the time stream.

She wasn’t just a worker at the TVA. She had been someone before that. She’d had a life and a family and she had had something so important that felt just out of reach to her into the annals of her mind. If she closed her eyes and concentrated she saw smart clothes in army green and bright blue and fiery red. High heels and dramatic hats.

Red, white, and blue Stars and Stripes that made her heart flutter.

All she ever wore was drab TVA khaki with her sensible sneakers and her hair in a tight knot at the top of her head. With a sudden burst of longing that had to be from something real, she missed the feel of soft silk on her legs and the powerful sound of high heels clicking on tile floors.

There was a smile.

She missed a smile.

If she closed her eyes she could see it: bright teeth that were straight, but not too straight, soft pink lips, a little hint of a quirk on one side so genuine she could feel her heart melt.

She’d had someone.

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body.

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

What if… what if that life wasn’t as exciting as this one? What if she’d contributed even less? She picked up her Data pad, rolling it over and over in her hands. There was only one way to find out.

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. It took longer than she liked, but eventually she had her data pad wired into her computer.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and watched…

~*~

“Well, what do you think?” Steve turns in a circle in the empty living room, pointing at the stairs to the second floor. “Three rooms and a full bathroom up there, half bath, kitchen, a den, and a living room here. Plenty of space downstairs in the basement for a washer and a dryer and a home office…” He shrugs, smiling.

Peggy sighs, bouncing Mandy in her arms. “You don’t think it’s too big?” The baby giggles, reaching out her arms for Steve. Peggy passes her over before wandering away into the kitchen. “It just seems like a lot…”

”It is,” he quickly agrees. “It’s more than I ever had, that’s for sure.” He steps over to her, looking out the window over the sink, past the back porch and into the green expanse of the back yard.

“More than I’ve had as well,” Peggy mutters, turning back to him. She taps her fingers on the stove before walking a slow circle in the kitchen, eyes roaming over every surface. “I’m used to barracks and hot plates now.”

Steve nods, his hand running over the downy hairs on Mandy’s head as she snuggles into his shoulder. “Yeah, well, there’s room to spread out,” he says gently, looking up with warmth in his eyes, “Room to grow.”

Peggy pauses, thinking about all the things they’ve said to one another, all the promises they’ve made, and for once, there’s about to be peace in their lives with little else to do but think about the future. The ring on her left hand is still new, and she turns it with her fingers anxiously.

There will be time to think about growing.

“It’ll be tight,” she starts, turning pragmatic as she moves past him and towards the front door, “on our pays.”

He follows, a bright spring in his step as he knows she’s made her decision. “I’m pretty sure they’re keeping us on the payroll, Peg.” He smiles at Mandy, bouncing her in his arms as he follows her out the front door.

“And there’s going to be plenty of work to do to keep it up: mowing, gardening, taking out the trash…” she pauses, tilting her head as if she’s just thought about it. “We’re going to have to do our own grocery shopping. Cooking.”

”I’m sure Jarvis will take pity on us once in a while,” Steve chuckles. He joins her on the front step, closing the front door behind him and looking it over before turning back to her. “So?”

Peggy turns, still serious, looking at the door and all it represents. “What do you think, darling?” She reaches over and tickles Mandy under the chin. “Ready to have your own room? Leave the little government apartment we’ve called our own for a few months now?”

Mandy’s squeal and giggle are a resounding positive.

“Alright then, darling, we’re all in agreement,” Peggy smiles up at Steve. “We’re going to be homeowners.” She leans up, kissing him quickly, but stopping him when he starts to speak again. “We’re not getting dog.”

~*~

Loop 1

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body.

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. It took her less time than it should have to wire her data pad to the computer, she was surprised at how easy it seemed.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and watched…

~*~

The music swelled, and Peggy couldn’t quite stop the welling of emotion in her chest.

“I promise I’ll write ya,” Steve says loudly, loud enough that his voice carries all the way to the back of the empty auditorium.

“And I’ll write you, every day,” she answers under the hot stage lights in her best American accent, stepping forward and putting her hand on his arm. “Just promise you’ll come home to me.”

He looks at her, stares at her for longer than he should, before saying his next line. “Hitler himself couldn’t stop me from coming home to you, Betty.” There’s a lilt in his voice she’s never heard before, a catch before he says her character’s name.

The music swells again, and when the lights go out and they hurry off stage, she can’t quite seem to catch her breath.

“You okay?” Steve asks as soon as they’re off stage, the lights raising again and filling the wings with warmth as the girls take center stage to sing.

Peggy turns back to him, nodding and forcing her breath to even out. “It just…”

”Seemed almost real, right?” he nods, pulling her deeper into the wing and out of the way of the stage hands setting up the next scene change. He almost crowds her into the corner in his effort to give her some privacy while she composes herself.

Peggy nods at him, wiping away tears that aren’t quite shed from the lash line of her eyes, the dark black stage eyeliner coming off on her fingers. “I almost lost you once, Steve, and I will not go through that again.”

He leans down, taking her into his arms and letting her melt into him. “You won’t have to, Peg. I promise.”

”You don’t know that, you just can’t-“

”You won’t, I-“

”I hate to break this up,” Angie’s voice, full of her own thick emotion, floods over them, “because I’m sure you could use a minute.” She sniffs, wiping at her own stage make up carefully to lift the tears away. “I mean, you got me crying, too!” She reaches over and pulls Peggy from Steve’s arms gently, “But if we don’t move our asses we’re gonna miss the quick change again and you heard him- if he has to stop the show we’re gonna be here all night and I do not have another 15 hour rehearsal in me!”

Steve watches Peggy go, his arms feeling empty as Angie hurries her away to the little dressing screen they have set up for her.

He felt it, too. Maybe it is the music, or the costumes. Maybe between the lights and the costumes, the backdrops and the speakers, it makes it feel like hyper reality. But whatever it is, something is different. It isn’t hypothetical anymore. She’d almost lost him once already, and as soon as they’re done here he’ll be on the front sooner rather than later, and she’ll be there, too, in just as much danger.

And yet, his arms feel empty without her.

He doesn’t want to write letters.

He doesn’t want to go months without seeing her.

He doesn’t want to go to bed one single night without her next to him.

It is an amazing feeling, swelling in the sadness that had just filled him from their little, poorly written scene.

He loves her, and he knows now he isn’t letting go.

~*~

Loop 114

Hauhet stood and paced her little room, running her hands over the bookshelves lined with thick tomes, new and old, chewing at her lip as she tried to get the nervous energy out of her body. This felt like it had happened before.

Could that be?

Could time have repeated? Here? In the TVA?

It was a loss and a gift all at the same time: she’d had another life, but she didn’t know if she could find it or get back to it.

Did she even want to?

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. The ease with which she was able to connect her data pad to her computer, something she’d never done before, told her that time was indeed not running correctly.

It didn’t much matter right now, though.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

The rain pounded the top of her canvas tent, the little light she had flickered in and out as the storm raged. She couldn’t seem to get dry in her little tent, but then again, nothing had been dry in days.

It felt like the war had come to a stand still. Both sides were trying to fight trench foot and keep people warm and alive. They didn’t have time to fight one another. Hydra seemed farther and farther away every day that kept her in camp and away from the front.

Instead, all Peggy could do was pull out her little nub of a pencil and write. Again.

Not that Steve minded. She was sure he didn’t, just like she didn’t mind any time she got a letter from him back in New York. She opened the little tin box she used to keep her paper dry and ran her fingers over the little picture of Steve she kept taped to the top. He’d obviously posed for it, had someone else snap it and gotten it developed just to send to her. It was the only thing she really cared about keeping dry, that and his letters.

She ran her fingers over them, filled with stories from home and all the things he wanted to do with her once the war was over, all the things he wanted to say to her in person but would have to suffice in the written word.

They were an ocean part, with only the vaguest of promises between them, but she knew, deep in her heart, that the frail boned man would be her destiny. She’d known the first time he’d smiled at her.

She pulled out his last letter and started reading. It still astounded her that he liked her, that a smart, interesting, funny man like him could find something in her. She’d always been told she was too bold, too brash, for men to like her. All her life her mother had tried to get her to play a part to attract a suitor, and now, after Erskine’s experiment, she knew she wasn’t what most men would find attractive.

Steve? Steve looked at her with love in his eyes and it astounded her every time.

She read about the war effort and his experiments with Stark, his art projects and how much he hated watching the kid in the neighborhood have to go without birthday cakes because of rationing.

She read his letters over and over again until she could recite them by heart. Some days, deep in a foxhole or shivering in the rain while she waited to raid a Hydra strong hold, reciting his words in her head were all that gave her hope.

She loved him, and she was pretty sure he loved her.

She just needed to put an end to this damn war, and then she’d be able to show him just how much.

~*~

Loop 872

She’d lived it before.

The emotions weren’t new. They were old and worn in, even if she couldn’t remember ever feeling them before.

She picked up her Data pad, rolling it over and over in her hands. There was only one way to find out.

Hauhet sat at her computer and pulled out a small set of tools, slipping her magnifying glasses on. In seconds the interface was working.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Skinny Bastard,” Phillips mutters, shaking his head as he enters.

Steve laughs, climbing down the ladder and out of the rafters of the stage. “You’re gonna have to stop calling me that one day.” He holds his hand out once his feet are on the ground, smiling when Phillips shakes it firmly.

Phillips works hard to hide his smile. “You’re a day late.”

”Don’t go blamin’ him!” Angie’s voice carries through the empty auditorium. The building is almost unrecognizable to what it was a few years ago when they put on their first show. She weaves her way through the rows of seats, carrying garment bags of gowns in her arms. “All this one’s fault!

“Now that’s just-“ Bucky’s words fall away as he sees Phillips’ stern look. “sir. Yes sir, I was just-“

”Dawdling? Like always?” He holds his stare for a moment, watching the way the poor man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows before shaking his head and laughing. “I’m not your commanding officer anymore, Barnes.”

”No,” he responds, moving into he room with his arms full of stacked crates, “But you do put us up for the whole winter while put together a new show so I figure I should still, ya know.”

Steve pulls the crates from Bucky’s hands, stopping his rambling. “Go get the rest of it, will ya?”

”Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, dropping his head and heading out to Phillips’ amusement.

Phillips follows Steve to where he drops the crates by the edge of the stage. “So what’s the big to-do? Ana’s been looking like the cat that swallowed the cream and won’t give any of us a damn hint.”

Steve smiles to himself as he starts to unpack the stage lights from he crates. “Peggy won’t be in the show this year.”

Phillips watches him carefully. “I’d ask if there was trouble in paradise, but you’re still wearing your ring, and you’ve got that stupid, suspicious as hell smile on your face that I don’t like.” He leans back on the edge of the stage, watching as Angie weaves through the seats to head back out and help Barnes with unpacking the rest of the truck. “You let that wife of yours get a better offer from a club in the city?”

Peggy’s voice rings out from the wings. “Oh no, I promise you, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He looks over, but can’t see her in the dark. “Well then, what’s the damn secret?”

Peggy moves out, less graceful and less lithe than she was last time she was on this stage, hindered this time by the way her rounded belly leads the way. She lets her hand run over it, her dress tightening for just a moment so Phillips can see it. “Not much of a secret anymore, I’m afraid.”

