#if im going to use my limited time and more limited wrist energy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Note

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate!

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing.

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file.

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack.

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet.

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves.

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens.

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.”

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master that we will be taking the rest of the day off.”

“We?”

“Of course.” He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep.

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves.

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely. It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist.

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler.

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply. He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.”

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face. “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.”

“By what?”

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders. Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others.

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage, just his regular old human.

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too.

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?”

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild. Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless. You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot.

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.” Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!” He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!”

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly.

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted.

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!”

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck.

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods.

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

#obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me #requests

95 notes · View notes

strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 2

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 5k chapters: 2/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

hey read this: im desperately hoping this lives up to the standards the first chapter apparently set my dudes, fingers crossed i don’t lose any of you with this one 🤞🤞 also before we get started i just wanna let yall know i am very firmly set in my decisions for the designations and i do not apologize lmao 🤙

You had been manhandled often enough in your life but fuck this time in particular. Even if you’d managed to pass as a beta for more than a decade, you weren’t strong and couldn’t stand your ground in the face of an alpha three times your size. Steve had sucked his fingers clean and easily hefted you up into his arms, following Bruce back into the cabin and down into the basement—you hadn’t been allowed to clean the basement, it was one of the off-limits areas that were noted in your many instructions. If a door is locked, leave it alone. No cleaning is necessary in the basement, garage, or third floor. Wash the linens with a scent free detergent. Make sure the refrigerator is properly scrubbed out.

He’d left you on a metal countertop with instructions to be good for Bruce. You weren’t sure what that entailed but as soon as the blond left the room, your mind started to race. There was no way you could get away from Steve, Sam you could potentially outrun, but Bruce? Being left alone with the beta was the best thing they could’ve done for you. You could get away from Bruce.

“Have you been to see a doctor recently?” His voice was gentle, intended to be soothing as he came to stand in front of you. "Any check-ups, clinic visits?”

You knew there was blood drying on your cracked lips, cutting a jarring path down your throat. The taste was still in your mouth, you’d gouged your tongue and it was still actively bleeding. With that in mind you made direct eye contact with the beta before letting the mouthful spill over your bottom lip and drip down your front, hoping the gore would help emphasize your opinions on the situation.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset—”

“Bruce, why is she bleeding?” It was like getting punched in the face by alpha pheromones the moment the door to the room opened again and a much younger alpha stepped through with a practically panicked expression.

Before you or Bruce could respond you’d been swept up in the alpha’s arms. He was a few years younger than you, early twenties probably and being manhandled by a fetus was particularly bothersome. His scent kept you still for a few seconds before you started squirming, making a beta-like snarl while he corralled your limbs.

“Here Pete, can you sit with her over here? We need a blood draw and full work up, her natural hormones have probably been devastated by the chemicals in the suppressants she was taking,” Bruce gestured for the alpha to carry you to a metal table, likely meant to be used for some sort of experiments if the rest of the room was anything to judge by. "All of her reproductive organs could’ve been affected, I’ll need to do a pelvic exam. We’ll run an STD panel and—”

“No! I don’t consent!” Your voice came out as a growl, the best one you could manage. "This is false imprisonment! Let go of me you fucking knothead! This is illegal!”

The alpha started to purr immediately and you found yourself rendered boneless under the onslaught. It was startling—you’d forgotten how it felt, how calm and safe it made you feel. Alpha purrs were meant to soothe and comfort, the tones perfectly adjusted to the omega ear. They also caused a completely involuntary reaction in omegas, the same as all other alpha sounds. You had no choice but to feel relaxed, the white noise of a purr jumbling your thoughts.

Bruce smiled down at you, hand running over the top of your head where it rested against the alpha’s chest. "It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you, I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“Isn’t that better baby?” The alpha sat back on the table and pulled you to sit between his legs, tucked close to his chest. “And unless you have a guardian alpha, it’s not illegal. We’re doing our civic duty, taking care of an omega in unsafe conditions.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t fight it; you couldn’t find your way out of the calm static the purr filled your brain with. Even when Bruce started taking multiple vials of blood from your left arm, when he opened your mouth to check the damage to your tongue, when they started undressing you, you couldn’t fight. It was a hazy sort of half thought, that you wanted them to stop. It must’ve been apparent in your eyes, that you were trying to work your way out of the purr’s effects.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, you’re alright,” Bruce murmured quietly as his hands pressed the glands in your neck, fingers brushing gently against the scent gland in particular. "No swelling in your thyroid or mating nodes, that’s good. Suppressants can really cause problems in your hormone glands; the blood tests will tell us for sure but it looks like you might’ve dodged the worst of it if nothing’s enflamed. How long have you been on suppressants?”

Answering was the last thing on your mind, your eyes slowly roving over the room instead. It was some sort of lab set up, tons of machines and parts of machines, technology you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Bruce had been taking things from one particular cabinet that seemed to hold medical supplies, the rest of the place resembling a robotics factory or some kind of high-tech research and development lab. The doors had swished open automatically when Steve brought you in and when the new alpha came through. Who had automatic doors in a vacation home?

“Should I stop?” The alpha questioned the doctor, chest continuing to rumble. “I might be making her too calm I guess.”

“No, just keep doing what you’re doing Peter,” Bruce sighed slightly. "There’s too much coherence in her eyes as it is, I don’t know if the purr affects her as much as it should. I’m worried that if you weren’t enhanced it wouldn’t work at all. Look at me sweetie, can you focus on face?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head carefully while watching your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to focus on his face; you couldn’t imagine the purr affecting you more than it already was and dreaded the idea that it could be worse. What did enhanced mean? Like the superheroes you’d been hearing about? You didn’t keep up on current events, unless they were Omega's Rights related.

“I’m sure it’s a result of the beta chemicals dampening her omega instincts,” Peter shifted you slightly as Bruce exchanged his gloves for a new pair. "Once her body starts producing hormones on its own again she should revert back to common responses to alpha stimuli.”

“You’re probably right, we’ll know for sure once I get the blood results,” Bruce gestured for Peter to sit up more, bringing your limp body with him. “I’m going to do a breast exam and a pelvic exam and we’re done. There are some other tests I want to run but I don’t have the equipment on hand so they’ll have to wait until Tony manages to get here. Peter, can you help move her arms?”

You felt like you almost managed to swim through the purr, rage fueling you as hands manipulated your breasts. The exam itself was clinical, professional even—or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been cooing at you the whole time, how good you were being, how sweet you were, how pretty your breasts were. Peter had hummed in agreement along with the doctor, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands clenched into fists and you could feel Peter’s grip on your wrists shift with the movement.

“Calm down, baby,” the alpha’s voice cooed gently against the side of your head, lips pressing into your hair as Bruce shifted away and went for the medical cabinet again. "This is important. Suppressants could’ve caused tons of problems, cancerous growths in sexual organs or secondary sex characteristics is very common.”

Death would be a reprieve.��The same thought that crossed your mind any time you considered the potential effects of suppressants. A reprieve from the hiding, the exhaustion, living out of your car or a tent, eating garbage because it was all you could afford—from the constant threat of having your autonomy ripped from your hands.

You relaxed your fists until you felt his grip loosen again, even if only slightly. Your only chance would be to rely on surprise and your speed, there was no other way you’d be able to get away. Forcing your body to relax was a trial though, adrenaline was starting to course through you the more you became used to the effects of the purr. Your scent was still massively dampened by the suppressants, Peter likely wouldn’t be able to smell the shift from fear to anticipation. You bit down on the sluggishly bleeding wound on your tongue, reigniting both the pain and blood flow.

“Alright, last part, we’re almost done and then we’ll get you comfortable, okay?” Bruce was wearing new gloves again, a bottle in hand as he walked back over. "Have you had a pelvic exam before?”

You waited until he was close enough and performed what seemed to be your go to act of defiance: spitting blood directly in his face. He reared back with a short curse, Peter immediately releasing your wrists—his goal was likely to readjust you in his lap, to gain a better hold, but you were fast, faster than an alpha (always faster than alphas, it was all you had). You’d slipped from his lap and darted for the automatic doors before either of them could respond. Running through the woods naked was the lesser evil.

Steel bands. You should’ve noticed, the doors opened too soon for them to be reacting to your presence, you were so focused on getting through. But the moment you did, it felt like steel bands wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms.

The alpha’s scent was like Steve’s—the moment your brain registered it the world went hazy. You were floating, body going limp for a precious few seconds that the alpha used to sweep you into his arms and stalk further into the room. Your senses came back just in time for you to be deposited back into Peter’s lap on the table, a massive blond alpha coming into view for the first time. Your gaze was immediately stuck on his, the heterochromatic eyes nearly hypnotizing. Fighting the daze he put you in was overwhelming, especially when a wide smile split his lips and his cheeks dimpled. One massive hand reached out, almost engulfing the entire lower half of your face.

“Hello little love.” Were alphas always as insanely massive as this one and Steve, or had you just stumbled across literally your worst nightmare? “They told me you’re a flighty thing, I suppose I arrived just in time, hm? Are you going to spit blood in my face as well? It seems to be your calling card.”

The look on your face must’ve betrayed the fact that you were really, really considering it. You had a mouthful of blood and nowhere to put it but his face, honestly. Instead you used the fact that Peter was mostly propping you up to lean over the edge of the table and proceeded to open your mouth, spilling blood down onto the alpha’s shoes nice white shoes.

“I wouldn’t challenge her,” Bruce’s voice drew your attention to where he was using a towel to wipe blood off his glasses, a wry smile and affection clear on his face. "She’s putting a lot of effort into being belligerent.”

The blond alpha rumbled with a grin, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "It’s been a stressful day for her, there’s nothing she can do that will cause any persisting damage anyway. Let her have her little rebellions.”

You wanted to be furious—what kind of asshole looked a person dead in the eyes and called their attempts to escape false imprisonment little rebellions?—but Peter seemed to have realized where your train of thought had gone because he started purring immediately. Your spine went boneless, laying you flat against his chest.

“Can you lean up against the wall with her?” Bruce directed the younger alpha to shift until both of your legs were dangling over the edge, Peter’s back to the wall the table sat against. “You’re going to need to hold her in place, even while you purr. Alright sweetie, let’s get this out of the way. Thor, will you hold her leg please?”

The sound you made was an accident. Desperation and humiliation were crawling up your spine with astounding speed, even with Peter’s purr going like a motorboat and the sound was making it too hard to think through your instincts. Omega cries were a deliberate counterpart to the noises alphas made; whines and cries and hisses, perfectly pitched to make an alpha’s hindbrain stand at attention. The sound you made was a sharp, chirping whine—distress, distress, distress, help me, help me help m—

“Oh little love,” Thor’s voice had dropped several registers and he gently shuffled Bruce to the side so he could stand in front of you, slipping as close to the table as possible and tugging your legs to rest on either side of his hips and gently running his hands over your skin. “Let’s get you taken care of, you need rest.”

The pheromones he was putting out were meant to calm but you immediately opened your mouth, using the overwhelming scent of your own blood to drown them out. The alpha sighed and stepped aside again, taking your leg with him and spreading your thigh to rest over Peter’s leg with your foot planted on the table. A whine rose in your throat again but you locked it down, instead biting down on your tongue yet again. It was as grounding as it was painful, the tang of it souring your stomach.

It was your last coherent thought, that you were starting to feel nauseous from all of the blood you'd swallowed. Thor began to purr just after that and the sound was entirely devastating, bone deep and you went completely limp, your head falling to the side against Peter’s chest and your shoulders dropping. This is what acid felt like, you were pretty sure.

Your eyes lazily followed Bruce’s path as the doctor took his place between your legs again, lifting the other into a matching position. Some part of you was fully aware of how gut wrenching this was; completely naked and spread wide in front of two alphas and a beta, a situation you’d rather kill yourself than be in, but your brain couldn’t follow any emotional tethers while Thor purred. The doctor was speaking, you could feel his hands manipulating your vulva, but you couldn’t understand anything coming out of his mouth.

Peter’s hand came to your chin and tilted your head back until you could see him, smiling down at you. His mouth moved, your eyes almost able to track the movement of his lips enough to read them but your brain gave up halfway through. The two alphas were chuckling over something but you were distracted by the discomfort of something being inserted into your vagina. A sharp yip escaped your lips, your body still completely boneless as your eyes rolled down.

“It’s a speculum, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable,” it sounded like Bruce was talking underwater and you could almost feel his breath on your thigh, your mind irritatingly unable to think beyond the question 'who just keeps a fucking speculum lying around?' "Just a few more seconds while I get a pap smear.”

More discomfort came before the instrument was removed, another yip leading Peter to purr along side Thor. The rest of the exam was a blur, slippery fingers and pressure and foreign sensations. You could barely think, let alone realize that Bruce was finishing up the manual exam, when your eyes noticed movement behind them. You couldn’t really make out anything, nothing would focus, but you assumed it was Steve and Sam.

There were more voices but you couldn’t hear anything for an indeterminate amount of time. It wasn’t until Thor stopped purring again that you were able to start regaining your senses, as much as the continuous rumbling in Peter’s chest would allow. The difference between the sounds the two alphas produced was marked by your sudden ability to focus your eyes, to concentrate on voices, in the way your muscular control was slowly returning.

You were almost glad the young alpha was still purring—it meant that the spike of terror that tried to shoot through you was somewhat dulled, enough that it wouldn’t show in your scent. Sam and Steve had indeed come in, accompanied by a young woman with long auburn hair and porcelain skin, a beta from the scent. As soon as she made eye contact with you she smiled vibrantly, slipping forward and sneaking between your still spread thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, long fingers stroking absently against your neck as she leaned in, forcing your back tighter against Peter’s chest. "Will you let me see your trauma my love?”

Some sort of red miasma filled your vision, a fog you quickly realized was coming from her hands—and realization slammed into you like a freight train. You seen that before, in passing. And then the recognition made you nauseous—Thor. You didn’t keep up with current events, but certain names you couldn’t miss. Thor, Tony Stark, Captain America. Your eyes flashed to the blond man standing towards the back of the room; Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Desperation shot through your body like you’d been tazed. Your foot shot out of Thor’s hold, the alpha hadn’t been putting any actual effort into holding you still since you’d been so dazed, and connected with the woman’s chest to send her reeling. Before anyone else could respond, your throat rasped for several seconds before a warbling shriek escaped. The four alphas in the vicinity reacted like they’d been shot; Thor and Steve both stumbled back, and Sam’s knees practically gave out, sending him careening into the wall. Behind you, Peter, far too close to the source, immediately went limp.

There were several distress calls an omega could make. Most of the time, they were whines or chirps, noises meant to draw attention from packmates. They were small, careful sounds—nothing loud enough to attract attention from a foreign alpha or delta. Omegas were quarry to be stolen, after all, which was precisely why they had one, singular method of defending themselves against their biggest biological threat and that was a shriek.

When in close proximity, the sound was loud enough and tuned just so to daze an alpha’s hindbrain. The evolutionary explanation was that a loud shriek meant that an omega being confronted by an aggressive alpha could both temporarily stun their attacker and summon assistance—alphas or deltas, far enough away that the negative effects were nullified but within proximity to hear that an omega was in danger. The assumption being, of course, that an omega who shrieked was in danger from a stranger, not a packmate.

It only worked for a very short time though, any alpha or delta in the area would immediately converge on the omega’s location and deal with the problem—it was the reason you hadn’t used it outside. There was no reason for the effects to last when it summoned immediate assistance, though, and that meant you needed to move. You slid off the table, bare feet slapping tile as you just barely managed to dodge Bruce’s grasp. The woman, the witch from the news, was on the floor clutching her sternum.

The stairs were a blur, so was the foyer and the driveway. You hesitated at your car for all of ten seconds before running for the forest; your keys were in the pocket of your jeans, back down in the basement. Abandoning all of your possessions hurt somewhere deep in your heart but there wasn’t any time for sentiment. You had to get away, quickly.

Luckily the woods had become your home a long time ago. You moved between the trees silently, feet so heavily calloused from constantly going barefoot that you didn’t even notice the twigs and sharp stones digging into your flesh. Your brain shot into overtime. You needed to steal clothes, then cash. You’d lived with nothing for years, you could do it again for however long you needed to. The only thing you really needed was suppressants; everything else was a luxury.

You assumed they were behind you, you’d been running for a good three minutes. The straight path meant they could follow you easier but the goal had to be the maximum distance possible rather than the most strategic pattern. Your only advantage was being fast and you had no choice but to rely on it, especially since your hindbrain was wailing with every step you took. The suppressants were the only reason you could do it at all, the trade off for quieting those damn instincts being a tolerable mildness of character that did not appreciate the constant, incessant shriek of your baser self while you were trying to focus.

All you had to do was keep quiet until you could find one of the creeks running through the forest—so close to Lake Superior there was water everywhere. You would run through the creek in several different places, to mask your scent and make it difficult to follow. It wouldn’t be hard to find a hunting blind or shack, a hole in the ground was better than going back there. The moment your eyes caught on running water you dove into it, covering yourself with mud before jumping back up to continue running.

