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pjsfvs · 1 year ago

Text

relaxing - sunghoon hc

paring: bf!sunghoon x gf!afab!reader

genre: smut

warnings: smut, fluff, smoking weed, true love, curvy reader, Protected sex, fingering, hair pulling, shot gunning

word count: 4k

summary: You and Sunghoon spend a rainy weekend in his basement smoking and relaxing to the sound of the rain, which leads to a night of high love making.

a/n: i got some requests in my inbox but i was already writing this so ill write for those and post them either later today or tomorrow because i wont have plans :3 also sunghoon is my bias but ive never wrote something for him which is shocking 😭

The sound of the rain was what set the mood, the millions of drops pattering against the high windows of Sunghoon's basement sounding through the atmosphere. You laid on your back against the soft cushions of the couch, your eyes closed in a peaceful state as you waited patiently for your boyfriend.

"Alright, babe, we've got weed, video games, and movies; what do you want to do?" Sunghoon spoke cheerfully, closing the basement door behind him as he bounded down the wooden stairs.

"Hm, how about we go for a walk?" Giggling, your body bounced lightly as Sunghoon sat on the opposite end of the couch, lifting your sock clad feet onto his lap.

"Yeah, and catch a cold while we're at it too," He chuckled, rubbing your calf before taking in your appearance.

You were dressed in a simple pair of grey leggings, which make your ass look great, and a worn v-cut graphic-tee with the Pepsi logo across the chest. Even when you dressed so simple, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he often wondered what he did to have someone so wonderful, other than Jake, in his life.

You opened your dazzling brown eyes, locking your gaze with his. "Why are you looking at me like that, silly?" You giggled, sticking your tongue out as you propped your head on a couch pillow.

"Just thinking about of amazing you are, dork." He countered, squeezing your leg lovingly as he watched your cheeks get a little warm.

"Gosh, you're too much for me," You sighed, covering your face with your hands before peeking out between your fingers, "Let's get high."

Sunghoon smiled, taking his signature white headphones from around his neck and placing them on the coffee table on front of them. "Shot gunning?"

"Shot gunning."

Shot gunning was your preferred way of getting high, ever since meeting Sunghoon that is. The first time you had tried weed, which actually was with Sunghoon, you inhaled too hard and ended up choking on your own breath. Sunghoon insisted that you didn't have to smoke just because he did it, but you insisted on trying it which led to him teaching you a different way of achieving the high without having to touch the blunt herself.

Once everything was set up Sunghoon took the blunt between his finger and thumb before striking the lighter in his other hand, bringing the small flame to the tip and watching it light up. He put the lighter away and took the first hit, breathing deeply and closing his eyes before exhaling, the smoke bellowing out of his parted lips and nose. A few seconds passed before he opened his eyes again, turning his head towards you.

"Ready?"

He watched as you bit your lower lip and nodded, sitting yourself up on the couch before kneeling next to him, their faces level with each other as your eyes stayed locked.

"I need to hear you say you're ready, beautiful."

You felt your face heat up and your heart swell, you always loved how caring he was about making sure you weren't feeling pressured. "I'm ready, Hoonie."

A small smile graced his lips before he brought the blunt up again, taking another slow drag and putting the blunt down, holding his breath. You parted your plump lips and Sunghoon did the same before blowing the smoke into your mouth. The smoke filled your lungs as you breathed in slowly, letting your eyes flutter shut before exhaling the same way, feeling your nerves begin to calm. As you opened your eyes your gaze locked with Sunghoon, who had a goofy smirk on his face.

"I never get tired of seeing that." He grinned, his heart nearly skipping a beat at the half-lidded stare you were giving him. The glow of the various lava lamps he had in the basement illuminated your face in a way that made it seem like you belonged in a pin-up poster, too perfect to be sitting in front of him right now.

"I never get tired of being shot gunned by you." You wistfully replied, a small smile tugging at your lips before another wave of heat rose to your cheeks. "Do you mind if I try something?" Your voice came out small, your gaze averting to the floor as you processed what you were going to do.

"Yeah- I mean, no, go for it," Sunghoon stuttered slightly, an embarrassed smile taking over the proud grin he had.

At his approval, you maneuvered your leg across his thighs before kneeling in front of him, straddling his waist as you sat in his lap. The new, and better, position allowed them both to be able to face each other without having to break their necks to face each other or Sunghoon to turn away to flick the ashes off.

"I-I just thought this would be easier," You spoke lightly, your hands picking nervously at each other in your lap. Sure, you had been dating for nearly a year, but that didn't stop your nerves from spiking each time you went out on a limb.

Sunghoon felt his cheeks set themselves on fire at the new position, having so much more to worry about than getting a cramp in his neck or side. "Y-Yeah, no, this is great, way better than before, actually." He smiled softly, his left hand resting on your hip lovingly as comfort.

After taking a moment to settle themselves, they began the process again; Sunghoon breathing in the smoke before blowing it into your mouth, allowing you to take in the high as well. He watched as you tilted your head back, sighing the smoke out into the air above them to avoid blowing it back into Sunghoon's face.

Sunghoon tracked your movement, his eyes trailing along your neck, taking in your smooth skin, before delving lower into what the cut of your t-shirt allowed him to see. He took in the details of your collarbones, just slightly protruding out, and the view of your breasts, which were slightly elevated due to the bra you wore. He wouldn't consider himself a person who gets horny while high, but with the view that was given to him in this very moment he could make an exception.

Thus, the process continued, rotating until the blunt was nothing but ash, leaving you and Sunghoon in a haze of smoke and lust as they grew closer to each other; you sat comfortably in Sunghoon's lap as he held onto your hips, his hands casually gripping your curves. Your foreheads rested on each-others, your noses slightly bumping as you relished in the high together, needing nothing but each other and the constant downpour of the rain.

"Sunghoon..." You breathed, your eyes staying closed as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck lovingly.

Sunghoon hummed, not feeling the need to use words as he steadily continued to trace patterns on your skin.

"Can I wear your hoodie?" Your voice was small and calm as you placed your hands on his shoulders, lifting your head back to open your eyes.

Sunghoon felt his eyebrows furrow as he opened his eyes, meeting his girlfriend's blown-wide pupils. "Are you sure you won't get too hot?" He mused, stilling his thumbs against your sides.

You huffed lightly, a cute pout on your lips, "It's always pretty cold in here, besides; I'll just take off my shirt, see?" As if to prove your point, or rather claim, you reached for the hem of your shirt and swiftly pulled it over your head, dropping it to the floor behind you, leaving you in a simple black bra, goosebumps immediately rising against your skin from the change in temperature.

Sunghoon felt a stir in his lower stomach, his eyes quickly flicking to your breasts that rested in the cups of your bra, your chest moving in tune with the breaths you were taking. "Y-You didn't have to, you know?" He gaped, scanning over the new flesh that lacked all the marks he now wanted to make.

"I know," You smirked, bringing your face to his ear, "I could feel that you've been staring for a while now, I just wanted to give you a better view." You murmured seductively before nibbling at his earlobe, causing his grip to tighten on your hips with a gasp.

"In that case you're gonna have to help me now." Sunghoon moaned, his hips lifting slightly to rub against your core easily through your leggings.

Your movements were slow and languid, trailing kisses from his jaw to his lips, catching them in a deep kiss as you moved herself closer to be directly in his lap. Sunghoon allowed his hands to move from your hips to your waist, caressing the soft, plump skin he was met with, the warmth welcoming his hands.

Moments like this were quite possibly his favorite; the slow, lethargic kisses they both shared, even when they were both sober. He loved the feel of you pressed against him, no insecurities or worried clouding your judgement as you allowed yourself to be free and be comfortable with him, which only made you hotter.

"So, what do you say?" You finally spoke as their lips parted, ghosting against each other, "Can I?" You gazed at him with a fire of seductive confidence behind your eyes, the look only fueling the desire Sunghoon had to take you right in that moment.

He was practically rendered breathless from staring at you, almost forgetting to answer your awaiting question. "Definitely."

You engulfed his lips into a slow, yet heated kiss; lips smacking and tongues clashing in an instant of lust before they both broke away, a new spark igniting within the both of them. You took a second to stare at each other, breathing heavily before they broke into frantic movements.

Sunghoon shifted sporadically, pulling the hoodie up at any angle he could, nearly getting it stuck on his head and glasses as you frantically struggled to get your bra off, trying your best to keep your balance as Sunghoon wiggled and jerked, muttering and cursing here and there. The red death trap finally released its hold on Sunghoon, and he was met with the glorious sight of you dangling your bra on your finger, using your other hand to muffle your bubbling giggles.

"I'm glad you find me funny." He readjusted his glasses and took your hand away from your mouth, leaning himself forward to place a kiss on your lips.

"And I'm glad you don't mind me crushing you," You giggled again, nuzzling your nose against his own, causing him to blush before sucking his teeth at you.

"You could never." He murmured, kissing your cheek, then neck, before following up with another kiss on your lips, "You're perfect, besides, more cushion for the pushin'." As he said this he moved his hands to your ass, giving it a generous squeeze and earning himself a squeak of surprise.

"God, you're a dork." You sighed blissfully as moved his hands to your chest, massaging your breasts while he worked on decorating your neck in red. You felt the texture of his tongue run along a particularly sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shiver and his lips to curl into a smile before he sucked on the portion of skin.

"As long as I'm your dork, I'm okay with that."

He continued to litter your neck and chest with open-mouthed kisses, pinching your nipples teasingly before rolling them between his forefinger and thumb, hearing your gasps of pleasure as you gently tugged at his hair. Moving his head lower, he placed a few kisses at the top of your breasts before taking your right nipple into his mouth, licking tentatively at the hardening bud, still twisting at the unoccupied one.

You whimpered lightly, tilting your head back faintly as you held the back of his head, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his jeans for much needed friction. You felt him groan against your skin, lifting his hips to press into your core as you continued to grind onto him.

Without a moment to spare, Sunghoon moved on to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the right while he used his right hand to travel down your side, reaching the hem of the leggings. Before he could move any further, he felt you hand grab his, lifting it away from your hip.

"Nuh uh, shirt off first, you gotta finish this level before moving on, Hoonie," You taunted breathlessly, a small smirk grazing your lips as he released your breast with a small pop.

"Oh, I love when you speak video game," He groaned softly, flashing you a smile as he leaned away from you, reaching behind him to pull off his t-shirt and toss it off the side of the couch. "Now, pants?"

"Pants." You nodded, pushing yourself off of his lap to stand, allowing him to do the same.

Sunghoon's hands eagerly went to his belt buckle, rushing to undo the buckle and get the slightly tighter pants off of him, while you turned your back to him; bending over to give him a show as you pulled your leggings off, grinning as you heard Sunghoon groan.

"Leggings on you are a weapon to me, babe." He huffed in success as he finally pushed off his jeans, kicking them off in a pile behind him before coming face to face with you again.

You stared at each other for a heartbeat before Sunghoon chuckled, "Should we take off our underwear too before we go back to sitting?"

You thought for a second before huffing out a laugh, "Yeah, we probably should."

After taking off their underwear they resumed the previous position on the couch, kissing passionately as you hovered over his hardened cock, brushing against it every now and again with your wet cunt causing Sunghoon to shiver. He slid his hand between both of their bodies, using his finger to delve between your lower lips, feeling your wetness collect on his fingers. You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body shiver in excitement as his finger prodded at your slit before slowly sliding into your pussy; pumping a few times before he added a second, feeling your walls stretch around him.

"Sunghoon..." You moaned softly once you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his as he continued to finger you, feeling the digits slightly curl inside of you. You gasped, shortly realizing what he was searching for as he picked up the pace, his thumb starting to rub small circles on your clit.

"Almost..." He murmured, keeping his eyes on your face as he curled his fingers again.

You inhaled sharply, tilting your head back as a loud moan escaped your lips. "Sunghoon!"

"There we go." Sunghoon grinned as he continued to thrust his fingers into your warmth, feeling your juices coat his digits as you hovered above his lap. He felt your walls clench as your hips bucked into his hand, moving his thumb faster across the sensitive bud of nerves; watching as your lips stayed parted to accommodate for the moans spilling out, eyelashes resting against the tops of your cheeks.

Your entire being exuded bliss, borderline pornographic as Sunghoon felt himself grow harder at the sight, if that was even possible at this point.

"H-Hoonie, I'm close-" You whimpered, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you leaned your head into his shoulder, tugging at the black strands while moaning into his skin, feeling the knot tighten within your abdomen.

"Come on baby, cum for me," He moaned, feeling your thighs begin to shake as your moans became constant.

As he pressed his fingers into your g-spot you let out a loud moan, shaking as your walls pulsed and convulsed around his fingers. Sunghoon continued to slowly pump his fingers inside of you, easing you down from your climax as he felt you panting against his neck, leaving small kisses against the warmth of his skin.

After a moment you sat up once again, gazing into his eyes with nothing but pure love and admiration before pulling him into a slow kiss. "Now it's your turn," You murmured against his lips, a smile growing on your own as you reached for the signature hoodie that started all of this. You easily slid the article over your body, feeling the slightly scratchy fabric of the inside envelope you in warmth and the scent of Sunghoon before digging around in the front pocket to take out a condom he usually had stashed there for 'safe keeping'.

Sunghoon was breathless as he took in the heavenly sight before him; his girlfriend with your slightly messed up hair and flustered face wearing his hoodie, his hoodie, slightly large over your frame with nothing underneath as you held out a condom. Sure, you had worn his hoodie numerous times before, but this was a sight unlike any other, and boy was he enjoying it. He was snapped out of his trance once he felt your hand wrap around his cock, pumping it gingerly as he shivered, not realizing how touch deprived he felt. "F-Fuck," He breathed, rutting his hips into your hand subconsciously.

You gasped lightly, the sound of his moan shooting directly to your core as you continued to pump him a bit faster, collecting the drops of precum that leaked out of the tip with your thumb and spreading it around.

"I-If you keep it up we're gonna have to wait fifteen minutes to do this again." He whimpered out a laugh, his hand wrapping around your wrist to stop your movements with a serious look. You nodded, chewing your lower lip before tearing open the packet, taking the lubricated condom between your fingers before moving off of his lap a bit to slide it along his dick; the rubber coating him almost like a second skin.

Moving yourself closer to him once again, you took his length in your hand to line him up with your slit, feeling the tip rub slightly against your pussy lips with a small moan. "Ready?"

Sunghoon nodded up at you, his hands holding your hips for support as you hovered above him, so close yet still so far.

"I need to hear you say you're ready, handsome," You breathed, a light of playfulness shining behind your eyes.

"I'm ready, baby," He practically groaned, making a mental note to get back at you for making him wait.

Nodding, you slowly slid yourself down on his cock, feeling his girth stretch your walls slightly as you continued to go down on him; a moan escaping both of your lips once your pelvises met.

Sunghoon bit his lip, fighting the urge to press your to his body and fuck you relentlessly as he felt you clench around him. You let out a small breath before steadying yourself against his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders and lifting your hips until only the head was inside of you before sinking down once again, a rush of pleasure coursing through your like electricity.

You continued the motion, speeding up once you heard Sunghoon's soft groan of pleasure; his hands helping you rise and fall against his cock at a steady pace. Opening your eyes, you looked at Sunghoon, watching as his stare was focused on his lap; watching as your pussy slid along his cock with ease. You brought your hands to the sides of his face, gently bringing his head up to meet your eyes, getting lost in the chocolate brown pools surrounded by the rim of his glasses; their breaths mingling together.

Within a heartbeat their lips smashed together, soft moans and whimpers escaping the both of them as you rode him faster, feeling his fingers squeeze against your hips as he pulled you into him. He pulled you down he thrusted his hips up out of instinct, moaning at the deeper contact he was able to reach.

"Fuck! R-Right there Sunghoon!" You mewled, gripping his shoulders tighter as you bounced, feeling his cock press against your g-spot as he thrusted into you again.

"Go-od you're so tight," He panted as he pulled you harder against him, feeling your walls clench and throb around him, feeling a familiar knot slowly begin to form in the pit of his stomach. "Hold on."

"W-Wha-" You started before you were suddenly pushed to the side, laying on your back while Sunghoon hovered over you, hiking your legs onto his hips and resting himself on his forearms for balance. He pushed himself deeper inside of your dripping pussy, causing you to moan out in pleasure at the new, and better, angle. "Oh, God!"

Sunghoon started out with a few slow thrusts before picking up speed, the sound of your moans and the lewdness of your skin slapping together filling the basement.

"You're so perfect, writhing under me like that, god you're perfect." He murmured against your ear, his words enunciated by his thrusts.

Your hands tangled themselves throughout his black locks, tugging harshly as you squeezed your legs around his hips. Moaning loudly, Sunghoon snapped his hips into yours with a near animalistic growl as he fucked you deeper, compensating for the speed.

"Hoon! Sunghoon, I-" You whimpered, your head pressing into the couch as you arched your body into his, feeling him continuously graze your g-spot with ease.

He sat up, much to your displeasure as your hands fell from his hair and took a moment to take in your position; your body bouncing against each of his thrusts as the hoodie rose up against your stomach, your breasts bouncing underneath the fabric freely while your face was wrapped in an expression of pure pleasure, eyes screwed shut and plump lips open to compensate for the moans that spilled out. He slid a hand down to your clit, rubbing the nub in quick circles in time with his thrusts, cursing when your pussy clenched around his cock once more.

"I know, cum for me beautiful, just for me," He moaned, putting off his own climax to get you to reach your climax first; a gentleman as always.

You felt the pressure in your stomach tighten before snapping completely, your eyes squeezing shut as you came against his cock. You came with a high-pitched moan of his name, your back arching slightly as he continued to thrust inside of you, helping you ride out your climax.

"I- fuck, I'll never get tired of seeing that," Sunghoon grunted, leaning over your body again as his own thrusts began to grow faster and sloppier, burying his head within the crook of your neck, sucking at your supple skin. "God you feel so good."

"G-Go on baby, cum, it's your turn," You moaned, holding him close to you as you raked your nails across his shoulders, bracing yourself against his relentless thrusts.

Sunghoon gave a few more hard thrusts before his hips stuttered, spilling his seed inside of the condom with a loud moan into your neck. He continued to thrust slowly, riding out his high as you whispered words of comfort, lightly running your fingers across his scalp as he panted heavily.