”Skinny Bastard knocked you up!” he can’t help the smile that slides along his face. He claps Steve on the shoulder. “Congratulations, you two!”

Peggy waddles over to the edge of the stage, letting Steve gently lift her down. “I’m afraid I had to tell someone. Looks like our little one may be making an appearance before we’re done for the season. She’s helped me find a local midwife.”

”Good, good,” Phillips mutters, watching the way Steve absentmindedly stokes her lower back as he inventories his crate, the way her hand smooths over the rounded bump of her stomach. “Makes sense why he wouldn’t put you in the show.”

”Absolutely does not,” Peggy bites out, eyes narrowing.

“Does too,” both men reply at the same time.

She huffs, but doesn’t make a quip back. This is an old fight, and one she doesn’t want to rekindle now.

“Jarvis!” Phillips calls, and the mana pops his head in the auditorium comically fast.

“Yes, sir!”

”Did you know Carter was pregnant?”

”I believe she goes by Mrs. Rogers now, but yes, Ana had let it slip that-“

”Well, why in the hell are you still standing here? We have work to do!” Phillips stars moving away, despite Steve and Peggy’s protests. “we’ve got to make sure that cabin’s draft free, and that their hot water heater’s been checked and re-checked. Get that midwife on the phone for me, she’ll be staying here until that baby’s born. And another…”

His voice fades as he and Jarvis disappear from the room into he main part of the inn.

“I told you,” Peggy mutters, leaning back on the edge of the stage. “He’s going to make an insufferably big deal of this.”

”Of course he is!” Barnes pipes in, carrying another set of crates in. “In my opinion, Steve is being way too cavalier about my godson being born.”

“Or goddaughter,” Angie cuts him off quickly. “And he’s just being sensible, aren't you, Steve?”

”I’m trying,” he sighs, turning to Peggy. “I really think you should have stayed in the City. I could be back as soon as you go into labor and-“

”Absolutely, under no circumstances, will you miss the birth of our child because of show.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Especially one you won’t let me in.” She softens, taking his hand and settling it over her belly where he can feel the soft kicks. “This is a family act, Rogers. Get used to it.”

”Yes, Ma’am.”

~*~

Loop 2,467

She didn’t think about it anymore, just let her body run on instinct. She’d been here before, she’d done these things before.

With a deep breath, she input the search and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Damnnit, Rogers, run faster!”

Steve pumps his legs, jostling Peggy on his shoulder. “I’m running for two here, Jones!” He calls back as they move through the cavern, the walls shaking and collapsing around them.

“Care would be appreciated!” Peggey called from over his shoulder where he was carrying her, her arms and legs still tied tight to her sides, a high pitched squeal leaving her throat as Steve narrowly jumped away from a tumbling boulder.

“Speed might be better!” Jones called, hysteria creeping into his voice, jumping over a crack that appeared in the ground in front of them.

Steve took the same widening crack, now nearly a full chasm, easily as dirt and pebbles started to fall from the ceiling.

“Is this standard Hydra?” Jones called, slowing and climbing over a pile of rubble that stood between them and the exit.

Steve took Indy’s hand, keeping one arm around Peggy and letting his friend boost him up and help him navigate the rubble. “Not really, no,” he replied loudly, never missing a step as the path cleared out in front of them once they were over. “But then again, I’m not that surprised, either.”

”Implosion or explosion?” Peggy asked, looking up at Jones from over Steve’s shoulder as he took the lead, using his nearly photographic memory to wind them back through the shaking catacombs.

“Could be either,” Jones huffed, trying to keep up, “but I’m betting implosion. Easier to set this low in the ground.”

”Either one is bad,” Steve bit out, moving faster.

Peggy dropped her head, unable to hold on with her hands still tied to her sides. “Bit of an understatement, darling.”

”Are we having a chat?” Indy bit out sarcastically, overtaking Steve again as the dying sunset shone through the small entrance of the cave. “I’d like to get as far away from the bomb as possible, please!”

Jones shimmied out of the small hole, then reached his arms back in, carefully grabbing Peggy around the hips as Steve set her down and wiggled her through the opening. Jones had her in his arms, though a little less gracefully than Steve, and was running as soon as her feet left the ground.

“Steve!”

”Steve will be fine,” Indy puffed out, breathless as he moved across the empty desert terrain. “He’ll be better than us if he’s close.”

”Won’t be close,” Steve called out, just a step behind, “Let’s move!”

He reached out, pulling Peggy from Jones’s arms and both men pushed their legs even farther and harder.

They felt the explosion before they heard it, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Indy and Steve tumbled to the ground, both men wrapping themselves around Peggy as they tumbled, working to keep one another safe.

They skidded to a halt just in time to turn and look at the small mountain they had just been under crumble in on itself, spewing dirt and sand into the air. When the cloud settled and the ground stopped shaking, when they could blink their eyes open again and when the dry coughing from the dust-laden air stopped, there was only a crater filled with rubble where there had once been a secret Hydra base.

“Implosion,” Indy muttered, humming. “Told ya.”

Steve sat back, pulling his helmet and gloves off, wiping at his face where stark lines of dirt streaked where his helmet hadn’t covered. “Told ya It’d be bad.”

Indy pulled his hat off his head, hitting it to get the dust dislodged. “Well of course it was going to be bad, Rogers, it was a self-destruct.”

”Hydra doesn’t always-“

”Well of course they always-“

Peggy huffed, lifting both feet and slamming them back down in the dirt, getting the attention of the men as they talked over one another as they let off the adrenaline of the last few hours. “I’d get up and leave you two to your bickering,” she started, wiggling in place as the ropes that tied her together were still laced across her chest and down around her legs, “but I seem to be having some trouble. Care to help?”

She raised her eyebrow at them, waiting as they both stared at her, jaws hanging open.

“Well?” She asked again, wiggling her hands at her side when they still didn’t move. “Untie me!”

Indy leaned back, smiling. “You know, you're the one who ran off and got captured. Seems it’s in our best interest to keep you from running off again, don’t you think, Steve?”

Peggy huffed, but Steve shrugged, sitting back. “I think slowing her down a little bit isn’t a bad idea.”

”You wouldn’t dare!” Peggy bit out, starting to get truly incensed.

Steve shrugged as he and Indy stood, wiping the dust off themselves. “I could use to know where you are for a bit, Peg.” He smiled in a way that was usually cheeky and charming, but only served to increase her ire. He reached down, even as she started squirming, and hoisted her over his shoulder again.

“You put me down and let me out of this right now!” She wiggled, but didn’t fight against his tight grip too much as he started walking back the mile and a half to the jeep in step with Jones.

“You heard him, Peg,” Indy said, his voice full of smug teasing. “We gotta know where you are.”

Peggy lifted her head, throwing Indy a harsh look before she flopped back down. “Don’t think I won’t forget this,” she muttered.

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget you scaring the shit outta me,” Steve replied, “by intentionally getting yourself captured.”

”Language!” Indy interjected with a smile.

“Well, it worked,” Peggy muttered, her fight gone. “Hydra’s lost another base and we have a lead on Schmidt.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but she felt more than heard his grumble.

After a few quiet minutes, Peggy finally spoke again. “Well, joke’s on you, darling, I’m getting a lovely break back here, with a lovely view, and you’re doing the work for both of us.”

Indy laughed next to them. “If you want to leave her here, Rogers, I won't tell anyone.”

”Nah,” Steve responded, gently tightening his hold on her as the Jeep came into view, “I’ve grown a little attached.”

~*~

Loop 12,356

Hauhet could hardly breathe. She couldn’t remember anything, not really, little foggy memories and ideas of lives before this, of painted nurseries and undercooked hams and missions in snowy communist countries.

All of those half formed memories seemed much, much more real than her time at the TVA, than whatever illusion of a life she had here.

With a deep breath, she input the search into the data pad and waited only a few seconds for it to blink upon her screen. She pulled her glasses off slowly and started to watch…

~*~

“Steve! You’ve come back!”

He takes her hand, holding tightly from the side of the bed.

“Yeah, Peg, I’m here.”

She could feel the emotion welling up in her chest as she tried to sit up, but he just smiled down at her, leaning forward and helping her sit. Always the gentleman.

“Easy, Peg,” he whispers, his voice thick with his own emotion.

“How?” She whispers, reaching up and running her hand over his cheek. She pauses, looking at the dissonance between their skin: his as young as the last time she saw him, and hers, withered and wrinkled with a lifetime lived.

He lifts her hand from his cheek, holding it in both of his as he sits on the side of her bed, smiling sweetly. “It’s a long story for another day.”

She can’t help but be maudlin, can’t help but say all the things she’s thinking. “I missed you every day, my darling.”

His eyes flutter shut, chin falling to his chest. “I-“

”Don’t apologize,” she whispers, “I came to terms with what you did long ago.” He looks up at her, and this time, his eyes are filled with tears. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, didn’t miss you, every day.”

He swallows, hard, and threads his fingers in with hers. “Didn’t mean to stand you up for our date,” he croaks out, fighting to force a smile.

Peggy smiles up at him, holding his hand tighter in hers. “You’re here now. you always were just a little late, weren’t you?”

~*~

Loop 300,465

She doesn't think, she just does. Hauhet has learned to trust her intuition in her time with the TVA, but something screams in her that she’s simply remembering now. Something screams to her that this was a skill she had before.

This was something she’d done without thought.

Agent.

Even the seconds it takes for her to connect the Data pad seem too long.

She needs to know…

~*~

“Peggy, this is my choice.”

Peggy holds the microphone tight in her hand. She wants to say something, anything, but no words come to her, nothing swells but the feeling of loss, bigger than anything she’s felt in a long time.

His voice comes through the line, tinny and resigned. “Peggy, I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

”All right,” She takes a deep breath, desperate to hold on to whatever time she has left with him, uncaring of who is still in the room, uncaring of the tears running down her face. “A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

”You got it.” His voice is tight, strained. But not afraid.

Never afraid.

Steve has never, for one moment, been afraid of what he’s thought he’s had to do since she’s known him, even when he was small and skinny and jumping on grenades.

”Eight o’clock on the dot,” she continued, trying to take some of his bravery, trying to steal some of his damn assuredness, “don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

”You know I still don’t know how to dance,” he rushes out, his voice starting to shake. She pretends it’s just the shaking of the plane.

She can’t help but smile, can’t help but think maybe… maybe… if there is a God in this world, he won’t let this good man die on her today. “I’ll show you how,” she rushes out, hoping he can hear how much she needs him, how much she wants him to survive this in her voice. “Just be there.”

His voice is raising. It’s not much, but she can tell it’s there. Nervousness. “We’ll have the band play something slow.” The ship shakes over the line, the sound of shivering metal something she’s heard before in transmissions just before disaster strikes. “I’d hate to step on your-“

The static, a low rumble in the room, is deafening.

“Steve?” She pleads across the line. “Steve?”

She’s lost him.

She can only pray, as the tears fall, that there’s still a chance to find him.

~*~

Loop 1,475,692

Hauhet sits heavy on the floor of her office.

No, not Hauhet. Peggy Carter.

Agent Peggy Carter.

She’d had a life once.