Captain America was super fast and you’d bet the rest of them were similar if not the same and you needed more distance. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prey behavior was setting in. Natural selection had driven your existence, you were the result of thousands of years of evolution, and the life you’d lived meant you were far more adapted to being hunted than most omegas. You were vulnerable but not helpless and as you coated yourself in more mud from a different part of the creek, chemosensory instincts started rattling through you.

They were coming. Your scent was inhibited by the suppressant’s and that made it harder for them to follow you but they were doing their best. Combined with the water and the mud, your scent was very difficult to pin down, even for a super soldier. You contemplated climbing a tree to hide, but the insane memory of how keen the noses of the pack following you were spurred you on. You kept running, covering yourself in mud two more times, before finding a tree with a massive tangle of roots at the bottom. Fighting whatever creature had made a home down there was worth it—it went deep, was heavily covered by underbrush and detritus from the trees, but most importantly it was surrounded by wild bergamot in full bloom.

It smelled lovely, spicy and floral with a citrusy overtone. You crawled through the dirt, wiggling between the roots and carefully avoiding crushing any plants or branches that could give you away. Whatever lived in there was out, likely foraging, and you took the creature’s absence to your advantage and pressed as far back into the hole as possible.

You weren’t tired, despite the long, exhausting day and the fucking trauma. Another small grace that adaption had provided was that once an omega began producing adrenaline, sleep became unnecessary—it was actually considered a very unenviable omega trait in the general population, but you’d found it’s uses worth the unpleasant side effects. Your heart would continue to race for the next several hours, your pupils wouldn’t return to normal for potentially days and your blood sugar had sky rocketed and that was going to be a nightmare for how ever long it lasted.

The waiting was going to hurt—there was nothing to pass the time and you had to actively focus on not being terrified or your omega scent could seep through, oh, what was it now? Five coats of mud from the creek, a significant amount of bergamot, and fifteen years of whatever the fuck suppressants did to your scent over time.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that you heard them. Stealth wasn’t their objective, that was clear from the amount of noise they made. You could hear Steve and Peter calling your name, although you didn’t know how they knew it. Thor was speaking, his tone low but certainly not quiet. They weren’t even moving that fast, walking almost leisurely.

“She’ll need to bathe and eat. Clint and Natasha are finishing up in New York. Steve, have you heard from Tony or Bucky? Carol?”

“Tony’s wrapping up, should be flying over pretty soon. Carol and Bucky were on their way up but I gave them a list of things to grab while they’re going through the bigger cities. Shouldn’t be too much longer for them either though.”

Steve and Thor were different than Sam or Peter. You couldn’t pin down exactly what had set your teeth on edge, but the scent the two blond alphas gave off was different. Their pheromones were worse, more infectious. Eye contact with Steve had made your hindbrain beg to go to him, regardless of the rationality you could usually manage thanks to the suppressants. You could remember the feel of Thor’s hand on like it was seared into your skin instead, you wanted him to never not be touching you ever again—

If you could’ve slapped yourself without making noise you would’ve. The stupid omega in your brain, that dumb, easy cunt was going to get you killed. You sealed your lips, clenched your teeth and tucked your hands under your bent knees. Night was starting to fall to your benefit, the shadows were getting darker. You were so far back they would have to crouch down and crawl half way in to see you.

If you could keep your wits until they passed you could double back, trying to find your keys would be a wash but you could grab clothes from the back of your ancient Tahoe. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the basement, but you didn’t think it was long enough for them to have gone through your things.

“Could she have gotten this far?” You held your breath as Sam stopped far too close to your hiding place for comfort.

“Omegas are fast and she seemed faster than most,” Bruce answered. “We’ll know for sure once her blood work comes back, but from her physiology I’d say she presents as a classical omega. She’s probably the first in her family in a long, long time. To have a scream that loud in this day and age? The omega gene must’ve been skipped so long that there was no chance for it to adapt to modern omega qualities.”

“There’ve been some studies suggesting that the classical omega attributes are making a come back in the general population,” Peter’s voice came from much farther away. "They haven’t been peer reviewed enough yet and they haven’t been replicated en masse because they don’t have enough subjects, alphas aren’t exactly thrilled to have their omegas studied, but—”

“The lack of data aside, I assume there’s a correlation between the alphas willing to allow their omegas to participate and the behavior of the omega in question. Do you think—”

“Focus, Bruce,” Steve’s voice was light with affection. "The point is that yes, she could’ve gotten this far or farther. The way she keeps running into the creek is messing up the footprints and—”

Their voices faded as they continued the same linear path you’d been running earlier. The fact that they didn’t even sound a little concerned that you could get away was both insulting and unnerving. You didn’t need alphas having that kind of confidence regarding your behavior—and why weren’t they moving any faster? The paranoia was immediate and overwhelming, what did they know about that you didn’t? Something they assumed would hinder you farther along in the woods? Something they were planning for when they found you? When.

You forced yourself to count slowly to six hundred, waiting what you hoped was a full ten minutes before silently crawling out of your hide. Their scents were everywhere, you could smell where Sam had been standing almost directly over the opening in the roots. They were still too close for comfort and you turned, running back through the forest. Your feet were starting to feel sore, usually you’d at least watch where you stepped but there just wasn’t time—you had to get away before they could enact their plans.

The clearing the cabin sat in was coming up and you forced yourself to slow as you approached the tree line, keeping a careful eye out for the beta woman. You couldn’t remember what her call sign was, something to do with witches, and you definitely didn’t want her using that red magic stuff on your head.

The extra seconds of waiting paid off, watching her pace the porch for a few moments before her phone rang. She answered, walking inside and closing the doors behind her. You didn’t wait an extra second, darting across the clearing to where you car was sitting in the driveway with the trunk popped. They must’ve started going through your things but stopped part of the way through.

You could see one of your go bags though, squished between your rolled up sleeping bag and tent. The straps of the bag squeaked with how hard you yanked it out, hesitating slightly—instinct told you to leave the sleeping bag, but you’d grown used to the luxury of it and leaving the stupid thing behind made you decidedly sad. You tossed the straps of the go bag over your shoulder and turned away, knowing it would slow you down and—

There was an Iron Man suit standing directly behind you, gauntlets rested on the hips and the head cocked to the side. You froze, as if staying still could prevent it from noticing you. Fuck, you hoped there wasn’t a man in there. A stupid thought, you considered as you stared silently, trying to decide if there was any way out. Hope was a joke at this point but you didn’t have anything else.

“Hi princess,” it was a distinctly human voice, if filtered. "Hope I didn’t miss too much of the fun.”

content warning: nonconsensual medical procedures, general noncon touching/assault.

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #dark!avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #will reblog w tags

1K notes · View notes

lilyclawthorne · 3 years ago

Text

Hunting Palismen Thoughts

y'all I absolutely loved this episode

oh we're JUMPING right in with day of unity stuff huh. we didn't go from 0 to 10 we started at 10.

anyways, starting off, this whole thing is fascinating to me. I mean this literally looks like a small human city. who are the worthy that get to live here according to belos. if its a unification of the realms, what happens to the humans? do they live here too? how does this affect society?? so many questions

kiki is pissed and im starting to predict that the reason Lilith, GG, and Kiki were all apart of the same slide in the title isn't because Lilith will slide backwards like some were worried about, but that all three of them are people who will have betrayed the emperor at some point

what the fuck is belos. the thumping/punching he made was in time with the beat of a heart. makes me think of the heart behind his throne and how are they connected.

UNCLE?? OUR FAMILY IS GONE BECAUSE OF WILD MAGIC??

TITLE CARD CHANGES AHHH

oh im so worried amity's not there because her mom's mad about her hair. that being said, some of the students here I assumed were a bit older (like jerbo and viney) and ed & em also aren't here. could potentially be that their parents didn't want any of them involved with this palismen adoption? or maybe im trying hard to be hopeful she's not in huge trouble over the hair

FREWIN!! this is the outcome for the little guy in Bump's head is better than anything I could've thought of. Aside from his legitimate use of helping Bump see, I am curious though if this is a bit of a "hidden in plain sight" kind of thing as well to protect the little guy.

PALISMAN ADOPTION DAY!! I WAS RIGHT!! I guessed the forest palismen would get adopted and I'm so glad about it.

I love Eda's blazer. She's trying to look professional. I love that this is what she planned on her favor from BQ being. Just to help out some young witches and some lost palismen. She cares so much 🥺

ok but if the unification of the realms does end up happening, I totally see Gus being an ambassador to the human realm.

There's a lot of attention of Luz here, and I'm just imagining how a similar situation might've gone down on the human realm. I don't blame her for getting anxious here, because I feel like in the past attention like this would've gone far worse at her school. I appreciate that most people here are just calm asking questions that are intended to help (except you Boscha) or Eda just checking in on her.

"I've read stories like this, the main character always has to return home" very interesting. seeing how this show has emphasized how life isn't like fiction.

Eda's just listening in like a mom concerned about her child

Tired Luz is adorable.

LMAO WHY IS GG WHISTLING THE THEME SONG

These two have such an insane amount of sibling energy I love it. This situation? Me and my brothers have done this way too many times.

uh so can a coven mark actually be removed?? since the EC one is also on the wrist but Lilith definitely hasn't been seen with anything there? that's kind of a relief since I was worried that since coven marks can help control magic that her still having one could be bad for her

It's not unsurprising that GG, as a powerless witch, would be interested in wild magic and Luz's glyphs. the kind of stuff you don't need a bile sac for. that kinda sucks he knows there's something out there he probably could use, but isn't allowed to do so

Hunter!! I don't need to do a name meaning here this one's obvious. Also, this boy's gonna crack and swap sides I can tell.

This is the most shit-eating grin I think I've ever seen on Eda. She's so proud of herself and she should be!

I also love this because we literally started this show with Luz helping Eda and King rob the conformatorium, and now we're at King and Eda robbing somewhere to do something special for Luz 🥺

Kiki and GG are so petty with each other, it's not just Kiki and Lilith. This is the whole workplace dynamic isn't it.

GG's room design definitely came from the Lilith bedroom design didn't it. Also I love the little Sprig plush!! I think that's a Big City Greens reference in there too but I've never watched that show.

I am very concerned about him and this palisman too. Not about him but just about Belos finding the palisman.

My one other thing I wanted to mention is I definitely feel like I'm seeing more and more disability metaphor in the show. If we see Eda's curse and her subsequent loss of a power as a disability, then GG/Hunter being born without magic could be considered a disability too. He's only been given access to one way of doing magic and it seems to limit him, he's being cut off from a different way of doing magic, the glyphs that Eda is learning, which clearly seem to be able to allow the user to do magic almost anywhere and could be more effective than Belos' artificial magic.

I'm also curious about Bump, he has the kind of palisman Belos wants to do away with, but it's not just a way to do magic for him. It's an aide for his vision. Belos' ideals would also be taking away something from him or other witches who may also be using their palismen as an aide.

#hunting palismen #toh #the owl house #owl house

23 notes · View notes

mallowstep · 3 years ago

Note

how do you find the energy and motivation to write like... everyday?? i literally cannot write unless i am possessed by a thought in my brain and forced to spew out everything onto paper. and then i cant look at it again ot edit it. like, i really love writing and if im forced to do it for school i will, but i cant write for myslef.

practice.

first, i want to say that i am going to describe how i write, but it is not necessarily going to work for most people, because it has to do with my own psychology and mental health.

second, i want to say that i view writing as writing for pleasure or writing for work. poetry, for example, i write for pleasure, and i would not apply what i am going to discuss to poetry. that happens when i have something to say. it is OK to not want to write for work. that's acceptable and encouraged.

third, i want to dispel a myth. writing consistently is not about motivation. it is about discipline. and you should take heart in that, because motivation is hard to control. you can't force yourself to want to do something, no matter how hard you try. but if you build up discipline, you can learn to do it anyway.

i'm not going to go into that now, because i'm coming at this from the specific perspective of someone with adhd who uses pressure to force myself to function, which is...a hard balance to strike, and not something i can strictly recommend. it does work for some people. i think of it as an arch.

but i digress, i said i wasn't discussing the specifics of how i function in day-to-day life, lest i encourage others to do as i do.

okay. so. where am i going with all of this?

part one: a long, fairly incoherent ramble about me and mental health and writing

well. i don't think the idea of writing for yourself is very helpful to a lot of people. i do write for myself. but that doesn't get my ass in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard. the thing that does that is not social obligation to others, either, it is the firm knowledge that putting words on paper is going to keep me from falling apart.

i don't do that for myself. i don't do that for anyone but the human need to hold yourself together. i am very happy i feel that need at the moment, and every time i have stopped writing* in the past ten years, i have lost that need.

* writing here should really be replaced with a broader term. creating things. making things. working with my hands and something real. but writing is the best thing i know to fill this in myself.

writing does not feel optional. i started writing seriously when i was not-quite-a-teenager and had untreated depression. it was desperate, then. the need to know i was capable of feeling emotions. since then, writing has been different things at different times. it has been a social need. it has been a creative need. it has been a demanding drive. it has been something i drag myself to do because i know it is good for me.

i don't have to write. i could paint, or draw, or knit, or code, or any number of things. i have used all of those things, and more, in the past, but writing is something i also enjoy.

sometimes writing is dragging myself to the keyboard. it is not always a flurry of words as an idea seizes me. it is, "i am publishing the next chapter of ashes because it is monday and that is what i do on mondays." but.

it is monday, and that is what i do on mondays.

i hate not posting every day. i hate it. i am Untethered. i spent ca. three weeks over the summer completely disconnected from time, but. i post ashes today, it is monday, i move on, i go through the days and they are not the same.

i hate not posting every day. i know that i would be doing better if i could just break through and start again, but figuring out how is hard. some things i know (ibtwicm is stressful because another person is involved, and that means that i cannot work with betas, even though the one i have is absolutely wonderful and i adore her), but other things are just that nebulous idea of not enough time to start.

i don't always have the energy to write. some days are bad. some days my head hurts. i don't have the expectation that i will never miss a day of posting. i've taken plenty of time off. but i like the rhythm.

anyway. let me try to turn that incoherent ramble about me into something...actionable?

part two: what i tangibly do

i have a schedule. that is not requisite, but it saves me from making decisions. i have a schedule and i have fics and one-shots and they all slot into that schedule by arc. i could have done it by anything, but arc was convenient.

anyway.

i figure out what i'm posting when i wake up in the morning, and i try to skim over what i've already got before starting my day. i flick back and forth between writing and whatever i am doing throughout the day.

(which is why, as i transition back into my normal pace, the thing i have been doing to fill the gap will diminish. less au chatter snippets etc, because that is what i have been doing instead of writing.)

by the evening, i'm usually close to done with the draft. i spend a solid chunk of time patching it up, then i do a round of edits, finish my other work, do line edits, and post.

if i have time after that, i start looking at tomorrow's post.

that's it. sometimes i don't want to work on something. too bad. it's on the schedule. or even, "too bad, we're posting something today." unless i am having a bad (read: low spoon) day, i do not waver in that expectation for myself.

in fact, i think the only way ibtwicm will get done is if the final chapter two chapters go up un-beta'd, because the deviation from routine makes me impossibly frustrated with them. we shall see.

anyway. i have spent years building the discipline to be able to do that. if you rely on motivation, do not think you can just flip over and magically learn how to turn an empty page into words because you told yourself that is what you are doing right now. so.

part three: how to build discipline

i said i won't be covering this, and i'm not Really. i'm going to tell you how to get started, and i am going to be the Bad Guy. i am not capable of doing this kindly. there are other, better, resources i encourage you to seek out.

so. you can't start by just. throwing yourself into it. it won't work, it'll be frustrating, etc.

you want to figure out what a reasonable word count/day is for you. i shoot for 3k words/day, but i figure as long as i'm above 1k, i'm happy.

[aside: if you are going to be writing a lot in a day, please take care of your body. have good posture. know how to hold yourself. etc. i credit years of playing piano as giving me strong wrists and nice, curved fingers, and exercises to build and strengthen the same muscles as you use for typing, but just keep this in mind.]

anyway, there's no right number. 100 words is enough. it should be -- what works for me is a number that's just slightly higher than what i can do comfortably, because it means i have to be focused, which keeps me on track. i think this is important. it is not the only way.

and then you just meet that goal. if you're new to this, writing 100 words every day might be hard. you don't have to limit yourself to 100, just hit 100 every. single. day.

eventually that will feel easy.

"i don't feel like writing," you will think, "but i've figured out how to get around that."

then you either feel happy with what you're doing or push your word count up.

me? i don't measure how many words i write, because i've already done all of that. for all i bemoan research and being stuck, i'm generally exceptionally effective. i don't think that's bragging; i think the number of asks i have answered with scenes i whipped out of nowhere demonstrate that.

i have spent years getting to the point where i can open up a blank page, on a day when i feel like crap (emotionally), when i have no ideas and no motivation and every word i put on paper feels robotic and stiff and terrible, and still finish what i started. it's hard work. it might not be worth the effort. but. that's what i do.