After a few moments of comforting silence Sunghoon slowly pulled out of you, going to dispose of the used condom before walking back to the couch; pulling on his once discarded boxers and t-shirt with a small smile on his lips. "Come on cutie, let's get you situated," He hummed, swiftly picking up your panties before dangling them in front of you.

"My legs feel like gel-o," You moaned, covering your face with your hands, the sleeves of his hoodie over them like mitts.

"Alright, you get recovery time but remember what they taught us in health class-"

"Yeah, yeah, STI's and all that," You interrupted, snatching the underwear from him as you slid them up your legs, "Cuddle while I recover, Mr. Health Enforcer?"

Chuckling lightly, Sunghoon nodded and sat on the couch, laying back on the opposite end before your maneuvered yourself on top of him; resting your head on his chest while your legs entwined.

"You know," He started, allowing his hands to move to your lower back lovingly, "You look really hot when you have my hoodie on, especially like that."

"I bet that's just the high talking." You murmured, closing your eyes to focus on the beat of his heart through his shirt.

"No, never. You always look hot to me, the hoodie just made it better because its mine, and you're mine, so it's a double whammy." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows, trying to find the right words to say. "You're not hot, actually, you're beautiful, more beautiful than words can describe, and a photo can capture. I love you because you're just, so... Indescribable."

You felt tears prick at your eyes as your heart swelled at his words, snuggling yourself closer to him with a small smile, "And I love you because you're so describable; so real, tangible, there. There are so many words to describe you I'd have to learn all the languages to use them all, and even then I'd be missing some. Every word comes so close yet so far to describing you yet they're all so valid because you're you, you're here, you're real."

Sunghoon squeezed you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

#౨ৎㅤ sunghoon #౨ৎㅤ violet writes #enhypen hard hours #enhypen drabbles #idol x reader #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #bf!sunghoon #afab!reader #heeseung smut #jay smut #jake smut #sunoo smut #jungwon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon hard hours

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

requiem // part one

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi again! obligatory note to say sorry i didn't update a couple days ago i meant to but i got hit by a car and then i was working lmao (i'm fine but the ao3 curse did in fact find me)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Mister Snow." Coriolanus's head jerks up at his name from where it was resting against his palm, nearly having fallen asleep by the side of your bed. You were out cold and had been for close to a week now, but part of him hoped he would be there when you eventually stirred.

"We have to ask you to leave now, but you can come back tomorrow after seven," The nurse tells him, a sympathetic smile on her face. This was the sixth night in a row they'd had this exact conversation.

"Of course, thank you," he grumbles as he stands up, rubbing his eyes.

"How is your mentorship going?" she asks, just for the sake of making conversation. "It is very exciting. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks..." he hums, hand sliding over his jaw in slight discomfort. He had little to no interest in his tribute. It was clear Lucy Gray had no shot at winning, and he had an even smaller shot at the Plinth Prize thanks to her. Now, he could hardly even stomach looking at her. "The Songbird," as everyone called her.

In reality, his best friend had been forgotten the moment Lucy Gray Baird set foot on that stage in District Twelve and began to sing, and he loathed her for it. The way that all eyes turned to you next to him during the reaping as soon as his tribute's lips parted and began to sing made his stomach turn even now.

Coriolanus's eyes parted from the screen to look over at you, a small teasing smile on his face as he reached out to nudge you with his elbow when instead he was met with an expression of horror on your face. He could see the way your neck tensed as you swallowed hard, and he looks around to see almost everyone else's eyes on you as well for just a moment at a time, stealing glances in your direction.

Your jaw tightens while you grind your teeth together. She was good. But you were better at masking your discomfort with the whole situation, looking down to smooth out your black skirt where it lay across your lap and ignoring all the eyes that had fallen on you.

"It's going well," he lies in response.

"I'm glad to hear that. She's got a real talent, that girl," She smiles, and Coriolanus knows she's not trying to take a jab at the girl lying unconscious a few feet away, but he couldn't see it any other way. "Well, best of luck to her. And you, of course."

"Thanks. Have a good night," Coriolanus replies almost under his breath, taking a final glance at you fast asleep in the cold-looking hospital bed, neck bandaged down to your bruised shoulders before he leaves for the night.

It's sunny out when Coriolanus makes his daily trek to the Capitol Zoo to feed his tribute, and his academy uniform feels heavier on his shoulders than what he's used to.

His tribute smiles as she gets up and brushes off the front of her rainbow dress, making her way over to the bars to greet him. "Good afternoon, Coriolanus. Doin' well today?" she asks as he gets closer, already digging into his bag for the food he brought her.

"Fine," he mumbles in response, holding the folded napkin out to her that contains a cookie he took from the academy lunchroom.

"Thank you," Lucy Gray says as she takes it, unfolding the small cloth from around it and taking a bite. Chewing on it, she looks up at him again, taking note of the bags forming under his blue eyes. "I'm sorry about your friend."

His eyes flick from the cookie she was eating back up to hers, a slight glare behind them as he swallows stiffly. "Yes, well, she's alive," he tells her, looking back down as she breaks the cookie in half and holds it out to him.

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, pushing her hand away with his own.

"You should eat. You look like you need the energy," she says sympathetically.

He sighs because she's probably right. He takes it from her hand carefully, already breaking off a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucy Gray knew their little routine by now. It was obvious when he brought her food the first time that he was going hungry. She had seen the signs enough back home to recognize it even here, hidden within what was supposed to be the endless opulence of the Capitol.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asks as he begins to chew the tiny piece of the cookie, mindful of chewing and swallowing it slowly. He looks up at her again, confusion in his eyes. "Your friend, I mean." she explains.

"No." he answers quickly, shaking his head.

His semi-hostile response only leads Lucy Gray to believe that this girl she had seen get attacked meant something to him. Though, she already knew that when they walked into the zoo arm-in-arm like birds of a feather minutes before the girl was attacked, and her mentor had to be dragged away from her by Peacekeepers when a medical team finally arrived.

"Will you tell me about her?"

"About Y/N?" he asks, eyes softening just a bit.

Lucy Gray nods in confirmation, a small smile on her lips as she urges him on.

"She, uh..." Suddenly he doesn't know where to start with you. Your parents' names are what would traditionally come first in the Capitol, but he knew that would mean nothing to the girl in front of him. That you were his best and only real friend? That you were a singer, too, just like her, but you would likely never sing another note again? "She's a singer in training for the Opera House on Presidential Way. She is... she was very good."

Lucy Gray's eyes light up as he speaks. "She was a singer?"

Coriolanus nods, putting his focus back into eating.

"She must have been amazing," Lucy Gray says, trying to make comforting conversation.

"She is," he corrects her quickly, disguising it as agreement, despite having been the one to refer to your singing abilities in the past tense.

"Of course." She agrees, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I didn't mean..."

"They are making some changes to the Games." He cuts her off, wanting to move on to avoid having to think about the current state of his best friend. It makes his heart sink and the accompanying dread causes that awful burning sensation behind his eyes that makes him want to cry. "So... you need to sing again. Get people to like you. Then I'll be able to send you things in the arena to keep you alive."

Lucy Gray seems hesitant, letting out a huff with the slight shake of her head, looking around before locking her eyes back on him. "I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say."

Coriolanus is jarred by her statement, tilting his head a bit and clenching his jaw at the notion and her ferocity behind it. He can't help it when the sudden, stark difference between Lucy Gray and his best friend hits him like a thunderstorm coming in quick on a sunny day.

She sang when she had something to say, you sang because you had to. This fact would keep him up at night for weeks.

The games had come and gone, and there had been no winner this year. Your tribute was shot dead the day she attacked you, and Dr. Gaul saw it as some kind of justice that after your assault, the bombing, and the deaths of your other classmates, the death of all those District kids would keep their home districts from rebelling. From seeing the Capitol as vulnerable, or something like that. You really couldn't care less. At least Felix and the twins were lucky enough to have succumbed to their injuries.

The hospital was cold and dark at almost all hours of the day. You couldn't do a thing besides sit there and wait. For what, you weren't even sure.

"She's not having a good day today," The nurse informs Coryo as he checks in to visit you. He comes by every day, sometimes multiple times a day to see you, and you have your good and bad days. He's well used to that by now.

"Has she eaten?" he asks, and the nurse shakes her head.

"Refused to touch anything we brought her," She sighs, but she's fighting back a smile, which makes him raise an eyebrow at her. Why would she be smiling at that?

"She will be able to go home tomorrow," She smiles, hearing the question he never verbalized. "I thought you might like to tell her."

"Oh... I see," Coryo hums, looking down the hall toward the staircase he would soon take to get to you.

"You don't seem pleased," She states quizzically, her grin fading.

"Why is she going home?" He asks. "She still can't even speak."

The nurse looks down, pursing her lips. "As the doctor mentioned, there's no guarantee that she will ever get her voice back. I'm sorry, truly, but there's nothing more we can do for her here. It's better that she's home with her family recovering somewhere more comfortable."

"Right," He swallows, nodding curtly at her. "Thank you," He replies simply, brushing past the nurse's station to go down to your room.

He can always hear it before he sees it, the echo of opera music cycling through your favorite records time and time again, filling the quiet hall with something pleasant as soon as he opens the door from the stairwell.

"Y/N," You look up from where you're sitting in the corner, tilting your head at him. Coryo smiles as he walks in, and you wish you were in a better mood, to be a better host; as good of one as you could be when you were in the hospital and couldn't speak a single word to him. "How are you feeling?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips. The flowers people had brought you in your first couple of weeks were wilting, and then they stopped bringing them. Your whole life you had been praised for your voice; since you were six years old, the Capitol had seemingly been buzzing with hope for your future. You would be the most beautiful, accomplished singer Panem had ever seen - no one doubted it, but within weeks you had been completely forgotten. Replaced by the image of the girl who had sung at the reaping and once in an interview. Your room was quite a sad reflection of this, and you spent every minute of every day forced to wallow in it.

"Bad day?" Coryo asks anyway, but you just shrug, looking out the window at your sad view of the city that had abandoned you.

"Well, I've got some good news," He says, which draws your attention. You tilt your head at him, gesturing in a circular motion with your hand for him to go on.

He laughs, putting his bag down on your empty and perfectly made bed. "One second, here. In case you have questions." He pulls the small chalkboard out from the drawer next to your bed, holding it out to you with a piece of white chalk. You scrunch up your nose and wave rapidly for him to put it back. He knew it would bug you, that's why he did it, recalling the day he brought it for you and you almost threw it at him.

"I HATE writing with chalk," You scribbled quickly on a napkin with a pen you stole from his pocket, throwing the napkin at him and crossing your arms.

"What? Why?" Coryo laughed, dropping the crumpled piece of soft paper on the table next to your bed.

You shook your head, pursed your lips, and looked up, trying to find a way to explain the awful sensation without saying it. He watched you patiently as you thought, until you pretended to hold a piece of the white substance in between your thumb and forefinger, dragging it down the air slowly and pretending to gag. You shook your head again in disgust, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, I didn't know you felt so passionately about this," He drags the chalk down over the board, and you cringe, covering your ears. Coryo couldn't help but think that was just about the cutest thing he had ever seen.

That had been one of your good days, even though at the time your scar was still so fresh it was bandaged, and you were littered with bruises down to your ribs. The room was littered with fallen flower petals by now, yes, but also with what must be hundreds of notes you had shown to Coryo to express yourself in the only way you still could.

That memory still makes you smile, even if you do absolutely hate chalkboards. You walk past him and grab your notebook off the same table, picking it and the pen up as dramatically as you possibly can before sitting down on the bed and looking up at him.

"What?" He asks, just to tease you, and you roll your eyes.

'Get on with it. Also, you're not funny, and I hate you,' You write, turning the page to face him so he could read it.

"Oh, do you?" He chuckles, sitting down next to you.

You smack his arm with the book, motioning again that he should just spit it out.

"Okay! Okay, fine," He sighs emphatically, placing his hands on his thighs and looking down at the floor, just for a few moments to drive you more up the wall before turning his gaze to you. "They told me that you're going home tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, suddenly forgetting that you can't. You quickly shut your jaw, furrowing your brow and shaking your head. 'Why?' You mouth to him, neglecting the pad of paper in your lap.

He reads your lips, frowning at your lack of excitement. He was hoping you would be looking forward to it, but he knew you wouldn't be. Not really. "They said there isn't anything more they can do for you here, that you need to heal at home."

You stand up abruptly, throwing the paper down on the ground and clutching the pen so tight that Coryo fears it might shatter.

What do they mean "nothing they can do"? They could fix you, they could operate again, they could pump you so full of drugs that you could finally forget the hell that you're living in, that's what they could do. You couldn't even say that - or scream out your frustrations.

You turn back to Coryo, and the hurt look on your face crushes him. You want to speak to him so badly. Your lips fall open, and you try anyway. 'They're going to leave me like this?' You ask, but not a sound comes out. Not even so much as a whisper. Your throat burns regardless.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, standing up and reaching out for you. You shake your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "Come here..." he says softly, already wrapping his arms around you as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall. You can't even hug him back, hands clutched to your chest as you shake under his hold.

"If I could take this from you, I would," He mumbles, shaking his head and resting his chin on your head as he rubs your back. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N."

What he wouldn't give to be able to hear your voice again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fic #thg tbosas #thg series #thg fanfiction #coriolanus imagine

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lovemesomeeddiemunson · 1 year ago

Text

The Proposal - Part 2

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 2 of 7. 4252 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack. Minor spoilers for Flight of Icarus.

Authors Note: It should be noted that this is a fully completed fic, I've just broken it up for ease of posting. I can be motivated to post faster, if readers find themselves engaged.

Also, credit and praise to @steddiecameraroll-graphics for the D20 crown header used from here on out - fyi, I’m obsessed.

Additional thanks and love to @be-my-wonderland for her help with the Italian translations.

When Eddie and Steve arrive at the immigration office, Steve immediately bullies his way past the line and to the front counter.

Charming the disgruntled with carefully placed Italian, he offers more than one apologetic “Mi scusi,” the words flowing from his lips with a smile that makes several people swoon...

Eddie may or not be among them.

Once Steve’s secured his standing in line with his ill-gotten means, he then directs that same charm to the employee working the counter as he tells her, “I need you to file this fiancé visa for me, please.”

After taking and looking over his file, the older woman addresses him, with an inquisitive, “Mr. Harrington?”

“Yes.” Steve nods.

She gestures for him and Eddie both to follow her, pushing her glasses up her nose as she instructs. “Please come with me.”

As they leave the front counter, she leads them into an office where Eddie sits down as they wait by themselves. Steve’s still standing, lurking over by the door, glued to his phone, typing like there’s no tomorrow.

Business as usual, his fiancé is. A thought that unsettles Eddie even more deeply as he whispers “I have a bad feeling.”

His words precede a slight commotion outside, where both men can hear bantering coming closer to where they wait.

The woman who had brought them in earlier appears to be conversing with an absolute mountain of a man, who can be heard insisting, “Flo we’ve discussed this…mornings are for coffee and contemplation…coffee and contemplation!”

Yanking open his office door to deal with his uninvited guests, Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin. With a donut and a coffee in hand, the immigration officer crosses the room as he greets them with a flat tone.

Introduces, “Hello. I’m Jim Hopper.” As he moves to sit behind the desk, setting his pastry and coffee down and scratching at the scruff of his beard. “And you must be Steve and Eddie. Sorry about the wait.”

He lets out a small chuckle, before letting the file he holds fall onto his desk with no care at all, dismisses, “It’s a crazy day today. You know.”

“Oh, of course, of course. We understand.” Steve has lowered his phone, but still cradles it in his hands as he spouts nonsense. “And I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.”

Steve smiles at him, and Hopper smiles back. Both of them are as fake as the plastic chair that Eddie’s sweating into.

“Okay.” Hopper gets right to it then, looking over the file briefly. “So,” He flips it shut with a noisy snap. “I just have one question for you.”

Uh-oh.

Eddie decidedly does not like the sound of that, trying to keep his expression neutral. Unsure if he’s succeeding.

“Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his job as a music producer?” Hopper asks sternly, looking pointedly at Eddie.

“Where did— Where did you hear that?” Eddie finds himself asking instead of answering, while Steve makes a sound that sounds scandalized at the suggestion.

Oscar worthy. Truly.

“We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named…” Hopper starts, looking down at his notes as Steve dramatically sighs, interrupting Hopper with a sympathetic smile.

“Would it be a William Hargrove?” He asks him.

Hopper looks back up at them, “Billy Hargrove.” He finishes.

Steve shakes his head sadly. “Oh, Billy. Poor Billy. I’m so sorry.” Steve frowned, “Billy is nothing but a disgruntled former employee, and I apologize…But we know you’re incredibly busy with a long line of people to tend to. If you’ll just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.”

“Mr. Harrington, please.” Hopper gestures for him to take a seat. Steve does so warily.

“Let me explain to you the process that’s about to unfold.” Hopper leans on his desk as the men both nod.

“Step one will be a scheduled interview. I’ll put you each in a room, and I’ll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other.” He explains. As if that’s the easy part. “Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, I interview your co-workers.” He’s almost glaring at them now.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point,” He points at Steve, “You will be deported indefinitely.” He turns to Eddie, “And you, young man, will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000. And a stay of five years in a federal prison.” He finishes.

Eddie glances out the window of the office then, catching the sight of a handcuffed woman who protests loudly as she is escorted out of the building. Good God.

Eddie can’t go to jail. He might look scary, but he’s not fit for prison.

“So, Eddie.” Hopper continues, the other man’s eyes snapping towards him as Eddie inclines his head.

“You wanna… you want to talk to me?” Hopper smiles, even winks at him, knowingly.

Eddie’s mind moves a mile a minute - he calculates, recalculates, and then he shakes his head in answer.

“No?” Hopper confirms.

Another head shake. “Well, not no…” Eddie clears his throat, “The truth is…”

Steve’s eyes widen as he looks at Eddie.

This is it. No turning back now. Eddie clears his throat, “Mr. Hopper, the truth is… Steve and I…” He turns to Steve, meeting his eyes, “…are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love… but we did.”

Steve smiles at him in relief, nodding, before looking back at Hopper through his lashes.

Eddie goes on. “We couldn’t tell anyone we work with, because of the record deal.”

Steve’s expression flickers with surprise as the immigration officer probes, “Record deal?”

Eddie nods, “Yeah.”

“Your…?” Steve asks, staring him down.

Eddie beams at him. “We…We both felt that it would be deeply inappropriate, if I were to be offered a record deal while still holding the title of Steve’s executive assistant…”

Steve huffs, masking it with a cough.