The memories flood into her, stronger than whatever force is being used to keep her complacent. This day has happened over and over. She sees herself, sitting at that desk, over and over. Hundreds of times. Millions of times.

More than any sane person could handle, she’s sure, if they could remember.

But she does remember now. Because she met him in every single branch. Every single universe. Every single timeline.

Steve Rogers.

And no matter when or how they met, it felt like home.

She could feel him, sitting in her heart, like a beacon. She had her own Steve. There was a man with that little boyish lopsided smile and the courage of a lion out there somewhere, waiting for her.

And she’d been languishing in this pace for millennia, doing the tedious desk work she’d fought so hard to get away from all of her life.

She hadn’t found her Steve yet, she knew that. None of the branches, none of the stories she had seen so far gave her anything more than a longing.

She’d feel it when she found him, when she found her timeline and her world. She knew it.

And as long as this day kept repeating, she’d find him. She’d find their life together.

They made each other better. Even in the timeliness when they lost one another, even in the timelines when there was only a short period of time left together, they made one another better.

They were timeless, finding one another again over and over, no matter what the world looked like, no matter when their souls showed up.

Even if he was gone in her timeline, she wanted to be a place where he was, where he had been and she could find and recover and languish in the memories.

She was ready to give up this drab, rote existence.

Saving the universe meant nothing in here. Saving it from out there? With her heels and her gun and the love of her life?

Well, that was something that had real value, and Peggy was going to stop at nothing to find it.

Without even thinking she let her hands fly over the wires, connecting her Data pad to the computer.

She was going to find him, and she was going to get back to him.

~*~

End A/N:

While we have our MCU Steggy and What If…? Steggy, I couldn’t HELP but throw in my favorite Steggys in there from my own fic. (Yes, it’s a little *cough*lot*cough* self indulgent) They’re all Extra Scenes that don’t show up in the main fic and they’re inspired by the lyrics to Timeless. In order that they show up in the story:

1- Nobody’s Baby (Two lovers laughin’ on the porch of their first house)

2-The Captain and the Missus (On a Crowded Street in 1944 and you were headed off to fight in the war)

3-What if…? (I would have read your love letters every single night)

4- A Red, White, and Blue Christmas (Which brought me back to the the first time I saw you Time stood still)

5-Interested Parties Series (Indiana Jones Crossover) (Down the block there’s an antique shop)

6- Captain America: The Winter Soldier (Time breaks down your mind and body, don’t you let it touch your soul)

7- Captain America: The First Avenger (Story of a romance Torn Apart by Fate)

#Steggyweek24 #Steggy Fic #3p's fic #alternate universe #Totally indulgent fic that uses my other FIC as AUs #A Red White and blue Christmas shows up #as does Nobody's Baby #And Indiana Jones #This story is BONKERS and I love it #It may also be the only fic I post this year we'll see

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shrinkthisviolet · 2 months ago

Note

Backstory on how you came up with Morgan as a character, and how you decided to showcase her character? (Like, why you chose those scenes in particular for her fics)

Or anything else you want to share about Morgan and her story?

Oooh yay an OC question! I'm happy to answer this :D

So Morgan is a character I came up with while watching Jesse in s2 and going "huh. Wouldn't it be cool if she had an E1 doppelgänger?" And then I read a couple fics that fed that idea. And ofc that then spun into "what would her backstory be? How would she fit into the story?" Etc and so forth.

Funnily enough, I wasn't going to write her story at first. It was just something between me and a mutual of mine...especially once my plans got ambitious and I started envisioning multiple fics spanning who-knows-how-long. It felt too big for me to handle, so I decided from the jump that this was just gonna stay a concept I talked about but didn't write.

...hey past me, about that...😅 (further discussion below the cut!)

Anyway, the first things I figured out about her were that she'd be Eowells's daughter, obviously. I've always headcanoned that Jesse did have an E1 doppelgänger in canon, but that she died in the car crash that killed Harritess. Here, though...she survives it, and she's raised by Eowells.

This fic gave me the idea to make Tina her godmother—the fic doesn't outright make her such (E1 Jesse in that fic is an adult, so it's not pertinent), but it's a similar thing, with Tina offering the E1 Jesse of that fic a place to stay and a job. Obviously there are differences between my AU and that fic, but I did link the fic as inspiration because a) it gave me the godmother idea in a roundabout way and b) it's the E1 Jesse fic that really sparked this idea in a way I couldn't let go. My idea was so much different than theirs, but I wanted to do something with it, more than just as a concept. Still not a fic (haha past me), but...something.

Morgan kept developing. Her name was decided as "Morgan" pretty early on—Jesse Morgan Wells would be her name, following the same principle as Jesse Chambers Wells (Tess Morgan on E1, Tess Chambers on E2), and then Eowells would have her go by Morgan instead of Jesse because, per canon, he knows about Jesse Chambers (in this AU, the Jesse Chambers he knows is not from the comics, but from the multiverse of the show. But...is it Jesse? Morgan? Another Earth's Jesse or Morgan? Who knows...👀 well, I do, but I shan't say. You'll find out in the s4 arc!). I also decided she’d be the same age as Jesse (17 in s2), but a year behind her academically, to add some bones to the jealousy plotline in s2—Jesse has 5 majors and is a year ahead of Morgan? Oof yeah that’s gotta be tough.

Morgan’s powers...started off as super strength. However, this got nixed when I finally decided to make this into a fic series, because...Morgan can't have Griffin Grey's powers, she wouldn't live very long 😅 and I can't pseudoscience her a solution, because then the question becomes "why not use it on Grey, who's only 19 when he dies?" So I waffled for a bit on what her powers should be...and I settled on forcefields. I've never looked back since. They fit her personality...for better and for worse (I have a feeling some of you know what I mean 😅 if you don't, though, I'll elaborate in the notes if asked!)

Another fun wrinkle about her development is that originally, the first fic was gonna be from Tina's POV, in present tense. I still have the fic in my drive, and I often strip it for parts (for the CF AU in particular) 😅 but ultimately, I remembered the wisdom of "the character you start with is often the one the reader gets most attached to", so I decided to stick with Morgan's POV and occasional forays into other POVs once readers were sufficiently attached to Morgan (mind you, this isn't an ironclad rule! But I'm glad I followed it in this case).

From there, I started with s2, since that's where the intrigue came from. I wrote some Morgan & Jesse and Harry & Jesse...and then it occured to me that rather than leave s1 as an implied "yeah this happened but idc" thing...I wanted to actually go back and flesh it out.

And MAN am I glad I did! That decision brought about so many changes that were for the betterment of this AU (Barry & Morgan, Morgan & Iris, Morgan x James, fleshing out Morgan & Tina), and I just...I truly can't imagine the AU without them. Genuinely, there are future arcs in this AU that I can't imagine how they would've gone if I hadn't gone back to write s1 and made these changes because the muse led me that way. It's remarkable.

Writing her taking up the mantle of Sentry was important too. I've talked about how important it is to me that she was named by both her mothers (Tess gave her the name "Morgan", Tina gave her the name "Sentry", even if the latter was unintentional), and that's another reason I'm glad I went back to s1—before this, the implication was that Cisco named her, but I like this better. Sorry Cisco 😅 you can name (almost) everyone else!

Ooh and as for scenes that show her character...I'll pick out a few that I haven't talked about before:

Though, perhaps the most confusing day for her friends was when she showed up to first period absolutely glowing because she’d gotten to meet Dr. Martin Stein the previous afternoon and learned about an intriguing project he was working on, tentatively called FIRESTORM. She couldn’t talk about it to anyone, at least not by name...but that didn’t stop her from gushing about the project in concept to her friends. “We’ve got years before we go into the sort of thing you’re talking about, Mo. Maybe you should slow down?” “Oh, come on!” She insisted. “Haven’t you considered how cool it would be if we could perfect something like that? Think of the implications!” “It would be pretty cool to have superpowers,” another of them pointed out with a grin. “Being able to shoot fire from your hands? Epic!” “Well, yeah, of course that’s cool. But sharing a body with another person? Like…that could be life-changing. Life-saving, even!” They were less enthused about that idea, but Morgan figured she probably could’ve done a better job of selling it.

Her meeting Stein here is, ofc, me setting up their reunion in 1x14, when she's a bit ahead of Team Flash in terms of knowing who Stein is. She doesn't know a lot of details, because the project is hush-hush...but she knows enough that it sparks her curiosity. Because that's another thing—she's a genius for a reason, and I wanted to show that! She's precocious and endlessly curious and follows logical threads down all sorts of trails...and I wanted to show that rather than just saying it.

Another scene:

In the end, she didn’t call Tina about Dad’s treatment of Hartley. It was certainly jarring that Dad, who had once favored Hartley even above her at times, had now suddenly turned on him, but Hartley had always been arrogant, and Dad had always enabled him. It wasn’t so unbelievable to think that he thought he knew better than Dad, sought to prove it, and got burned. And everyone at STAR had been under a lot of stress with the impending launch. If they were acting out of character…well, she couldn’t exactly blame them. Still, it lingered in the back of her mind, unsettling her in ways that she wasn’t quite ready to think about yet.

It matters that Morgan is observant, insightful. This is a trait she picks up from both Eowells and Tina (for better and for worse—yes, being observant can work against you, but more on that later)...and it means she notices that something is off about Hartley. But, since she's a teenager, still susceptible to manipulation, and isn't fond of Hartley, she brushes it off as arrogance on his part (it's an impression he encourages, after all).

Another scene:

But a strange thing happened as they got close enough for Richard to let go of her hand and run toward his parents. Morgan looked up, saw a bolt of lightning coming for them, and cried, “Look out!” She shoved James and Richard out of the way, shielding them both as best as she could. And then the strike hit, and she screamed.

This is when she gets struck! I thought quite a lot about how this could've happened. Ultimately, I decided that since the other metas get their powers by doing something related to their powers, Morgan should too. Thus, she shields James and Richard, taking the blow herself...and she gets struck and gets forcefield powers (it's not real lightning though, just concentrated energy. Hence why she gets forcefield powers and not lightning powers)

And another:

“Someone has to stop them.” “Someone has to protect the people they hurt,” she corrected, clenching her fists. “What that…that superhuman did…it was terrifying. He terrorized and probably hospitalized people. Because of powers that my dad gave him.”

Every hero needs a Call moment, don't they? Well, this is Morgan's! Well, specifically, the scene before this when Jitters is attacked is her moment, but this is her reaction. She's a hero at heart, that's our girl! It shows what kind of hero she'll be...and that her powers suit her so very well.