#ask #anon #mine #personal #reblogs okay #writing #you know i don't think what i do is the only way or even the best way #what i do is the #what i need to do to be a functional human being #way #and that might not work for you but #i think at the least my thoughts on discipline and routine should be more universally applicable

7 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies��clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

#yandere bnha #yandere mirio #yandere tamaki #yandere mirio togata #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #yandere lemillion #yandere suneater

529 notes · View notes

allegra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

The real Self-Insert💚

A.K.A HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANA

This is just a little cracky something for my adored @chaoticpete for her birthday. I LOVE YOU FOREVER MY STUNNING CHAOS TWIN💖

If it weren't for the fact that they saw with their own eyes the exact moment the golden sparkly portal opened up above their heads, Dana's unusually fast reflexes the only thing saving Allie from a certain death (or at leat a very painful concussion), as a very big, very much corporeal Loki fell through it, they wouldn't have believed it.

Like, Marvel Loki. Tom Hiddleston-looking Loki, six-foot-two tall Loki, all leather and metal full asgardian armor on, cracking the pavement under him as he hit the ground.

As it was, they still had trouble believing it, looking up to where the portal had disappeared -again, before their very eyes to the unresponsive. Man? Comic character? Being? God? Laying on the floor.

"Allie, do you see him too?"

"..."

"Allie, tell me I'm not imagining this" Dana reached blindly for Allie's hand beside her, eyes never leaving Loki's figure, unblinking. Finally, she felt her friend's grip on her wrist. They both deemed it close enough to a hand hold.

"It's real"

She was kind of expecting that answer but somehow it didn't make it any easier to process.

It didn't really help that Loki still wasn't moving.

"Is he... Is he dead?"

"I don't know"

"... Poke him"

"What??"

"Poke him with a stick"

"Dude I'm not GOING TO POKE THE GOD OF MISCHIEF WITH A STICK-" Their increasingly louder chatter was interrupted by a gasp as Loki's eyes sudenly opened.

"Allie"

"I know"

"ALLIE HE LOOKED INTO ME"

"I SAW"

"Would the two of you SHUT UP?" There was a second, terrorized gasp, as the asgardian finally arose, dusting his clothes, clearly exasperated, "Even your whispers are loud! can't believe it! First the stupid green monster thats not so stupid anymore, then that would be sorcerer with his portals and now this! This is the most infuriating. exhausting, worst day EVER!"

Dana and Allie exchanged a look and a slight nod before Dana reached into her backpack, producing a magenta and blue can.

"Would you like some Rockstar?"

Loki did a double take,

"Some what?"

"It's an energy drink"

"It's the energy drink-"

"Three hundred milligrams of pure caffeine"

"And sugar, don't forget the sugar

"Yes, the sugar is very important"

"Basically the midgardian version of asgardian mead, only the other way around"

"Yeah, instead of making you drunk it makes you hyper allert"

"And energized"

Loki spent the whole explanation looking from one to the other, there was something eery in the way they talked, and moved, expanding on the other's explanation in complete synchrony. It wasn't unheard of among mortals, he knew. But it usually was limited to twins and these girls couldn't look more different

Except for the fact they were both tiny. And strangely endearing. He had never been one to be swayed by midgardian beauty, but he had to admit there was something charming in their sparkly eyes and impish little faces.

"So you say this... Drink of yours, it can help me recover?" He inquired cautiously. The two girls nodded eagerly, still offering the can to him. He took it, sniffed it, shrugged to himself, and took a sip.

It was foul. Overly sweet and fragant, reminding him of the medicine the healers used to give him back home at the palace, when he was an infant.

But for some reason he could not stop drinking it. He didn't, in fact, downing the whole thing in one go.

"This is... Strangely invigorating" He concluded, handing the empty can back to the impressed girls still gawking at him. And then doing something that sent their jaws to the floor, "Thank you, you are both very kind and agreeable... For a couple of mortals, of course"

The two girls beamed at him, and he couldnt help but smile a little in return. He didn't miss the way their heartbeats lost their rythm, only to return faster and louder than ever at his smile. He smirked to himself, yeah, he still had it.

"Well, I should be off then-" He tried turning around to open a portal of his own but was immediately stopped by twin over-excited voices speaking over each other.

"Wait! Can I get a selfie?"

"Wait! Can I get a knife??"

"Dude!"

He didn't know which request surprised him and pleased him the most.

Well, that's a lie, he knew exactly which one it was. Yes, he had a big ego, so what?

"Why, yes, of course" He grinned, obviously flattered. Having seen his brother do it plenty of times, he leaned down a little, as the girls placed themselves on either side of him, cellphones up high to be able to fit all three of them into frame. He felt them jump a little as he placed his arms around both their waists, smiling even wider. Once that was done he snapped his fingers, a blue portal appearing behind him, showing the face of an impassive Natasha and a confused Thor, as Loki bent down, delicately taking the girls hands into his huge ones, kissing their knuckles in turns.

"I bid you farewell, my fair ladies. You have been most helpful and pleasant. I will not forget your kindness..."

The girls giggled, flushed and giddy as the portal closed behind the god of mischief, and he disappeared once again, the crack in the pavement and the tingle on their hands the only testament of his presence there.

"Oh my god. Did that-... Thay actually happened, right?"

"I have no idea, but if we are hallucinating, I promise I will never, ever, complain about our last braincell again"

"Same... To bad we didn't get knives tho"

"Dee!"

"What? You so wanted his dagger too, don't try to lie to me"

Allie snorted,

"Dude, do you have to make it sound so dirty?... You're not wrong tho"

"You know I have to. And I know I'm not"

"Dee..."

"Yeah?"

"We met Loki"

"I know! I mean I still can't believe it tho. Did we? I mean we did, right? We have a selfie to prove it..." There was a beat before Dana started complaining about Allie's backpack, "What do you even carry im here? I swear this thing gets heavier by the minute"

She took it off and peered into it.

"ALLIE COME HERE YOU ARE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS"

The end.

@chaoticpete Baby D, my gorgeous, crazy, tallented, amazing, showstoppin soul sister, words cannot express how much I love ypu and how much your friendship means to me. I made you cry this morning but I hope this can make you laugh💖 You make my days brighter, twin from another mother. I love you, so so much. Hope you like this💖💖

#loki #self insert #crack #birthday present for the birthday girl #I love you baby D #dana my chaos twin💖

18 notes · View notes

iplaymatchmaker · 4 years ago

Note

hello and good day! i would like a matchup for a3! and ikerev, please! she/her pronouns. you can call me juice, though! hm i think a good description of me personality wise would be im usually cheerful, friendly, childish but i tend to hide a lot of my negative feelings and overthink quite a lot. towards others i'm always curious about the littlest details of someone's hobbies or interest and sometimes i talk more than i listen. love literature and things like fashion or games (1)

Hello, thanks for requesting juice! Sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy it! I was pretty excited to write a match up for a3! since it’s been living rent free in my head for the last few weeks. I got a little carried away with the last prompt cause it was so fun to write, but I hope you like it! Also, the ikerev one might take some time but I’ll try to not take too long. Have fun!

I match you with

Tsuzuru!

The two of you first meet after you watch one of their plays, “A Clockwork Heart.” When you realize that the lead and writer is a classmate of yours from college you can’t help but approach him a few days later to discuss the play further.

He seems self conscious at first but quickly opens up as the two of you discuss his script and before you know it one conversation has turned into an in-depth discussion over lunch.

After that first encounter, both of you start talking more often, quickly growing closer. Tsuzuru appreciates your cheerful attitude, making it easy for him to be comfortable around you.

Considering your love for literature, you often help him brainstorm for new ideas, always looking forward to seeing how he brings it to life on stage.

It is easy for you to fit in with the rest of the boys from Mankai, despite their constant prying on your relationship with Tsuzuru. After all the time the two of you spend together, it is no surprise when none of the boys (except Azami) bat an eyelash when you make it official, after a lot of back and forth between friendship and romance.

Prompt: Bonding

“The reason S was created in the first place was because Luke needed a companion. It’s tragic that he was the one who left him in the end.”

“Well, yes, but he also taught him to open up to people, insuring that he wouldn’t be alone when he was gone.”

You and Tsuzuru had been discussing the end of his latest play “A Clockwork Heart” for a while, arguing over whether or not the ending was tragic. When you approached him to offer your praise for his work earlier that day you hadn’t been expecting him to engage in your opinions on a play he wrote, but he was actually deeply invested in the conversation, despite the matter at hand being trivial to the actual substance of the story.

“He couldn’t have known though. He also put his own wishes aside to protect him. That alone makes the ending tragic.” You vividly remembered the tears you had shed when the show reached its climax, a result of both his script and his acting.

“It depends on your idea of what the ending was. S was a machine, so as long as Luke was alive they could meet again, when it was safe for the both of them. That makes the ending-“

Ring Ring

You almost chucked at the generic sound his phone made as it vibrated.

“Give me a sec.” he moved away from the bench before answering. It wasn’t long before he returned, a flush expression on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had kept you for so long. I actually need to get going.” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling shyly. It was only then that you noticed what time it was.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you for that long!” Now you were both flushed, the realization dawning on you that you had spent two hours talking.

“I-it’s fine. Um, we can continue this tomorrow, if you’d like?” you were surprised he actually wanted to talk again, a smile spreading over your face.

“Definitely. “

“Okay. See you then!” he waved as he ran off while simultaneously trying to dial someone, resulting in him almost falling on his face. You looked forward to tomorrow.

After that first encounter, you continued to meet during lunch to talk about other works, quickly realizing you had a similar taste in books and movies. It was an easy transition, going from acquaintances to friends.

“How’s the summer troupe’s play coming along?” It was easy to tell that he had been losing sleep again from the – almost – comical black circle under his eyes, but you asked anyway, hoping that you could offer some help.

“I know what I want to write, the words are just refusing to form and settle themselves on the page.” The frustration was evident on his face as he tried to put the pieces flying around his head in order. You tried to think of a way to help him but you knew that he needed to figure this out on his own.

“Come on.” You forcefully pulled him out of his chair, carefully shutting his laptop.

“W-wait. Where are we going?” you pushed him along, despite his protesting.

“Trust me.” You flashed him your biggest smile before setting of, only mildly aware that your hand was still around his wrist.

“The movies?” he seemed confused over what your objective was but you were confident it would help him out of his slump.

“Yes. Come on, I’ll even get us popcorn!” you were beaming as you led him inside.

“What are we watching?” Tsuzuru, finally resigned to his fate, flipped through the leaflet, looking at the moves currently playing.

“Your choice, I’m fine with whatever.” You hurried to the bar to pick up snacks, leaving him at the ticket booth.

“Look at those effects.”

“The acting is top notch.”

Tsuzuru had been so immersed in the movie he seemed to have forgotten all about his tiredness. When you exited the theatre you could practically see the gears turning in his head.”

“It’s a very different take on pirates than the summer troupe’s play, but if I exaggerate the characters even more then there would be great opportunity for comedy.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you observed him, completely lost in his own mind.

“So I take it the creative juices are flowing again?” he looked back at you, as if seeing you clearly for the first time in days.

“Yes! Thank you!” He put his arms around you, too far lost in his excitement to feel any awkwardness.

“I-I have to go write! I’ll see you tomorrow.” He continued shouting thank you over his shoulder as he run off with newfound energy. You expected you wouldn’t see him the next day, considering he’d probably be passed out by then, but you smiled anyway.

“See you later!”

Prompt : Cinderella:

“So, you’re thinking of doing Cinderella for the next play?” You and Tsuzuru were hanging out in his room, taking full advantage of Masumi’s absence that weekend.

“Yeah… I’m not sure how to go about it though. Everyone in the Spring Troupe agreed that I should be lead this time around but I just don’t see myself in the shoes of a prince… Itaru would probably be a better fit for the role.” You couldn’t help throwing a pillow his way.

“Hey! What was that for?” You sat up a little straighter, tempted to glare at him until he picked up on your annoyance.

“I can definitely picture you in the role of the prince.” You cleared your throat before switching to your best narrator voice.

A long, long time ago there lived a boy and a girl. They were the best of friends when they were children. The boy would often sneak out to meet with her and they would play for hours. But their happiness would not last long.

You see, the girl grew up to be the maid of one of the less-fortunate royal families in the kingdom. She had been forced into that position by her father’s latest wedding. It would also turn out to be his last, for he died a few years later, leaving her in the care of a wicked stepmother.

One the other hand, the boy grew up to be the most charming prince in the land. The women fawned over him and he always had everything his heart could desire.”

“I’m literally none of those things.”

“Fine then.”

The prince was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of himself and never asked for help. He constantly worried his friends over his health but they loved him anyway.

“That’s not any better…”

“Shh, let me continue the story.”

Their difference in class ripped the two friends apart, putting an end to their relationship. While they weren’t allowed to meet again, they promised to never forget about each other. To keep that promise, the made matching bracelets and agreed to never take them off until they could meet again.

“Friendship bracelets? Who does that?”

“They were kids! Would you have preferred rings?”

“Wouldn’t those basically be promise rings?”

“I’m coming up with this on the spot, give me a break!”

That bracelet was what gave the girl the strength to continue living, despite her struggles.

When news of a ball arrived at the estate, her step-sisters were quick to start preparations, eager to have a chance at the prince’s hand in marriage. The girl was simply happy at the prospect of seeing her friend again.

When her family found out she was planning to attend the ball, they locked her in the cellar, not willing to risk any competition. The girl wept and wept, until suddenly a kind seeming lady appeared in front of her.

“Isn’t this just the movie?”

“Give it a second!”

The lady promised she would help her get to the ball if that was what she wished. Despite her suspicions, the girl earnestly declared that all she wanted was to see her friend again. And so the kind woman flicked her wrist and the rags the girl had been wearing were replace by a rich ball gown, paired with a glass slippers. The girl thanked her again and again before heading off in search of her lost friend.

“She doesn’t warn her about the time limit?”

“There’s no curfew here, it’s a stupid conflict anyway.”

You couldn’t contain the excitement and adrenaline that flowed through you as you went up the steps of the grand palace. You hadn’t been here since you were a child, when the king’s father still allowed you to visit, and childhood memories flooded your mind. It was difficult to keep your nerves at a reasonable level as you approached the guards at the front gate. By the time you had arrived at the palace, most of the guests were already inside, so you were completely alone when you handed the invitation, hoping the witch had done her work well.

“Enjoy your evening.” They smiled before urging you to step inside. A sense of awe filled you as you walked through the somewhat familiar halls, remembering all the places you and Tsuzuru would hide from the servants, before his title meant anything to you.

You weren’t sure you remembered the way to the main hall, so you followed the noise, hoping you could make your way there.

When you finally stood outside what seemed to be the entrance, you took a few deep breaths before walking forward, determined to see your friend again. When you stepped though the door you quickly realized that the door wasn’t the room’s main entrance, but the top of the grand staircase. Dread filled you as everyone’s eyes fell on you. If it wasn’t for the railing you thought you have fainted right then and there. You breathed in, allowing you hand to wrap around the bracelet the two of you had made so long ago, letting the warm feelings it carried spread through you.

You bowed once before making your way down the stairs, hoping you wouldn’t trip on your dress and make a fool of yourself before the night even started.

The moment you were off the last step, your eyes fell on your step-mother, eyeing you with absolute envy and disgust. You hoped the mask would be enough to conceal your identity.

You walked around the room for a bit, keeping to the less populated areas, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tsuzuru, disappointed to find that he was nowhere to be found.

“Please let this not be for nothing…”

You were about to make your way to the balcony, but a swarm of guests was suddenly in your path, dancing to the waltz the band had just started playing. You frantically looked around, searching for a way out when two arms wrapped around you, pulling you along with the rest of the dancers.

“I guess you’re my partner?” the face of the man that stood before you made your jaw drop. You had thought of so many things to say, but now that Tsuzuru was standing before you, the words seemed to catch in your throat.

“So, uh, are you having fun?” he was as awkward as you remembered. Something about the familiarity filled you with a sense of calm. I found him.

“I am now.” It was hard to contain the smile quickly spreading around your face.

“Actually I was-“that was when it was time to switch partners. When you felt his hand slip from yours, panic flooded through you. No… I didn’t have the chance to tell him.

As he pulled his hand away, his fingers brushed the bracelet on your wrist, eyes widening as he was whisked away by another partygoer, realization evident in his features. You tried to get closer, but were quickly taken away by another guest. Your eyes landed on Tsuzuru a few times but the hall was too crowded. It was almost suffocating. You took the first chance to slip out on the balcony, eager to get away from the crowds.

You stood at the railing, letting the air cool down your heated face. He had seen you, but you weren’t sure he would care enough to search. Negative thoughts occupied your mind as you gazed at the land beyond. Maybe this was foolish… He probably barely remembers me… He’s a prince after all. He was more important matter to attend to than a peasant he used to spend his free time with. You felt tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your own loneliness catching up with you.