“But with the wedding,” Eddie emphasizes the word for Steve’s benefit. A mild threat. “Coming up - well, I’m not going to be Steve’s assistant anymore. Right sweetheart?” He looks at his boss.

Steve is smiling, but there’s nothing behind his eyes. He’s trapped him.

Good.

“Yes.” Steve grits out.

Hopper clicks his pen. Seemingly satisfied. “So…Have the two of you told your parents about your secret love?”

“Oh…” Steve laughed, “Impossible. My parents and I haven’t spoken in six years. Not since they found out I was bisexual and kicked me out of the house.”

Eddie can’t help but glance at him. The way he says it so casually, the laugh that comes with it, how easy it was to say for him. Like it didn’t hurt…but Eddie knows better.

He finds himself taking Steve’s hand. Squeezing it. He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever intentionally touched Steve. It’s exhilarating. Especially when Steve looks down at the touch all soft, as if in awe.

“No brothers or sisters either.” Steve nods, like it’s nothing, like it’s not a big deal that he has no family to speak of. Hopper clocks it, hums softly. Asks Eddie, “And what about your family?”

“Mom passed. Dad is M.I.A.” He too tries to be casual. He can’t tell if he does it spectacularly or not, because Steve offers no condolence squeeze of his own, though he hasn’t dropped his hand. “I have an uncle though who may as well be my father...Despite accusing me for a very long time of wanting Steve, he doesn’t know that we uh, got together.”

Steve doesn’t like the look that Hopper gets when Eddie reveals that a man who may as well be his father wouldn’t be privy to such big news, and quickly interjects, “We’re actually going to tell him this weekend.”

Eddie whips his head at Steve at that. He can’t be serious.

“It’s his 65th birthday, and we wanted to be there.” Steve explains. “We thought it’d be a nice surprise…and uh, as Eddie mentioned, he did suspect at least Eddie’s feelings for…quite a while.” Steve chuckles.

Eddie wonders if Steve knows that his words ring with a word of truth, nonetheless perturbed at the implication, even as he watches his boss lie with so much ease.

Hopper smirks, “And where is this surprise gonna take place?”

“Eddie’s uncle’s home.” Steve gives Eddie a subtle glance, asking for assistance.

“Where is that located again?” Hopper presses on.

“Um…” Steve scoffs with a laugh. charmingly unprepared as he fixates on Eddie with a little quip of, “Why am I doing all the talking? It’s your uncle. Why don’t you tell him where he lives? Jump in.”

Eddie grins sadistically, doing as he’s asked with glee. “Hawkins.”

“Hawkins.” Steve confirms, looking back at Hopper.

“Indiana.” Eddie finishes with a smile.

“Indiana.” Steve repeats, and abruptly turns to him in surprise. Eddie is already looking back at him, giving his boss the sweetest smile he can muster.

“Hawkins, Indiana. Real small-town America.” Eddie’s smile widens, sweetens.

“You’re gonna go to Indiana this weekend?” Hopper repeats, his doubts obvious.

Steve nods, voice pained. “Yes.”

“Yeah.” Eddie adds.

“We are going to Indiana. That’s where my little… that’s where my Eddie is from.” Steve is clearly thrown, and Eddie almost laughs in delight.

Hopper sighs, “Okay. Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both…in two weeks.” He rips a piece of notepad to scribble on it, “At 11am, for your scheduled interview, and your answers better match up.”

Hopper stands then, prompting both of them to do the same. They realize they are still holding hands, and drop them quickly.

Steve’s already on his phone saying hello to someone as Eddie takes the piece of paper from Hopper with their scribbled appointment.

“Thank you.” He says, pocketing it as the officer teases him, “I’m looking forward to this one.”

“We’re looking forward to this one.” Eddie replies as Steve greets the caller with an excited tone, waving a dismissive goodbye to Hopper and fleeing the room.

“It’s gonna be fun! I’ll be checking up on you.” Hopper calls after them.

By the time they’ve spilled out onto the street, and escaped the scrutiny of the feds, Steve is off the phone call, barking orders.

“Okay, so, what’s gonna happen is we will go over there. We will pretend that we have been dating, tell your uncle that we’re engaged.” Steve continues to look at his screen, as if it’s all so simple. Making plans. “Use the miles for the tickets. First class, but make sure you use the miles. If we don’t get the miles, we’re not doing it. Oh! And confirm the vegan meal, okay? Because last time they gave it to an actual vegan, and they forced me to eat this gross salad thing, which was…”

Trailing off, Steve looks up from his phone, blinking when he sees Eddie not taking him as seriously as he should be. “Hey, why aren’t you taking notes?”

“I’m sorry, were you not in that room?” Eddie points his thumb at the building.

“What? What?” Steve asks, looking genuinely confused as to what he’s worried about.

Eddie blinks. Waits. It clicks a moment later.

“Oh! The thing you said about a record deal?” Steve nods with a smirk, “Genius! He completely fell for it!”

“I was serious.” Eddie clenches his jaw, “I’m looking at a $250,000 fine and five years in jail. That changes things.”

Steve makes a face, “A record deal? No way.”

“Then I quit, and you’re screwed. Goodbye Stevie, it really has been a little slice of heaven.” Eddie starts to walk away.

“Eddie!” Steve calls back, chasing after him and oh boy does Eddie like that feeling. “Eddie! Eddie! Fine! Fine.” The other man halts, and turns back to face Steve.

“I’ll give you a record deal. Fine.” Steve nods, agreeing to his terms even if it kills him. “If you go through with this weekend, the interview, and the wedding, I will give you a record deal. Happy?”

“Not in two years. Right away.” Eddie counters back, Steve rolls his eyes with a sharp breath.

“Fine.” He huffs.

“And you’ll give me complete creative control.” He adds.

Steve pauses, looking baffled and conflicted, “Eddie…”

“Complete creative control, or I walk.” Eddie continues, “Also, we’ll tell my uncle about our engagement when I want and how I want. If I have to add lying to the man who saved my life in addition to this fucking shit show, then I want to do it on my own terms.” He feels really fucking good right now. Powerful even. So he demands, “Now, ask me nicely.”

Steve stares at him, “Ask you nicely what?”

Eddie smirks, “Ask me nicely to marry you, Steve.”

“What?” He wrinkles his nose and Eddie shows his teeth. “You heard me. On your knees.”

“Here?” Steve’s voice breaks and Eddie snickers, crossing his arms. Waits.

“Fine.” His boss finally grits out, kneeling down and holding out his hand expectantly for Eddie’s. Eddie is pleased, giving it over with a little wiggle of his fingers.

He’s kneeling like a beggar and not someone proposing, with both of his legs tucked under him, scowling so pretty that Eddie can’t stand it as Steve snarks, “Does this work for you?”

“Oh, yeah. I like this.” Eddie nods in reply, smug, thinking to himself that Steve never needs to know exactly how much.

Steve is glaring daggers as he asks him flatly, “Will you marry me?”

Eddie offers a small shake of his head in answer. “No.” He’s firm. “Say it nicely. Say it like you mean it.”

Steve breathes deeply, trying again, slowly drawing out his name as he asks, “Eddie,”

“Yes, Steve?” Eddie smiles down at him.

“Eddie, my darling Eddie.” Eddie has to ignore the way his voice lowers, pleading and yet commanding in a way that would have their roles reversed - Eddie on his knees - in a second. His answering tone he just manages to keep indifferent. “I’m listening.”

“Would you, please, pretty please, with cherries on top, marry me?” Steve pouts, and his lips are so lush that Eddie might actually die.

Instead of doing that, or something equally embarrassing, Eddie purses his own lips, looking up, pretending that he’s thinking it over when really he’s trying to expel the mental image of Steve Harrington, evil incarnate, down on his knees for him.

He caves then. “Okay. I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it. Check your email for the travel arrangements.”

Eddie turns to walk away, and then he pauses, turning back around.

“You know, that reminds me.” He grins wickedly. “You’ve never seen me outside of my work attire before.”

Steve looks wary, slowly rising from the ground and dusting himself off. “No, I have not.”

Eddie cackles. “Oh, Stevie, this is going to be so much fun. I’ll see you at the airport - I’ll be the one in black.”

Eddie is wearing black, to be fair.

Painted on his nails without fear for the first time in six years.

While previously he had always taken it off with remover before heading into the office on a Monday morning - or heading to do Steve’s errands on the weekend…Now he didn’t bother to conceal it.

Why would he? When he and Steve were so “happily engaged.”

So, yes. His nails are black. His jeans are black, ripped, a metal chain hanging from them with his old Hellfire Club shirt tucked in. Atop it he wears his black leather jacket, and his denim vest covered in hand-sewed patches. All of his rings adorn his fingers as he bounces on his white-Reebok clad feet.

Eyes peeled for Steve’s arrival, he’s positively giddy when the car he’d ordered approaches the curb.

Waving it down, he greeted Steve’s chauffeur through the passenger window before going and opening Steve’s door himself.

Once he does so, he makes a big show of kissing Steve’s hand as he pulls him from the town car, his boss’s jaw going slack at the sight of him as he exits it and rises to his full height, taking in Eddie’s appearance.

For a second.

And then he composes himself, snatching his hand so he can rip the sunglasses off of his face and tuck them frantically into the collar of his dress shirt.

“You can’t be serious.” He says.

Eddie stands his ground, taking a step back with a smile and extending the handle to the small suitcase he had with him on the curb with a click. “As the plague, baby.”

Steve looks like he’s questioning his life choices - until Eddie turns to head to the terminal. “You’ll want to grab your things and hurry along, dear. We still have to check in.”

Surprised, Steve grabs his bags - way too many for a weekend trip but not if you weren’t expecting to have to carry them yourself - and scrambles after Eddie.

He’s clearly pissed when he catches up, his hands full as he reminds Eddie pointedly. “I am still your boss.”

And, okay, yeah. So Eddie may have been pushing his luck lately. He was dependent on Steve to some degree in this arrangement as well, and it would definitely be worth it for the two of them to sit and hash out how their being fiancés would change their dynamic.

Soon. For now, Eddie grabs the bags. “I am nothing if not a good employee to my future husband.” He defends.

Steve forges on, unamused. They get through the check-in, and then they have some time to kill as Eddie settles his nerves with a rum and coke, courtesy of the private bar in the first class lounge.

Before he can even move to pay for it, Steve slides his Black card over. Feeling generous it seems.

Eddie looks at him doubtfully, arms crossed as he leans over the bar. Steve isn’t smiling, just shrugs and explains only for him to hear. “My man wouldn’t have to pay for things.”

Surprised, Eddie takes his drink, rings clinking against the glass, unsure of what to say before Steve is leaving his orbit, wrapped up in his phone once again.

Eddie nurses the liquor until it’s time for them to board, finding their plush first class seats and settling into them, taking in all the amenities with barely contained awe.

Steve watches Eddie shed his denim vest and his leather jacket, getting comfortable and revealing the tattoos along his forearms, and he feels his mouth go dry. He swallows as he stares at his phone screen, unseeing.

Once he has to stow it, their phones set to airplane mode, Eddie commands Steve’s attention, pulling out a booklet.

“So, these are the questions that INS is gonna ask us.” Eddie says in explanation, “The good news is, I know everything about you, but the bad news is that you have two weeks to learn all this about me. So, you should…probably study.”

Steve takes the booklet, skimming over it on his own, flipping through its pages, “You know the answers to all of these questions about me?” He presses.

“Scary, isn’t it?” Eddie grins.

“A little bit.” Steve replies, looking through them for a stumbling block before he quizzes his fake fiance. “What am I allergic to?”

“Latex.” Eddie declares, no doubt at all in his voice, “And displays of emotion in the workplace.”

“Haha. That’s so funny.” Steve rolls his eyes. A little miffed that he got it right.

“Uhm… Here’s a good one.” Steve folds the booklet, “Do I have any scars?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.” Eddie adds.

“Oh, you’re pretty sure?” Steve shoots back with a huff of laughter.

“I’m pretty sure. Two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switched laser. I, of course, googled what that is and found out that they do, in fact, remove tattoos. But you canceled your appointment.” He says smugly. Steve is baffled, and he presses on. “So what is it? A tramp stamp?”

Steve doesn’t deny it, redirecting sharply. “You know, it’s exciting for me to experience you like this.”

“Thank you.” Eddie replies. Focused. His eyes are locked on Steve’s and holy fuck, Steve doesn’t think he’s ever noticed how long his lashes are. “You’re going to have to tell me where it is though.”

Steve turns his head to avoid eye contact, “No. I’m not.”

“They’re gonna ask.” Eddie answers. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about mine - the ones you can see, the ones you can’t-” Eddie teases.

“We’re done with this question. We’re done with this conversation. Onto another question. Let me see, let me see.” Steve mumbles to block him out, making him sigh in defeat and sink down into his expensive seat.

“Oh, here’s one. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?” Steve inquires, turning his nose up. “That’s easy, mine.” He answers without even looking back at him.

Eddie is sufficiently distracted at that, tone clipped as he antagonizes him, “And why wouldn’t we stay at mine?”

“Because I live in a penthouse on Central Park West.” Steve looks at him with pursed lips before turning back to the booklet again, “And you probably live in some squalid little studio apartment with a record player to impress your dates.”

Eddie’s tone is biting, a mocking smile on his lips. “You don’t have to sound so jealous about it, sweetheart.”

Steve stares at him unblinkingly. Asks, “What color is my toothbrush?”

“Blue.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

Steve scowls - flipping through the book, pausing as he reads a question that makes him flush. He drops the book between them like it burned him. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” Steve says.

It makes Eddie curious so he grabs the booklet and starts looking for the offending question. Prodding and teasing him. “Oooooh what was it? Which question got you flustered?”

“Eddie.” Steve protests, his tone lacking his usual dictativeness.

“Was it sexual?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Is the US government just itching to know how we perform the horizontal tango?”

Steve glares. “If you’re not going to take this seriously-“

“I just assumed it would be like anything else with us.” Eddie cuts in. Steve waits for him to elaborate, and he lets out a huge breath, “We do it however the hell you tell me to.”

Steve gawks at him, miffed. “That’s…you’re being unfair.” He settles on.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Steve.” He soothes. And then thinks, fuck it. Lays his cards on the table.

“So, this is just me thinking off the top of my head - because I definitely haven’t spent a lot of time on this. Haven’t given any prior thought to - to how you might be. How we might be together.”

Eddie clears his throat as Steve gapes at him. Words spilling out. “No sir. Never ran your errands or emptied out your inbox and wondered, if after you’ve bossed me around all day, if you wouldn’t want to hole up in your office after everyone’s gone home and let me do the bossing around...Giving me the reigns to do whatever I want to you, just so you don’t have to be the man in charge. So you wouldn’t have to think and plan for a little while. Nooooo…I definitely didn’t spend way too long entertaining that thought, only to realize that it just doesn’t sit right. Because as much as I might like to imagine it - you - good and fucked, finally fucking satisfied, you’re way too mouthy and way too content bossing everyone around to give up all of your control when you go home, when you get taken to bed. So, it would have to be something more like what I said. Where you tell me what it is you want. What it is you need. And I, your ever humble servant, would be all too eager to comply.”

Steve’s voice is measured as he replies, “You haven’t thought about it, huh?”

Eddie steals Steve’s move as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. We just…we spent a lot of time together.” He lies. Clears his throat. “So, do I have it right?”

Steve looks out the window - because of fucking course he has the window seat. He replies mockingly, “Yes, Eddie, once again, you have another one right.” And then, because he’s trying to kill him, Steve adds. “I keep control. I keep control and I tell my partners what it is I need. Even if what I need is to get railed like a cheap slut at the end of a long day.”

Jesus H. Christ.

It’s impossible to be smug. “I live to please.” Eddie responds, willing away the stirring in his pants at the thought.

Steve just sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “So…that’s, uh, one question answered about you, I guess.”

Before Eddie can put his foot in his mouth - the flight attendant appears at their side, clearing her throat as she smiles and offers them snacks.

The two men let her interruption end the conversation, Eddie popping his headphones in for the rest of the flight. Letting Metallica pour over his more loud thoughts until he gets his footing.

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Part 3

Previous Part: Part 1

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gilverrwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Forget yourself, surrender your mind.

Black Mask/F!Reader, 2.5K ft. Platonic Jason Todd/Reader AN: So, this is based on a series of frankly depraved, evil, beautiful asks [one], [two], [three], [four]. Thank you so much anon/s! It's been tittering on complete for a while now, but I've been hesitatnt to post if as a I feel like it's missing something, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe I'll post an amended verison at a later date. Hopefully youse don't feel the same, and/or enjoy it anyway. CWs: Swearing, power imbalance, sexual misconduct - Roman is a H/R nightmare, drug use, non-graphic violence, bad drug trip, non-graphic torture, non-graphic blood, manipulation, forced exhibition, public/humiliation, degradation, dumbification/infantilization, a LOT of daddy kink, objectification, isolation, edging, hair pulling, one sided co-dependency, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self-destructive behaviours, very abusive relationship. I am being way over-cautious with this, but basically DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!

“He makes my fucking skin crawl.” Your lips are pulled into a tight scowl as you read the latest text from your boss Roman. “Look at this shit.”

Wear something extra pretty for your shift tomorrow, doll. I have something special planned for you.

Maybe you could understand if you were one of his working girls, you presume they're being paid to fuck him as well as the clientele, but you’re his fucking club's accountant. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he seems to get his kicks trying to coerce his way in your pants, and the more you reject him the more it spurs him on.

Jason considers the message with a frown before snatching your phone and scrolling up. The more inappropriate messages he sees, the more pissed off he looks. Most of it is much of the same, comments on your body and attitude, sometimes it’s worse, pure and unadulterated filth. Occasionally he throws in a legitimate work-related message, which requires an urgent reply. You’re certain he only does the latter to ensure you’re still checking each and every message.

“I told you not to take the job, and I keep telling you to quit.” He finally replies, handing back your phone and crossing his arms. The stormy expression and his imposing stature might be enough to scare anyone else into caving, but this is Jason. Your best friend Jason. You’d been through thick and thin. You’d watched him drunkenly recite Jane Austen in nothing but socks and a fuzzy pink towel for Christ's sake. He doesn’t frighten you. “He’s a creep, why do you keep working for him?”