This next one is a long one, but I couldn't justify chopping it even for this:

There was a lot to figure out about her powers, as it turned out. She and James had already figured out that her powers manifesting was an expression of adrenaline, a defense mechanism that was likely connected to her sympathetic nervous system—thank you, 9th-grade Biology. So her powers had an emotional element—a strong one, judging by her outbursts—and they relied on concentration to remain stable. It was something she needed to improve over time…if she actually wanted to use them. James thought she’d make an awesome superhero and wasn’t shy about telling her so. Morgan, however, had no desire to dole out vigilante justice with non-combative powers she barely understood…especially as a teenager who didn’t want to seriously hurt anyone. “It’s not vigilante justice, Mo,” he insisted. “It’s heroism.” “You’re basically saying I should be this city’s Spider-Man,” she retorted. “Your powers are completely different from his.” “James.” “Morgan. Do you seriously think I don’t see the look on your face? That I’m not listening when you rant about how much the explosion has destroyed so much, how your dad isn’t doing a lot to fix it, and how you wish you could?” “I can’t fight. I won’t. I don’t have time to learn all that from scratch, I’m not…I’m not Spider-Man, my powers aren’t combative like that!” As if to demonstrate, she shot a blast outward—it materialized into a shield. “See?” James nodded, looking sheepish. “Maybe not Spider-Man, then. But what about your other wish? To protect the people superhumans hurt? You’ve got the power of shielding and forcefields, who’s better suited for the task of protection than you?” She hesitated, then sighed. “Sometimes I think you know me too well.” He grinned.

The dynamic duo!! Funny to think that if not for James, we might not have a Sentry (this is also true in all the spin-off AUs) 💞 he's so very important as being Sentry's first guy in the chair, her first cheerleader, and her strongest supporter always (he and Barry might have to fight for that title later, but...hey Barry, James was here first 😂). There's a reason Morgan and James are soulmates in the soulmate AU—they're important to each other!!

And as far as scenes that really show her character. those are the higlights! Thank you again so much for asking this 💞 I love Morgan to pieces, and I love talking about her.

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs

@thechaoticfanartist @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @negative-speedforce @starstruckpurpledragon @angst-is-love-angst-is-life

@miss-eli-starfleet

#thanks for the ask!#and the invitation to ask me about my fics is open to all of y'all #literally whenever #you can see from these long posts how much these asks make my day 💞#oc: morgan wells #morgan wells au #the flash #fyeaharrowverseocs #fanfic backstory ask game

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alt0writings · 11 months ago

Text

Wrong idea

Lamar Davis x gn!reader

fandom: Gta v

Note: first piece on the new blog and we start with angst fluff :D sort of

also N- = the n word

*months prior*

"I am doing what I want you don't fucking control me, bitch" Lamar's words cut threw my heart, I tensed up and I felt tears swell in my eyes.

There was deafening silence, the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat and Lamar's heavy breathing. I felt the anger bubble inside me, I wanted to snap, I wanted to scream at him.

I blew out a shaky breath, I had to stop myself from walking out the door "Lamar you are reckless, and acting like a child." I muttered out, he scoffed "yeah well stop acting like a bitch then and we won't have a problem."

*two weeks later*

"Are you kidding me?!" I screamed at him, he groaned and rolled his eyes, he reeked of alcohol. "Shut up" he growled out before pushing past me and into the living room. "You were making out with that blonde slut in front of me!" I yelled "you fucking embarrassed me, and this isn't even the first time!" I was ready to sob but I wouldn't let him win.

*present day*

I sighed, I was exhausted after a long day of working with rude customers and perverted Co-workers. I am ready to spend the night and the next day with my boyfriend. As I pull into the driveway I notice a car I haven't seen before parked in my parking spot.

I park across the street, after grabbing my keys and Lamar's favorite food I get out. I lock my car up and cross the road and start walking up to the front door.

As I got closer I could hear moans, I feared the worse. "please just be a video" I muttered quietly as I put my key in the dead bolt and twisted it.

I pushed open the door and put my stuff on the side table. I started walking towards our bedroom, I could hear them more clearly now. "Don't stop~" I felt the urge to throw up, I covered my mouth as a silent sob ripped through my body. He did it again. The tears kept falling as I rushed and grabbed my keys.

I rushed to my car and started it, I had no clue where I was going.

My vision was blurred from the tears. I continue to speed down the deserted roads of los santos. After a min my car started puttering, "no, no, no please" I cried out and continued to sob as my car ran out of gas. I sat there and cried for a while.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Franklin. I was friends with franklin before I even met Lamar, he warned me about Lamar, I just wish I listened.

The phone rang and rang before he finally picked up.

"Hey, kinda late to be calling don't you think?" His voice cut through the silence. I glance at my car clock

12:34am

He was right, "I am so sorry to be calling this late." I sniffled, he must have heard me "have you been crying? What the fuck that fool do now?" When he asked me this question i broke down I tried to tell him in between my sobs.

"Lamar cheated again franklin!, he did it again." I whispered and sniffled, I heard him sigh and whisper "fucking dumb ass.." I could hear shuffling on the other and "need me to come get you?" He asked.

I sniffled and nodded before I remembered he couldn't see me. "yeah, my car ran out of gas on Lain Jr street" I heard the beeping from his car. "alright, hold on. I am on my way" I heard his car start before the call ended.

Right as I was about to toss my phone in the passenger seat a text came through.

It was lamar. I felt angry at him but I still cared about him so I opened his message.

"Baby? Where you at? It's 12:48."

I felt more angry that he had no idea I came home and heard him with someone else again.

I chose to ignore the message and just wait for franklin.

*hour time skip*

Franklin pulled up behind my car, I was sitting on the trunk. He got out of the car and walked up to me, "come on, you can stay with me until that dumbass n- get his shit together," He said with a slight teasing but serious tone.

I smile and nod jumping off the trunk of my car on to the dirt road below my feet. I got into the passenger side of his car, the heat was on as well as the seat warmers. I put my seat belt on and he gets into the driver side and puts it in reverse, in no time we were going down the highway it was getting later.

After a while Franklin reached over and turned down the radio that was playing music. "Listen, I know this won't stop you from going back but he's a dumb ass and reckless I don't want you to get hurt."

He paused glance at me for a minute before looking back at the road and continuing. "More than he already has, I think you should stay with me for a few days let him think about what he did Don't answer his texts or his calls just spend time without worrying about him alright?" He glanced over at me again.

I nod "thanks franklin" I mumbled before closing my eyes "I am gonna take a nap." I said, I heard him mumble something before falling asleep.

I woke up in a soft bed, it was rather warm too I sat up and yawned before stretching and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I heard yelling, I was concerned so I followed it.

It led me to the living room. I saw Franklin and Lamar yelling, "homie I know they're here, you're the only one they go too n-!" Franklin saw me from the corner of his eye. Both boys turned to me "babe-" he stopped and his expression darkened "are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me." He growled out.

I felt confused, "what?" I quietly mumble.

Lamar looked mad like seriously mad "why the fuck are they wearing your clothes?" He turned towards Franklin as he said this. "Now listen homie it ain't wha-" Lamar cut Franklin off "i know what the fuck it is" he then turned towards me. "We are leaving" there was venom in his voice, he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of Franklin's house and to his car.

"Get in." He said with annoyance.

*time skip*

Lamar pulled into our drive way but didn't get out, his hands were gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "did you sleep with him?"

I felt anger bubbling inside me. "no." I said threw gritted teeth. "I left to go to his place after you had a bitch in our bedroom" it was like all the tension in the car disappeared, I could only hear my heaving breathing. I glance at him but he was staring at his hands that still gripped the wheel.

"I am sorry" he had said it, he finally said it. I was still angry at him, "you will have to work harder then just apologizing."

"anything."

note: I honestly really liked how this turned out and I wrote majority of it at school also I am getting a job soon so I don't know if I can post lmfao but I will do my best

#gta 5 #lamar davis #franklin clinton #angst #wow #gn!reader #gn reader

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rose-arwen-padme · 1 year ago

Text

Excerpt from Suppression, an AOTC fanfic from Padmé's POV

After multiple mouthfuls, the young man met my eye. I should have known he was about to say something unsettling by the way he began to fidget in his chair. "I look forward to seeing Naboo again. I've thought about it every day since I left. …It's by far the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

He was staring at me too intently for such clean-handed comments, as if I was the human representation of the planet he spoke so fondly of. Which, in all fairness, was technically exactly my job. But even if he'd been a citizen and not a Jedi, he wasn't looking at me like I was a diplomat.

"You were just a little boy then," I answered. The lack of previous exposure to such copious amounts of greenery likely had a huge impression on his nine-year-old self. Surely, he'd seen many beautiful planets since then in his travels. Seen many angelic women. "It may not be as you remember it; time changes your perception."

His tone was confident, his eyes hiding nothing. "I think time has given me much more mature feelings to enhance my perception."

I dropped my gaze. At that moment, Artoo came by with another helping of bread, and I responded with thanks as he carried on his way. I fiddled with my new food as I stalled, quickly thinking how to smoothly maneuver the conversation elsewhere. He'd just alluded to his inability to travel. "Must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi. Not being able to visit the places you like, or do the things you like—"

"—Or be with the people that I love."

I was caught off guard by how quickly he jumped there. "Are you allowed to love?"

I thought I knew the answer, but the emotion with which Anakin spoke made me doubt my knowledge. "I thought that was forbidden for a Jedi."

He looked sheepish, but I should've known he was merely crafting a reply that would suit him best. "Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion— which I would define as unconditional love…" he paused, as if making sure I was locked under his spell before he continued. He didn't have to wait long. "…is central to a Jedi's life." He cracked a smile, evidently wildly proud of his answer. "Mm, so, you might say we are encouraged to love."

Tricky tricky. But I was smiling, impressed at how he'd managed to swindle the words into his favor. He spoke with a suave grace that complimented his age. My thoughts of the little boy on the royal starship returned, and I found myself declaring the understatement of the millennia. "You've changed so much."

"Na, you haven't changed a bit." I anticipated a polite remark, perhaps that I hadn't physically aged much over the years. I often heard this.

Instead, he stunned me. "You're exactly the way I remember you in my dreams."

Dreams. Plural.

Remember. Present tense, not past.

Anakin was staring at me with hopeful expectation, as if he'd put the ball in my court and feverishly hoped I would finally do something with it this time.

Again, I failed to meet the moment. I didn't even attempt to find words. What answer could I give on the spot that would have dissuaded him without hinting at the effect he was having on me? So I shielded my eyes, and I returned to my bowl of mush like it was the best food I'd ever had.

I could practically feel his wave of disappointment, but he hadn't given up just yet. After a painfully short hiatus, he continued, "I doubt if Naboo has changed much either."

"It hasn't." I kept my eyes down.

"I can't wait to breathe the sweet breeze that comes off the rolling hills. Whenever I try to visualize the Force, those hills are what I see."

I looked up at him openly, relieved the conversation had turned to something as platonic as geography.

Then, with that intense stare of his, he whispered, "I love Naboo."

He had the nerve to let the sentence hang in the air. Just like that. With those deep blues locked on mine, conveying so much more than an adoration for a planet.

Read more of Suppression at AO3 or at FanFiction.net

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sspiderliliess · 1 year ago

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skyline .

➝ jovier — newly established relationship

first little post of them two those two mildly based on a fanfic i’m working on. still feeling their vibes out, personalities are hard ❤️‍🩹

➝ rating — fluff, mild angst with comfort ig (?)

The flaring petals of forget-me-nots quivered. Their hues mirrored the sky back north, under which they were hastily plucked. In a rough bouquet, fuzzy dandelions sprouted up between the clusters. It was a stark shift—the soft blues to vivid yellows—though much like the sun glowing over empty horizon from its clear sky, it was a pleasant combination that seemed only right.