“Please don’t cry!” You were shocked to find Tsuzuru standing a few feet away from you, his face flushed and his knees bent. He must’ve been running.

“You’re the girl from back then, aren’t you?” he glanced down at your wrist, pulling up his own sleeve to reveal a bracelet identical to yours.

“Y-you kept it.” Your voice cracked, barely audible in the midst of the ongoing celebrations.

“Of course I did! It meant a lot to me.” The words seemed to call to something inside you and so you let the tears fall.

“W-what did I do? Please don’t cry!” he took a step closer, still unsure of what boundaries existed between you.

“I-I can’t help it. I’m just so happy!” you wrapped your arms around him, not caring who saw you. All that mattered in that moment was that the two of you were reunited at last.

“I missed you.” You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was crying too, by the way his heart beat against your, the way his hands shook, still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Year’s worth of loneliness and regret spilled out of the both of you in a single moment.

You stayed like that for quite some time, allowing the relief to wash over you. When you looked at each other again, you couldn’t help but laugh at your state. You knew the scene must look ridiculous to any outside spectators, but none of them mattered. It felt like you were alone in the world, no barriers between you. Your class didn’t matter. You were just a boy and a girl who had been reunited.

“ The king was skeptical at first, knowing a commoner queen wouldn’t create any new alliances, but he could see the love his son had for the girl. And so they married. It’s said that the pair practically run down the stairs of the palace after their wedding, eager to get to their honeymoon, their laughter echoing through the streets.”

“That’s an ending befitting a prince Muku reads about in manga… I still don’t see where I fit into this… ”

“Fine. As they descended the staircase, the prince fell on his ass, causing even more laughter from the girl. A moment she would never let him forget.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the earnest look on Tsuzuru’s face. He may be clumsy, but he has always been kind.

“It will need a lot modifications, especially considering the fact that none of us can exactly pull off female roles, but it could work.” At some point through the story Tsuzuru seemed to have pulled out a notebook, in which he was now scribbling away.

“Are you seriously taking notes?” he was still focused on the story, not letting the inspiration go to waste.

“Of course I am. You’re brilliant!” he pulled you in for a kiss, taking you completely by surprise.

“You’re the best.” He turned back to his note taking, leaving you with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

“You too.”

And they lived happily ever after.

#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! tsuzuru #tsuzuru minagi #a3! matchups

6 notes · View notes

haro-whumps · 5 years ago

Text

Box Boy Plurality: 40 Minutes (Explicit)

CW: explicit dubcon, slavery, caning, dehumanization, degradation, brainwashing, creepy + intimate whumper

Tag list: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook @whumps-the-word @frnkieroismydaddy @whumpity--whump--whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @jo-castle @newandfiguringitout @lumpofwhump @infested-with-blood

Masterlist

They had 40 minutes, a little less, before dinner would be ready and they would need to put away their toys to go enjoy what Soren made for them. But 40 minutes was plenty of time, and 02 was in dire need of some shaping up.

“Look at you,” Ren intoned, noting the little ways 02 listed into their palm before holding himself still again. He was good at hiding it. How much he wanted to be touched. He was good, but they were better. “You just need someone to take you in hand, don’t you?”

“Processors tried,” 02 grit out, fingers trembling where they dug into his own thighs. “Turns out I’m a handful.”

“You really do think you’re so terribly cute, don’t you?” Ren asked disdainfully, taking their hand away. They pulled the retractable cane out of their skirt pocket and hit the button that sent it springing out, the snap making Soren jump and 02 tense, eyes wide.

“I believe you’re familiar with this particular tool? You’ll have to forgive my coworker; he clearly did not know how to use it properly.” 02’s jaw worked and he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. They were careful only to watch him in their peripheral, keeping their eyes on the cool, black painted metal in their hands.

“He used it plenty.”

“Mike is… charming, for a certain value of charming, but I do believe he couldn’t have effectively used this if his life had depended on it.” They stroked their hand down the cane, barely catching any friction against the pads of their fingertips, a caress, almost. Goosebumps rose along their skin, a pleasant sort, while their shoulders tingled with excited anticipation. They turned their head, just a hair, and laid their eyes on 02 with a pleasant sort of smile, their body still turned in around the cane. “Don’t worry,” they purred, “I’ll use it properly. This will hurt, but this is a necessary first step to fix you, 02.”

“I don’t need fixed!” 02 asserted, almost shouting.

They were out of practice (they should really go to the gym more, ugh), so it was a 50-50 shot they were toying with. But at 02’s defiance they snapped their wrist and brought the cane to a halt just a breath beneath the tip of his jaw, air currents catching, 02’s whole body jerking with fear. But he stayed on his knees. What a delicious dichotomy.

Success made Ren’s lips curl, having avoided knocking 02 in the jaw unintentionally, and they took an easy, pleasant tone when they said, “If that were true,” they stroked the tip of the cane along his jaw, watching the muscles twitch, “you wouldn’t have said so.”

Ren witnessed a struggle, 02’s body shifting only once, but his nostrils flaring, his eyes darting between the cane and Ren’s face, the gears of his little maggot brain positively whirring. In the end, what won out was 02’s desire to jerk his jaw away from the cane and spit, “Fuck you.”

They caned him on the arm, just below the shoulder, and were gratified with his cry of pain.

“This will hurt you,” they repeated, voice measured and calm, circling around him with slow ease, “but it will fix you.”

“I don’t need--” 02 yelled, cut off with a high cry of pain when they brought the cane down on his back.

“Hush, 02,” Ren murmured, as though to comfort. “I only want a plaything; this doesn’t have to hurt. As soon as you learn how to mind that nasty tongue of yours,” they brought the cane down again, satisfaction shivering through them, making their chest squeeze and their eyes momentarily close, “this will all be so much better.”

Not that Ren wasn’t having fun, at present, but it was important to give little fleas like 02 a goal to work towards.

“No,” 02 gasped quietly, with a mirthless chuckle, “No it won’t.”

“Do not disagree with me,” Ren ordered plainly, bringing the cane down again. 02 cried out in pain, and midway through it evolved into a scream of rage.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you assholes--AAH!” Ren brought the cane down twice, one for each slight.

“02,” Ren said with a little huff. “I am not Mike; refrain from treating me like him. Each time I punish you can and will be linked to a misdeed, and each misdeed you do will be met with punishment. I’m reliable, and you’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Oh, gee, thanks Exalted!” 02 gasped, his forehead pressed to the floor, now, thin frame heaving with his rapid breaths, sweat giving his skin a pleasant sheen and aggravated red bright on his back. “Thank you so fucking much for letting me rely on the fact you’ll beat my ass whenever I don’t do ‘good enough!’”

“You’re welcome,” Ren said cheerily, whacking him with the cane again. Their arms were going to get tired, if they had to keep this up all week. “That was for the sarcasm.”

“Fuck you!” 02 sobbed, crying now. They struck him again. The cane was heavy, metal, and, well, a cane. It wasn’t meant to be an endurance tool; carelessness could easily fuck up a person’s ribcage or, if striking somewhere vulnerable like a fucking chump, a person’s organs or spinal column. The bruises they’d already left would be heavy, dark, painful with each movement of his core or arms, and uncomfortable to stand or walk with. They were surprised he’d lasted this long. Precious, sweet, delicate Soren wouldn’t have made it past the first blow before he would be begging for mercy--not that Ren would ever hurt Soren like this, of course not! But it was fun to know that they had a more durable plaything, now, something stupid and spiteful that would grant them every excuse to be as mean as they could possibly want.

“If you vomit from pain, you’ll be the one to clean it up,” Ren commented, nudging the side of 02’s face with the cane’s tip and admiring the flushed, wet mess they found.

“I’d rather v-vomit than,” 02 gasped and swallowed, choking down his sobs, “l-lick your fucking boots,” 02 rasped, and Ren rolled their eyes. They stomped on the back of his head, slamming his face into the concrete, and raised the cane high, high above their head. He cried out, in fear, in pain, in the exhaustion that came with both, his dumb mouth pushing his body to its limit, and, for the first time since his arrival at Ren’s doorstep, tried to physically struggle away. But he was too weak for that, now. He was injured and feeble and Ren felt on top of the fucking world, delighted grin on their face.

“Exalted!” Soren cried, colliding into them, pressing his lithe little body up against theirs and gripping at the front of their blouse. They blinked, shocked, and momentarily forgot all about 02 beneath their foot. “Exalted, p-please, he’s just, just having a hard time, adjusting, please, you’ve taught him good, Exalted, it’s just that he’s--a, a s-stupid m-m-mutt. Y-You have better, um, better things, you could do, than, um, w-waste your time on, on a w-worm.” Soren begged with his wide, pretty eyes, full of fear, his brain just barely moving fast enough to keep up with his mouth, and Ren barked a laugh at hearing him talk like that. He was… terribly transparent.

“Oh, my little angel?” they asked, letting the cane dangle loosely by their side and caressing his face with their free hand. “And what ‘better things’ could I be doing?”

Soren took one, then two quick, rushed breaths, and then lifted up onto his tiptoes to kiss Ren. They hugged him one-armed around his waist, holding his body in place as he pressed into them so sweetly. Cute and submissive and acting just like he did when he wanted it. When he pulled away, he smiled at them, and he was such a bad liar, every ounce of it looked forced. But Ren didn’t mind. Ren kind of liked it.

He tugged at them, by the sleeve of their blouse, by the waistline of their skirt, and coaxed them over to the thick, heavy metal pipe that ran from the floor to ceiling of their laundry room. They let themself be gently pushed up against it, fully aware of what Soren was doing. But they let it happen. If Soren wanted to sink down so neat and gracefully onto his knees and tug down their skirt and underwear, why should they stop him? If he wanted to spare 02 the punishment he rightfully deserved, well, they’d have plenty of opportunities to punish him later. Why not let Soren take Ren’s cock into his mouth? Why not lean back against the pipe with a pleased hum and a hand idly caressing Soren’s cheek?

They deserved this, honestly. To get a nice little go-around with a bad mouthed brat, followed up with Soren sucking them off. It was a decadence. They were drooling. They were brimming with electric energy from the caning, and it was all too easy for that to shift south with beautiful, lovely Soren at their feet, slender fingers cupping their balls and anchoring himself on their thigh.

“Exalted?” Soren asked, slipping off of their cock and staring up at them with his big brown eyes. “Will you grip my hair?” he asked, his hand covering the one they had on his cheek, as though to keep it from moving. He was very, very obviously trying to coax them into putting away the cane, probably made nervous by its continued presence--or wanting to spare 02 the nerves. But, well, why not let him coax them? They were in an indulgent mood.

And Soren was good with his mouth. They retracted the cane and let it drop on top of their skirt on the floor, gripping him by the hair and forcing him down their cock. He knew how to hollow out his cheeks, how to run his tongue up along the underside of their dick, the pressure and strength that felt best when he fondled their balls. He was so, so good at sucking dick, and another pleased, satisfied part of Ren reared its head. He’d been decent, when they’d first started fucking him, but his skill had grown exponentially since his purchase. They were responsible for this skill. They had been the one to make him like this, mold him into this, teach him and shape him to their will.

“Pretty bird,” Ren praised, head leaned back against the pipe, and when they slit their eyes open, they smiled. 02 was watching. Horrified. Disgusted. Guilty. Rapt. He couldn’t look away, they were sure.

“Such a good mouth, Soren,” Ren praised, the words directed at 02. He looked up at their face, and flinched, still lying on the floor in agony and weakness. Unable to spare himself the pain, unable to stop Soren from rescuing him from his own idiocy.

They dragged it out. Each time they would get close to their orgasm they would pull Soren off, make him mouth along the side of their cock, reminding him to breathe. They would, if the surge hit them too fast, too close, sometimes press Soren’t face into their hip, holding him there, crooning at him about how good he was doing, how wonderful it felt. They praised him loudly, frequently, a reminder to both pets that good behavior was rewarded. Sure, Soren had interrupted them, presumed he might manipulate them, but his knees would pay the price for that; they weren’t worried.

And 02 got to watch and hear all of it, in useless pain, and Ren finally let themself come, to that thought specifically, to the knowledge that they ever so thoroughly owned both of these boys. And the fact that there was nothing either of them could do about it.

“Oh, perfect timing angel,” Ren praised, stroking his jaw as his throat worked, listening to the alerting beep from the kitchen. They turned their eyes fully on 02 and grinned. “Time’s up!” they announced cheerfully, making his eyes blow wide again, and a keen rose off him.

“Oh don’t be such a little bitch, mutt,” Ren scolded lightly as they raised their skirt back around their waste, sliding the cane into their pocket as Soren wiped at his mouth. “It’s just dinner. Get up.”

79 notes · View notes

scatterpatter · 4 years ago

Text

An Alicorn(get it? get it???) fic because im self indulgent

I just wanted to write about Corren and @jazznet‘s Alistair(GET IT? ALISTAIR AND CORREN- ALI COR-N? pls laugh im beg) bonding and stuff, so like... I did. I lov them a lot so have nearly 4k words of them snarking at each other

Word Count: 3,853

Content warnings: swearing, off-screen character with unnamed severe illness, implied toxic familial situation, mentions of death

“Ah, well, can’t say this is the deadliest situation I’ve been in!”

“Speak for yourself, dipshit!” Corren yelled, tugging Alistair’s wrist harder as they weaved through the trees of the forest, nearly tripping over thick tree roots and dense shrubbery “Is it still tailing us?!”

Alistair glanced behind them for only a moment, and lo and behold, there was a massive dragon flying just above the treetops, eyes fixed on the two F.U.C.K.s “… You got any teleporting spells left?”

“You think I wouldn’t have cast one if I did?!” The Marelienth yelled, panic spiked way too much to bother acting nice. If he had any 4th-level spell slots left, he could easily teleport the both of them a good 800 feet away from the situation, but of course he wasted them all earlier in the fight.

“Well, at least we know everyone else is safe!” Alistair chirped, sarcasm in his tone to combat the adrenaline as they both ran for their lives.

“Yeah, good for them, let’s maybe not get killed ourselves before we celebrate!” He tugged on the human’s wrist to get them going once more. Maybe if he could get under enough tree cover, they could get out of sight and the dragon won’t notice them… Corren cast a brief look over his shoulder-

Oh.

Oh no.

The dragon was still right behind them, only rather than just chasing them down, they began to suck in the energy around them, a bright fireball forming in its mouth as it prepared a breath attack.

Oh, fuck.

His gaze quickly fell to Alistair, sizing up his wounds. Normally their leader had enough health to survive some of the heavier hits, but he was already looking roughed up from before. Oh no… he might not instantly get killed if hit, but he’ll definitely get knocked out, and leaving him half-dead with a dragon probably won’t end well.

Corren, though, knew he himself was going to die instantly if hit. And death doesn’t sound very good right now. He’ll take a hard pass. But without the ability to teleport…

Wait. He didn’t waste all of his lower-level magic yet. Maybe he could…

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick wave of his hand, he summoned a rope that seemed to come down from a blank space in the sky, almost as if leading up into nothing, and ending about 10 feet above them. He gave it a quick test tug before handing it to Alistair. “Climb.”

“What is-”

“NO TIME, JUST CLIMB.” He barked, nearly shoving the human to climb the rope, satisfied once he did so and quickly following suit, the heat of flames brushing by his ankles as they both disappeared from the area.

… Corren allowed himself to breathe as he climbed up and fully into the small wooden structure he made, quickly shutting the small trap door he came in through. “That… was way too close for comfort.”

“Uh.” Alistair still seemed panicked, though Corren took ease knowing he was safe in this space. “What-?!”

“Chillax, it’s a spell I know.” He waved a dismissive hand, taking a seat against the nearest wall to rest. With the adrenaline finally passing, all he felt was exhaustion overtaking. “It’s called ‘rope trick’. We can camp out here for a while, and hopefully when we leave again, the dragon won’t be there anymore.”

“I… oh.” Alistair blinked, his own panic seeming to now die down in their temporary safety. Alistair was a pretty competent spellcaster, so Corren knew he wouldn’t have to explain too much detail for his leader to get the gist of what he was doing.

The human looked around, fully absorbing their surroundings now that he had the time to do so. They were in a small wooden room, the “trap door” being the only exit. Two windows lined the walls, looking out into an expanse of forest. Though, unlike the warm, deciduous forest they were fleeing in moments ago, this forest seemed to be made of pine and mountainous trees, air much cooler and less humid than where they were before. Small bookshelves and chairs made most of the furniture in the room, little drawings and maps tacked to the walls, it was almost like… “Are- Are we in a treehouse?”

“Mhm! … Well, technically no.” Corren pulled a book from one of the shelves, absentmindedly flipping through its pages as he explained “We’re in a demiplane right now. We can’t leave this room, except to exit back to where we came from, so don’t bother trying to climb out a window.” He snorted a bit, remembering the time he attempted to, only to be smacked in the face by the planar equivalent of a brick wall. “I can choose how this looks, though, so I wanted it to look like this.”

Alistair cocked an eyebrow, amusement flashing over his expression beneath the shock “… You do not strike me as the treehouse type.”