“The pay is insane.” You reply instantaneously because it is. You’ve almost paid off half your student loan in a matter of months. And that’s on top of all the gifts. You know you shouldn’t take them, blood money and ill-gotten gains blah blah blah but some of it was just too good to turn down. Not to mention the dope. The perks of the job really outweigh the cons, you can deal with Romans vulgar attitude towards you, at least until your loans are paid and your savings account is bloated.

You love Jason dearly, but he’ll blow a fucking gasket if he found out you were taking bribes and drugs from Black fucking Mask. For a casino owner, he’s always been a bit of a stickler. So, you keep that secret for yourself, and you don’t feel bad about it. He has his secrets too. Unfortunately, real life isn’t like an episode of The Sleep Over Club.

“I worry about you.” Jay is still looking at you with that scrutinising glare, too bad it won’t work on you.

“I can handle Roman.” You roll your eyes as you attempt to reassure him. “Really Jay, I promise. He’d have to kill me before I would give him what he wanted.”

That felt so long ago. A far off memory that you hadn’t thought about since before the turning point in your relationship with Roman. It was laughable really. Kill you? Roman saved you.

He’d told you Red Hood was responsible, but you can’t really remember. You’d been high on a bad trip; a newbie had cut the stuff wrong apparently. All you can recall is being lost and alone, unable to command your own body when a bright light hit you out of nowhere, your ears were ringing, and then there was a gun in your face and finally Roman, your knight in a skull-shaped mask.

He’d made let you watch when he’d dealt with the idiot who fucked up the formula, and again you don’t want to remember much, just all that blood, all the screaming, and the thought that you never wanted to be in that position. Red Hood on the other hand was still at large, still a risk, but you weren’t scared of him. Why would you be scared of him when you had Roman. To protect you of course.

All he asked for in exchange was your unwavering submission loyalty.

It was good for you, Roman had helped you in a lot of ways. Keeping you safe, taking the weight off your shoulders. He’d made you realise what an uppity bitch you’d been.

It had been hard at first, accepting what you really are, who you belong to. It went against your core values to swallow your pride and comply to his whims, but you learned that he knew what was best.

The drugs help too. They make it easier to ignore the looks you get. At first, they made you uncomfortable; pitying glances from your former co-workers, judgement and disgust from strangers that cut deeper than you’d thought, mostly lust-filled leering from Roman's followers and his business associates.

But your objectification made Roman happy, and a happy Roman kept you safe happy.

You’re not sure when it happened but eventually, you stopped working, and not worrying about all those numbers felt good. “Don’t think about the money baby just pick whatever you want.”

After numbers came reading, “Those are some big words, why don’t you just point to the pictures.”

Then Roman cleverly pointed out that you didn't need a phone. Carrying around a phone usually meant carrying around a bag, and the ugly old bag you'd had since college really clashed with your pretty dresses.

Besides, what would you do with a phone? Text? Words are hard. Videos? Too much fake news out there, it would only scare you. Call someone? Who? You had everything you need right here.

Giving up decision-making came so naturally after that. “Don’t worry Princess. Daddy knows what you need.”

Roman Daddy helps a lot, he keeps you in line, reminds you of your place. Sometimes you need a firm hand and he’s never been afraid to give it to you. But mostly he just keeps you grounded.

Like now. It would be easy to focus on the hard sticky floor digging into your knees. To feel shame at wilfully allowing someone to treat you like this, at the idea of being watched in such a degrading position by the patrons of the bar or the man on the other side of the table. But you have Daddy to keep you focused. The scratchy feel of his slacks on your cheeks, his fingers in your hair, petting you like a good girl.

The best part is the muskiness of his crotch against your nose. He smells so yummy! It’s a challenge not to stick your tongue out and taste him. The last time you’d done that you’d gotten carried away, drooling all over him, making a large wet patch on his expensive trousers and getting drool everywhere. He’d punished you by having you clean up as much of the remaining excess with your mouth. That meant sucking at the velvety pillowed fabric of the chair and licking the filth-trodden floor. You’d hated every second, but you’d been happy to do it, eager to convince Daddy to keep you.

And it worked!

The memory of it, helps you to stave off the urge to make out with his clothed groin right now. What doesn’t help is the throbbing clit between your legs. Daddy edges you multiple times a day but rarely does he let you cum, that way you’re always wet and needy and ready for his cock. The punishment for trying to get off without him? More proof of Daddy's brilliance. The thought of it dampens any impulse to alleviate the constant ache. You’d broken down and apologised before it even began, begged him to make it stop but he’d had you sit through the whole thing; an hour with your legs open, completely exposed to the False-Facers. No fucking, but otherwise they could do what they liked, touching, slapping, pinching, spitting, and that they did. Your lesson had been learned; that your pussy wasn’t yours. It, along with the rest of your body belongs to Daddy, not you and he can do as he pleases with it.

The hand in your hair suddenly tightens its grip, drawing you from your thoughts and guiding your head back to look at Daddy as he asks; “What are you think about baby?”

“You!” You smile at the sight of his handsome mask.

Cold glass brushes against your lips and you open up, tilting your head back to allow him to pour the sweet liquid in. It burns as it passes through your throat and makes your eyes water. You think you didn’t like cocktails like this before, but Daddy says you love them, and Daddy is always right.

“Good girl.” He coos, making you feel all warm and fuzzy with pride. “You’ve been so well-behaved today, why don’t you come sit on my lap and meet my new friend.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” You clamber to get closer to him, sitting across his lap and leaning the side of your head against his chest. You’re enjoying his warmth and the feel of his hands on your body when you hear something odd. A deep voice shouts a word you recognise but can’t define and it pings around the empty walls of your tiny brain.

“This is Jason Todd.” Daddy’s still talking, big words you don’t care about like ‘shareholder’ and ‘investing’ as he finds a place to settle his wandering hands. One supports your weight, cupping your ass. The other shamelessly gropes your breast, twisting and pinching your pert nipple through the sheer fabric of your dress. A loud, pornographic moan escapes your glossy lips as you relish in Daddy's attention until you hear that word again.

“It’s me. It’s Jason.” It’s the same voice, chipping away in your unconscious. “It’s Jason Todd.”

Jason. Jason Todd. Another sound that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Jay-son Todd.

Jay-son.

Jay.

Finally, you look at the stranger, his mouth is moving. It’s his voice you’d heard before, he says the word again and you think you should know it, but you can’t quite grasp it.

“Have you met Jason before, baby?” Daddy's hold on you tightens, biting into half-healed wounds partially hidden by your clothes.

At the same time, the stranger barks, making you jump. “What the fuck?”

And then that word again and this time it clicks.

It’s your name.

You forgot your own name.

Shame hits you like a bucket of ice water. Trickling through your body in waves as it all comes back to you. And the man, that’s…

“Jason!” Your best friend Jason. “What are you doing here?”

God, what must he think of you; doing tricks like a damn dog for Daddy a man you swore you’d never let touch you.

“Looking for you.” He’s on his feet and towering over you in seconds. He has such a substantial frame. You always thought you’d recognise it anywhere. “I haven’t heard from you in months.”

Months? Had it really been months?

“Your phone line is dead. I went to your apartment and all your shit was on the curb. You’ve not been paying your bills or watering your plants. I thought you were dead.”

Concern is etched into his blue-green eyes and it’s too much. The indignity of your behaviour, the guilt at making him worry, making him come here looking for you, all those words. So many words. Roman says your brain isn’t meant for lots of words.

Jason grabs you, his meaty hand clutching onto your upper arm and attempting to pull you toward him. It does not have the desired effect, the rational part of your brain snaps under the stress of the overwhelming situation like he’s shining a spotlight on you in your most vulnerable moment, like he’s attacking you, and you can think of nothing in this world you want less than to go with him.

“Daddy!” While Jason’s tug is enough to send a jolt through your body, to your relief it isn’t enough to pull you from Daddy's arms. Instinctively, you pull his arm closer for comfort, unaware of how you’d been digging your nails into the sleeve of his suit jacket until you utilise it as a safety net. “Make him stop.”

The look on Jason’s the man’s face is that of pure horror. It hurts to look at, so you nestle deeper against Daddy's chest, soothed by the way it shakes as he chuckles, despite the evident venom lacing the sound. His neck is a deep shade of red. Angry veins bulge with each beat of his battery-powered heart. “You heard her, kid. Take a hike.”

“I’m not leaving without her you sick fuck.” And then the man puts his other hand on you, this one cupping your face, encouraging you to look at him. He’s trying to console you. Instead, he frightens you. “You don’t have to stay here. Whatever he’s got on you, we...”

You let the words pass in one ear and out the other, with no desire to retain any of it.

Daddy is not going to like this. Not only had the scary man tricked him, but now he’s touching you. Trying to take you away. Daddy is really not going to like this.

The man tries once more to snatch your body and this time he succeeds. You squeal as your body harshly lurches forward. Your fears are cut shut, however. Daddy protects you, grabbing you ruthlessly by the throat and kicking the back of your heel. You go limp, allowing his vice-like hold on your neck to lead you back to the floor.

"You Wayne's think you own every fucking thing." Daddy strikes the table with his fist, and something wet slashes into your face, followed by a loud shattering sound. You don't care.

"Don't compare me to him. He's got nothing to do with this."

"Like father like fucking son. You're under my roof boy, and you have the nerve to put your hands on my shit!"

It’s becoming a spectacle. People are watching. You don’t want to look, don't want to listen.

Closing your eyes, you kneel in front of the booth, settling your head onto the warm space where Daddy had been sitting.

They’re both shouting, it makes your head hurt. Something cool is seeping down your face. What sounds like a gun goes off. Once, twice, three times. You don’t care. You don’t want to care. You want to go back to ten minutes ago when your head was empty, and your Daddy was happy.

His lingering scent helps you find that headspace until he returns.

“Look at me.” Once again, he uses your hair to yank your head back, directing you to face him. Despite the way you wail in surprise, the sting is a welcomed reassurance that you’re where you belong. Dark red blood mars his white suit. You don’t look for a body or an injury. You just keep looking at Daddy. “Oh, my poor baby, you’re shaking. It’s okay, Daddies here.”

Daddy puts you at ease.

#black mask #roman sionis #gilverrwrites #black mask x reader #black mask/reader #black mask imagine #roman sionis/reader #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis imagine #divider by @anitalenia

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smaragdine-snz · 5 months ago

Text

Streamer AU D/ick Gr/ay/son Sickfic

I am not bothering to // the rest of the fic. If it escapes snzblr, fine. I am too lazy for this shit. Anyway, here is Dick with a cold + OC Amelia because for me mentally doing character design if fun and using an OC means I get to make my own canon for her. Woo!

Prompt based on a combination of a prompt from @ Lyritha and a snzario from @mew31

CW: Mess, Cold Sneezes, Sneezed On, Coughing

If you need something else tagged/listed, please let me know. I am new to this! Anyway, have fun.

For more of Richard or for more DCU characters, tags for future writing will be Sick Grayson or DCU Flu (even if not specifically illness, just for my own organizing purposes).

Everyone loved Dick Grayson. Almost.

He bore all the qualities of a natural leader with his charismatic and friendly nature, boundless optimism, and infuriatingly good looks. Those on his team would say he was the only valid choice for raid leader in the party. A skilled tank player, a respected member of the community, a successful streamer. Perfect. Popular. Beloved by all.

All except one. One teammate who met him with disdain and hostility at every turn. One teammate who disregarded every olive branch extended to her. Nothing he said, nothing he did, made a difference. It reached the point of tension where his viewers started to ship them with one another, to the infuriation of his teammate. Her viewers merely seemed to think of him as a pest.

A lesser man would have let it be. Maybe he should have let it be. But Dick Grayson was not a quitter. And something about today felt different. He had been on a roll since he woke up, the day as smooth as silk from the moment his eyes opened to see the morning sun shining through his window.

NIGHTWING: Hey. Wanna do dailies? Just us. You can keep the loot.

His eyes followed the letters as he typed, watching his screen with a small flutter of trepidation.

He had no reason to be nervous, none at all. No sensible explanation for being so invested in just getting a response, any response. Most days, his DMs were ignored.

SUNKILLER: Busy tonight. Tomorrow?

NIGHTWING: “I have a 24hr charity livestream tomorrow. Offering to join me?”

SUNKILLER: Fine. What time?

His jaw nearly dropped as the words appeared on his screen. She agreed, readily? No sarcasm, no snark? Was she sick? Did she need money? Was the end of the world approaching and he just missed all the warning signs?

NIGHTWING: Starts at 2pm. Try not to be late!

It seemed better not to question it. If he asked if she was certain, it gave her the opportunity to change her mind or quip back with something like ‘of course not, dumbass, did you really think I’d join you?’ or some other hope shattering statement. Excitement had his heart racing. Perhaps he could trust his gut feeling. Perhaps this meant progress. Could he finally be winning her over?

Luck abandoned him the next morning.

The alarm clock roused him from his sleep. Blinking away the haze as he sat up, Dick groaned. His body ached, muscles heavy and unresponsive. A dull ache throbbed in the back of his throat with every swallow and mumbled complaint as he pushed himself out of his bed. He could feel congestion in the back of his nose, faint but present.

He had no time to be sick, not today. The twenty-four-hour charity livestream happened to be a big deal. After promoting it as much as he had to try and get as much interest as possible, wanting to blow the set donation goal out of the water, the last thing he wanted to do was call it off. Not only would it let his audience down, it would let the charity down. Plus, he’d finally gotten his raid teammate to agree to join him one on one for some game time.

He just had to not be sick.

So, he stuck to the plan and figured he could just ignore it. Banners and graphics galore decorated his setup, the timer to start the twenty-four-hour countdown in the corner just beneath his camera feed. A meter to track donations decorated a separate monitor. Chat started buzzing with excitement before he turned the camera on, watching his “Starting Soon!” screen with anticipation.

His post last night before bed about getting Sunkiller to join him broke his chat. The messages flooding the screen seemed torn between optimism and teasing.

REDRIDINHOOD [MOD]: Dude, are you sure she’s not just screwing with you?

LIGHTSHOW: This is awesome, Sun’s finally giving you the time of day! Shoot your shot, man!

SHARKNADO72: Nightwing is a masochist, confirmed? 24 hour enemies to lovers speedrun.

CYPHERPYSCHO: Romantic relations with one bearing the word ‘Killer’ in her name is ill-advised, Richard.

IC33POP: She’s so pretty! Ship it!

He turned his camera feed on with an eye roll at the comments section, just in time for Amelia to join the call. Clearing his throat in an attempt to sound normal and not like he spent the morning intermittently sniffling; Dick plastered his signature grin on his face.

“Ready to get started, Sun?” his voice came through a bit raspier than he would have liked, but his smile did not waver. “I was going to do a bunch of solo story games but since you’re here, I changed the line-up to some co-op games. Starting with It Takes Two.”

He could see her on the camera, her eyes shifting to the side to look at his video for a moment before returning to look at her primary screen. He watched her lip curl, getting a flash of teeth and the subtle sound of her clicking her tongue. She knew the game in question. A pointed choice of co-op game considering how his audience felt about his involvement with her.

“Let’s get going then. Try not to slow me down,” a teasing tone crept into her voice as she spoke. “You know how I feel about losing.”

Despite the way his nose felt plugged, and his throat ached, his excitement reigned supreme. It overshadowed the feeling of illness creeping through him, at first. As hours ticked by, he could no longer manage to hide it when he cleared his sore throat to try ridding himself of the hoarse, congested tone from his voice. His sniffles, increasingly pronounced, started garnering attention from the chat as thin streams of mucus dripped from his pink nose and glistened in the light. His nostrils flared, breath hitching as he turned his attention back to Amelia.

“Cad you – snrff. I need you to go to the other side of the gap and stay on the pressure plate, I think. Please?” he flashes a charming smile toward the camera, hoping to distract from how awful that sniffle sounded.

“Sure. Are you feeling okay, Nightwing?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course. I’b fide…Hh-hH–! NGKssHHHhuhw!!”

He lost control of the sneeze he wanted so badly to contain, his head diving into his elbow as he covered it. The crook of his elbow, now covered in a wet spray, stayed well below the view of the camera as he repositioned himself, a faint flush to his cheeks as he looked at his screens to gauge the reaction of both Amelia and his chat.

REDRIDINHOOD [MOD]: Get a tissue, dickwad, gross!

BLUDPR1NC355: Aww, bby, are you getting sick??

Apart from his brother, kind comments were flooding in, thousands of viewers blessing him or expressing concern for his wellbeing. Pointing out how pale he looked, how red his nose had gotten, or the constant sniffling he thought he had been subtle about.

Sheepishly glancing at Amelia’s video, he silently pleaded she would not be disgusted by him. Her in-game character jumped the gap and stood on the pressure plate just as he requested, but he noticed that she kept glancing at him. The way she stared, eyes narrowing every time he sniffled or fought back a sneeze. Though she made no comment on his health, her responses to him seemed a little softer.

After a few more hours of her ignoring his suffering and his chat fussing over his health, Dick could no longer breathe through his nose. His sneezes had only worsened, becoming wetter and more frequent. His body lurched towards the camera as a pathetic attempt at rubbing his nose only served to make everything ten times worse, causing his sneezes to tear through him.

“Hh…Heh'KSHht! —kSHh! H-hihh! Hih'KTCHh! Ugh…hh! HT’TSCHh! t’CHSHh!-’itschh!–ihHK’TSCh’uh!”

He ignored the chat for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He covered most of them, but there were still droplets of spray on the camera lens. Wiping them off with the hem of his sleeve, he reached for the tissue box he grabbed during their last bathroom break, only for his fingers to touch the cardboard bottom. Empty.

Through the haze of congestion in his head, and as he sniffled in a futile attempt to contain the flood of mucus dripping from his nose, he heard a little ping! Someone sent him a DM. Pinching his nose while he read it, he couldn’t stop the look of surprise from flashing across his face.

SUNKILLER: DM me your address and I’ll order you some soup. You are not okay.

NIGHTWING: I’m fine, really! Don’t worry about it.

The congested laugh of shock turned into a wet cough, betraying the lie instantly.

SUNKILLER: Liar. Hurry up.

NIGHTWING: Fine, fine. Here you go.

He sent her his address, smiling as he watched her on the camera. With nine hours out of the twenty-four-hour stream already out of the way, and there had been no hostility. One on one, it felt like the person on the other end of the call was a completely different person. He had her perspective of the stream up on another monitor, his eyes scanning her chat.

SP00KYGALZ [MOD]: Mel, what are you writing? I can hear your pen.