John’s fingers clutched the bundle enough to strangle the tender stems. Every so often, he’d mutter under his breath and loosen his grip, only for the process to repeat as he trudged down the shaded and winding pathway to camp. Each step closer to his destination made his muscles tense that much more as the thoughts raced his mind.

It hadn’t been too long ago since he’d shared such an intimate moment with Javier. A good one even if it tugged at the nerves, seeing him in his forlorn and troubled state brought John to long for another, just to see him happy again. He didn’t know why Javier had gotten so upset—he wasn’t always one to talk about such things—but he wanted to help. If a smile was truly contagious, between them, such a notion was proven.

But like too much whiskey still on the breath, the nauseas remnants of a place so vulnerable still kept its hold on the man, begging him to leave Javier to his own problems. They talked and they drank even before Abigail’s sudden death, and Javier had always been a good listener when it came to John’s relationship issues and especially during his mourning, but he couldn’t bring himself to always offer the same kinds of support despite a romance between the two having risen past its blooming dusk.

Nonetheless, like a thoroughbred to the finish line, John persisted in a need to win them both shared peace. Times were rough.

Times were rough.

When the curtain of tree limbs parted way to golden sun and camp tents perched about Clemens Point, the hum of familiar voices blending in with the twill of forest birds managed to both soothe and frazzle John. Karen’s sudden shout was followed by a couple guffaws, which made him jump; deep beneath the commotion, he could pick out the soft and distant melody of guitar strings.

They pulled him closer, if not by their cooing, then by the very threat of the regrets such hesitation might would bring. Standing there just at the edge of the clearing, bundle of florals in roughened hand, the man scurried off towards where the music resonated from. He hardly noticed his fingers tap against the paper in a heartfelt rhythm.

As he stopped next to the thin tree, he found Javier seated at the dock just above the murky waters. The sunset cast a tangerine veil upon the man and his guitar, lining raven hair with gold, illuminating honeyed skin. He was dusted with the lightest layer of dirt and marked with shiny scars which John’s eyes traced again for the millionth time.

He didn’t notice the steps he took nearer, a few feet from where the water climbed to shore. His fingers cooperatively loosened from the bouquet as if given instructions by the gentle plucks of the strings, but the tightness in the chest lingered. Absentmindedly, or perhaps a bit too present, he sighed.

Javier stopped playing and turned to look up at him, eyes wide before his expression softened unassuredly. “I didn’t notice you here. Where have you been?”

There it was—that haunting shiver in the chest. It visited John time and time again when he was to venture into more romantically motivated conversation with his longtime friend. Adjusting was hard, they both knew, but that mutual awareness didn’t always stop John from feeling the habitual reclusion he was so known for.

“I just…” he began, exhaling the air he’d held in. “I was up north. Found some nice flowers—that nice blue you like. Made me think of you, s’ here.”

He shoved the bundle of picked flowers at him, ears and face warmed with blood, though the pink tinge hardly showed through the evening’s ambience.

Javier looked down with furrowed brows at the bouquet, an examination drawn out and only adding to John’s discomfort. A minute passed and he released another held breath as Javier’s examination ended with a smile.

“Th… thank you,” he said. “You picked these all for me?”

John cleared his throat and shuffled to sit down next to him, eyes shifting between him and the crooked planks. “Well, I didn’t go up there for ‘em. Just wanted to see the mountains and hunt, y’know, where I ain’t freezin’ to death.”

The two sat in a brief silence, Javier’s eyes cast to the other side with a growing grin he tried to hide in vain. John caught a glimpse of it and scowled, nudging him with his elbow and prompting a laugh.

“So you stopped your hunting trip just to pick flowers for me?”

John’s scowl deepened. “No! I didn’t find nothin’ good and thought— Well, whatever.”

A flurry of giggles erupted from Javier, light and gentle, much like the flowers in his hand. He leaned into John’s shoulder and exhaled, still fiddling with the individual stems of the dandelions, which seemed to be a bit more sturdy.

“I like them a lot,” Javier whispered.

He looked up and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to John’s jaw, crinkling his nose at the prickly but familiar texture of his stubble.

The gesture made John tense again if only for a second, and he shuffled to lean back onto one of the dock posts. Every now and then, his gaze would drift to the twinkle of sunlight on the rippling waters, the swaying leaves of trees on the bank, and then return to Javier’s peaceful features. Such a painting urged him to not recoil. “Breathe,” it could have said, and he did so.

“I wanted to give you somethin’ to smile about,” John cooed in his ear.

By now, his chest rose and fell with a pace more at ease, but a part of him wondered if Javier would notice the slight shake in his words. Being laughed at by the others could often rub him the wrong way; Javier’s sweetened laughter was always of good nature. Just the sound still playing in John’s ears was enough to wash away his distress, bit by bit, like the lapping waves on Clemens Point.

He ran a timid finger through the loose bangs framing Javier’s face. “You don’t have to talk… but you can.”

John watched him put the flowers down with a fading smile. It felt as though he’d lit a radiant candle only for a gust of wind he’d conjured to blow it out, and all he could do was either try to light it again or stumble in the dark.

“I talked with Dutch,” Javier stated. “I think a lot.”

John tilted his head and brushed the bangs closest to him behind Javier’s ear.

He gave a shy smile as he pressed his lips together. “I am okay. I don’t want to be wrong—“

“Who does?”

Javier laughed under his breath. “I don’t want to give in, give up… Be weak.”

He cocked his head to the side and fiddled with the flowers again. Before John could respond, however, he shook his head as if to dismiss the topic.

Although John accepted the closing with wavering suspicion, it never left. He continued to brush the pads of his fingers over Javier’s hair, letting it glide between them like velvet. It might’ve been a self-soothing pattern, as it was one he fell into often, but it seemed to comfort them both. He watched him, brow tensed, and finally said, “Play somethin’ for me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the chatter of camp keeping the silence at bay. Javier fixed his posture and pulled his guitar into his lap, running a calloused digit against a string as he glanced up at John, who waited in patience.

A string was barely grazed, the sound near a whisper and unsteady. An introduction, perhaps. Slow and with a rhythm John knew almost as soon as it began, Javier played a bittersweet tune. They breathed in at reverberation, exhaled at the shift of notes.

This was their talk. This was their peace, their contagious smile. To not know the details of Javier’s complications would bug him later, but here, he was content.

Again, John gazed at the sunlit guitar and its owner. The glow, a gentle art, like shots shared between the two.

Like blue and yellow. Like sky and sun.

It felt only right.

#jovier #john x javier #rdr2 #rdr2 oneshot #idk how to tag bro #Spotify

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sisitrip · 1 year ago

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Welp, I missed day 28 of A.U.gust 2023 (the one day I was excited to do), but life/drama/the humidity that made me enemies with my hair lol kept me from it. But, since ill editing and reading for a bit, my brain wouldn't let me do that until I posted this one. I want to thank @gallavichthings for hosting A.U.gust once again. I only got in two days, but I had fun nonetheless.

With that said, I'm offering "Will Do" with no expectations. (2,082k words)

Housekeeping:

Da: Yes (Russian)

Spasibo: Thank you (Russian)

TW: Mention of scare tactics used against a small child by our most hated sperm donor.

_______________________________

Ian pads into the dining room grappling with a helplessness he hates.

Silent and distressed, Mickey is huddled on their bed recovering from yet another nightmare and there’s nothing he can do to stop them. Nothing.

He paces, futility ushering him to do something, anything to erase the memory of Mickey crying in his arms, scared and curling his toes hard enough to turn them white. Desperate, he’d come out to heat some milk, the only thing he could think to do and it kills him that he can’t do more.

He takes a few angry swings in the dark, hissing “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you” with each jab. He didn’t think his hate for Terry could grow.

“Bad dreams again?”

Ian jumps when Svet seems to materialize out of the shadows of the sparsely lit kitchen. He laughingly sags into a dining room chair, hand on his chest as orange sparks prickle his vision.

“Christ, Svet. You need a bell,” he says, unsteady. “Yeah, third nightmare this month. Night sleeping is still new for him.”

He blinks a few times and the sputtering orange lights finally fade. He needs sleep. He always sees dumb stuff when he’s this tired.

“You fixing Yevvy a bottle?” he asks.

“Da. He will shit again, but we must feed the bottomless pit.”

Ian laughs softly. Yev’s appetite was legendary, a trait Mickey was proud of.

“I’ll go get him. I just came to warm some milk for Mick,” he says, rising.

“Wait!”

He stills at Svet’s sharp tone. The delicate detente they’d reached was fresh and he’s always careful not to upset that balance.

“Did … did I do something, Svet? I know this situation isn’t, I don’t know, ideal. But, we … me and Mickey, we could stay at my place if it makes you-”

“No, that part is okay. It’s just Yevgeny. He sleeps. I thought I would move before air raid alarm,” she jokes, sounding anything but amused as she waves him back into his seat. “I heat milk for the enfant terrible too.”

Ian smiles, relieved he hasn't clumsily ruined the truce he’s fought hard for and won. He takes a deep breath and wrinkles his nose against a warm electric smell he can’t quite place. Like burning metal maybe.

“You were always sweet, Ian. Too sweet for this world you’d lived in with Mickey,” Svet says, rueful and quiet. A stove burner alights with a blue flame as she twists a knob. “But, it was that sweetness that let you accept Yev. What I didn’t know at the time was that you would come to love Yev like I did.”

Ian pauses in rubbing his sleepy eyes. Her past tense is throwing him off, making this moment weirdly surreal. Like an echo from a remembered conversation.

He corrects her gently. “Like you do. Love Yevvy like you do. Here we say “do” for present and “did” for past.”

“What do you say for the future?” she asks.

“Will do.”

“Spasibo.” Svet opens the refrigerator with her back to him. “You took good care of Yev. You were a better caretaker than either of us and I failed him when he’d needed me most. But, you never did. Even when you didn’t know yourself, you made sure he was safe. I’m betting that you'll do it again when he comes looking for you.”

There it is again. The odd use of the past tense. And did her accent just drop entirely?

Despite those disturbing anomalies, Ian’s too distracted by her clothing to focus on them. She’s not dressed in the robe and nightgown she usually favors. Instead she’s wearing some sort of reflective leggings that look metallic and uncomfortable. Her shape is different too. Softer, fuller.

“Failed Yevvy how? And what do you mean when he comes looking for me?" he asks, watching her move slowly to the stove, like her limbs couldn’t respond fast enough.

“Nevermind that.” She sets a milk filled pot on the flames then leans carefully against the refrigerator. “I have to tell you about my Yev. You need to be there for him.”

The dark is doing something strange to her voice. It sounds otherworldly with a slight echo or reverb that gives it a tinny sound. Like a radio playing at night in a distant neighbor's yard. He doesn't know why, but it's freaking him out.

They both jump when a bedroom door opens and they hear Mickey’s footsteps approaching. Jesus, the whole house is spooking him tonight.

“Don’t tell him I’m awake. He’ll get embarrassed,” Svet whispers, slipping to the side of the refrigerator shrouded in darkness.

Mickey pads over, naked save his socks.

His heart aches at the sight of those socks. Tonight is the first time Mickey’s told him why he always needs socks after a nightmare. Ian couldn’t imagine waking up from sleep as a four year old with your father gibbering like a monster under your bed and grabbing your naked toes in the dark. He finally understands why Mickey prefers sleeping during the day and it breaks his heart.