“I’m not! Well, not anymore, I guess.” He shrugged, trying to wave off the embarrassed blush he felt creeping on his face at opening up about his… I guess this would be his more vulnerable side. “I uh… I had one just like this when I was a kid. It’s... I don’t know.” He cast a look down to the book in his hands, smiling fondly as he caressed his fingers over the page “It’s kind of comforting, I guess.”

Alistair stood there a minute, seeming to almost study the situation… then walked over, sitting by the Marelienth’s side. “Well, guess we have some time to kill. Got anything good in there?” He grinned, motioning to the bookshelf nearest to them.

Corren laughed a bit- surprised that he caught himself laughing, actually- and set his own book aside “I wouldn’t pick from that shelf, actually. It’s more children’s books than anything than else.”

Alistair smirked “Weren’t you just reading one from that shelf?”

“I was flipping through it for the nostalgia, dipshit.” Corren glared… though they both knew that his annoyance was completely surface level. He quickly rolled his eyes, standing up stepping over to another shelf to browse through the books he stored there. “Hang on, I’ll find something.”

What would Alistair’s tastes be? … He’d probably be more like Julian than Mila, so he’ll browse Julian’s old books. He clicked his tongue, running a finger over each book’s spine, scanning their titles. Would Al be a fiction or a non-fiction type…? … Hm. He paused on one book, hesitant for a moment, but decided it might be an interesting read for the Weathervane.

Alistair blinked in surprise when the book was dropped on his lap, taking it in his hands and reading the title out of curiosity “’History of Spellcasting in Marelienth Society’?”

Corren shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought you might find it interesting, since you’re magical, but it’s also something you probably don’t already know.”

Alistair hummed in response, flipping through a few pages to get a sense of what he was reading. “… Could use more pictures.”

“Oh my gods.” Corren pinched the bridge of his nose “I should have let you pick from the children’s shelf.”

They both laughed as Corren sat by his side once more, unable to help the smug grin as he saw Alistair’s attention quickly shift back to the book, finding a section and quickly latching onto it. He watched the human’s eye scan the page with fervor, absorbing whatever he could in the limited time they had.

Corren couldn’t help the way his smile went from smug to something softer. The way Alistair acted, how he was so passionate about all he did and all he was interested in, the way he loved what he did so effortlessly… Despite any fears and anxieties that weighed him down, he always found a way to trudge forward. It was all-to-familiar to Corren, though it was something he hadn’t witnessed in years. It was… almost uncanny how much Alistair reminded him of…

“Julian!!!” Corren yelled, slamming the door to their treehouse open and giving an angry gasp at the Marelienth inside. “I knew you were in here still!”

The older Marelienth gave a small wave, but didn’t pry his eyes away from his book “Just give me five minutes, I’m almost done this chapter!”

“You said the same thing half an hour ago!!!”

“… I started a new chapter since then.”

Corren groaned loudly, fully climbing into the treehouse and crawling over to his older brother, flopping against his side dramatically “I’m boooooored!!!”

Julian just laughed, finally defeated by the child’s antics, and set his book aside, using just one arm to scoop Corren up as he got to his feet. Julian was still somewhat young, not fully grown into adulthood yet, but still stood a good 6 feet tall. Corren, on the other hand, was still a child, and was very small compared to his brother. “Alright, alright, you drama queen. I need to pick up supplies for tomorrow’s run anyways, so you can come along.”

Corren didn’t seem to mind being carried one-handedly, just swaying his legs happily “Yay~!”

The two brothers left their treehouse, walking past their home and onto the streets of their town of Warrencrest. The forest surrounding their town left a scent of pine in the air, accompanied by a hint of frost to signify the changing of the seasons. Corren was set down at this point, and settled for keeping up a quick pace to match Julian’s longer strides. He held onto his brother’s hand, though, which made sure he didn’t get left behind or lost by chasing some distraction.

With his brother leading them along, Corren let his eyes wander over their town as they walked through it. Warrencrest was a mostly Marelienth-occupied town, and it was pretty rare to see other races around their home. Everyone seemed to keep to themselves, always focused on studying time and magic and all sorts of other things that Corren ‘wasn’t mature enough to understand yet’. He felt like he was living in a bubble sometimes- it was like his siblings were the only ones who wanted to talk to him… about anything other than academics, at least. Though, that really only bothered him so much. I mean, he had 2 best friends, and he just happened to be related to them! It only sucked when they would go on short quests for some extra gold and Corren had to stay home and wait for them to come back.

Speaking of quests… “What’s the job you’re doing this time?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, let me check.” Julian used a free hand to reach into his pocket, pulling a sheet of paper out and unfolding it. It was a help wanted ad, easy to find on job boards outside of stores or taverns. He read over the terms, eyes scanning the details before he sighed and shoved the job offer back in his pockets “Just a delivery run. Apparently the passage to get to this other town is pretty rough on the terrain, and the Client’s getting up there in years, so he figured it’d be a safer bet to pay someone else to do it.”

Corren pouted, disappointed at the terms “Awww, no fighting a big scary monster or anything?”

Julian snorted, caught off-guard by the sheer absurd innocence of such a question “No, no scary monsters. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, little buddy, but questing isn’t always this grand adventure. Sometimes it’s boring, but at least you get paid… like a job!”

“Ew.” The younger Marelienth stuck his tongue out. Adventuring being boring like a job??? Gross. Though that could probably mean… Corren suddenly perked up “Oh! So if it’s not dangerous, can I come with you?”

“Uh, I don’t know…” Julian sighed, scratching his cheek “Like I said: it’s rough terrain. The last thing I’d want is for you to trip and fall down a cliff and become a Corren-Pancake.” Despite the lighthearted joking, he cringed a bit “Uh, yeah, Dad would definitely kill me if I brought you home as a skeleton instead of a Marelienth. Besides, I’ll need you to stay home and take care of our big sis while I’m gone!”

Corren frowned, tilting his head a little “She’s not going with you either?”

“Uh… no.” The lighthearted air he had around him before quickly dissipated, and he squeezed Corren’s hand a little bit “Mila’s still sick, so I don’t think she’ll be able to go questing for a while…”

How sick was she? Usually whenever Corren got sick, he’d be fine after just a couple of days, but Mila’s been stuck at home for nearly 2 weeks now! “… She’s gonna get better, right?”

Julian hesitated, only for a moment, but if Corren were older he would’ve known exactly what that hesitation meant. Instead, he was met with a reassuring smile and a pat to the head “Of course she’s gonna get better. This is our big sis we’re talking about, it takes more than just a little cold to knock a Hartwell down!”

Corren just giggled, content with the answer he got “Yeah, you’re right, but I’m gonna be the best protector until then! I know magics now!”

“That so?” Julian quickly let the lighthearted air roll back in, grateful for his brother’s naivety. “Well, show me something, then!”

Corren just grinned, letting go of his hand to run over to the side of the street, picking up a small rock and trotting back over to him. With a small wave of his hand, the rock suddenly became illuminated, giving off light like a torch.

“That’s ‘Light’, isn’t it?” Julian smiled, impressed by that small spell he was able to cast “Well look at you, learning neat Cantrips! Next thing you know, you’re gonna be the most powerful spellcaster in all of Sekrezia!”

“You know it!” Corren ate up the praise, dropping the rock and putting his hands on his hips in a prideful pose before going back to walking by Julian’s side “You know, I’m gonna be a great adventurer one day.”

“Is that so?” He suddenly grabbed Corren, hoisting him up and over his head in order to perch him on his shoulders and carry the smaller Marelienth that way “You’re going to be a hero and explore the world?”

“Yeah!!!” Corren grinned, not even blinking to the idea of riding on Julian’s shoulders. It made him feel tall! “I’m gonna team up with a bunch of other cool adventurers, and we’re going to save the world from all sorts of eeeevil monsters! And I’ll be super cool and know all sorts of neat spells!” He pushed his glasses back into place after they slipped down his nose a bit “I’ll go down in legends, and everyone’s going to think I’m super cool! ‘Corren Hartwell, the bestest adventurer of all time’!”

“’Bestest’?” Julian parroted, unable to keep in a small fit of laughter at just how pure that was “Alright, well when you’re rich and famous, can I get some of the gold you earn?”

He huffed, bapping his brother on the forehead “No way, stink-face, that’s my hard-earned gold, you can make your own!”

“Alright, alright, can’t blame your poor feeble brother for trying.” He joked, rolling his eyes fondly as they made it to their town’s main market square. “… You’ve got that spark, Corr. I feel like if you really worked at it, you could be a really cool mage. … Almost as cool as me.”

“Almost?!” He squeaked, pouting at the way his brother got such a laugh out of that.

Well, he hasn’t exactly saved the world or gone down in legends, but…

“Corren?” Alistair snapped his fingers in front of the Marelienth to catch his attention, snapping Corren out of his daze “Hey, you still with me?”

“Huh?” He blinked once or twice, pulling himself back to present day to focus his attention on the human “What’s up?”

“It looked like you were spacing out on me, you good?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m okay.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, not realizing just how long he was getting lost in old memories for. “Sorry, just reminiscing.”

Alistair nodded, going back to his book for a few moments… then cast a gaze back at Corren. “Why’d you leave?”

Corren went stiff, not expecting such a personal question out of the blue like that. “… What do you mean?”

He cast a look around the room again, noting all of the makeshift maps of nearby areas and crude drawings that lined the walls “It just… seems like you had a pretty good childhood. And this definitely isn’t anywhere near Lilenthemar. So why’d you leave?”

Ah. Corren knew he’d have this conversation sooner or later, but he still didn’t know how to talk about… everything that happened. How could you put what happened into words? He knows that if he’s to stay with the group, he’ll probably have to come clean about everything sooner or later, but… well, he’ll put off that conversation as long as he can. “… You’re right, I did have a pretty good childhood. Things were never perfect, but… I was happy.”

Corren ran a hand along the wood that made the walls. The actual treehouse he grew up in was long gone; wood rotted and the tree toppled, but in this demiplane, it was like his old hangout was preserved in time. … If anything, that only upset him more, knowing that everything around him was just a projection of what used to be, a childhood and innocence he could never get back. “… I’m sure you’d know this better than I ever would, but good things… have a tendency not to last.” He took a deep breath, swallowing his fears and letting himself open the fuck up for once. “After some things went wrong, I wasn’t happy here anymore… and after some more things went wrong, I didn’t even feel safe here. So, I left. I wasn’t even planning on staying in Lilenthemar, but I just so happened to meet Jethro and… well. You can’t exactly say no to a job offer from a man like him.”

Alistair snorted, fond memories of how they met Corren through their shared connection with Jericho’s father… and how they practically broke the poor Marelienth with their shenanigans. That fondness quickly faded, though, in favor of the sympathetic frown he cast to his teammate “… I’m sorry, about everything that happened. You didn’t deserve to feel unsafe in your own home.”

“Yeah…” Corren sighed, folding his arms and avoiding eye contact like the plague. He still wasn’t used to weird and intimate moments like this. “You’re right, I didn’t deserve that, but… hey, sometimes bad things just… happen. And I mean… I’m not really that sorry about it.”

“You’re not?”

The Marelienth shook his head “I mean, it sucked, don’t get me wrong about that, but. If I never ran away, I never would’ve met Jethro or Raerose. And if I never worked for Jethro, I never would’ve met- or eventually teamed up with- all of you, so…” He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his expression “I’d say it wasn’t all bad.”

Alistair just returned the smile, giving Corren a light punch on the arm “So you do love us and our antics~”

He rolled his eyes, grateful to have the tense and vulnerable moment passing for their usual snark “Oh live it up, weather boy. Just be grateful I keep sending your love messages to your boyfriend free of charge.”

“We love you too, Corren.”

He snorted, punching the human back “That’s it, I’ve had enough of your bullshit feelsy mush. That dragon’s probably gone by now, and we should regroup with the rest of the F.U.C.K.s.”

“Aw, can’t we wait just five more minutes?” Alistair pouted, motioning to the book he was given earlier “I’m almost done this chapter!”

Corren blinked incredulously, not believing his ears for a minute. He really just… “Holy shit. You are the same goddamn person.”

That caught Alistair off guard as he suddenly looked at Corren like he had two heads “… Who’s the same?”

“Uh-” He shook his head, embarrassed that he actually said that out loud “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” … Maybe a quick subject change would help, “Well, we could stay here a while longer… but the group might start thinking we’re dead. I mean, unless you want Lautrek to be appointed the new leader in your absence…”

Alistair quickly shut the book, panic setting on his expression “Uh, you know what? Maybe we should head back now. Don’t want to scare the others, haha!”

Corren just smirked. It was too easy sometimes. He opened the door back to the Material Plane, letting Alistair exit before Corren followed suit.

They landed right where they left, only the forest around them was charred completely, some branches and trunks still in flames from the fiery breath attack they barely avoided. The good news, though, was that the dragon was nowhere in sight, so they were safe for the time being.

“Wow.” Alistair remarked, scuffing his boot along the dead grass beneath them “We totally would’ve died if we got hit by that.”

“Oh yes.” Corren nodded in agreement, stretching his back lazily “I would’ve died in an instant, but you? Probably would’ve been a long, agonizing death. You would’ve wished you had low health like me. Like your blood would start to-”

“Ooookay kid, I know you’re a little bit Necromancer, but I need you to dial it down on going into detail over how I would burn to death.” Alistair patted Corren on the back, putting just enough force behind his hits for the Marelienth to get the not-so-passive aggressive message… But then a swift look of fear fell over his expression “Uh, Corren?”

“Yeah?”

“So that dragon was chasing us, so we knew our teammates would be safe?”

“Uh… yes?” He raised an eyebrow, unsure of where Alistair was going with this.

“And if we chose to hide so the dragon would eventually leave…”

Oh no. Corren was starting to get an idea where he was going with this.

“… What’s to say that Dragon didn’t go back to attacking everyone else after we disappeared?” Alistair slowly turned to share that look of horrified realization with the other.

… Oh, fuck.

“I don’t think we thought this through.” Alistair quickly readied his Halberd, looking back to where they came from.

“Thought this through?! I saved our lives!” Corren huffed, pulling out the sniper that was strapped to his back. “Guess we gotta save a few more, greeaat!”

Alistair smirked a little, pulling a health potion from his pocket and quickly chugging it down. “So, starting to regret crossing paths and joining us yet~?”

He scoffed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face “Aw, cute. Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily, Stormcrown.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hartwell.”

#my fics #corren #alistair #julian #listen its a fluff-fest. sue me.#just lET MY BOYS BE HAPPY

6 notes · View notes

saintshinsou · 5 years ago

Text

“LAST TIMES” (1/2)

anonymous: yo can I get a request of overhaul being betrayed and abandoned by his s/o, who like helped free eri but because she still doesn’t trust heroes, joins the league of villains. Basically I want overhaul to get his ass beat for everything he did to eri by the person he loves lmao. (Bonus points if his s/o gives no shits about him after all he did)

authors note: this is so??? obnoxiously long?? IM SO SORRY. there will for sure be the part two where she betrays his ASS but i just wanted to build up, you know?? like THIS is why she’s gonna do what she’s about to do 😤

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to end differently. Overhaul had it all planned out for the two of them since the day he laid eyes on Y/N, step by step, detail after detail. Y/N was doing so well, being so good at following him along the destructive path he laid out for them even if it meant constantly losing pieces of herself along the way. The great cost, the end result of a perfect world Chisaki always promised her, always swayed her into forgiving him — knowing that they’d be happy together once this would all blow over.

She found herself reaching her breaking point soon, though.

With her own quirk, regeneration, came many experiments at Overhaul’s commands. They’d all center around the objective to see how far her quirk could be pushed, how much damage she could take before it would slow down and completely shut down. It was to test if it was a necessary quirk or not, Overhaul had vaguely explained to her when she confronted him one day after a long and painful day of having her body shot at multiple times.

It was proven easy for her to regret using up all her energy to trudge towards his office, slowing down her quirk’s work on healing her wounds in the process and leaving her to dirty the carpet that Chisaki had taken so much pride in having clean.

“We need to see if we really need this sickness on our side or if we should just eliminate it from you.”

Overhaul’s words served like a cd stuck on repeat, throwing her the same useless explanation he had been for the last couple of days with no emotion. Y/N took note of the way his gaze stayed focused on the pools of blood staining his floor while he idly sat at his desk, his priority being that instead of moving to help his significant other bleeding at his side.

“Please. No more, Overhaul.” Y/N pleaded as she weakly fell to her knees, her body completely drained from her futile effort to come here and beg for mercy from her tormenter.

All the claims of eternal love and sweet promises he whispered to her before seemed to mean nothing now when she processed that she going through all this pointless pain because of him. Glancing up at him through her eyelashes when she heard the smallest movement in the office chair, a tiny flame of false hope ignited inside her heart at the idea that he would take her in his arms and tell her that this was it, today was the last experiment day and he’d clean her right up, healing all the wounds that her own body was too weak to fix at the moment.

She was wrong. Extremely wrong.