K1LLERQUEEN: He’s so pathetic looking today, it’s hot.

GOTHIKAT [MOD]: You’re plotting something. It never ends well when you do that.

SUNNY2881: The NightSun shippers are having a field day in his chat, girl.

LUCIFURR: Lol why wouldn’t they? Queen Mel is hot, he’s hot.

MAGNIFIQUE: You’re being so nice to him today! What happened? Pity party or do we like him now?

He nearly laughed, but a choked cough came out instead, prompting a fit of them as he covered his mouth and nose with his shirt. Watery eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling, and throat on fire, he continued to be distracted by his coughing until he heard the familiar ping of his DMs again.

SUNKILLER: You should just cancel. You sound awful.

NIGHTWING: The donations are going to help a lot of people. I can last fifteen more hours!

SUNKILLER: Then change of plans. You have an extra controller at your place?

NIGHTWING: Yeah, why? Coming over?

SUNKILLER: Yes. You won’t cancel the stream? Fine. We can keep playing this game on your couch. Deal?

NIGHTWING: Sure. Come by whenever.

The words he typed came out so casually, but his heartbeat almost stalled. Her chat was right. She was being a lot nicer to him. He barely registered her voice on the stream again, Amelia announcing that the stream would be switching gears and that they were going to continue the game on his couch after she picked up some things for him. Both chats exploded into a frenzy of activity, but Dick was too busy trying to be discreet about wiping his nose on his sleeve to notice.

“Hh… h'ngtchh! Eberyode, I’b deed a few to mbove by setup,” he set his stream to the break screen as he glanced blearily back at Amelia’s stream on the monitor, standing up to start moving the lights and the cameras over to his couch and TV before prepping the game on the console.

The scenery around Amelia kept moving and the video quality changed, showing glimpses of her actions. Snippets of her apartment. A streak of black as she tugged on some shoes. The sound of an engine starting up. Her viewers must be looking through her helmet camera, for the motorcycle videos she sometimes made. The camera only showed her dashboard and a snippet of road as she drove. Luckily for him, she kept the commentary going on his behalf until she walked into… a grocery store?

“Abelia, whadt are you doing?” he unmuted the microphone, leaning in as his voice came out as little more than a congested croak.

“Picking you up some things, like I said. What do you need, Richard? More tissues, cough drops? Soup?”

“Uhhg, mbore tissues. Mbedicide. I’ll take adythihgg,” he must have missed it when she told the stream she was going to get things at the store for him, but at this point he certainly couldn’t say no.

Picking up various products off the shelves, Amelia took the time to show Dick each item and let him choose what he wanted. As the number of things in her grocery basket grew, so did the number of comments on the stream about their situation. Things like ‘how domestic!’ or ‘I feel like I’m intruding lol’ peppered the chat. Not wanting her to get annoyed by how intent the viewers had become on trying to label their relationship, not after he only just got her to drop some of her walls around him, Dick hurried to finish moving his streaming setup.

It took her twenty minutes to get to his house. He knew they lived in the same city, but never expected anything would come of it. Until now, with Amelia standing in his living room as he hunkered down on the couch. Blowing his nose with a fresh tissue from the box she purchased, he could not tear his eyes away as she flitted around his apartment like some sort of fairy godmother. She put a thermos of soup on the coffee table for him along with a bottle of DayQuil and some tea, oranges for snacking on, several boxes of tissues, a bag of cough drops, and even some extra blankets.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” she picked up his spare controller, settling in on the couch right beside him.

Part of him expected her to sit further away. She needed to be close enough to stay within frame of the camera, but their shoulders were touching. Closer than necessary. The warmth of her arm against him, seeping through the fabric of his shirt, was tantalizing. He could only offer a nod, picking up his own controller and resuming the game.

The DayQuil helped… marginally. Not as much as Dick hoped it would.

“Ih'shiuhh! Ih’TSHh! ItcSHsSHew!” The sneezes filled his tissue, a grimace on his face as he threw it away only to realize it had leaked through onto his hand.

Groaning and wiping his hand clean with another tissue, he leaned further back against the couch. His body slumped to the side slightly, seeking the warm presence of the woman beside him. He felt her shift, inching closer to him as if understanding what he needed.

“Hey, Richard? Can I hijack your stream for a little while?” her tone lacked all of the sarcasm it usually held, with her carefully taking the controller out of his hands and setting it down on the coffee table. “Maybe we can do a Q&A.”

“Huh? Sure, I’bm dowd. Ng'TCHht!”

An attempt was made to stifle his sneeze against her shoulder without Dick realizing what he had done. More followed suit.

“Heh'ESHHuh! Heh'KSHihh! Ugh…”

Afterward, sniffling and blowing his nose into a tissue after he pulled away from her, he noticed the prominent smear of his mucus that remained wet against the fabric of her jacket.

“I'b sorry Abelia, I didd't mbead to. Hold od,” he mumbles, getting up without giving her any time to protest.

He disappeared down the hallway into his room, rummaging in his dresser. Harsh coughs left him breathless and unsteady as he made his way back toward the couch, holding one of his hoodies in his hand. Setting it down in Amelia’s lap, he offered what he hoped looked like a confident smile.

“You should borrow this, sidce I god yours dirty.”

“Thank you, Ri—Dick,” she corrected herself while taking off her soiled jacket, using his nickname for the first time since they met.

Tugging the hoodie over her head, she folded her jacket and set it down on the floor before shifting closer to him yet again. She invited the viewers to start submitting questions for the Q&A portion of the stream while tugging a blanket over the two of them, her arm wrapping around his waist underneath it. A startled look flashed across his face, but he felt too awful to question it. He pressed himself into her side, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Questiod twedty. Why were the two of you always arguigg?” Dick read aloud, after blowing his nose for the umpteenth time, only to stare at Amelia expectantly.

“Oh. That. That was my fault. He just seemed too enthusiastic all the time, I thought he was faking it. It made me feel guilty for not always being in a good mood. Wondering why I couldn’t just be more like him, why did I have to let things get to me? So, I got frustrated. But he really is just that kind of person, and it is hard to stay mad when he’s just trying to be friendly. Besides… now I know he isn’t flawless all the time. He really is human,” she laughed, but it sounded somewhat forced and her tone was… apologetic. “I’m sorry, Dick. For being difficult.”

“You dod't have to aAhh- hahh…Heh'ESHHuh! Apologize,” he buried his face against her side, a soft moan escaping him as his sniffling did nothing to staunch the flow of mucus. “I already forgave you.”

The viewer’s questions felt endless as he leaned firmly against Amelia, her arms wrapped around him almost protectively. The heat of her body against him felt warm and comforting, soothing the chill that plagued him. The stream would be over soon. He only needed to make it for a few more minutes. His body, however, had other plans.

“Hhht’khschh! Hh…Heh'KSHht! Ngh…” the sneezes refused to abate as Dick shuddered in Amelia’s arms, her hand coming to hold a tissue against his nose for him.

She held him a bit tighter, one hand firmly grasping the tissue and the other rubbing his back. His own hands gripped the blanket as if hanging on for dear life, his entire body shaking against hers with each wet sneeze. The chat, the cameras, the stream… it faded into the background, Amelia focused solely on him. When he caught his breath, she tilted his chin up to get a good look at him.

Dick gazed back at her through watery eyes, tears smeared across his cheeks. He felt her thumb brush over his skin, wiping away a few. Her palm cupped his face, and he leaned into the soft touch, bringing his own up to tuck a loose section of hair behind her ear.

“Are you alright?” came the hushed whisper as Amelia leaned in closer to him, resting her forehead against his and feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

“Doh, but it’s fide.”

She studied him, watching his chest rise and fall with each congested breath. His lips stayed parted; Dick unable to breathe through his nose at all. A smile still played upon them, but his eyes seemed unfocused, roaming around her face and yet always settling back on her mouth.

“Do you… want me to kiss you?” she murmured, letting a finger trace his lips.

“God, yes,” he breathed, eyes fluttering closed when she moved closer to him.

A quiet groan rumbled from his throat the moment he felt her soft lips press against his, leaning into it as one hand tangled in her hair. The world around him melted away, letting him forget for just a moment how awful he truly felt.

Until chat exploded.

Banners and sound effects created a cacophony in the room, snapping the two out of the moment they so nearly lost themselves in. Comments flooded in at breakneck speeds, the text moving up the screen too quickly for Dick to process a single word said. But Amelia just pulled him closer, kissing him again while her fingers pressed the power button on the camera.

Stream Disconnected. Twenty-four-hours complete.

~ Bonus ~

The door opened near silently, Jason’s steps filled with the intent not to disturb. He missed the end of the stream due to work matters, leaving a different sibling to take over moderator duties (thanks, Tim). Now, he merely wanted to confirm his older brother didn’t collapse on the floor or miraculously die in the night.

But he heard about what happened. Anyone who followed Dick or Amelia’s socials knew what happened.

Unable to help the smirk stuck to his face, even with no one around to see it, Jason made his way to the living room. The cameras were off, but had not been put away. Blankets lay strewn over the back of the couch, and there was a small trash next to a tied off bag of used tissues. Someone had emptied it but not taken the bag down to the dumpsters yet. Nonetheless, the fact Dick was not passed out on the living room floor or asleep on the couch seemed to be a good sign.

He made his way down the hall, the sounds of congested snoring growing louder as he approached Dick’s bedroom. The door, left open, did nothing to muffle the sound. Pressing onward out of a mixture of curiosity and the desire to be able to tease his brother, Jason peered into the bedroom.

Out cold on his back with his limbs splayed like some undignified starfish, Dick’s head lolled sideways, his face partially buried in the curtain of Amelia’s dark hair. His mouth hung open, drooling in the depth of his sleep. His nose, redder than the night before, pressed against the top of Amelia’s head as it oozed, coating the strands of her hair.

Gross.

Her face stayed buried in the crook of his neck, her arm draped over chest. She wore the hoodie Dick let her borrow during the stream, along with… ah, yes – Dick’s boxers.

It took a great deal of self-control for Jason not to laugh at the absurdity of it. Instead, he chose to preserve this moment… and give him something to harass Dick about when his brother woke up. Silently, he snapped a photo of the two of them together and left, texting the image to Dick without another word.

#snzfic #sick grayson #dcu flu #snz #mess #cold sneezes #coughing #cw coughing #cw mess #cw illness

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blu3-ja3 · 7 months ago

Text

Did I plan to write a feral/murderous O'Connor and how she nearly breaks completely... No! Not at all. But the idea of watching my most stable character slowly breaking is interesting to me so enjoy! This will in first person pov not the usual third person limited that I tend to rock. Enjoy!

!TRIGGER WARNING! Graphic Depictions of Torture and Murder, Psychological Break, Guns, Forceful Drug Use, Sleep Deprivation, Starvation, Sexual Harassment, Severe Disassociation

I'm telling y'all this dark. I don't know what's wormed it's way into my brain but it's not leaving till I have this out. Should I probably not post this? Yes! Am I going to anyways also yes!

🕊️!DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!🕊️

Day 1: It's to be a simple week-long mission, my team and I are going into Urzikstan to render aid to civilians. Laswell made it abundantly clear this was just to help where we could, if there's combat we are not to interfere. Farah assured Laswell nothing has occurred and that this is purely to assist with the aftermath. So none of the other 141 came with me. I was a little worried for them as they're being sent on a few low intensity missions also, but I've always enjoyed working with civilians so I took the mission and calmed myself. I'm currently sitting in the large red cross tent updating Price and Laswell. Today was mostly for setting up and preparing nothing too intense.

Day 2: It's been busy, there's plenty of work for me and my team to do. Everything from simple injuries like scratches and to complex burns and stitches. We're mostly treating infections and illnesses but it's been nice talking with the locals and learning of their rebuilding efforts. Alex and Farah help with translation and organization, keeping everything flowing nicely. It's been exhausting but fulfilling, I try to give Laswell an update but I can't seem to get through so I'll try again tomorrow. Probably have to get closer to a long ranged receiver but that's a tomorrow problem.

Day 3: A young man came to my tent asking if I could do a house call, his grandfather was very sick and in no shape to travel. I agree to help before informing my lieutenant of where I'll be and to radio me if something urgent needs my attention. He's a fast kid but I keep pace well enough, my basic medical bag is with me along with my pistol; visible at my side, and my knife; hidden within my clothing. We arrive at a small metal shack with no windows and a small door.

The young man enters before me, holding the door open and waving me in. I have to duck to get through the door. I spotted the old man instantly, he's laying with his back towards us so I can't get a good look at him just yet. I move over to the laying figure and sit on my knees next to him, placing my aid bag down to my right.

I hear rapid shuffling as something hard is pressed to the back of my head. I know that feeling anywhere, this isn't my first time being robbed while on call. Closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and raising my hands slowly. When I open my eyes again the figure in front of me rolls over holding a rifle, it's hard for me to make out in the dim lighting.

"There's only mild pain relievers in my bag, I don't carry anything stronger when on a house call." I try to keep my voice calm and even as the barrel of the gun moves a bit lower towards my neck.

"We're not here for the drugs, we're here for you; Captain Maevis O'Connor: Second Commanding Officer of the SAS's 141 squadron and dear friend to one Captain John Price... That is you no?" A man's voice with a thick Russian accent comes from the room to my left. I don't recognize the voice but they know me which is worrying.

"You are going to be very helpful and tell us all we ask... Or you die! Understood?" I nod my head slowly trying to catch a glimpse of the figure talking but I can't see him.

"Now take her away, we'll talk in better conditions!" Before I can respond I feel a cloth cover my mouth and nose as the man in front of me reaches out and holds the cloth there. I try to struggle, to reach for my radio or gun, anything, but my limbs go weak and my vision fades.

I wake up to cold water splashing against me, bright lights on my face causing me to squint. I try to move my arms but they're bound, my legs are free though. I'm stripped down to just my tank top and cargo pants, no boots or socks. I blink against the light as a masculine figure moves in front of me. He reaches towards me to grab my face, I try to pull back before he grabs my chin.

"You lamb are going to tell me everything you know willingly... Or we'll break you and you'll tell us after. Which would you prefer?"

I turn my head into his hand and bite as hard as I can, I can taste blood in my mouth but I continue biting. A heavy blow to my gut caused me to release my hold. I hear the man cursing in Russian as I receive another blow to my stomach.

"Don't do this Lamb, it will not go how you plan. Please I hate to beat a woman with such a pretty face but I will if I have too."

"Go feck yourself..."

"I just want to know about your wonderful Captain, you see he knows about the location of a very good friend of mine and I would like to see him. Now you're his second in command and a very close ally to John, you must know something about where my friend is, no?"

"Doesn't ring any bells"

"Ah! But I haven't told you my friends name yet! Aren't you a little bit curious?"

"No, don't care either..." Another punch this time higher just below my sternum. I wheeze a bit from the blow.

"Hmm, so you truly haven't heard about the failings of Price to Vladimir Makarov?"

I freeze a bit at the name, I've never heard anything from John himself but Laswell gave me the operation file. There was a lot of blacked out text even at my clearance but from what I could read it's a good thing he's in some unknown black site prison. This isn't going to go well for me, even if I tell them everything I know I doubt they'll believe me nor will they let me go.

"I know of him but they never let me read the operation file. Wasn't interested in reading about a mad man who's dead in a ditch somewhere..."

"AH! But he's not dead, he's very much alive Ms. O'Connor... And you will tell me where."

Another punch, harder this time, the man says something in Russian and I only pick up a few words. Nothing helpful, I feel stupid for never taking Nikoli up on his offer to teach me more than just the basics.

The figure punching me laughs and walks out of my field of view. It's a small field of view due to the bright light shining directly into my face. I feel myself being grabbed by my arms and pulled up, the light in front of me moves and I can see I'm in a very simple concrete cell, no bed, bathroom, nothing just a pipe coming from over top all the way through to the other side and a small table with a chain on it.

The Russian man who was talking has his back to me as he opens the door. I throw my head back hard into the skull of the man holding me from behind and his grip loosens. I take my opportunity to bum rush the man, slamming myself hard against him and the open door. He's knocked prone as I continue to run. Blood pumping in my ears to turn a corner and come face to face with two very heavily armed guards. I try to rush past them but they grab me and pull me back, I kick and flail trying to get another opportunity to escape.

"Oh how I wish you didn't do that Lamb, now my friend will have to teach you a lesson. Demetrius?" A figure steps out of the cell I was in, he has a bloody nose. I feel a small twinge of satisfaction from seeing it bleeding and swelling.

"Teach her well!" With that I'm tossed back into the cell after a guard bounds my ankles, I trip forwards causing the air to be knocked from my lunges. I hear heavy footsteps as the man, Demetrius, looms over me. He steps onto my left leg putting heavy pressure on it, then his full weight as he kicks my side once, knocking the little air in my lungs back out. I watch as he pulls out something shiny and metallic, before placing it onto his hands. I feel a hard blunt pain as his boot connects with my side again, once, twice, three times before he stops. The man over me chuckles darkly as he reaches down and pulls me up by my hair causing most of it to fall out the bun it was tied up in.

He drags me towards the back wall, he grabs something from the table and ties the chain around my wrist. He gets the chain over the pipe and begins to pull me up higher and higher, my toes barely touching the cold cement ground. My arm high above my head stretching my arms and shoulders in an uncomfortable and painful way, there's already a bull ache in my shoulder.

"Such a lovely body." The man's hand begins to caress my hips as I try to move away. He clicks his tongue before stepping away again, he removes his jacket and turns to me with a sadistic smile. He approaches, before landing multiple punches to my stomach and sternum.

Each blow I can feel the brass knuckles he's wearing. There's a slight throbbing pain after every hit, I know I'm going to bruise. He continues to beat me to near unconsciousness before stopping. He leaves me chained up as the first man comes back, he grabs the chair I was in originally and turns it towards me sitting down in front of me.

"Interesting, Demetrius didn't touch your face. I have to say I'm happy about that, you have such a lovely face Lamb." I just stared past him not once looking at him but keeping my head up.

"Come now Lamb if you tell us what we want you'll be free to walk your cell. I'm sure your arms are hurting now, no?" I keep my mouth shut and continue staring forwards. He mumbles to himself before standing to leave.

"Give her half rations and water, you will get more if you speak Lamb."