“You comin’ back to bed?” Mickey steps between his legs, squeezing his shoulders.

Ian’s about to warn him that Svet is up, but thinks better of it. She’s seen him naked before.

“Just warming up some milk. You want cinnamon this time?”

He pulls Mickey close by the hips and kisses his sleep warm belly.

“Yeah. But, I’ll make it.”

Ian presses his face into Mickey’s stomach and runs his hands up and down the back of his thighs. He's not quite over Mickey screaming awake like he did. His protective caveman had surfaced with a vengeance.

“No, baby, I got it. Go back to bed. I’ll bring it in,” he mumbles, blowing warm puffs of air into Mickey’s navel, making him chuckle.

“Baby.” Mickey’s soft snort is affectionate as he strokes the back of Ian’s neck. “You only call me that after a nightmare.”

“That’s the only time you’ll let me.” In the dim glow of the streetlight, Mickey’s face is still marked by his dream. Vulnerable and stricken. “I could call you that when we’re in the supermarket if you want.”

Mickey sucks his teeth and runs his fingers through Ian’s hair.

“Let’s try it around here first, alright?” Mickey kisses him. Sweet, precious. “Hurry up. Hate layin’ in there without you.”

Ian lets him go after giving his hips a squeeze.

“I’m right behind you … baby.”

Mickey huffs a soft laugh and kisses his forehead before padding off, leaving him smiling. Yeah. He's going to call him baby everyday.

The clink of a pot against a mug brings him back down to reality. Svet’s pouring the heated milk and he flushes. He’d forgotten about her. Mickey, like always, eclipsed everything around him.

“You teach him to love. That’s good. Needed,” she says, pulling the cinnamon from their meager rack of spices. “Yev will need both of you to know love.”

“He’s taught me a few things too,” he says through a yawn, wanting their Mickey scented bed now more than ever.

“Da. How to be a father without actually being a father. I will be grateful for that later.”

Svet sets the mug on the dining room table and he has a mild shock. She looks … tired. There are lines in her face and her hair must be catching the light weird because it looks silver in some places. And her pajamas. They’re definitely reflective and have panels in the chest and along the arms, almost like protective plating. Crazier still, they’re pulsing with a warm orange light. He blinks hard, leaning forward to get a better look, but she steps back into the gloom of the kitchen.

“Svet, what the hell are you wear-”

“Oh fuck, no. It’s too soon. The cycle’s started. I was supposed to have more time,” she says fast, accent completely gone as she backs up. A warm copper scent begins to suffuse the room. “Listen. Yevvy’s going to come to you, Ian. When he’s 14, he’ll find you. Take him in. Even if Mickey doesn’t want to. Take him in.”

Ian’s heart begins to trip as tiny orange lights flicker around the kitchen. They fizzle to life between him and Svetlana, only to wink out as soon as they appear and are replaced by more. The hot copper smell is strong now, overpowering.

“Svet, what are you talking about? Holy shit, are we having an electrical fire?!” Ian stands and takes a step forward as more sparks of orange light swirls around her. Despite the violence of their appearance, they make no sound.

“Stop! Stay there! The intake will kill you,” Svet warns, backing into a dark corner. “Just take Yev in. He will have no one but you and Mickey until I’m released. Promise me!”

There’s a horde of orange lights swirling along Svet’s body now, illuminating her. What he sees takes his breath away.

Svet’s older. At least 60. Her face is wrinkled and her hair is gray. She’s aged 40 years since yesterday and that’s impossible.

“I agreed to do this only if I could change Yev’s trajectory and this is the moment that triggers you to remember later. We found that your hippocampal storage will retain this specific memory and I need you to hold onto it! Yev needs you to!”

The orange lights surge now, filling the kitchen with an unearthly glow and an odd warmth. Frozen, Ian watches Svetlana fight against an invisible current that seems to be pulling her inward. She speaks rapidly now, as if racing against some unknowable deadline.

“Take him in. His life changes for the better because you do. He won’t get radicalized. I will get to see him again if I survive this. Just help him Ian! Promise me you’ll do it! Say you will do-”

She winks out into a cloud of orange sparks, leaving behind a strong smell of heated copper.

In shock, he responds to her pleas while they still echo in this empty space.

“Will do.”

The air in the kitchen crackles in the silent aftermath and Ian can’t move, sure that what he just witnessed wasn’t real. He’s been under so much stress - living with Mickey and Svet, running out of money, dancing at the club. Add to that the coke he hadn’t told Mickey about, but had needed lately to keep moving. Maybe he needed to cut back like he told Fiona because no fucking way that happened.

“Ian.”

Mickey’s standing in the dining room holding the steaming mug of milk. “What are you doing?”

With a start, he turns away from the dark kitchen. It wasn’t real. It didn’t happen.

“I-I couldn’t remember if I turned off the stove,” he says, soft and uncertain.

“Doesn’t look like it. Turn it off now, it smells a little burnt in here,” Mickey whispers. “C’mon. Let’s go back to bed before you wake Svet.”

Ian turns off the stove and follows him, slowing past Svet’s room. He peeks in and she’s sleeping on the bed holding Yevgeny. He lets out a shaky breath. He’d sleepwalked. It’s happened before. That’s all. Nothing more than that.

“Ian, you better get in here before I finish this milk or you ain’t gettin’ any,” Mickey teases from their bedroom doorway.

He hiccups a disjointed laugh and follows Mickey inside, shaking off the last of whatever that waking dream had been.

In bed, he loses himself in Mickey’s body, emptying him twice, until he’s wet, gaping and emotional. Still unsettled by his waking dream, he seeks stability and an outlet for his need to fix. He finds both in every moan, gasp and soft cry Mickey gives him until he no longer feels adrift. Satiated, they curl around each other and Mickey presses his feet atop Ian’s, body relaxing with this anchor he seems to need. Ian holds him tight and falls asleep, allowing the dream of Svetlana to fade into memory.

He won’t think about this night again.

For exactly fourteen years, he doesn’t even have the vaguest memory of it. But, the day there’s a knock on their Westside apartment door and a blond teenager with Mickey’s eyes says his name is Yev, he instinctively lets him inside.

Later, after they decide Yev should stay, Mickey asks him to make up the couch. Ian smells warm copper before he speaks without thinking.

“Will do.”

#gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #my fic #gallavich fanfic #AUgust 2023

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midnight6089 · 2 years ago

Text

Hidden Pleasures

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Nsfw warning! Don't like it don't read

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Walking up the steps to the white council. Linder at my side looked rather tense. For engaging into a serious discussion between the guardian's of middle earth. In which the two of us weren't summoned to come. Could disrupt the natural order, and anger Lord Elrond himself. Yet that was the least of my problems. Fear ran its course through my bones and every step felt heavy. If he finds out, I would be suvearious punished. With that thought in mind I reached out to take Lindiers arm. Knowing of my consequences, but that quickly came to an end the moment we reached the dome like structure, our footsteps carried out. Sending out echoes disturbing the meeting, and most of all, him. Too late to turn back now, I was the first one to step out from the shadows. Presenting myself to everyone, but Linder was the one to delay the news to Lord Elrond. Who seemed rather curious and surprised by our presence. "My lord Elrond, the dwarves, they're gone." He informs and the room suddenly goes quiet.

Not surprising Elrond had kept a restful face as usual but his eyes spoke the truth. Bluntly turning around to look at Gandalf, Elrond took a deep breath to settle his nerves. Not wanting to lash out in front of Lady Galadriel and Lord Saruman. All the same the wizard tensed up in his chair and avoided Elrond's heated gaze. Knowing the look and whatever words Elrond wanted to say was for him. I could only stand here in silence.

"Pardon me my Lord, and Lady." Elrond spoke as he stood from his chair and took off. His hands clutching at his sides, his feet stomping down the steps. We were quick to follow. "I want all the guards on watch last night brought to me and bring forth any servant that may have seen anything." Elrond demands as he cuts across the gardens and into the west wing of the house. "The dwarves couldn't have done this on their own." He let on as his robes shuffled and wiped around as he walked. The sight alone made me want to curl up into a ball and hide under a rock. But I knew keeping it a secret would make it worse.

Stopping midway and havening over the thought of it. I took a deep breath and, "that won't be necessary, my lord." I admitted while holding myself tighter. Both Lord Elrond and Lindir stopped, turned around and gave me a stern look.

"Do you know who's responsible?" Lindir asked.

"Yes," holding my breath and biting my tongue. I gripped my sleeves as tight as I could. "It was me." I confess, "I was the one who helped the dwarves escape through the secret passage. I'm the one held accountable." At that moment I looked at them but mostly at Lord Elrond. His stare alone made me want to flee. His face was calm and collective, but his eyes were burning with rage. Slowly he starts to walk up to me. His feet drawing near, my heartbeat pounded to the sound of every step. Just as he towered over me I brace myself for his lecture, the same ones he gives his son's. But to my surprise he placed a hand on my shoulder and with a firm grip, his face edge near mine as he debated on something.

"Why?" His voice cut deep like a knife as he asked. Pondering on his question I couldn’t think of an answer myself.

“I…don’t know,” I replied hesenltly. “I thought I was doing the right thing.

“Yet you disobeyed me.”

"Yes." His hand lingering for a moment but was gone. His eyes studied mine and then he took a long and perlongative breath.

"Curse that ignorant Wizard." Elrond said as he walked past me. On the verge of shedding tears while biting my lip, Lindir pulled me into his arms. It felt nice for a moment but then Lord Elrond said something in elvish that made Lindir jump and followed after him.

With no choice in the matter I walked back to my chambers. Hiding my emotions the entire way there. That is until I stuffed my face into the pillow and was unable to hold back the tears. As I layed there crying on my bed a hand rubbed at my back continuously yet I was not strong enough to face whoever it was. "I know it was a difficult decision to make and I'm sorry it had to be you but you will always have my gratitude." Gandalf's voice ringed off the walls and into my ears. I turned my head to look at him.

"I know in my heart I did what was right, but it still hurts. I never wanted to betray him but if I didn't the dwarfs would've never left. Or probably be sent back to work for the humans." After saying this Gandalf combed his fingers through my hair and smiled.

"That is why I trusted you with this difficult task." Helping me to sit up so that he could wrap his arms around my frame Gandalf patted my back. "Give him time to forgive you sweet girl." Wiping my tears away with his calesd thumb. "You are a kind soul after all."

Some time has passed and It hurt to see Gandalf leave so soon but I knew he had a mission to carry out. The dwarfs are more likely in need of help knowing them. With that thought in mind I went back to work. A stack of books in my hands as I reorganize every cover in alphabetical order. Groaning tirelessly as my arms aced from the weight of holding onto old relics for hours. Walking up to the table and plopping them down. The sound carried and Elrond glanced up from his work. I of course didn't notice his intense stare as I walked to the next book self and started pulling books.

So busy with the task at hand the scratching sounds of the quil scribbling on parchment paper escaped me as it halted. Or the sound of Elrond getting up from his chair and walking along the cobblestone. All these echos went through one ear and out the other. The only thing I could recall was pulling a purple book cover off the shelf. Dropping it with the others as my body whirl around and was dragged off by the arm. Whisked away to a secure and private place.