Y/E/C eyes, sore from crying, helplessly watched Chisaki’s hand make its way for her hair, lovingly leaning into his touch while his fingers played with the strands of her blood and sweat drenched hair. It would be deemed small action to an outsider, something that would usually happen casually in any relationship but not with him. Never with him. This was one of the many actions, a tender moment, that she would cherish forever despite the circumstances; that is, until the next few seconds.

Y/N’s bruised body had slowly continued it’s (now) slow process of healing itself now that she was stable and at peace again, calmed by her boyfriend’s rare gentle touch when she fully relaxed in his hold. It was only a few seconds of bliss before she felt his hand furiously ball up her hair and pull her up to face him in his now rage filled eyes.

Legs struggling to hold her up and healing put on pause once again, she thought against pulling at his wrist since she knew from past experience that that would only worsen the situation at hand. Instead, she fearfully stared back at her boyfriend, waiting for him to explain what was the root of his anger this time and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head. Was it really because she was pleading for her life? Because she confessed that it was becoming all too painful?

“I told you to not come into my office until they cleaned off all the blood from you.”

Fingers gripping harder around her hair with strength she’s never experienced before, the words fell off his sharp tongue with little to no emotion in them and his stare never wavered from the mess she made. Y/N swore that if he hadn’t been holding on to her so tightly, his hands would be all over him and scratching the hives that were probably breaking out under his shirt. Not only did he have pools of blood staining his carpet but the blood from her gashes was beginning to spill on his clothes.

Overhaul was livid, using any bit of self-control he still had in his empty shell of a person to not murder her right there and then.

“Chisaki.”

The wretched name that was supposed to be forgotten between them slipped out of her bruised lip by accident. Overhaul’s hold on her and the pain from today’s experiment mixed together far too much, allowing her to speak the name without thinking of the repercussions that always came along with it. Y/N had made sure to avoid it so many times, always stopping herself before it made it past her lips but she was far too tired — her mind didn’t have the energy to recall all the little rules and precautions she had to take in his presence.

“Let’s just make it easier for you already, then.”

It all happened too fast, a blur to her with her weakened senses. Overhaul had tossed her on the floor with all the force he could muster up and pulled the gun out of his desk swiftly, giving her little to not time to process what was going on until she was met with a gun between her eyebrows.

“Would you like me to shoot you with this prototype or would you like me to continuously disassemble your body until your quirk won’t help you anymore?”

Y/N knew him. She knew he wouldn’t resort to any of those options, at least not now but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if it wouldn’t be those two.

“‘No.” Vigorously shaking her head at either option, she ignored the warm sensation of fresh tears spilling from her tired eyes when she felt the barrel of the gun press into her skin.

“So, what should your next move be here then, darling?”

“I...apologize.” It was hesitant, too hesitant for his liking but he just wanted to get this whole mess cleaned up as fast as he could. “I’m extremely sorry for not seeing the bigger picture, Overhaul. Please continue the experiments as long as you please.”

Satisfied, he returned the gun back to its rightful place in his desk and pulled her back on her feet with less hostility this time, leading her back to get bathed and healed up. The last thing she remembered from that night was looking up at his beautiful evil face and passing out in his arms halfway to their room.

She was tired. She was drained. She was pushing her body to dangerous limits she never dreamed of but it was all for him, all for the success he continuously promised her. It seemed as though recently she’d been painfully pushing herself to do a lot of questionable things for him, though. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take from him.

It had just been three weeks since the messy incident in his office, three weeks since her last experiment. Overhaul had claimed that they were unnecessary now, that he had received all the information he needed on her quirk and it’d be a waste of resources and time to continue. They had to focus on the bigger picture now before they ran out of time, he had told his men after delivering the painful conclusion he came to from the experiments to Y/N.

Overhaul’s final decision on her experiments made her regret every crying to him about the pain. ‘I should’ve just taken it’ was the only thought on her mind when the sharp pain from the bullet worked it’s ‘magic’ on her.

“It should be permanent.” Were the only words Chisaki Kai spoke to his significant other after shooting them, excusing himself to attend to other business after patching up her wound for her — the only act of kindness she would get from him today.

She hated him.

She absolutely hated him.

The one and only source of protection she had against his fits of anger was gone, ripped away from her by hands that only sought destruction. Thoughts of leaving him and dropping off the face of the earth clouded her mind while she, ironically, headed to his office in search of more pain killers that he deemed safe enough for her. Sadness was immediately replaced with anger when she thought of how useless she’d be out there in the real world now without her quirk. Even if she ran away, how far could she really get from him and his men with no quirk?

Y/N’s thoughts of escape were halted when someone ran into her, bringing her back to the reality she was forced to call her life. Looking down, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she was met with the sight of a child covered in bandages. Upon noticing that she didn’t mean any harm like Overhaul and Chrono did back there, the child frighteningly took Y/N’s gentle hand and looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N asked the young child, noticing the familiar expression of pain and sadness adorning her young and innocent facial features; a combination of emotions that she herself found a habit for her to feel within these walls.

“Help me.”

Two simple words and Eri’s look of pure fear tiggers at Y/N’s heartstrings. Crouching down to her level, ignoring the pain that was beginning to travel through her body from her wound, she busied herself with wiping away Eri’s tears and squeezing her hand in a comforting way she remembered her own mother doing to her when she was the same age.

Just as she was about to speak up, a pair of loud footsteps made the girls look over to where Chrono and Overhaul entered the hallway. The hatred Y/N had building up for Overhaul only grew when she observed the way Eri clung to her at the sight of her boyfriend.

“Thank you so much for catching the child for me, sweetheart. Would you please hand her over to Chrono so we can continue on with the experiments?”

She knew the romantic pet name and the faux kindness in his voice was all a trick. Overhaul wasn’t an idiot, he had immediately noticed the way that Y/N protectively held Eri and the way she was looking up at him with pure hatred on her face.

“You’re doing experiments...on a child?”

Overhaul had already excused her action of looking at him so disrespectfully but the way she spoke to him, with pure disgust, was beginning to annoy him especially when she had no idea how valuable the child in her hands was. Stepping closer to them, Y/N held onto Eri tighter as if that would make a difference in stopping whatever he had planned for them. Y/N knew each step Overhaul took closer to them was just shortening the amount of time she had before she met up with his wrath again.

The motherly instinct in her just hoped that she would be the only one he’d go after right now even if the lack of quirk on her part put her less at ease.

“You are in no position to question what I’m doing for our future.” Overhaul distastefully looked down at them, gloved fists balling up at his sides when he looked down at the pitiful girl he once fell in love with, noticing how far she had gone from being his perfect, little, obedient Y/N. “She is the key to making this world better—“

“She’s just a kid. What the hell do you need to do experiments on a kid for?” Pushing Eri behind her and standing up to meet Overhaul, she stood in between them to serve as a makeshift shield. ”You’re sick. You’re so fucking sick.”

“I’m starting to think you’re getting a little too comfortable. I’ll need to fix that soon once we get time.” Seizing by the throat, he pushed her weakened body up against the wall, gaining a whimper from Eri as she watched the scene unfold right in front of her. “My love for you will only excuse so much so I’d suggest getting back in line before I murder you with own two hands.”

Overhaul’s words seemed to have not processed within her when she focused on taking him in, instead. It was frightening to think that she was once in love with this man that was currently squeezing her throat so hard that she could barely steal a single breath. The fire in her heart that she once had for him was hastily blown out the moment he wrapped his fingers around her throat, the rose-colored glasses she had for him falling off, as well.

Y/N saw him for what he was now, a horrible human being who had no idea how to show love to anyone especially not her. Their was no future he had planned out for them, it was just a future he had planned out for himself and maybe he would decide if he deemed Y/N worthy of tagging along but she didn’t want that anymore. She didn’t want to prove herself worthy to him anymore.

“Apologize.” Bringing herself back to the scene she was forced to be in, she felt Overhaul’s grip loosen up to give her the opportunity to speak up.

The silence on her part wasn’t working in her favor, whatsoever. Eri and Chrono flinched at the sound of the hard slap bouncing off the hallway’s walls, Y/N’s cheek stained a violent red from the impact with tiny droplets of blood dribbling down her once clean skin. It hurt, it hurt so much but she knew he could do worse if he really wanted to.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry, Overhaul.”

It seemed robotic at this point. Three words that had been so ingrained into her brain from being with him that they just came out whenever he wanted, no genuine sorry-ness ever crossing her mind anymore.

“Now apologize to Eri for causing such a scene in front of her.” Harsh fingers moved from her throat to her chin, forcing her to look over at where Eri was looking at them with tears adorning her flushed cheeks. “She’s only a child, Y/N, how dare you scare her with your vulgar words and a loud tone?”

“I’m sorry, Eri.”

Eri.

Her name was Eri.

“Go back to our room and finish getting ready. We have a meeting with the league of villain’s leader coming up soon.”

Roughly pushing her to the side, he signaled for Chrono to take Eri now and started heading back towards the experimental room where Y/N had spent her own previous days in. If she didn’t know Overhaul’s true colors, she would think that the scene in front of her was adorable. Chrono was holding Eri in his arms as Overhaul calmly spoke to her, his eyes scrunched up as he smiled down at her even though his words were far from friendly.

“Do you see what you make me do, Eri? If you hadn’t been a brat and ran away, I wouldn’t have to be so mean to my girlfriend. She might hate me now because of you.”

Y/N’s heart broke at the sound of Eri crying at Overhaul’s words, thinking that it was really her fault for everything that was going on when it was actually far from the truth. Cradling her swollen cheek in her hand and thinking back to Eri’s poor face, she came to her decision. She had to leave. She had to leave with Eri, now. If not for herself, at least for Eri.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul imagine #chisaki kai x reader

129 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Through His Eyes - Part 10

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

“Yes, Y/N, that’s beautiful!”

You grinned in the direction of the praise, placing down your paintbrush on the easel. “Do you think it’s done?”

“Why are you asking me?” Madam Cho wondered, placing a gentle hand over your shoulder. You could feel her necklace dangle down over you as she leant closer. “It’s your painting, not mine.”

You processed her words, a smile spreading slowly over your lips before you nodded. Picking up the brush again, you felt towards the palette again, deciphering where the yellow was and decided to brighten your canvas up with more of this colour. Your mentor chuckled and left you to it until this time you felt done.

“Can I hang it on the entry wall?” Madam Cho asked and you nodded happily, stopping her from taking the artwork from you.

You sensed her confusion and grinned. “I haven’t signed it yet.”

“Of course, all artwork deserves a signature,” she agreed, handing you the stamp you had recently created. Pressing it firmly to the bottom right-hand corner, you held the canvas out in front of you.

Your heart hadn’t felt this full in months.

At first, when Jaebum had dragged you here, it was as if he was rubbing salt into the wound. Sure, you both knew you still wanted to be an artist. Back then you hadn’t fathomed being able to do anything you were accomplishing now. You had feared the unknown. If you couldn’t see your artwork anymore, how could you create it?

“The colours will muddle together!” you cried outlandishly after humouring both Jaebum and Madam Cho that night. You threw down the paintbrush you had been hesitantly brushing and swirling onto the canvas in frustration.

In trepidation.

“Colours are meant to mix together, Y/N, don’t you think? I want to see your colour. What is the shade in your soul?”

You wanted to despise the woman, just as much as you were angry with Jaebum in that moment. But her words had a way of seeping below your barriers, questioning your very beliefs. You stilled, wondering what colour represented you. Was it grey? That certainly was the only definite shade you could decipher with these eyes now. Everything was grey, and everything was indistinguishable.

You felt Jaebum place the paintbrush back in your hand, and you stopped him from telling you what colour you were using from that moment on. It didn’t matter what colour it was, it would still create something. It would still be something.

Your subsequent visit to the studio was brighter. Over the next following sessions, you found your world wasn’t grey anymore. It was colourful, warm, full of brightness. You still needed some assistance getting there, but once you were in front of your easel, nothing came between you and your painting. Sometimes you would only use one colour. Others, you chose to have your specially made palette filled with various shades that you could decipher with the raised Braille indents telling you which colour it was.

And soon you started to have a louder voice in the studio.

“What are you doing?” a fellow art student asked as he watched you etch into the canvas. “You’re making random blobs in the corner here. What does it say?”

You smiled proudly, blinking back the emotions that rose with his question. “My name.”

From there, you designed a stamp so that you could always sign your work off. Also, you had taken to writing the composition of each piece you created in Braille along the canvas edge manually. You knew now with this system in place, you would never have to guess what piece of your art you held in your hands.

“Will you tell me your thoughts on the canvas once it’s fully dry, Madam Cho?”

“I will give you a great review once the colours settle, how does that sound? Though looking at it now, I know I want it as the focal point of the entryway.”

“I wouldn’t settle for anything less,” you told her with a laugh, sliding off your chair and counting the steps around the studio to the wash sink in the corner. You liked that you now knew your way around two places in this world intimately.

“Y/N, shall I give you a ride home?”

You glanced over your shoulder, nodding politely. And then you had a better idea. “Actually, could you drop me off elsewhere?”

You couldn’t help feeling eager as you sat in Madam Cho’s car on the way to JYP Entertainment. She discussed many topics with ease with you and whilst you responded to them all, your mind was elsewhere. Your hands gripped the edges of the packaged artwork over your lap in anticipation.

“He’s going to love it,” Madam Cho said softly and you turned towards her, your face breaking out into a blush. She giggled and reached to touch your hand affectionately. “He’s lucky to have you in his world, you know that right?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s me who is lucky. Even with the situation for how it is, I’d still be living in a dark room without Jaebum opening the door for me again. He saved me.”

“Well, I think you saved each other. Your connection is one of a kind,” the older woman stated, making your stomach flip with her words.

You didn’t know when it had begun, but the more people who directly associated with you now mentioned Jaebum, you always felt giddy and breathless. They spoke of you and him in one sentence and you liked that more than you wanted to admit. It made you want to see him more often and tell him all about how people think of him at your side. Of how you liked being at his side.

You wanted him to know the feelings you now harboured.

Still, you were aware that Jaebum was too busy for such a confession. With promotions in full force, he was unavailable more often. You tried to understand, after all, your own world had taken a new route with painting in the studio most days. University had been a pipe dream for someone who wanted to get her hands dirty. On campus, you needed structure and were given a distinct placement with a disability. In Madam Cho’s studio, you were free to do and be who you wanted to.

The car came to a halt and you smiled graciously at the woman. “Thank you for dropping me off here.”

“Are you sure it’ll be fine? Have you heard from him on the way here? Do you want me to wait in case Jaebum is too busy?”

“No, he told me he was going to be in the studio tonight earlier in the day. He basically lives there once he enters it,” you explained with a laugh and opened the door to the car, extending out your guide stick. “I’ll make sure to text you to know that I’m with him to ease your mind.”

“Please do,” she agreed, reaching out for a final hold of your hand. “Y/N, think about that offer for the internship too. I really think we’ll be able to get funding towards your work if we come up with a solid business plan. I’m happy to keep you all to myself and have your help with the classes, but you’re something special.”

“I will,” you assured, waving in farewell.

Once you had the canvas securely under your arm, and you were up on the footpath, you slowly made your way to the entrance of the building, reaching into your pocket for the pass you had been granted by the CEO himself. You hadn’t used it before, but when it worked to get you escorted to GOT7’s part of the building, you felt successful. In this crazy world, you were discovering you weren’t so limited anymore.

“Y/N?” a voice greeted cautiously and you beamed in recognition. Jinyoung was soon at your side. “What are you doing here? How did you get in? Are you by yourself?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked, I’m fine. I’m sorry if I came at a bad time, could you take me to Jaebum? I have something to give him.”

“I’m right here,” he mentioned, though you frowned at the tone he used. Embarrassment licked at your cheeks, colouring them pink as you struggled to understand why you hadn’t used your senses to find him within the room. The feeling was fleeting; you were still triumphant from getting here all by yourself.

Until you felt his hand wrap around your wrist.

Until you shivered with the cold that seemed to emanate from Jaebum as he dragged you into his personal studio.

Until he let you go.

You blinked rapidly, unsure of everything. “Did I interrupt something important?”

“How did you get here? Why are you here? It’s late at night, don’t you know how dangerous this is?!”

You flinched with the volume his voice had increased with, the growl in his tone scolding you, cornering you, weakening your resolve. Your head fell. “I didn’t realise you’d nag so much.”

“That’s exactly it, you didn’t realise anything!”

“Clearly I made a poor choice coming here tonight, I’ll excuse myself.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” he remarked, taking a step in front of you. You heard him rub at his face, and for a moment, you worried just how exhausted he was. Jaebum was always a hard worker and the energy radiating off him made you consider the stress he was under. You should have booked in an appointment with him instead of just turning up unannounced.

The mere thought of needing to do such a thing made you scoff and you finally lifted your head back up. “I was proud of myself, you know. I asked Madam Cho to bring me here so I could give you something and I made it in here all by myself. Isn’t it something to be happy about?”