This cycle continues for a while, Demetrius comes into the cell beats me to near unconsciousness then Wolf (This is the only name I hear anyone call him) comes to try to talk to me. I just stare past him, keeping my head high and my mouth shut. I don't know how much time has passed. I guess a few days but I know Price and the 141 will come. Farah and Alex know I left the area and I've not come back... Unless something has happened to them as well.

I'm not given much food or water, my stomach keeps growling and there's the faint gnawing sensation in my abdomen. I'm kept in the same position, hanging by my bound wrists from the chain above me. Demetrius walks into my cell and drags in a little medical cart. Wolf follows closely behind him before approaching his chair and sits down crossing legs.

"Oh little Lamb you've made this very difficult for us. You've held out well against Demetrius and I must commend you for that." He gives a little clap as Demetrius chuckles darkly next to me.

"But we need the information Lamb so Demetrius is going to start using his favorite tools. Now I'm being kind and giving you one last chance to speak." I see Demetrius picks up a blade and wince as he pulls it across my cheek. I hiss as the pain spreads through my face. I can feel the warm blood trickle down my cheek, it's a stark contrast to the cold cell I'm stuck in.

"Feck. You." I hiss, I know I just have to hold out. My team is coming for me. Price won't abandon me no matter what anyone says. I've seen him do it before for people he's known for less time. Las Almas and Alejandro's team come to my mind as it's the most recent example.

Wolf waves a hand and I feel the sharp dragging pain as Demetrius drags his blade across my upper left arm along the underside. The blade is sharp so I don't feel the pain until after the wound is made, a thumping pain that matches the beating of my heart. I can feel the rapid dripping of my blood, the sound of my blood hitting the ground echoing through the room.

"Lamb? Do you have anything to tell me?"

"You're feckin stupid if you think a simple cut will get me to tell you anything." I stare straight ahead as I try to distract myself from the pain. I can feel another slow pull of the knife across my upper hips ripping through my skin and tank top. I bite my tongue refusing to make any noise.

"Oh come now Lamb let us hear you at least." I keep myself as calm as possible as another cut is pulled across the same hip slightly above the first one. I hear him sigh as Wolf stands up and walks out the cell, turning around to look back towards me.

"If you wish for Demetrius to stop his work all you have to do is talk Ms. O'Connor. Cut her rations again, maybe delirium from starvation will help our little Lamb loosen her lips."

Demetrius continues to slash through my skin and I focus on anything else but the pain. So I start to pull back into my mind. It's like I'm slowly carving a little hole in my consciousness, it's safe and warm there. I can't talk when there as well so I can't let anything slip. Falling into the little cave helps me deal with the pain and hunger, I know I won't have to do this much longer. Price is coming, he'll be here and he will help me get out of here.

I'm dragged out of my head as I feel a hand grab my chin and something slimy drag across my cheek. Demetrius licks up my cheek, collecting my blood and groaning. I feel sick as he meets my eyes and the same maniacal grin spreads across his face. I scream as a piercing pain radiates from my lower right hip, another scream is ripped from my chest as the knife is twisted sharply before being pulled out harshly. The hammering pain matches the rapid beating in my chest.

"Oh so pretty when you cry, I'm going to burn this picture into my mind for later. Thank you Maevis."

He moves away and I quietly cry trying desperately to crawl my way back into the safe little cave in my mind. But this seems to have caved in a little, I can't pull back as far. I can still feel every drag of Demetrius's knife across my chest, arms, thighs, and back. I keep telling myself that it's okay, they're coming. They're going to get me out of here and I'll be safe.

This cycle doesn't last as long as the previous one, or at least I think so, it's hard to tell time. My stomach stopped growling, but the gnawing had spread from my lower abdomen to my chest. Every time I breathe I can feel it biting down on my ribs, like it's trying to eat it way out of me. A wild feral beast chewing at bars of metal in desperation to flee.

Wolf walks in with another man's and Demetrius. I don't bother looking at them keeping my sight fixed on the same spot as before. I've pulled myself out of my head, out of my cave, just a bit to listen to what Wolf has to say. He gives away more than he knows by talking to me. A great little bit of information he's revealed is that he's not the one in charge. He's a middle man.

I keep replaying Ghost's words in my head when he talked to me about combating interrogation. 'Never look at your capture but always listen. If you give them nothing they'll get desperate and will show their hands more often than not. That information can be used and could be more deadly than a weapon. The real task is surviving long enough to know how to use it against them.'

"Lamb, you're being unnecessarily stubborn. You're forcing my hand but again I'm giving you a chance to talk before Ivan is put to work. So I'll ask you again, where is Makarov, what do you know?" He sounds like he's begging, but I'm not stupid and keep my mouth shut.

Wolf sighs and shakes his head, gesturing to the shorter man, Ivan. He approaches me holding a needle with liquid in it. I feel my heart rate spike as I try to move away. I feel a pair of hands grab me and hold me still, I glance back to see Demetrius smiling that same disgusting smile. I start thrashing hard ignoring the pain as I reopen wounds and the strain in my arms and shoulders. I feel a slight prick in my neck and something warm spread through my neck, shoulder, and upper skull.

I retreat into my mind, as far back as I can get hoping that whatever was pushed into my veins would have a harder time affecting me. I know it's unlikely but it's all I can do to comfort myself.

It takes some time for me to feel the changes, everything is brighter... sharper. I can feel every dull ache and thrum of pain across my skin. When Wolf talks it's loud and the lights seem to flicker brighter when he does. He asks his same questions, using the same leverage that isn't that going to change my mind. I'm acutely aware of Demetrius's hands still on my hips, his thumb rubbing circles into my hips. Then he squeezes them and I thrash away from him. Wolf barks something in Russian and Demetrius leaves the room.

'Price is coming, they'll save me. I just have to hold out.' I can feel myself mumbling away, slurring my speech as I keep saying my little mantra. A part of me is very aware saying this out loud isn't a good idea but I can't stop the part of my brain that's blabbering. It's strange how aware I am of myself but unable to control my body. It's because I'm in my safe little cave in my head, just barely keeping my head above the water that has rapidly started flooding in. The pain and drugs mixing with me retreating into myself is dangerous but I'm not drowning. So I stay, breathing calmly, hoping I can pull myself out before I drown.

"Oh Lamb, you truly think Price will come for you? It has been eight days, they do not care for you. Though your little American friend tried to come get you with a small group. We have him in another building, he's faring far better than you. He holds no information that we need so we haven't touched him... Much."

"You're... Wrong! Price... Never! He wouldn't... They'll come... They have to... They will..." I feel something warm slide down my cheeks... Tears, why am I crying? I know they'll come to get me. So why am I crying?

"Poor Lamb is so loyal to someone who has abandoned you, Makarov would never repay such loyalty with this betrayal... Just tell me where he is and I'll personally inform him of your part in his escape."

"No" I hear Wolf goan in frustration before standing and leaving.

"Ivan dose her again when this round wears off. Keep doing so while Demetrius does his usual routine."

Wolf leaves me to Demetrius and Ivan. Demetrius seemed all too happy to continue his work with his knives. He raved about all the foul things he's going to do with me in mind, what he'd like to do to me, how he's more than happy to have such a resilient woman break to him. Every word made me sick and I couldn't handle listening to it anymore. His perverted words mixing with the pain is maddening.

I'm taking a risk, I know it but it's the only way for me to feel safe. I stop trying to float, stopping wading in this water, letting myself sink into thick liquid miasma of drugs and pain. It's calming in a way, everything is muffled and muddy. I feel myself drifting deeper into the strangely numbing cocktail. Safe and comfortable...

I don't know how long I drifted in the cocktail mixture of pain and drugs. I know it's been days, eventually though I resurfaced. Ivan and Demetrius eventually leave as I slowly come down from the drug. My head is pounding and my body feels like it's on fire so I stay tucked away in my flooded cave, head barely above the water. I have to crawl back out a bit as Wolf returns to my cell.

"I tried Lamb, I tried very hard to keep you out of Sergey's room but you are too stubborn. Demetrius get her down."

My ankles are untied and the chain holding me up lowers. I can't help the sigh of relief as my arms fall in front of me. I stumbled forward as I felt a hand shoving me forwards, I got the hint and started walking. There are two armed figures in front and behind me, Demetrius and Wolf to my left and right.

I'm forced to walk for a bit, passing other cells most are empty or impossible to see in. The ones with people in them aren't looking any better than me. Eventually we reach a door and I'm shoved through. It's another cement room with a small window at the top of the far back wall. It's dark I can see there's outlines in the dark of items but I can only make out a few things. There's a light on over a single chair and there's a man standing next to the chair. That's the one thing I can see clearly.

I'm shoved into the chair, my hands are rebound behind the chair. My legs are bound together and then tied to the front two legs. Wolf sits down in another chair in front of me, Demetrius leans against the wall next to the door, and the other man, Sergey walks behind me, draping a rope around the front of me and placing both hands on my shoulders.

"I suggest you speak up now Lamb, Sergey isn't going to give you much time to speak" I stare straight ahead mentally preparing myself for what is next. I don't know if I can fully retreat into myself but I have to protect myself and going there is the only way I know how.

Sergey's hand moved to grab the rope and hold it taunt. I take one last deep breath as the rope is wrapped slowly around my throat. I try to keep calm knowing that if I panic it'll be exactly what they want. But I also know that not panicking will be more difficult as this goes on.

"Last chance Lamb, all you have to do is tell us what you know. You'll be taken back to your cell maybe even get to visit your American friend, yes?"

I say nothing, slowly I feel the rope get tighter and tighter. At first there was not much of a change, it's like breathing with my compression bra and full kit tactical vest. There's a restriction but if you know how to compensate for it, it's not that hard to deal with. Then it's like running for too long, I'm bringing in air but it's shallow. Wheezing and panting, it's not pleasant but it's not enough to kill but it's uncomfortable.

As the rope gets tighter I can feel burning around my throat, the rope rubbing and cutting into the skin making it raw and tender. I can hear my heart beat, feel it thrumming in my skull. You know that feeling when you're holding your breath under water, those last moments of desperation before you push yourself out of the water? Imagine that but there's no surface to break through, I'm just sitting with the feeling. I force myself to retreat deeper into myself.

As soon as I do my body reacts, leg and arms twitching trying to fight against my restraints. My vision begins to blur and blacken around the edges, I can feel my lunges burning like there's fire slowly engulfing my chest. My whole body is thrumming and pounding in tune with my heart, like everything is pulsing. I can feel a cold sheen of sweat across my body, I think I'm crying but it's hard to tell. I think I'm too dehydrated to cry but I'm sweating so I can't be too certain. It's hard to think, to move, to do anything except gasp desperately for air.

I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, I know if this keeps up I won't be around to see salvation. A part of me is hoping for that little push, to have this all end. I wonder if it would be the same as when I retreat into myself, just floating in the miasma of distant feelings. I wonder if I'll feel the pain of my body slowly fade or if it'll just all disappear at once...

Suddenly the pressure is gone, I'm shunted out of my brain into the driver's seat. I gasp for air, gulping and heaving trying desperately to air in my lungs. The feelings are still there but faint like I'm drifting when I know I'm not. I'm very much in the middle of all of this and I can't retreat to find comfort.

"So are you willing to talk? Because the next thing isn't going to be as nice as this Lamb."

"Go. Feck. Yourself... You can all go rot..." My voice is horse and strained.

"I really do wish you would just cooperate Ms. O'Connor, it's been eleven days... Price is not coming for you. Why protect him?"

I say nothing keeping my expression stoic, but inside I feel something begins to bleed. It's been slowly cracking slightly oozing something into my veins and to my heart. I'm losing hope, I don't want to think of Price abandoning me but it may be my reality. I get nauseous at that thought, because surely at least one of my team is fighting to come and get me, right?

No, this will get me nowhere. "Go eat a bullet"

"Sergey, you have 3 days with our Lamb here. Why not demonstrate the other event she's going to enjoy with you."

Demetrius walks behind me, grabbing the back of my chair and tilting it back holding it there. Sergey ties a cloth over my face and I instantly know I'm going to have to fight. I hear metal creaking and water rushing, footsteps and splashing getting closer and closer. I take a deep breath at the last possible second.

The water splashes over my face covering the cloth. As soon as I can't hold my breath for any longer I begin to move my head taking deep gasping breaths before moving again. Water invades everything, burning as it goes down my nose and throat, stinging as it rushes across the cut on my cheek. I hold my breath as the water moves across my face, I try to keep my movements subtle. I don't want them to be able to predict me. Eventually the water stops and the rag is removed, the rope around my shoulders is being picked up again.

"Good luck Lamb, Sergey doesn't find pleasure in this work so he'll be changing frequently between the two. I'll see you again in 3 days, hopefully after your time spent with Sergey you'll be more talkative."

I watch as Wolf leaves the room and I feel the rope tighten. There's searing pain all across my neck and a pounding in my head. I'm also incredibly cold, being wet causes the rope to slip and a soft cry escapes my lips as more tears fall from my eyes. I hear Demetrius chuckles darkly and fresh tears fall as my air supply is stolen from me again.

The next chunk of time is numbing. Going back and forth between retreating into my mind to being shunted back out in order to survive drowning it breaks a small part of me. I don't want to give up hope but I can't wait any longer, if I stay any longer I'm going to die. Escaping on my own is just as likely to kill me but there's a chance and I can't hold out any longer.

Wolf drags me back to my original cell, putting me back into the same position as before. He sits down in his chair, dismissing Demetrius and bringing another soldier to stand beside him.

"Oh little Lamb you're losing hope, I can tell. There's a dying spark in your eyes. Do you know how long you've been here?"

I keep my head down, refusing to meet his eye but too tired to keep my head up. I'm so tired, I just want this to stop... But there's only one option that will truly make this stop, I have to escape.

"14 days... Two weeks and nothing from your captain or team. I will leave you for now, let you recover for a few days and think about where your loyalty lies Lamb..." Wolf leaves and so too does the guard.

I have a rough plan on how to get out, Wolf has been true to his words so far. Because of that I've had plenty of time to think and realize that the pipe I'm strung up on is loose. If I can just get enough leverage I'd be able to get myself out. Beyond that it's survival but it's my only chance.

I'm receiving a meal again, once a day or at least that's what I assume the cycle is. There's multiple guards when the meal comes so I can't spring the plan then, but it may be my only hope.

I hear the shifting of my cell door and as I look up through my hair I see Wolf approaching with my food. It's just him in the cell but Demetrius is standing outside smiling at me. I feel nauseous again.

"You've had a day to think Lamb, how are you feeling? Maybe a bit of food will help you better come to the right answer."

"I'd think a lot better if I wasn't strung up like a butchered pig."

"I'd let you down if I could but sadly it is not my call Lamb. If you gave us what we needed then we could let you down Lamb." There's a commotion as multiple armed guards come rushing towards the cell.

"Sir! There is multiple armed soldiers invading cell block A! What should we do?"

My heart leaps to my throat, is it them? Are they finally here? Was I right that they'd come for me!?

"Who are they?"

"Mostly armed militia sir, they're only trying to get to cell block A. Its not the men you warned us about!"

No... No that can't be. Why aren't they here... Why have they left me? What did I do wrong? Surely they're here right? They haven't abandoned me... It's Farah coming to Alex... But do they even know I'm here... Does anyone know... Do they think-

"Send all squads except for A and B squads, they will guard the halls here."

My vision pulls back, back into that safe comforting area of mind that I've scraped and clawed at to keep myself sain. That dark bleeding feeling becomes a flood. I'm not in control, I can't be anymore. I'm not capable of it anymore, so float and sink. The flooding of the black fluid emotion seems to be what's moving me now.

The soldiers rush away and Demetrius turns his back to the cell. Wolf is still sitting in front of me with his back to me and he looks distracted. I grab the chain, pull myself up, swing my body forwards and wrap my legs around Wolf's shoulders. I pulled him towards me so I have better leverage and used that to pry the pipe down.

Once the chain and pipe becomes loose I loop the chain tight around Wolf's neck. And then I pull, putting all of my strength until I feel a pop then keep going until there's another pop and Wolf stops flailing. I drop onto the ground with the body of Wolf underneath me.

I stand, dropping the chains, and grabbing the pipe. Demetrius still has his back to the cell, I move towards the bars. Quickly I get the bar out of the cell and in front of Demetrius, I grab both sides and throw my entire weight back. I can feel him thrashing and clawing at my arms.

"Not so fun being on the other side is it?" I can see the panic in his eyes as he tries to turn his head towards me, something inside me purrs with satisfaction. I throw my weight back once more and hold it until he's no longer moving, until he's no longer breathing, there's a purr again. I check both bodies finding Demetrius's brass knuckles and a knife left in the cell. I cut my hand loose of their bindings and take a moment to let relief flood my system.

I open the cell door and go the opposite way the soldiers ran. My body is moving on its own, going from shadow to shadow. It's like I'm watching from a distance, through a thick fog. Everything is murky and hard to see or hear, but I still know what I'm doing.

I know that I'm currently pressed against a wall listening to three lightly armed guards talk to each other. I can feel the excitement and joy as they split off two and one. I can feel the strain of my body as I grab the guard and pull him towards me. The swift movement of my knife across his throat, the warm coating of blood across my hands. The ache and pain from moving the body to better be hidden.

My body doesn't grab his gun, a part of me understands. I have the element of surprise right now and guns are loud, but I can hear another part of me screaming to grab it. That gun is a safety net and we need that small comfort, it sounds desperate as it please. But whatever is in control doesn't care and keeps moving.

Again finding shadow my body approaches the two guards, they stop and turn their backs to each other and stand facing down two opposite directions. Slowly approaching the one on the right and grabs them. Pivoting so the guard so he's facing his buddies as they scream and shout in Russian. The one not grappled turned and sprayed a spread of bullets hitting his friends. There's warmth spreading across my lower abdomen as the body's blood seeps out all over me and the tattered dirty clothes I'm still wearing. He's still alive so my knife and hands get a fresh coat of red.

Grabbing the dead man's side arm and shooting it twice at the chest of the female guard. The two bodies drop and my body is on the move again. It's odd how different my body is on auto pilot, running purely on instinct, adrenaline, and that dark flooding feeling that is all around me.

I know what it's called, what it is but saying it, acknowledging it feels like it will break something in me. Permanently changing something I could never get back. She knows it and I know it, we both know as well that this is the only way to protect us. So She stays in charge, surviving on feral instincts while I sink slowly deeper into our mind. Escaping further and further away from everything because this is how I'll survive.