As we approached his chambers my flight or flight response kicked in and if it weren't for his hand holding me back I would've sprinted down these halls. Holding my breath as I was shoved inside. I tripped over my dress and landed on the floor with the door slamming behind me. Looking back only to meet his gaze he took one step and I flinched and immediately jumped to my feet. Putting as much distance between us as I could. "You went behind my back, little one."

Suddenly grabbed once more and was tossed onto the bed. He was on top of me now pinning my hands above my head. Elrond didn't so much as bat an eye as he ripped my dress. The sound of fabric tearing made my heart sink as the realization suddenly struck me. Watching in horror as his hands pulled apart my blose. My breast, visible and exposed to his eye. On edge and fidgety and a sharp intake of breath. I choked as his hand slipped through the rip material fondling my mounds with tenderness. His hands are gentle and warm, surprising me. Narrowing down on my body and placing kisses along my neck to my collar bone. His weight constricted my own. Unable to move or breathe. My hands disenthrall from his grasp. I could only cling onto his shoulders as he forced my legs open. Spreading them so that his hips could sink into mine.

Clenching my jaw in one hand and taking my breath away in a fiery kiss the other went down there. Touching me with passion that is until he forced a muffle moan from my throat.

That next morning the smell of sex clung to the air. Waking from a restless sleep. Sore and tired I moved to crawl out of bed but his hand came up and cast itself around my torso. Restraining me from making any further movements. "No, stay nin meleth." Elrond slurs as his mind is still asleep.

"Nin Meleth?" I question while trying to get comfortable. Turning around in his arms and snuggling into his chest. "I don't know what that means?"

"My love," Elrond answers as his fingers traced down my side. "But if you prefer I can call you hervess."

"Hervess?" I repeated. "I….I don't know that one either."

This made him chulke as his eyes blinked open. Looking into mine with fondness. "Wife," he said while smiling slightly. Shocked and surprised it was my turn to get on top. Straddling his hips and crossing my arms over my chat and looking down at him with a stern face.

"Wife," I presume while slightly rocking my hips, but not enough to do much, " what kind of proposal is that?" I watched as Elrond's brow arched as his eyes narrowed in on mine. Then his hands came up to grab my hips but I quickly smacked them away. Soon he got the message and his mouth formed an o-shape.

"My apologies," he said while shifting his weight a little. Getting himself comfortable in this position. Holding onto my leg for security as he reached over and pulled the drawer to his night stand open. He pulled out a small piece of cloth and unfurled it. Holding out a ring for me to see. Its silver band glinted in the sunlight as the rich dimensions sparkled. "Y/N will do me the honor of becoming my wife. "

Lost for words and unable to speak. I could only shake my head yes as I bent down to him. Tears fell from my eyes as he wrapped his arms around me. "Yes, a thousand times yes!" I let out while holding onto him. Combing his fingers through my hair and kissing my temple. He stopped for a moment to slip the ring onto my finger. "I love you my hervess."

"Nin Meleth." I said back and Elrond smiled so much it looked like he was on the verge of tears. Pulling me down to lock lips. Let's just say things got a little heated after that and you were late for breakfast that morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

p.s. Elrond you owe me a new dress

Elrond smerks and walks up to you from behind. Casting his arms around you. "I prefer you out of one then in one my dear." He teases while trying to strip you of your clothes.

You quickly manage to slip from his grubby hands and make a b-line to your chambers. Elrond accepts the case and runs after you. Cursing the entire way in elvish you made it in time to shut the door and lock it behind you. Only for you to realize the guard outside has the extra set of keys. "Oh shit!"

(Roll for initiative)

#hobbits #lord elrond x reader #lord of the rings #tw nswf #nswf text #not my character

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beholdingbenevolence · 10 months ago

Text

[HITHER] The Compromise

"My home is with you, at Pergaprime Castle!" Goliath grit his teeth and clenched his fists as the firmness in his voice pierced into Depranir's being. "The Encrypt is not where I belong! I cannot remain here!"

A brief silence filled the air as Depranir became tense and let out a shaken breath. It was hard to look at his son in the eyes. Guilt was written all over his face and the corners of his mouth quivered.

"…I know. I know that very well, son. It pains me to my core as much as it wounds your own… But I won't let your days be spent in solitude. I have made a compromise to this; in my waking hours of every passing day, I will come to you. I will supply you with what you need; a meal, a weapon, simple exchanged words; whatever it is you desire."

At that moment, Goliath's posture relaxed a slight amount. "And what about mother?"

"Unfortunately, her and I do not see eye to eye on this matter. She remains adamant on leaving you without our presence. Yet despite her scorn, she let me take this matter on my own. This is as best as I can offer you, Goliath…"

Once more, silence surrounded them as no word was uttered. Both Depranir and Goliath saw a mutual pain with the former's running much more deeper than the latter's own. It almost seemed like scars were about to become wounds reopened… A tragic history soon to resurface.

Goliath knew not of this. A past yet untold.

"…I still don't understand, father. What is it that you are hiding from me that would force me to stay here?"

Depranir's beating heart would jump, becoming heavier in beat as he had to make a choice… Remain in silence… Or revisit that awful past?

With a heavy breath, he would reach into a pocket…

"I… Have hidden much from you… So that you would not share my burden. But if you must know, then I shall not argue. Now then… Look towards what I hold, child."

Depranir would extend a fist forward before turning it palm-side up. The fist would gradually release into an open hand, revealing what he held within…

The IRIS.

"Descend with me, Goliath. There is much to show you…"

The power of the IRIS would begin to flow through Depranir as he began to harness it. With a gentle hand, he would gradually place his other palm upon the top of Goliath's head so as not to disturb him or harm him during the descent. A steady flow of power would connect with him as he would begin to witness his father's past…

----

And what felt like eternity for one was just a mere moment for another...

Goliath would return to reality, back to the present. No words could escape him, he was still in the process of comprehending every single moment he saw. Every perspective. Every wound. Every scar inflicted upon his parents' hearts.

To know one's history is to know another's. To hold the weight of what his mother had burdened. Of what the Listener had suffered. Of what his father is still pained by to this day.

Still dazed and dissociated, Goliath sat upon the ground in silence. Depranir would follow suit, sitting beside him and bringing him into a side-embrace. Gentle words of reassurance would be passed to him, the sound of his voice being assistive to his son's full return to reality.

"I... See..." A breath escaped Goliath as he regained his grounding. "I... Understand now... Why you've kept that hidden from me..."

Depranir sighed and gently pat Goliath's back.

"This is not a task that is meant to be easy, son... By keeping guard, you aren't protecting us from what is within... But protecting this whole planet, including what is captive, from the grasp of the two deities." His eyes would gaze towards the skies above. The planet continued to turn... And night would soon fall. "It would spell doom for us all should they discover the Encrypt... There is no doubt they would take advantage of what's within as revenge for our revolt. Knowing how much strength and power you have shown against the forces of the Damned..."

"This is why this task falls to me, then... But... What about what is within the Encrypt..?"

"Well..." Depranir took a huge breath. How can he explain this...? "There... There are some thing that... Are best kept unspoken. Not out of malevolence, no... But... I fear that what you learn may hurt you more than it would help."

Goliath looked down at himself, processing all that he's learned. He understood it well and, knowing this now, he is willing to accept this duty. But yet, it still hurt him. He would spend an eternity here alone... His father would visit but... What about the rest of the colony? What about Vyson?

The thought of never being able to see them again overtook him... And he's just as afraid that his father might follow suit and disappear... Tears began to flow down his face as this cruel reality hit him... And they didn't seem to stop.

A hand reached out to him and wiped some tears away. His gaze looked towards his father as he offered his reassurance...

"Save your tears, my son... I promise I will return upon the coming dawn..."

With a deep breath and a sniffle, Goliath would pull Depranir into a full embrace. It was a tight one, a grip that begged the other to stay... But alas, he had to let go.

And, for now, they bid farewell...

----

The light of the Great Beyond grew as it ascended upon the horizon. The field that surrounded the Encrypt was empty and quiet… The only sign of life being the prison's sole guard.

It was day one and a part of him felt doubtful about his father's promise. This was a duty put upon him and him alone; the worry that he might have been lead astray by the experience from the day prior was present within his mind… To be abandoned by his own family like this while being told otherwise would be a stab right into Goliath's heart.

But yet, in the midst of this worry, he could hear footsteps approaching. His eyes glance towards the direction of the source and the sight would immediately alleviate his anxieties.

It was his father.

"You… Kept your promise."

Depranir gave a soft smile to his son in response; a gentle laugh escaping him as he took the large satchel he carried and prepared to open it.

"What father would I be if my words were hollow?" Once he was standing close to Goliath, he sat down with him and began to take out what was in the satchel. Inside the satchel was a safely contained hearty meal that Depranir knew his son enjoyed, a well crafted shortsword, and what looked to be a beaded bracelet.

"I've gathered and prepared everything I could for you for today. I… Knew this sword is a fond favorite of yours; you and I have worked on it together. It felt… Wrong to leave it to collect dust. As for food, your mother was kind enough to assist in preparing it for you today. I cannot guarantee that she will keep such a routine so I will have to catch up in the effort. And… Hold out your hand for me?"

Goliath quirked an eyebrow in curiosity as he offered his right hand. Depranir would gradually put the bracelet on said wrist as he explained its purpose.

"I have enchanted this accessory with some of the IRIS' power… With it, you are granted the ability to establish contact with me from afar should a need arise. No matter how simple or dire." Once the bracelet was on Goliath's right wrist, Depranir would pull up his left sleeve, revealing a similar bracelet. "I have created such an accessory for myself as well, should anything happen to yours."

A moment passed before Goliath let out a soft chuckle. "You really went out of your way for me huh?"

"My worry for you is great, son… I aim to make sure you are still cared for despite this isolating duty. You are family, after all, and… I love you. Dearly. No one, you especially, deserves to endure such a fate alone."

Depranir placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder which netted a warm smile in response and appreciation. Goliath would take a moment to properly examine his new accessory. Burgundy, tan, and a dark green colored the beads and a charm of the Onyx Colony's emblem hung from the string. Despite the swiftness in terms of it's craft, it was still put together with care. He couldn't complain.

"…Thank you, father."

#iris official #kinder iris #kinder iris ; hither #depranir zor #goliath iris #pre-explosion goliath #drabble #not canon to iris

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smokeyfuzz · 2 years ago

Text

Wicked Games: One

“I wish that you would stay in my memories

But you show up today just to ruin things

I wanna put you in the past ‘cause

I’m traumatized”

- Memories, Conan Grey

Notes for story: A new JJK story! I’m still working on my other works, but I felt so inspired to work on this that I had to write it down and share what I have thus far. The premise of the story begins in S1 of JJK, with time jumps between the past to the present. This is more (f)reader based with female-pronouns. Y/n is a teacher at Jujutsu Technical College and powerful sorcerer, considered a special-grade with cursed energy imbued with energy manipulation. She has the ability to temporarily absorb others’ powers and life-force, making them either weak or devoid of their abilities for a period of time. In the eyes of some superiors she is threat like Yuji and Yuuta and while working for the school is kept under a watchful eye.