“I’m glad you’re making steps for yourself but you can’t just expect all your steps to be big accomplishments either. What if something had gone wrong?! You can’t see anyone around you and they could’ve hurt you or you-”

“But I didn’t get hurt,” you reminded firmly, Jaebum cursing under his breath at your statement. “I’m not a baby; I can do things for myself!”

“I know you can, I’m not trying to coddle you, I’m just saying-”

“It doesn’t matter; you’ve made your point. I’ll never come here again without permission first.”

“Y/N, this is my place of work,” he attempted and you blinked slowly, thoughts consuming you. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, hoping the action would hold back your tongue and your tears. “You can’t just show up whenever. I’m busy and I helped you get into your artwork again so you wouldn’t need me so much. You’re doing well again.”

“Right, it’s time for me to stop being a problem in your world.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that!”

“It’s fine Jaebum, I heard you loud and clear. I’ll get on with my life, you get on with yours. After all, now that I have my art back, I’ll be back to normal, right?” You tried to hold back your tears, but they began to fall and he reached out for you. However, you shrugged him off, this time you wouldn’t cry in his arms. Right now, you felt selfish, as if you had only been thinking of how you were doing. You had forgotten Jaebum’s place in your life came from a situation where you once weren’t important to him. It hit you full force and you stumbled around in the dark, his light no longer shining directly on you, instead it flickered in and out inconsistently.

You had become too reliant and thus blinded in more ways than just losing your sight. You wanted to laugh bitterly at those juvenile feelings you had started to put weight into. Everyone was wrong; you and Jaebum didn’t go together like they had eluded to.

Someday soon, perhaps, you would become mere strangers again. This thought overwhelmed you, much like your emotions did.

Feeling around for something that felt safe, you then placed down the canvas that was still under your arm. A parting gift. You hadn’t thought that would be the case when you made it.

Especially when you had foolishly named the piece, Confession.

You almost thought about taking it back, to take the canvas away with you and hide it in the cupboard like your mother had done with all your previous artwork. Never to be displayed, to be announced for what it was. Yet, you couldn’t ignore all the months Jaebum had been the one person you had believed in the most. It was this reason alone that you lifted your hand away and attempted a watery smile in his direction. “I made this for you. That’s why I came. And now that I’ve delivered it, I’ll go.”

You ignored as he called after you, even shoving him off when he reached for you to pull you back. You prayed you were walking in the right direction, and when you heard the voices of the other members, you were relieved. It was such an odd experience, subsequently you felt like your heart was breaking and you breathed in a sigh of relief that you weren’t as incapable as you felt.

“Y/N?”

“I just need a hand to the elevator so I can leave, can someone help me with that?”

“Y/N, wait!” Jaebum called out, running into you with a shaky breath. You couldn’t focus on his emotions right now, you needed to escape them.

“I’ll do it,” Mark offered quietly and you nodded once, waiting for him to join your side. You could tell it pained him not to ask if you were okay, and to leave you with the staff member at the front desk.

But not as much as it did for you to walk out of that building, knowing you wouldn’t come back.

_________________

[Part 11]

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

151 notes · View notes

herohawks · 6 years ago

Text

Five times Connor is forced to call Hank “dad”. They both suffer.

A/N: short little snippets im writing while my wrist is out of commission. dont know if im going to post them to ao3 since kinda crack-ish lmao. feel free to send me prompts.

---

PART 1

“Remind me again why we agreed to this shit?”

Connor hefts a box onto his shoulder and balances another on his hip. Hank is struggling to carry one. The bottom of the cardboard is not taped adequately to withstand the current weight. Hank had been the one to tape this particular box, but Connor thinks it best not to point this out.

“We agreed to take the case because we are one of the few within the DPD who specialize in android-human crime. And, as Captain Fowler pointed out, our particular skill sets will allow us to infiltrate this group much easier than our other coworkers,” Connor says as he leads the way to the front door of their new home.

Hank snorts, uneven steps following not far behind. “Skill sets. Yeah. That what they’re calling it these days?”

“That’s what the captain called it, yes.” Connor deftly switches the box on his hip to his knee, balancing it between his leg and the wall so he can fish out the house key the captain had entrusted to him.

The key latches in easily and Connor swings the door open with little fanfare. He allows Hank to go first under the guise of trying to get a better grip on the box he’s currently holding over his knee. The structural integrity of Hank’s box is nearly at its limit.

“Well,” Hank huffs, dropping the box onto the living room floor with a muffled thump. Connor sets his down much more gently. “Jeffrey has always been too nice for his own good, so I’m gonna set it to you straight. You look like a goddamned twink and Jeffrey thinks your scrawny ass will fit in real well with these other skinny, starving college kids. I’m here to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

Connor looks to the ceiling and sighs. It’s a mannerism he’s picked up from Detective Reed that he quite likes. It accurately and efficiently sums up what he wishes to convey with little effort on his part.

“I am not ‘scrawny’,” Connor says, a tad defensive. “Second, the term ‘twink’ is widely outdated and carries negative conn—“

“Connor. Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.” Hank stretches his back, then groans loudly when it pops. “Jesus, I’m too old for this shit.”

“You only carried one box,” Connor points out helpfully, twirling the key ring on his finger for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He itches to go bring in the other nine boxes stacked in Hank’s car.

Hank rolls his eyes so hard Connor is briefly worried that they’ll fall out their sockets. “Jesus Christ. Just – go get the other boxes, would ya?”

Connor does, and makes good time. Hank grumbles while unpacking the boxes, throwing things in a haphazard manner that must have some sort of logic to it, though it’s not one that Connor can decipher at a glance.

With Hank’s back turned to him, Connor takes the chance to run a quick scan. The lieutenant’s blood sugar is low, and Connor detects a minor muscle strain in his lower back from poor posture and lack of adequate hydration.

They still need to go grocery shopping, but Connor had packed a few granola bars and water bottles just in case. He digs them out of one of the boxes and kneels down beside Hank to hand them over. “You need to eat, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, snatching the water and energy bar from Connor. He sets it aside so Connor leaves him be and goes to unpack the other boxes.

They settle into an easy rhythm. An hour later, Connor hears the telltale crinkle of the protein bar being unwrapped and wisely says nothing when Hank’s mood significantly improves from that point after.

What probably felt like an eternity for Hank but was in actuality three hours and thirty-two minutes, they’re finally finished settling in. Connor is pleased to note everything is where it needs to be when he does a cursory scan of the rooms. Despite Hank’s grumbling, they make a great team.

“Great work, Lieutenant,” Connor says as he comes back into the living room where Hank is currently lounging on the couch. “It seems like everything is in order.”

Hank scoffs. “Don’t act so surprised.” A pause. “And it’s not ‘Lieutenant’ right now. Don’t blow our cover.”

“You’re right. Sorry, Dad.” The moment the sentence leaves his vocal unit, a heavy silence stretches between them. Connor has a peculiar urge to exit the room and not return for maybe forever.

“Okay. That was fucking weird,” Hank says finally, breaking the tense hush that had fallen over the room. He runs a hand over his beard, eyes flicking around but never settling on one thing for long.

Connor feels some of the tenseness in his shoulders melt away at the implication that Hank, too, may be feeling some measure of awkwardness. “I agree.”

“Shit. We need to get our shit together before we’re seen in public.”

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Connor admits, and runs a finger along the outer seam of his jeans. They’re not as comfortable nor as flexible as the pants CyberLife had issued him, but it’s currently the style preference of many young adults, and Connor has to blend in. He still misses his own pants, though.

“Want to go grab a bite and forget this ever happened?” Hank asks as he pulls himself up from the couch with a grunt.

Connor does. “Yes. I would like that.”

Hank makes a valiant effort to throw his crumpled wrapper into the small waste bin set along the floor separating the kitchen and living room. He misses. Connor quietly goes over and places the wrapper in the bin.

“Thanks. Hey, don’t forget your glasses,” Hank says and Connor can’t help but wrinkle his nose. Hank laughs. “What, not a fan?”

“You know I’m not,” Connor says, a little cross. Nevertheless, he unhooks it from his shirt and puts them on. They constantly slip down the bridge of his nose. “It’s impractical.”

Hank does not care about his suffering. “It’s your disguise so quit complaining. You’re not the only one who had to make some changes.”

The lieutenant scruffs a self-conscious hand over his freshly cut hair. It’s shorn short with the top a little longer – it looks good, Connor thinks. Makes him appear younger and highlighting the blues of his eyes.

Connor’s glasses, on the other hand, do not look good. They’re clunky and annoying, and Connor thinks they sit awkwardly on his face. The urge to snap them in half is strong.

“They look fine,” Hank says with the tone of someone who’s said this many, many times, which he has. Connor does not believe him any of those times. “Hurry up. I’m starving.”

“Fine.” Connor is getting better at expressing his displeasure through his tone, but Hank tends to ignore this new development as he does with anything he finds inconvenient.

They decide to walk. More accurately, Connor decides that if they’re going to order something unhealthy, they can, at the very least, walk there. Hank is not pleased. Connor doesn’t care.

A mile and a half later, a small lot with a few food trucks parked in a messy half-circle comes into view. Hank makes a beeline for the hotdog truck so Connor trails behind him. Hank orders a hotdog with only one topping at Connor’s insistence, and Connor buys a small vanilla milkshake to maintain appearances.

The lot is very crowded, but they manage to snag a table near the sidewalk and away from most of the congested foot-traffic. There’s a light drizzle so Connor pops open the umbrella attached to the table. The atmosphere reminds him of their meeting at the Chicken Feed all those months ago, when Hank had been skeptical and Connor had been apologetic and insistent.

That had been one of their first, positive conversations. It’s a fond memory, one that Connor keeps tucked away in his memory files for safekeeping.

“So,” Hank says, snapping Connor out of his musings. “Excited about your first day of school tomorrow?” Hank is grinning so Connor levels him with an unimpressed look. “What? A father can’t have a healthy interest in his son’s education?”

Connor sets his plastic cup down firmly. “No.”

“Don’t be like that,” Hank laughs and Connor shakes his head, rubbing his fingers along his temple in a gesture he’s seen Hank do many times.

His fingers stutter over the place where his LED used to be, the synthetic skin smooth to the touch. He feels oddly naked without it. Vulnerable. He wouldn’t mind the glasses half as much if he could just have his LED back.

Something must show on his face because Hank’s smile fades a few seconds later, replaced with a worried expression. “Hey, kid. You alright?”

“Fine,” Connor says a touch too quickly. Hank’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly unconvinced. He runs a finger one more time over his temple before placing it back on the table. “Nervous, maybe.”

“Hmm. About school?” The way he says it implies he is talking about something else. Connor believes he is inquiring about their current undercover case, so he nods. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. You’re smart, and a fast learner. You’ll fit right in.”

Connor has his doubts. While he’s done extensive research into the university as well as updating his human integration program to include the most recent pop culture and dialect, Connor can’t help the uneasiness that settles in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Hank is right. Perhaps this is beyond their capabilities.

Connor keeps silent and pretends to sip his milkshake.

College is…an experience.

Connor takes the automated bus despite Hank’s insistence he drive him there. The walkways are constantly flooded with harried students and Connor finds himself having to fight the crowd more often than not.

He observes that many of his peers carry some type of overly-caffeinated beverage on them at all times (there had been a memorable moment when Connor’s sensors had picked up vodka disguised as water in someone’s water bottle, but he’d kept the information to himself). After this observation, Connor stopped by the local coffee shop on campus to purchase a small, black coffee. It reminds him of Hank.

His classes had been fairly boring, but Connor supposes that is to be expected. Hank had told him university was probably going to be uninteresting to an android that could calculate over a thousand possible scenarios in two seconds. Connor had promptly told him it actually takes him an average of 0.53 seconds to compute those scenarios, which had resulted in Hank scuffing him across the head.

Connor, despite his reservations, slots into college life seamlessly. Finding the group responsible for the android hate crimes disguised as hazing is almost too simple. They arrest the group three months later once he’s obtained the proper amount of evidence, plus some. Connor wishes they’d at least make it a challenge.

Overall, a success.

“Good job on your first undercover op,” Hank says over dinner.

Here, Connor doesn’t have to pretend to eat. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it is to pretend to be human. His LED is firmly reinstalled, and Connor brings his fingers up to brush it periodically, the familiar ridges soothing.

Sumo lies by their feet, tail thumping happily every time Connor or Hank looks his way. The Saint Bernard had missed them dearly in their four months apart.

“Thank you.” Connor is pleased with the results. His whole body feels warm, but jittery at the same time, like he has excess energy that can’t be contained. He bounces his leg, he twiddles his fingers, and shifts his posture every few seconds. “I’m glad we were able to bring them to justice.”

“Nah,” Hank says after swallowing a bite of his vegetarian stir-fry (Connor’s making, of course). “You’re just happy you don’t have to wear those dorky glasses anymore.”

“So you agree, then. That they looked bad.” Connor feels betrayed. Hank had told him they’d looked fine. Hank is a filthy liar.

Hank snorts and shovels more food into his mouth before replying. “What’d you do with them anyway?” Avoiding Connor’s sort-of question.

Connor rolls his shoulders in a self-satisfied way, and shoots Hank a sly grin. “On the record, I disposed of them in the appropriate recycling bin. Off the record, they may have ended up in a bonfire at the last party I attended as a college student.”

Hank barks a laugh and slaps the table. Connor smiles, too. “Shit,” Hank says, wiping his eyes. “You make me proud, kid.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell ya what, though. Having you call me ‘dad’ for four months was probably the most awkward four months of my life. As long as we don’t gotta do that shit again, I can die happy,” Hank says, taking a sip of his water.

Connor nods. “Agreed.”

#lmaooo #im trash this is trash #also it was an excuse to have connor wear glasses bc why not #pls dont take this srsly im just trying to keep writing while i have one hand #come scream with me abt bby boy connor if u want #im always in need of inspiration or prompts #dbh #detroit become human #connor #hank anderson #writing

3 notes · View notes

yoongihime · 7 years ago

Text

Cheeky Bunny

Hybrid!AU: Leopard!OC x Bunny!Kook Length: 4.1K (lol is this even a drabble anymore?) Genre: The Most Fluffy Fluff Type: Disney Drabbles ☞REQUEST HERE☜ Recommended OST: (x) Request By: @/kimtrain:“Don’t underestimate the importance of body language." love youuuu MJ so so much (a/n): IDK OKAY? I REALLY IDK WHY IM SO SOFT. But anyways I this is so frickin fluffy idk anymore (read: I screamed a lot and wanted to smash my keyboard) and any comments are always appreciated, my inbox is open for you lovelies.

Summary: You’re a predator and he’s the prey, so what happens when the tables finally turn for our dearest bunny?

“(y/n), you’re fucking drooling.” Taehyung lands a particularly hard pat against the nape of your neck, immediately eliciting a hiss from you and a chuckle from him; your attention now regrettably snagged away from your little crush.

“You brat, that's not a good enough reason to grab my nape,” you hiss, your hands rubbing against the tender flesh. As felines, the neck area is off limits, it’s too intimate and oddly sensitive due to the period where parents would grab their litter my the scruff. So you find it absolutely necessary to repay to favor with a hard smack against his abdomen with your tail, causing a growl to bubble inside the lion-hybrid’s chest, his sunny demeanor evaporating and lips peeling back in act of dominance.

“Oh hush,” you dismiss, rolling your eyes and petting the thick fur of your tail, “You’re honestly acting childish, what are you? A big domestic cat?”

“Just because you are naturally a solitary breed does not excuse you from social norms, (y/n).” Taehyung firmly states, his ears twitching in his messy mop of golden hair. An involuntarily side effect of annoyance.

Well shit, you gone and pissed him off. Again.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry,” you murmur, your steely blue eyes turning downcast and fluffy white ears laying low in a form of regret. You’re not exactly good with other creatures, since it’s in your nature to want to be prickly and sarcastic, but more often than not you come off as rude or completely awkward. You could say you were born this way. Taehyung lets you brew in your regret for approximately five seconds until the switch it flipped and he’s back to his grossly capricious self.

“Alright, alright that's enough serious talk to last another month, how about we go grab some lunch?” Taehyung suggests, his hand already pulling you closer to his body and his arm wrapping around your form, causing a smile to blossom on your face, taking comfort in his forgiveness. To the entire school you two are the perfect pair, despite the fact that your relationship with Taehyung is completely platonic, the student body seems drawn to the aura you two give off. Taehyung is the ever carefree feline, The Popular Kid everyone gets along with, from the wolves to the fawns, they’re all his loving admirers. At the complete opposite end of the spectrum, there’s you. You’re the icy princess, the rare snow leopard hybrid, with your piercing electric blue eyes and smokey grey hair, you’re the moon to Taehyung’s vibrant sun. It’s quite obvious that people are afraid to approach you, even the biggest predators in the school have difficulty holding a conversation, let alone the domestic creatures. As a cruel twist of fate, the object of your affections, the reason the sun rises and the moon cries, is-

“Hey, bunny!” Taehyung greets the retreating boy, his long strides coming to a halt as he turns to look at the two of you. His tail twitches, the fluffy black ball bouncing where he can’t, bunny ears popping up to match and he turns around with a nervous smile tugging the edges of his lips.