She finds more guards, four solo roaming the halls. Each one painted our hands and arms with more red, with each kill I can feel myself sinking further and further away. It's odd I've never allowed Her full control like this, She's always there when I kill. That overwhelming emptiness I feel when I pull the trigger... It scares me every time, so I focus on their humanity and the sadness of ending them. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.

She finds another two soldiers, dragging the first one away into a shadowy alcove. As soon as the blood on our arms started to cool the other soldier appeared opening fire. The sharp, crystal clear, stab of pain pulls me up to the surface of everything. I have the chance to pull myself into the driver's seat again but it's so comforting to be just drifting. So I let myself sink again, because if I'm going to die then I want to die with whatever comfort I can get... And being adrift in this lonely sea of my mind is the greatest comfort I have.

She moves again tackling our assailant and stabbing into his throat. Standing and moving again we continue down the halls. Then there's the unmistakable sound of rapid gun fire down the hall in front of us. She ducts into the shadows again, slowly moving us towards three figures... All of their backs turned towards us. Distracted by something else and not paying attention to the danger right behind them. I can feel the deep satisfaction She purrs out as it echoes through the waters I'm floating in.

The one furthest back is the first to go as She launches herself onto the back of the first guard. Our knife finds a home in his neck, three times as more red coats more of our body. He's still holding his rifle and all it takes is for her to aim towards the second soldier, his friends impulses do the rest it unloads into number twos back.

I feel myself slipping further away, I can't handle being so close. I can feel everything, the thrumming of pain, the pumping of adrenaline, the warmth of blood soaking my body... The lack of emotions... There's nothing, just death. And that scares me so I sink further below, into the comforts of my mind.

Still holding the body She turns towards the last soldier as he fires repeatedly into his fellow guard's body. Only once he starts to reload his rifle does She begin to move, surging forwards and tackling him to the ground. It's only once we're on the ground that it seems to register that our beloved knife is in the neck of the first guard. Thankfully though we have the brass knuckles from Demetrius's cold corpse.

There's a difference between slicing someone's neck open and beating someone to death. It's a difference I never wanted to know but I do now, I can't seem to slip far enough away. I can feel everything, every crack of bone, every splitting of skin, and every splatter of blood. I force myself further away, I can't deal with this.

She grabs the soldier's knife and stabs it into his chest. I can hear the movement even through the pounding of our heart and our heavy breathing. She turns pulling our new knife from the guard's chest and begins to move towards the last living guard. She stood over him before falling to our knees, one on either side of him.

"No, please... Please! PLEA-" His begging is interrupted as the first stab goes into his back, puncturing a lunge. A lung being stabbed while someone is talking isn't a pleasant sound. There's a rushing of garbled air that escapes the mouth. His pleas get quieter and quieter as her stabs get louder and more frequent. Only stopping once the guard stops moving. Something moves in front of us and I can feel the blood thirst spike again.

"O'Connor are you okay?"

Wait I know that voice! We know that voice!

She stands up gripping the knife tightly, that the same purr echoes around me. Excited for more blood...

"Calm down you're hurt, we can get you out!"

No no no no! Stop! We know him! It's Soap! He's a friend! He's our boy!

I try desperately to swim up, I have to gain control. I can't stay here but it's so hard to get out. Why? It's been so easy before to pull myself to the surface and out into control, why has it changed? I can't get to him in time. I watch in horror, trapped in my own mind, as my body moves to kill Soap.

Something large, dark, and strong grapples my body dragging Her away. I see the white skull and panicked brown eye of Ghost. I continue to claw desperately in my own mind. What once was a comfort, a way to keep myself sane and safe, now feels like another prison for me to escape... Because if I don't I may kill my boys.

Ghost gets the knife out of our hand and prevents Her from grabbing his knife attached to the vest he's wearing. I can hear Soap begging for me to calm down and every part of me is screaming the same thing. Ghost is a formidable opponent when sparing but we're evenly matched, though he tends to win a few more rounds. I hope more than anything that today is one of those days that he predicts the winning move right.

She goes to lunge again and Ghost predicts it, dodging to the side before moving to pin our body against the ground. Positioning himself better, he puts me into a headlock before sitting back. He wraps his left leg around and pins our left leg, properly preventing Her from getting any leverage.

"O'Connor please, calm down. It's just me and Johnny, we're not here to hurt you!"

She continues thrashing and growling, I can feel Ghost squeeze harder. I can feel our nails dig into Ghost's arm. At first there was only fabric but then I heard something rip and I could feel flesh. Ghost squeezes harder and the same suffocating feeling overcomes me but this time I truly hope I don't get the chance to resurface. Because I'm not sure I can get back into control in time.

"Calm down O'Connor!"

Slowly the thrashing stops and I can feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. Finally I resurface but I know it's too late so I give into the oblivion of sleep.

I'm floating again, but there's something wrong. This isn't me shielding myself from something happening, this is the familiar in-between of conscious and unconscious. That state where your mind is awake and your body is still out. I focus on what I can remember and panic floods everything, the torturing, my escape, the disconnect getting worse, my feral frenzy, Soap and Ghost. Suddenly the curtain is lifted and I can hear myself screaming.

I'm sitting up, pushed far back against the bed, breathing heavily. I'm in a hospital room not a concrete cell and all the tension and panic is gone. I look to see everyone here, Laswell, Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Roach. I feel tears streak down my cheeks as they check in on me and indulge me in a group hug.

Eventually I was discharged and learned I was kidnapped by the Russian ultra nationalist extremist group. They were keeping tabs on Farah hoping to catch Price the next time they interact together... But I was the second best opinion. Farah and Alex visited me in the hospital and explained what happened.

My lieutenant never informed anyone about me going out for a house call despite regulation. It got chaotic and busy very fast. It took Farah going to look for me about two days later to realize I was missing, it was only then that the lieutenant spoke up. Alex manages to track down the young man who lured me away. He learns the young man's sister was being held hostage and that luring me away was the only way she'd be set free.

It took four days to find the prison sight, only for their attempt to break in to fail and gets Alex captured. Farah the entire time was trying to get ahold of someone from the 141, anyone but nothing was going through. By the time Farah managed to get something through Price was already on his way. I feel relief knowing they were looking for me, trying to find me but I feel a bit of resentment towards how long it took. I know logically why it would've taken so long but I can't seem to shake the bitter resentment that has made it's home next to my heart.

Everyone was with me as we had to drive and again I felt myself crying. I hate that I doubted them but that small dark part was whispering that it was a reasonable thing to do. Before we leave the hospital to go back to base, Laswell stops me.

"Maevis, before you return to base I have a massage from Quinn..." There's anxiety in Kate's voice as she hands me a small envelope. "I'm sorry she's had a change of heart. I wanted to tell you before you got to base... You usually try to talk to her and I know you'd likely try..." (My friend no longer wants her OC to be in a lesbian relationship, is okay that happens! Love you Jules)

I spent the ride back to the base thinking; about Quinn, about my most recent experience, about those who've stuck beside me and tried to save me... About the shame and frustration I felt and still feel. There's a whirlwind of a million thoughts and emotions in my head and I can't focus on a single one.

Once back on base Price calls me into his office, we walk together into the room. I sat in front of his desk chair expecting him to sit there, instead he sat in the chair next to me. He had his hands clasped together with his head down causing the shadow from his bucket hat to cover his face.

"John? Wha-"

"I'm sorry it took us so long Maevis... There's no excuse for it. I should have known something was wrong the moment our communication stopped. As soon as you didn't come back from the week deployment I should have pulled everyone back from their ops and looked into it."

"John... You couldn't have known, Farah already told us that their communication was compromised. You also had multiple small operations going that you had to pay attention to. I was the one least likely to be in danger, I had Farah and Alex with me and a full squad dealing with injured civilians. I'm fine now..." I try to keep the tears in but I can feel the warmth of them falling onto my cheeks.

"15 days and 12 hours... You had multiple lacerations, bruising, and rope burns. You were severely starved and was extremely close to death by dehydration. Not to mention the lack of sleep and the cocktail of drugs in your system... You were tortured within an inch of your life and you managed to escape. You don't experience all of that and walk out fine." Price looks at me with that look. The same look he gives he'll give one of the youngsters after a particularly rough day. Thankfully this isn't the first time I've cried in front of Price so I don't feel ashamed or embarrassed.

"That's not the worst part for me though John! I... Sweet Jaesus I thought you'd never come. That you'd left me or that you couldn't find me." Price placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it slightly to comfort me.

"Then Farah's team broke into the wrong cell block and something snapped. I was so confused and hurt... I was angry... I felt... Hopeless like no matter what I was going to die so I at least wanted to die trying to get out of there..." I was struggling to breathe as the words kept tumbling out, I just kept blabbering about everything that happened. Everything came out, I told Price everything that I experienced and how I coped with it.

"I'm sorry Maevis, I'm so sorry..." John pulls me into a long hug after I finish talking. We stayed like that for a while John holding me while I cried into his shoulder. It reminds me of when we were younger, all those rough nights with Will, questioning if I made the right choices. Eventually though I calm down and I leave to debrief some random Superior Officer with everything that happened and what I learned.

An hour and a half of me going into graphic details and some high ranking general asking stupid questions. Once I'm finally dismissed the cantina is closed and I'm not in the mood to go to the rec room so I just walk to my office. I have to replace my bandages anyways. I open my office door to see Gaz sitting in front of my desk. He turns and smiles at me as soon as I close the door.

"You didn't come to dinner and Price told us you had to talk to your COs and answer questions... I noticed you still weren't out of your meeting as the cantina was about to close so I grabbed your dinner..." It was then that I noticed the tray of food on my desk, still warm.

"Thank you Gaz, that's very thoughtful of you." I walk over and sit across from him. We chat for a bit while I eat, he tells me about the mission he and Roach were sent on. It was just some simple recon with plenty of gorgeous views.

"Would you like help with some of your bandages? I know they're difficult to replace alone and I'm already here..." I smile at Gaz before nodding. I'm wearing a tank top with loose pants because of all the bandages and how uncomfortable they are when I wear a turtle neck. Though I have been wearing my hoodie.

It takes a bit and by the time Gaz finishes helping me with my arm and neck it's late into the night. I tell him I can get the rest on my own and that he should go to bed. After Gaz leaves and I finish replacing my bandages I go to bed.

It's been a few days since I've been dismissed from the hospital and put on medical leave. I'm having trouble sleeping consistently so I'm currently out for a late night walk. It was raining earlier today and now it's the perfect weather for a night walk. I'm slowly walking around the outside of the furthest hanger.

I don't see or hear anyone when suddenly there's a figure behind me. I feel myself shunted out of the driver's seat and into that same miasma from before, my vision loses focus and my body reacts before I can even comprehend. I spin and grab the figure shoving them hard against the building. I look to see Roach is who I have pinned.

Roach who has a look of shock and pain written across he face... He has fear in his eyes, he's scared of me. And that realization pulls me back so fast I wonder if I can mental whiplash. I quickly let go of my hold on the boy and step back. Shame floods senses and blurring my vision.

"I- I'm so sorry Roach... I don't know what came over me! Are you okay?" I can hear the fear in my own voice and the tears welling up in my eyes. I try to keep them at bay but they start flowing freely. Because instead of saying or signing anything to me, Roach steps forwards and pulls me into a hug. I cling to him as the tears continue their journey.

"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you, to scare you... I don't know why I did that, I've never done that before... I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" It's getting harder and harder to breathe.

"Mom, calm down... Breathe for me yeah?" Roach pulls back a bit and places my hand onto his chest above his heart. I can feel the faintest thumping of his heart and the inhale, exhale of his chest. I unintentionally start breathing in sync with him, calming me down.

"I snuck up on you, you reacted. You didn't hurt me, I was just caught off guard. I wanted to ask if you'd like to walk with me?" I nod not trusting my voice.

We walk together in relative silence, occasionally being broken up by small chats or Ripley barking at Roach to throw her ball. We eventually make our way back into the barracks and split up to go to our different rooms. I'm physically exhausted which helps me shut off my brain a bit and fall asleep easier.

I'm sitting in my office catching up on paperwork when two figures appear in my doorway. I look up to see Ghost and Soap walking in and sitting across from me at my desk. I set aside what I was doing to give the duo my full attention.

"I wanted to say thank you for getting me out of that prison and I'm sorry for attac-"

"Don't apologize Doc" Ghost cuts me off and Soap nods in agreement. Soap stares at me, like he's looking for something before speaking.

"LT said it best, you weren't yourself. Whatever attacked us was running on pure instinct alone... Though that was scary as hell, you were horrifying. I'd say almost as scary as Ghost!" Soap was smiling as Ghost gave the sergeant a slight shove on his shoulder.

"But seriously I don't ever want to be in your sights like that again. You looked ready to tear my head off and play football with it, if Ghost hadn't jumped in when he did." Soap got this far off look before he continued to speak. "I really hope none of us have to see you like that ever again... It felt so wrong to watch you act so ruthless."

" I'm sorry you had to witness that... It scared me too, I didn't feel in control at all. It was like I was locked away in my own head watching my body react without my input... I hated it." Ghost nods his head with this knowing look in his eyes.

"Doc... Roach told me about last night, he told me you had the same look in your eyes..." I look at Ghost and he has a familiar glint in his eyes.

"While I was..." I make a vague gesture. "Anytime it got to be too much I slipped into my head, it was the only place that felt safe." I focused on a spot behind their heads. I felt like I couldn't look at them as I talked about this.

"Eventually I just stayed there, only resurfacing to listen to that bastard talk. But there was something breaking that I couldn't fix... And then the dam broke and I just kept sinking further and further down..." I felt the warmth of fresh tears on my cheeks and I just want to curl into myself.

"Is it fixed? The dam?"

"I don't think so, there's still a leak I can feel it slowly oozing near my heart. It was worse the first few days in the hospital..."

"What will it take for that dam to break again? Will it break again..."

"I don't know honestly... It will... Now that it's broken I don't think I can go back to normal." I look at Ghost and we maintain eye contact, silently acknowledging each other.

"How do we help you when it happens again Doc?"

"Knock me out, after that... I'm not sure... I've been struggling to figure out how to cope with everything. I'm still physically recovering so I can't really do what I'd normally do. I can't workout or go to the range and I can't just throw myself into a mission because I've been sidelined." I rub my temples as I think a bit more before sighing.

"Usually I'd read but I haven't gone into town to buy any new books... Though I suppose I can, now that I'm sidelined for a bit."

"Then that's what you do Doc... Trust me it takes some time to get back to some form of normalcy after something like that. You won't be the same, there's permanent changes from what happened." Ghost has the same sad look in his eyes, every time I look at him since I've woken up in the hospital.

It's not a look of pity, it's a look of understanding. Like he knows exactly what I went through and I know he does. He probably understands better than anyone even me. There's a sense of camaraderie between us now... A camaraderie that neither of us wanted the other to understand, but sadly that's not the case. Instead it's nice to know that there's someone here who can intimately understand the why behind something.

I'm not alone, a sad but comforting fact.

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coltermorning · 2 years ago

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Unsure in your decision to leave your parents, you fight your mind and your ailing body, doubting your next steps alongside the new stranger.

Author’s Notes: Chapter two of this one. This story is set a few years before the game, so the gang members will reflect that. There are descriptions of illness and injury in this chapter.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Two: Spiting Survival

Word count: 3408

Found a girl out on the trail this morning. Well, woman I should say, only she’d just lost her parents to a nasty fall off a cliff. She somehow survived it. And now she’s with me, more wild animal than woman, holding on best she can to survive.

Don’t know why I felt the need to play hero. Maybe Dutch and Hosea will know what to do with her, as it has become increasingly obvious I do not.

The stranger—Arthur—had a little brown book not so different from your father’s. He had just finished scribbling something in it when your restlessness gave way and you finally sat beside the fire he had built.

He stashed the book, eyeing you. “You wanna eat something? You got to be hungry.”

It was night, a long day of traveling behind you. It seemed the folks this man ran with were quicker than most caravans of that size—you hadn’t run into them yet.

You shook your head. As hungry as you were, you couldn’t eat. It would just come right back up.

“You need to eat,” he pushed. He didn’t understand it. Any of it. You were exhausted, starved, pained. Each of those things helped distract you when distraction was as precious as gold. It was taking all you had not to turn right back around and walk all the way you had come.

You just looked at him, long enough to make him shake his head at you in defeat. Good. You wanted to be left alone. The sole reason you had agreed to come with him was beginning to be lost on you with every step away from that godforsaken bridge.

The fire took your attention as the night air closed in. You and your parents had left Montana too late in the year, autumn biting at your heels all the way. It would snow soon. You felt a brief moment of panic, knowing it would bury their graves deep enough for them to be difficult to find. But there was the tree. You wouldn’t forget that worn pine.

A popping sound drew your eyes—the man had opened a can of food and was holding it out to you. You stared, refusing to take it. He sighed in annoyance and got up, walking to you and setting it down at your feet with more force than necessary. He held your gaze, a hard determination in his own. “Eat.” He didn’t wait to see if you would obey before turning toward his bedroll. He settled on top of it, punching his makeshift pillow too hard. “And get some rest. I ain’t slowing pace tomorrow.”

You were torn by that. Where did you go from here? When you did catch up to that caravan, you knew you couldn’t bear to stay with them. So it would be onto the next town. Then what? Struggle to make a living as a working girl or a maid? You were better off in the woods. You had been raised on a small homestead, hunting every meal, working with your hands. You didn’t know anything else. It was foolish to think some little life in a town would suit you. You wondered if you could make it to Nebraska somehow, but that journey would take weeks. Maybe months given the snow.

You knew what you really desired—what you had dreamed of since you were old enough to dream of such things. But your parents hadn’t wanted that life for you. Montana was too far behind you anyway.

At the thought of your parents, you shook off the longing within you and looked to the can of food at your feet. Just as with them, the least you could do was try. No matter how much it pained you.

You took the can—beans—and ate with held breath, forcing it down. It was misery, but you finished the whole thing then got up to resume your pacing. It kept the cold off and your relentless thoughts at bay.

You walked over to the man’s horse, a fine beast he called Boadicea. She was watchful but not spooky, keeping a close eye on your approach. You held out a hand to her. She reluctantly sniffed it. Being with her felt natural. Easy. The sole thing to feel that way. You gave her a few strokes against her broad neck then stepped away. Needing to move again. To shake off the constant dread within you, namely due to the remembrance of your own stallion. You were glad you hadn’t looked to see the state of him. You didn’t think you could stomach that. Though, that thought brought on the sharp image of your mother’s bent leg. You got all of two steps before you felt your stomach turn. The feeling reminded you of falling, and you were suddenly back there, the world upside down, everything you knew raining down.