I hope you all enjoy it

Rain hit the windowpane of the small dorm, the winds from outdoors stirring the trees violently as the storm waged on into the night. It was freezing outside - you knew from your walk over - but right now all you could feel was the warmth of the strong body curled into your back, arms trapping you in an embrace as a familiar heavy breath splayed across the back of your neck and shoulders.

Suguru had fallen asleep hours ago - the storm outside weighing little concern on his mind. For you it was a different story. You were a light sleeper and storms made you restless, a pang of lightning flashing in the distance. You felt your body grow tense, breath hitching as you shut your eyes and tried to think of something else. Behind you Suguru shifted until you felt a gentle kiss first on your shoulder blade before he buried his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your neck and up to your ear, before whispering:

“Mmm, still up?”

It was late. Past midnight and you both had early classes the next day. You felt his arm that rested over your body shift towards your own, his fingers interlacing over yours with a small squeeze.

“Can’t sleep with the storm,” you said tiredly.

You felt more shifting and you turned to lay on your back, Suguru leaning up to hover over you slightly as he watched your exhausted features. It had been a long day for each of you.

“Need a distraction?” he smirked. Your eyebrows furrowed together as a small smile fell onto your features, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Suguru,” you jokingly scolded.

His smirk only grew into a smile before he leaned forward, lips hovering over your own, leaning closer and closer until…

The sound of loud knocks on your apartment door stirred you awake, eyes slowly blinking awake as you realized you’d been dreaming of him again. It had been over ten years since your relationship with Suguru had officially ended, and yet only over a year since you had last seen him. You sat up in your bed, running a hand across your face in exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the emotional turmoil you were still dealing with, the knocks on the door once again hammering away. Whoever it was, they were going to piss off your neighbors, it being nearly two in the morning.

You hurriedly shuffled out of bed, grabbing the small silk robe that hung over your chair and making your way across the small apartment, opening the front door just in time to see…

“Y/N, you're awake, great,” Satoru greeted, hand raised to knock on your door again before slipping it into his pants pocket.

You were going to kill him.

He slipped by you and into your apartment before you could officially invite him in, moving towards the living room. He was familiar with your place, having been here countless times before. You sighed, shutting the door before turning to meet him where he had taken up residence on your sofa, manspreading as he usually did.

You wrapped the robe tightly across your body as a chill ran down your spine, legs exposed from the shorts you had worn to bed and the loose t-shirt hugging your frame.

“Actually, I was sleeping,” you greeted him, tight lipped. You perched onto the armrest of the sofa, watching the side of his profile.

“Why are you here ‘Toru?” you asked your old friend.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, hands coming to rest behind his head as he looked to the ceiling. He was still dressed in his school uniform, cerulean blue eyes hidden behind his blindfold.

“Found a kid who swallowed Sukuna’s finger, well, actually Megumi did…,” he smirked. Your mouth fell open, worse case scenario immediately rushing to your mind at the thought of the powerful curse-spirit walking around. His smirk remained as he looked in your direction. “Relax… Megumi’s fine. Kid’s fine too - he can actually contain Sukuna.”

You had moved to sit on the coffee table in front of Satoru now, the change in the direction of the conversation shocking you.

“Wait, what? Where is he?”

Satoru leaned forward, entering into your personal space as he rested his face in one of his palms. Whereas others would’ve been bothered by this act, you had grown used to it over the years.

He explained how for now he was being kept in an execution room, how he had a plan to convince the elders to keep the kid, who was named Yuji, alive (confessing to Megumi’s own plea to save Yuji’s life), and then his own hope of training the kid.

You knew this story well with Satoru - your mind drifting to Yuuta and his other students. He had a habit of collecting what you affectionately called “black sheeps” of the jujutsu world, individuals of great strength or who posed a threat, sometimes both. While you weren’t one of his students, you were familiar with the practice, being a black sheep yourself.

You ran a hand through your messy hair, watching Satoru carefully. There had to be another reason he was here - why he unloaded this information on you and you had a sneaking submission of what it could be.

“You need me to advocate for Yuji?” you surmised as he leaned back again, arms falling on the back of the sofa.

He nodded. “He’ll be a tough sell, especially after what happened with Yuuta last year and…”

His voice trailed off then and you knew he was going to say Suguru’s name. His best friend turned enemy. Your ex-boyfriend and former friend. Aside from Sukuna, Suguru was one of the biggest dangers within the Jujutsu world at the moment. He was as charismatic as he was cruel, with a cult following of his belief to kill all non-shamans. Until last year, Suguru wasn’t really in hiding - openly trying to recruit students and sorcerers, spreading his “gospel”, committing violent crimes, visiting Satoru, and you. You’d never mentioned that he had visited you to anyone - not even to Satoru. Why you kept it a secret, you weren’t quite sure. You suspected it was from the guilt of not killing him like the bounty on his head dictated - or perhaps it was the fact a part of you still loved him, even after all of this time and the horrible things he has done since then. But you refused to talk about it.

Then the day came when both you and Satoru believed he was actually going to die. He had come to the school, intent on killing Yuuta when Satoru stepped in. It eventually led to a bitter battle between the friends, Suguru already heavily wounded by Yuuta.

You weren’t there when it ended, but when Satoru found you later that day he explained he had mortally injured Suguru, effectively killing him out of respect and did not return with his body in fear of what the superiors would do with it. When nobody was found at the site of the killing, many initially chose to believe that due to Satoru’s own powers that Suguru likely died from his wounds after slinking into the shadows. Within the year of that incident though, more and more evidence had been resurfacing that Suguru was still alive, focused on regaining his strength.

When this information began to surface, it had been Hell for Satoru with the superiors. He had only told you so much himself, and as new information began to come out, you surmised that maybe Satoru couldn’t kill Suguru either due to their history. After all, Satoru had known Suguru even longer than you had.

Thankfully, the fact he was the strongest sorcerer within the jujutsu world was the reason he was still in the position of power he was in today and what prevented the superiors from being able to really take much action.

Still, after Satoru walked away from that meeting, you had suspected it had also changed his own tune - one that left you thinking that he wouldn’t hesitate the next time he and Suguru crossed paths.

You blinked, realizing Satoru had removed his blindfold and was watching you, his white hair falling around his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

You flushed, realizing you had been completely wrapped up in the tragic memories of each of yours’ past and the stresses of today, your eyes glassy from the threat of tears escaping. In all the years’ you’d known Satoru, his rare tenderness always surprised you.

“I’m fine,” you promised softly, looking to the floor rather than his piercing gaze.

You both grew silent for a moment, knowing in fact, neither of you were fine. It wasn’t supposed to have ended up like this.

You cleared your throat, meeting his gaze once more, deciding to change the subject.

“Just text me when you need me…” Then: “For tomorrow, I mean. With Sukuna’s vessel… Yuji.”

As soon as the tenderness was there, you watched it slip away back into his familiar cocky attitude.

“Y’know, maybe I should get someone else. Not really selling the whole “humanizing the kid” factor,” he joked, tying his blindfold back on.

You yawned suddenly, stretching as you stood. “Yeah, yeah. Like I didn’t help you with Yuuta or something when you recruited him. Or helped you with Megumi and his sister… or all the others for that matter.”

Satoru had stood by now, following you back to the front door, hands in his pockets as he finally surveyed your figure with a knowing smirk as you held only half of his attention. Instead, he was focused on the familiar dip of your hips, the curve of your ass, the plushness of your thighs.

“Y’know, I’m basically their dad… does that make you mommy?” he joked, leaning against the wall as you turned and looked at him where your hand rested on the doorknob.

Again, he was invading your space.

You scoffed, before teasingly adding: “Only in your dreams.”

“Are you forgetting the time we-”

You flushed at the memory he referenced, internally groaning at your foolishness. Too embarrassed to provide a witty remark, you quickly smack his chest, making his smirk only grow tenfold.

“Hey, save it for the bedroom.”

You let out an exasperated groan. “I hate you.”

“That night you didn’t-”

Before he could finish his witty retort further you swung your door open, pushing Satoru into the hallway.

“Goodbye, ‘Toru,” you said, just as the door shut in his face.

***

The next day you arrived at the Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College early in the day, your phone still absent from a text from Satoru.

You sat at the desk of your office, taking a small sip of tea as you scanned the emails on your laptop. Most were from Ijichi, some were from Shoko and Utahime, and another from Nanami who was away on a mission.

You began to scan the email from Nanami when your phone suddenly pinged, a familiar name filtering across the screen.

Satoru Gojo: Operation “Save Yuji” is a-go. Meet me outside of Yaga’s office. He-who-shall-not-be-named will be there too.

Y/N: Why are you like this? 😐

You stand, grabbing your jacket and throwing out your now-empty cup. You slid your coat on, eyes trained on your phone as you left your office.

The pings of his typing cross the screen, then:

Satoru Gojo: What are you talking about? 😭 I’m amazing. 😉

A small laugh slipped out of you as you pocketed the device, slipping out the front doors of the school as you were surprised to find Satoru already waiting across campus for you near the wing for Yaga’s office and other superiors offices. He was normally always late.

“You're on time,” you noted, genuine surprise crossing your features.

He stretched, clearly too early in the day for him. “Only for you.”

You scoffed, taking in the cheeky smirk on his lips. “Liar.”

He simply swung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side with a laugh. “Fine. Couldn’t sleep. Now let’s go piss off some superiors.”

***

The conversation with Principal Yaga, Utahime, Principal Yoshinobu Gakuganji, Mei Mei, and a handful of other higher ups and important family houses having been long and exhausting.

You’d spent most of the day advocating on behalf of Yuji, then supporting Satoru, then spiraling down the Kyoto event, before circling back and defending your own status as a special-grade sorcerer with dangerous abilities, before finally the consensus was made to let Yuji live. For now. The promises being made that Satoru Gojo could easily handle Sukuna, and that you also stood as a barrier to the cursed spirit as well. You also had to promise to teach alongside Satoru with his students while Sukuna remained in Yuji - a promise you weren’t enthused to make, but did regardless.

Afterwards, rather than head back to your office, you had decided to go back home while Satoru had gone off to retrieve the new boy wonder and to welcome him into the fold of Jujutsu Technical College. It was already getting late out by the time you stood in front of your apartment door, keys in hand as you unlocked the door and slipped into the dark home. Throwing your jacket and keys on the counter, shoes already slipped off and tossed haphazardly in the foyer, you made your way towards your bedroom and adjoining bathroom. A hot shower and comfy sweats were calling your name.

A half hour had passed by the time you had stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your figure. You heard a crack of thunder, a fresh storm waging outside. Great.

Stepping back into your bedroom, ready to change into your sweats, was when you suddenly stopped, a familiar figure standing near your now open bedroom window.

Your blood ran cold, heart racing.

“Suguru.”

“Hello sweetheart.”

Additional notes: Welp, Suguru is alive. In this rendition I didn’t want Suguru to be dead yet, exploring the complex relationships with friends and former lover and sort-of manipulating/creating a story arc regarding Yuji/Sukuna.

#getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru x you #suguru x you #jjk x y/n #reader-insert #jjk angst #jjk #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #toxic attraction #Jujutsu Kaisen #fluff #Smut

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