“Jungkook!” You half-yell, causing the boy to flinch in his spot, “Do you want to go have lunch with us?”

“I-I err,” Jungkook begins, his composure already melting by the degree from your attention, “I have a meeting to get to,” he practically spits out and bolts out of the room, causing you to freeze in your tracks, your spirits broken once again.

“H-he he did it again.” You sigh the sentence out, as if the harsh exhale would also expel your disappointment. Collapsing back into the chair, you let Taehyung blatantly laugh at your distress as you sulk in the bitter rejection. Jeon Jungkook, the resident film major and bunny hybrid, is your unrequited crush of two years. It’s not his fault that he’s uncomfortable around you, it’s only natural after all, but the boy goes through such great lengths to avoid you to the point where you’ve convinced yourself-

“He hates me.” You deliver the final blow, the statement cutting deeper into your bruised ego.

“He’s just intimidated, the poor kid is a bunny (y/n), and you look at him like you want to gobble him up.” Taehyung winks, making you groan and place your head none too gently on the surface of the table.

“It’s not intentional,” you bemoan, “he just looks so… sweet.”

“There you go again, stop using adjectives that describes food to talk about him! Delicious, irresistible and delectable are absolutely off limits too,” Taehyung lectures, “unless you’re describing me of course.” Taehyung notes your lack of response with an empathetic pat to your back,

“It’s easy (y/n), just relax a little.”

“What difference would that make?”

“You my dear, underestimate the importance of body language,” he insinuates with a wag of his eyebrows.

Almost as reflex, your tail whips out to punch him once again, but Taehyung is done with your antics and grabs the plush fur, causing you to hiss in surprise,

“Okay, okay let’s get you lunch before you claw my face off.”

“(y/n) and Jungkook, you’ll be partners for the upcoming project.”

It’s quiet. The ensuing silence is borderline comedic in it’s magnitude, sharp enough to cut and thick enough to suffocate, so much so that your professor tilts her chin down, her scrutinizing stare piercing through her -5.75 prescription glasses and her voice shattering the eerily tranquil lack of noise,

“I believe I am to take the silence as an affirmative?”

Jungkook fidgets in his seat, his nervous energy radiating off him in tangible waves that suffocates the air surrounding you, despite the fact that he is seated three rows away. When his back straightens and his lungs fill with more air than the usual capacity, you choke out a response before he could light your reputation along with his into fine-grained embers.

“Yes, m’am.”

His incredulity is apparent, even if you can’t see those precious eyes widen in front of you, he makes his vexation clear as day though the twitch of his ears and the occasional half turns he performs every few minutes to stare blankly at you. As the hours tick by, you begin to get restless. It’s not his fault, or yours for that matter, your senses are simply on high alert from the sheer amount of movement he’s making, his fear soaking into your skin, triggering your instincts to hunt.

As the thin thread of your self control begin to deteriorate, the bell rings, effectively snapping you out of your frenzy. Students begin to shuffle out of the room, along with the professor for her next lecture, but your hairs are still standing on end and you take longer than usual to gather your laptop and array of stationary into your backpack. When the grumbles about said hellish assignments fade, another sound perks you up from your packing, the sound of Jungkook’s sneakers squeaking to a stop in front of your desk. Silence gathers gradually, building up under his gaze until you’re drowning in it and have to look away with a clearing of your throat—

“So when do you want to meet up to do the project?” You zip up your backpack, settling it onto your shoulders and rising from your seat without meeting his gaze. Jungkook swallows, his resolve crumbling when you stand up because you’re that much closer to him and his pounding heart. He wanted to say that sentence, wanted to arrange a time and maybe get you to smile at him again today, but it’s impossible to concentrate when every cell of his being is screaming at him to run. So when your eyes meet his, the orbs chatoyant and inquisitive, he blurts out the first phrase that comes to mind which happens to be-

“I can do it.” He states it like a fact, like he is telling you that the sun rises east and sets west.

Curse that stupid fight or flight response.

“W-what?” you splutter, your limited patience finally running out. It’s one thing to harbor personal feelings towards you but another completely to bash on your work ethic, so your body chooses the choice that he so easily abandoned: Fight.

“Listen Jungkook, I’m going to hope that you didn’t mean that just now and try again. So you really don’t like me, I get it. You’ve made that more than clear to me, so I don’t know why I keep trying like this.”

A sigh.

Jungkook is at a loss, his mouth opening only to close once again, the only consistency being the frown between this eyebrows and the strange twitching of his ears; his body as uncooperative as ever in this imperative moment.

“Maybe dislike is a bit too tepid,” your face sour, “maybe you even hate me.”

Your finger shoot up to hush him at his sudden look of panic.

Wow, your heart hurt.

Stupid, stupid bunny.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to pounce on you just because of your personal feelings,” you explain, but your claws are extended, “but I will not hesitate to do so when you’re bashing on my honesty and work ethic like this. Now, I’m open to work together during lunch and I have a free period for sixth. Come find me or whatever.”

Your ego is so bruised by this point you stumble haphazardly towards the end of row and closer to the neon exit sign, your escape. Fingertips brushing the metal doorknob, you’re pulled back by a strong grip on your wrist, and of course it’s Jungkook. He’s panting, as if those measly steps towards you required immense effort and if you weren’t so caught in your own bitterness you would have noticed the rose tinted hue coloring his cheeks and the faraway look residing in his eyes when you turned to meet his gaze.

“I-I don’t hate you.” Jungkook pleads, his eyes sincere and you hate how your heart leaps out of your chest at those three words. Not exactly an ‘I love you’ but at least that’s some progress.

“Please give me another chance, (y/n).”

Your anger wants to say no, to cut him off and drown in your own self pity, but his hold tethers you to reality and releases you from your childish emotions. Maybe it’s your stubborn ambition that wants to see him try his best, to pine for you as you have for him or maybe it’s the way your name rolls of his tongue, smooth like a melody, that convinces you to agree,

“Okay.”

“You’re here again today, bunny!” Taehyung greets Jungkook who looks up from his notebook to smile at the lion hybrid as he drapes his legs over the bench across from you. For the past week, Jungkook has been sitting with you at lunch and even near you during classes, his presence rivaling Taehyung’s during your days on campus.

You’ve gotten quite smitten with the boy, but your wounded pride refuses to accept that any of his precious displays of affection could mean anything more than friendship. Yes, the way his hand brushed yours as he picked up his assignment has nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to touch you, but didn’t know how to or the constant smile that appears on his face when he makes you laugh is most obviously one of curtesy for your sake. It has to be. You’d sooner believed that the boy would like you (let alone love you) than if he goes and tattoo ‘I <3 (y/n)’ on his forehead.

Yet the reality is indeed the opposite for the lovestruck bunny. You’re his poison and his cure, a step loving you is just a another step towards realizing how incredibly little of an impression he has in your eyes. To say Jungkook is frustrated by how lukewarm your reactions are to his efforts would be an understatement of enormous proportions; for goodness sake he swears you were not like this last week. So what gives? Oh right, him and his loose reflexes that’s what happened. At the verge of giving up, Jungkook looks pleadingly towards the golden boy across the table, his eyes conveying what his speech can’t.

Taehyung knew it was going to happen sooner or later, that poor bunny is reaching his breaking point. He’s not saying that this is Jungkook’s fault (because let’s face it you’re denser than a steel wall when it comes to romance, especially once you’ve been jaded by it), but he’s not going to say that the bunny is innocent in this either. So when those round, clear eyes turn his way as he was munching on his cheeseburger, Taehyung swallows thickly, knowing exactly what the brunette is asking of him.

“Hey (y/n), can you so get me a soda?” Taehyung interrupts your scribbling, your eyes looking from him to his half filled water bottle with apprehension.

“You have drink right there?” you question, clearly confused by his need for another beverage.

“Please? I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, I’m really thirsty.” Taehyung pleads, his large hands coming to frame his face in a V and his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to act cute. Damn him and his beautiful face, if it was anyone else they would look like a Class 1 idiot, but Taehyung somehow pulls the stunt off with grace. You immediately cringe at the display but laughter blooms from your chest nonetheless,

“Okay, okay I’m going. No need to threaten me Tae.”

As you shuffle away, Taehyung turns his attention to the Jungkook. The boy was staring after you with so much longing Tae considering smacking the lovesick grin right off his face.

“So Jungkook,” Taehyung begins, causing those doe eyes to meet his scrutinizing ones, “maybe its just me, but I think you like my best friend.”

Jungkook splutters on the water he was sipping, his chest having up and down to ease the burning of his lungs.

“I- err ..yeah.” Jungkook’s noncommittal response drifts from his lips, if admitting it to Taehyung as difficult, how the hell was he going to say that to you? He grasps his chocolate brown locks messing up the already fluffy strands,

“But she doesn’t notice at all! I’ve been trying so hard.” Jungkook groans, his frustrations overwhelming his shyness for the time being.

“Listen, bunny. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that for that girl to understand. She likes you too you know?” Taehyung says through a mouthful of fries, causing Jungkook’s ears to perk with interest but his face remains pouty and sad on the surface of the table.

“I’ve been trying so hard though, Tae. Compared to before at least.” Jungkook sulks.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my boy! She had hope before you went and shot all of that down and now her emotions are in Grade A lockdown prison called Denial. Unless you want to spell it out and tell her straightforwardly she’s not going to register any of it.”

Jungkook groans, his ears drooping with realization.

“So what do you suggests I do?”

Taehyung’s devilish smile is rather unsettling but Jungkook trusts the lion to not fail him and he draws closer for Tae to whisper into his soft ears.

You come back to a rather strange scene: Jungkook blushing profusely as Taehyung pinches his ear, cackling and whispering something into them only for the two of them to answer with guilty Nothing’s when prompted.

Finger quivering, you take in a deep breath before pressing the little doorbell. It elicits a light, soft sound inside the household, probably because bunny hybrids are sensitive to noises. You hear multiple thumps from the inside, no doubt the siblings Jungkook told you about, and three seconds later the boy himself appears in front of you. He looks amazing today as always, his brown locks ruffled and black ears sitting attentively on top along with a huge cream-colored sweater that he fills out all too well, completed by distressed jeans that seem to be screaming for air from his muscular thighs. As if he’s vocalizing your thoughts—

“You look beautiful today.” Jungkook compliments with a blush, his cheeks turning rosy and a cough is forced out of his chest as a way to avoid your eyes.

Only curtesy (y/n). He’s being polite. You chant mentally, not daring to search for any hidden meanings behind his words. Your body is a bit more honest with the way your ears seem to stand on end, and a dust of rose also makes an appearance across your features.

“Thank you,” you manage to reply, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

He seems to be encouraged by that, taking you by the hand and tugging you upstairs towards his room with some utterance of how his parents are away on a trip and that’s why he has to babysit the kids. His comments flow into one ear and out the other because all you process are your heartbeats ringing in your ears and the way his hand completely envelope yours.

God what is this boy trying to pull today? you mentally yell, praying that he won’t be able to feel your racing pulse through your adjoined hands.

“This is my room.” He announces, hand still firmly holding on to yours despite the fact that the two of you arrived at your destination.

It’s as if you’re seeing an extension of Jungkook between the rows of black and white film photos on the wall, the neat and tiny desk, as well as his color coded figurines down to his deep navy blue sheets that smells just like him.

“You’re so neat.” you breathe out, not knowing what to say when you’re so immersed in his scent you’re practically dizzy from the pheromones.

You pull away from his hold, not looking back to notice his pout and sitting down in his office chair, as far away from him as possible.

“Let’s get to work then!” You suggest, and he nods pulling another chair right next to yours, and leaning over to turn on the desk lamp. At this angle he’s close enough for your lips to brush his nape, the temptations making your canines ache. All too soon he leans back, his smile innocent and you had to exert all your self control not to groan in frustration.

You and Jungkook.

In his room, immersed in his scent.

With about two inches of space in between.

Yep, this was going to be the longest day of your life.

This has to be the most productive you’ve been in your entire life. Maybe it’s because this project is worth more than half your grade, or maybe it has something to do with the need to distract your mind from the bunny sitting next to you. You’re busy drawing up the next draft when—

“Kookie?”

“Oh my god it’s a mini Jungkook!” You exclaim before your mind realized what you were saying, but the tiny little boy at the door was too adorable to dismiss with just a glance. He’s simply too precious, with his short grey ears and round eyes, you barely held yourself back enough to scoop him up in your arms. Jungkook laughs at the wonder displayed on your face, a little jealous that his little brother would be able to steal your heart so easily when he couldn’t.

“Yes Jeonghyun?” Jungkook rushes to his little brother’s side, but the little boy only eyes you with apprehension as he pulls his older brother closer.

“Okay, okay don’t cry.” Jungkook soothes him, lifting him easily in his arms and walking away with him, but not before you spot the unmistakable glare the little bunny is throwing your way.

Great, his entire family hates me, you sigh, the thought more disturbing to you than you would have imagined.

“Hello? Earth to (y/n)?”

You blink, realizing that Jungkook has been trying to get your attention.

“Are you okay?” He prompts, his face a bit to close for your liking so you nod your head, not trusting your voice quite yet.

“C’mon I know you well enough to know when you’re sulking (y/n),” Jungkook places both hands on your cheeks, causing your eyes to widen, “What’s wrong?”

“Would your entire family be scared of me?” You whisper the question because even to you it sounds ridiculous and childish. Jungkook is surprised by the hurt in your voice, but it makes him realize how vulnerable you are right now, with your heart on your sleeve and tears pricking your eyes. You’re simply too soft, delicate enough for him to strengthen his resolve and pick you up princess style, plopping onto his bed with you snuggled tight on his lap.

“Jungkook—“ You tense in surprise, trapped on his legs with his chin resting on your right shoulder and his arms the lock to your makeshift prison.

“Of course not, (y/n). I’m not scared one bit.” Jungkook declares, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. To emphasize his point, his hands intertwine with yours, fingers grasping yours tight and his face nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, his nose skimming your sensitive nape, eliciting an involuntary pleased sigh from you.

“Jungkook, stop.” You plead, but your voice is much too weak and your body melts further into his hold. Why is he so strong for such a bunny? You never realized how broad he was until this moment, with your body so easily wrapped up into a harmless little bundle on his lap.

“Don’t wanna.” He protest, the childish tint to his voice only making you blush harder.

“You’re supposed to do this with someone you like.” You protest, but you’re as soft as dough in his grip at his point.

“You’re so dense you know that?” He pauses, beaming at you and you open your mouth to counter when he saying takes the chance to attack,

“I like you, you dummy.”

As if the crushing embarrassment crashed down on him all at once, he burrows his face back into your neck, letting you precess the words all by yourself, eyes glazed over and dreamy. It’s not until he begins to laugh that you snap back into reality,

“(y/n) why are you making that noise, it sounds like you’re choking on your meows.”

You completely heat up at that, burning much to hot to be suffocated on his lap.

“It’s called chuffing you dumb bunny,” you defend your self, cheeks overheating at this point,

“and it means I like you too.”

The pair of you soak in the moment until you hear Jungkook’s gentle musings, “Ah Jeonghyun is going to be even more upset,” he says as he kisses your temple, you’re so distracted from the feeling of his lips on your skin that you don’t even question it, but he graciously explains, “he’s a little jealous of you.”

You make a noise of acknowledgement, your brain overridden by your heart and its giddy thumps.

“It’s okay I like him more than you anyways.” You teasingly tell Jungkook, causing the bunny to flip you over on his lap so that you’re straddling him. Preparing yourself for a retort, your mind completely blanks when he surprises you with a kiss instead of a reply. He’s as sweet as you assumed in your daydreams, his lips gentle and hesitant against yours. Sugar melting on your tongue, you instantly crave more of him, his scent, his taste. True to your nature, you let out in impatient whine, having none of his gentleness when all you want to do is taste him properly. You pull him closer by the baby hairs on his nape, giggling slightly as he lets out a keen of surprise when you nip at his bottom lip and soothes it with your tongue.

“Serves you right, bunny.” You taunt, mirth filling your eyes and laughter ringing until he shuts you up with another kiss, his finishing statement making you splutter with shock—

“I love you, kitten.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

Taehyung’s devilish smile is rather unsettling but Jungkook trusts the lion to not fail him and he draws closer for Tae to whisper into his soft ears.

“She really loves it when people call her kitten, why don’t you try that?”

“Wha—“

“Trust me.”

“What are you guys whispering about?”

“Nothing!”

#btswriters #bangtan-bookclub #kkreationsnet #sfwbangtan #kreativewritersnet #bts #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #hybrid!au #kookie #oh man all this fluff #IM GETTING ALL OF Y'ALL SO FAT WITH ALL OF THIS LOL #IM GONNA GHOST FOR FINALS SOOOO #MIGHT AS WELL #IM NOT POSTING AT 3AM FOR ONCE AHAH #PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

2K notes · View notes