You vomited every bit of your dinner, still heaving when there was nothing left to rid yourself of.

Morning came, and you had hardly slept. You could hardly function. Each thought was a broken pane of the present and the past shattering against each other. Speech, movement, survival, it was all lost. All to the truth of things.

“You all right back there?”

You were staring, dead eyed, at nothing as you rode. Hands clenched around the man’s coat so tight you couldn’t feel your fingers. You would fall if you let go. You would not fall again.

The man turned in your grip, throwing you a glance you couldn’t make out as you wouldn’t meet it.

“Ain’t gonna pass out on me are you?”

Endless questions. You longed for the day he would give up trying.

His horse trotted on, the sun rising higher and higher. It was hours before you heard voices. Wagons.

“Look who it is,” a man said. The confident voice caught your attention, and you met its owner with hesitant eyes. “And who’s this?”

“We got a passenger,” your savior responded. If that was what he could be called.

“So I heard.” The man turned his horse back to join the two of you. It was only when he got close that you could make out the look in his eye—curiosity. Too much of it. “Name’s Mac.”

You just stared.

“She ain’t much of a talker I’m afraid. Where’s Dutch? I need a word.”

The man nodded ahead. “Second from the front. Says we’ll be stopping soon.”

The mare picked up her pace below you, rounding the rearmost wagon. You were glad to be out from under the scrutiny of one pair of eyes, but soon came more. Many more. And with all the staring came the grounding present, your reality thrust upon you without warning. It was exhausting. You turned away, looking to the wood line, clinging to the stranger.

The horse eventually slowed. “Hi, Dutch.” You refused to look, to put a name to a face.

“Arthur. I was beginning to worry,” said a deep voice, one of the two men who had come down on the wagon yesterday.

“Oh, we managed just fine. You made good timing.”

“So we have. We’re stopping soon to water the horses, set up camp for the night. Hosea says there’s a good spot down the way.”

“Dry and warm,” said another voice. The older man. “It’ll do for now. And how’d you get on? I see you still have your friend there.”

“Indeed,” said the man you rode with. Arthur. Thought it felt wrong to call him that. “Like I said, we managed. I figured she could stay with us ‘til she figures out what she wants to do.”

“Sure,” the older man replied. “What’s one more?”

Arthur laughed. “You got that right.”

The proud voice, Dutch, spoke again. “Why don’t you ride on ahead Arthur, pick us out a good spot to land this makeshift menagerie? The girl can stay with us.”

You tightened your grip, hard enough for the man to take notice. You wouldn’t be left behind with these strangers.

“Uh, I think it’s probably best we both go.” He nodded toward you. “She’s still a little skittish.”

The man chuckled in response. “Whatever you say.”

You were being ridden away from the sound of all those creaking wagons before you so much as breathed again.

“So.” It was taking all your energy to listen. To keep the thought of broken boards and bodies out of your head. “What is your plan exactly? You staying with us?”

You shook your head. He of course couldn’t see it.

After a beat, the man sighed and reached for the satchel strapped across him. He pulled something out of it and passed it over his shoulder—your mother’s necklace. Your mind went numb with it, with the shine she always polished into it. She was so proud of that necklace that she never even wore it, too afraid to break it or lose it. How was it here?

“Figure these belong to you. Wouldn’t have taken them if I’d known you were-”

“Keep it.” You were shoving the necklace back in his hand, preventing him from pulling out some other item you couldn’t bear to look at. All you needed was the ledger. The rest was too painful to think about.

“Okay.” He seemed surprised. Let him be. You were too busy feeling regret curl within you again, your last words spoken no longer to your parents. It was a silly thing, but it felt like all you had to hold onto. So you clamped your mouth shut again, refusing to utter another word.

After less than twenty minutes, the man slowed his horse. “Here we are. This is a good spot.” You looked over his shoulder at the small clearing, a river running near it. It would be a good place to keep all those wagons and people. The thought had you retreating in on yourself, ready to bolt. You had nowhere else to go, but you considered it. Maybe they had an extra horse somewhere you could leave on. The idea of the next town certainly felt more doable than this. Than all those eyes on you, looking at the woman who had cheated death.

The man circled around a few times before letting his horse walk over to the water and drink. The river was small, barely a creek. You would normally appreciate it after all this travel, but you couldn’t think of that now. Now came a decision—what to do with yourself. For the rest of your life. And now was a better time than any being away from all those people. You slid off the horse, landing softly on your feet, preparing to speak. It was inevitable now. The man looked down at you, and you forced yourself to look up at him.

“I need to be going.”

He frowned, a more annoyed-looking thing than an upset one. “And you plan on, what, walking it from here?”

You looked to your feet, not knowing how to answer. It made him sigh, like he had to do it to regain his patience. “We’re headed down to Colorado, should be a little less than a month. Why not just come with us? We got plenty of food and shelter. It’ll be a lot easier on you.”

You were beginning to think he was a little ignorant. Either that or stubborn. He didn’t get it.

“No.”

He stared this time. Then, “No, huh? Well I’m sorry, but I can’t-”

“I have family. In Nebraska.”

He considered you. “That’s quite a trip.”

It wasn’t much farther than Colorado. You weren’t about to mention where in Nebraska though, that it would take more than a month.

He shook his head when you didn’t answer. “Just let them get here, get yourself settled for the night. Then you can decide whether you want to lose all this or not.”

Wrong choice of words. You’d already lost everything. You left him sitting there atop his horse, storming away toward the nearby trees. It was taking everything in you to keep your anger driving things, to keep the reason for your miserable circumstances at a distance.

You hid like a coward when the wagons pulled in, going deeper into the woods so as not to be confronted. It was probably ruining your chances of getting any help from these people, but you didn’t care. Surviving your innermost thoughts was all that was left. This was the only way to make things bearable.

The day went on, and your exhaustion from such little sleep the night before began to catch up to you. You had been hungry for a while now, the pain in your side throbbing for hours, but you ignored them both. The nearby river caught your attention instead.

You walked over to it, taking a glove off and brushing your fingers against the water. It was freezing. The shock of it made you suck in a breath, and the motion had your side stitching up in teeth-gritting pain. You knew then you had to tend to it or likely die of it.

You made to peel your coat away and winced. Not from the pain—it revealed blood underneath, dried against your shirt where it stuck out from under your vest. You hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in everything else to worry about yourself.

You reluctantly unbuttoned your vest, then your shirt. Pulled up your chemise. You braced yourself, reaching for where the pain was worst.

“Looks like you’re banged up pretty good there.”

You whipped around to the sound of the unfamiliar voice—the man from before. Mac? He was staring at your side, at the blood giving you away now that your coat wasn’t hiding it.

Panic rose up in your throat like bile, half-choking you with fear. You didn’t want him here. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t run. Just stood there staring at him.

“Easy there, I come in peace.” He held up his hands as if in surrender but stepped closer. Caging you in against the river. “You need to tend to whatever’s making you bleed like that.”

You knew it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Each subtle movement of breath against your ribs revealed dried, cracked blood. But the wound would reopen if this man got any closer, for you would be sprinting away from him any second.

“Mac, leave the woman alone.” This from the lone voice you were familiar with. Arthur. Come to rescue you a second time. He walked out of the woods and set a hand on the other man’s shoulder, stopping his approach.

“I weren’t doing nothing but trying to help. Look at her.”

Arthur’s eyes landed on you, on your side all bloodied. They narrowed. You fought the urge to run again.

“Go back in camp, would you?” he asked the other man, never taking his eyes off you. “You’re scaring her off.”

“You go back in camp,” the man shot back.

“Mac,” Arthur warned, looking him in the eye. There was no room for argument in his voice.

The other man scoffed and shoved Arthur’s hand away, grumbling under his breath as he turned back. You watched him go, breathing coming easier with his every step away. The stranger didn’t seem overly threatening. You just couldn’t bear to be near him. Near anyone for that matter, except, seemingly, for the one who had rescued you. Buried your parents. Ridden you all this way.

“Sorry about him,” he said, not coming any closer. Like he saw escape written across your face. “He means well.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t be so sure.

“That don’t look so good.” He pointed to the deep red staining your shirt. The motion drew your eyes to it, and where you were scared to look before, you did now. You shouldn’t have. You felt your stomach turn again.

Your entire side was black with one giant bruise. In the middle lay scraping lines of red leading to a cut so jagged it was a wonder the bleeding had stopped. You were accosted with memory, the reason behind such injury—falling, hitting the wagon, nearly passing out from the pain of it before you hit the ground.

The wagon had broken your fall.

“I can get someone to tend to that. Bring you some supplies.”

The words were meaningless. The wagon had kept you from death, and this mangled black and red mass was all you had to show for it. The only thing keeping you alive. You suddenly fell to your knees over the reality of it, feeling sickness push up your throat. Your empty stomach prevented anything from coming up, and you sat there heaving again, just as you had the night before.

“Wait right there. I’ll get help.”

“No,” you choked out.

“Don’t be stubborn. You need-”

“No.”

Your body gave up trying to expel what wasn’t there, and you looked over at the man, breaths coming in sharp and painful.

He shook his head at you. Then approached. “Let me see then.”

You moved back. He kept coming anyway. You didn’t have it in yourself to fight him. Too weakened by the idea that you would be with your parents now if it weren’t for this injury.

The man came over and pulled your shirt to the side, your bunched-up chemise higher.

“Shit.” You watched his face. The concern in his eyes. “This could have killed you.”

Maybe so. Maybe you’d been hoping for that.

“We gotta get this stitched up or the skin’ll die. It’s a wonder it ain’t infected already.”

All just words, white noise. Meaningless in the grand scheme of things. If it weren’t for this ugly wound, you’d be at peace now. You felt a sob escape you as you knelt even lower, pushing the man’s hands away. He let you down, and you curled in on yourself, overcome by it. If only you’d fallen differently. Been sitting with your parents instead of on the back. Then the wagon wouldn’t have been in the way of the one thing you longed so deeply for.

Sobs shook your shoulders, but no tears escaped. Like you’d cried them all away.

“I’m gonna go get something for that wound. Stay here.”

You didn’t have to be told. You didn’t even have it in you to move.

You were a mess of memory and pain when the man returned, his hand finding your shoulder and rolling you onto your back.

“This is going to hurt,” he said. Let it.

You kept your eyes shut tight, afraid of what you were letting him do. Mending you. But your fear and your grief and your agony were all bundled up so tightly within you that you stayed still.

You felt something wet push against the edges of the wound, drawing a sharp breath from you. The bruise was the worst part. Any higher and you would have shattered your ribs. But instead you were a beaten hull, nothing left underneath. Nothing that mattered.

The pressure got to be too much. You tried to push his hands away.

“Stay still,” he demanded. You pushed again. “This ain’t even the worst part. Either you let me do it, or I’ll go get someone else.”

That stopped your protests.

After another minute of brutal pressure, he let out a short breath, like he was steeling himself. You forced yourself to keep your eyes closed for what came next.

“I ain’t the best at this.”

His voice was smaller than you’d ever heard it. You didn’t need that.

“Just do it,” you hissed.

Then there was pain, sharp and pinpointed on the skin that was already so shredded. Then it threaded, and happened again, and soon you were shoving your fist in your mouth to have something to bite down on. You cried out. It was getting worse, pain on top of pain. Tumbling into the harshness of all that had happened, trauma of the mind colliding into your will. It was too much. All of it. Your felt your body finally begin to give up. You clung onto the feeling with all you had, praying for death to take you.

You called out to your parents with one final breath, darkness closing in on the pain and on your mind until you unraveled and were no more.

_________

Chapter three is here.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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obsessedtomone · 2 years ago

Text

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 1 - Convenience ▸Shigaraki x femReader

Summary: “Say, I’ll make you a killer deal,” he begins, the tone of his voice deceptively even, failing to mask the coldness. “If you fucking apologize to me right now, and manage to clear things up with the professor before—” He slides his sleeve just above his expensive-looking smartwatch and casually checks the time, “—the class ends, in about… mmh, give or take three minutes? I promise you won't regret this as much as you will if you do go through with this stupid shit you started with me.”

His face breaks into a slow and creepy smile as he threatens you, body emanating nothing other than incredible malice.

You wish you could turn back time and never cross his path, that stupid night at the store.

You wish you were a different, nicer person, one that knows when to bow their head or to apologize if they messed up.

But you weren’t and you won’t. Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three

Chapter 1 - Convenience Pitter-patter.

With a pop of your joints, you reach for the moon or the ceiling or maybe the gods above. You reach and you reach and finally you feel that satisfying stretch burn through your muscles.

What time is it anyway?

Uh-oh.

You cringe, because the birds are chirping, the first light of the day is starting to show, and because… you’ve been gaming your entire fucking Saturday night.

It’s 4:30 AM when you check your phone.

—And you could’ve been studying, could’ve been in touch with your project buddies, to at least send them your part of the project in time. But you didn’t and you won’t.

Not at least until tomorrow anyway.

Tomorrow, probably around ten minutes before your group’s deadline.

Yeah, you’re that special kind of asshole.

Looking around yourself, you realize that—all of the sudden, the room feels so fucking stuffy you could suffocate. It’s messy and god fucking knows when you opened your goddamn windows last.

So that’s exactly what you decide to spend your next action point on, as your mind briefly wandered back to your past few Valorant matches.

You actually stayed up late, trying your best to climb to Diamond and dealing with the hyper-misogyny of random pathetic incel teammates who immediately shit themselves the moment a woman opens her mouth on mic.

Whatever.

At least you weren’t living in your mommy’s basement, swimming in a sea of trash, right?

You glance around your room and wince.

Okay, maybe you’re swimming in like—a puddle of trash.

But that’s okay, because you’re definitely way above those goblins on a societal level… right?

You don’t dwell very much on that particular thought.

With a yawn, you reach for the windows and open them wide. The cool air of soft autumn rain invades your stale room the second you open them, replacing the warm stuffiness of your man-cave and filling your lungs with fresh oxygen.

You wonder how long it’s been raining for already, when you feel your stomach—the one vital organ you’ve purposefully been ignoring all night—growling. What did you eat today?

When the fuck did you eat last, actually?

“Uuugh—” you whine, finally feeling the shakiness of your hands and the overall weakness of your body.

On your way towards your joke of a kitchen, you decide what flavor cup noodles to scarf down quickly before you hit the hay. Your internal debate is torn between two particular flavors, before you open the cupboard and realize—there aren’t any instant noodles left.

God fucking damn it.

You briefly glance down over your sorry excuse of an outfit—one that would put homeless people to shame—made up of plain black sweats and an oversized black hoodie, noting how you should also maybe perhaps take a fucking shower after literally sweat-gaming all day.

Fuck it, you think, taking a total of two seconds to decide that this was good enough for the world, before you set off to the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store.

So you grab your phone, your keys, and that’s what you do.

────────

Despite the hints of a rising sun, it’s still pretty dark outside. The air smells like fresh morning rain and wet concrete.

You don’t mind, because to your own delight, it couldn’t be quieter around here.

The neighborhood you live in is incredibly sketchy, but you couldn’t complain given it’s barely a fifteen minute walk to your university and the rent to your rundown one-bedroom apartment is dirt fucking cheap.

It suits the broke ass bitch that you are and you like it this way—one, because you have a thing for sketchy run-down places and two… because it’s yours and yours alone.

The totally-legal-and-definitely-wont-blind-you pepper spray you bought from the shadiest internet store sits snugly in the pocket of your hoodie, one hand occasionally fidgeting and feeling the rim of the object.

Knowing you have something to use in your defense makes you feel safer when you’re outside. You never know when something unpleasant could go down.

You’re so used to being on-guard after all the years of shitty experiences.

Of being on your own.

Of stupid shit that kept happening to you.

So you walk, if only with a smear of anxiety, because you still need to stay vigilant and not put the universe to a fucking test.

The first thing you notice when you waltz into the corner store, is how goddamn bright the fluorescent lights are. They’re far too bright for your tired eyes that are used to endless hours of staring into dimmed screens with the lights off.

The second thing you notice is how eerily quiet it is inside—save for the whirring, clicking and occasional gurgling of the refrigerators in the back. Or at least that’s where you think the sounds come from.

It’s odd that the current shift didn’t think of turning on the radio to fill the silence—to make this place feel less like a ‘bad end’ location from a horror game—but a quick glance towards the staff at the counter and their wireless earpieces tells you that they couldn’t give less of a fuck about the store’s ambiance.

Not that it matters, when you’re too busy surveying the shelves in search of some food, of something edible, the ‘food’ in question consisting mostly of snacks and other nutritionless garbage that would give nine point five out of ten doctors a cardiac arrest.

Speaking of heart failure, you find yourself in front of the refrigerated drink aisle, using all of your brain wrinkles to make your hardest decision yet.

Which one of the canned heart attack flavors are you gonna buy today?

You hum, spending a good three minutes (give or take) thinking, and when you finally go ahead, reaching with your fingertips to grab the energy drink—

“Hey,” a low and grating voice speaks right behind you.

The sound makes you fucking jump.

You turn around with a scowl and then—straight out of a comedy skit, you feel like you’re staring at your male doppelgänger.

An extremely sketch-looking guy, wearing black sweats that match your own, the hood of his equally dark colored hoodie up and covering a messy mop of white hair.

And then you notice his… his intense crimson colored eyes, drilling a hole through the middle of your fucking skull.

If only looks could kill.

“Did you need something?” You fail to mask the venom in your voice, aimed at him for no good reason.

A skin care routine, you think.

Not like you bothered with one either, but at least your face isn’t disintegrating into disgusting flakes yet, unlike his punk ass.

Motherfucker couldn’t have waited two fucking minutes for you to pick something?

Where the fuck do you have to be at like 4:50 in the morning?!— you scoff, but the words remain yet unspoken.

The hooded figure raises his hand to scratch at his pale neck, seemingly annoyed at your shitty attitude towards him.

He just has to meet the worst type of bitch at this ungodly hour, on a Saturday no less—and he isn’t having it.

Red eyes stare you down for a moment, watching your face scrunch up at his sight.

“You’ve been standing in front of the drinks for like ten fucking minutes, ugly ass bitch.” He finally claps back, and with that, your eyes narrow. “Pick something or get the hell outta my way.”

“I was just about to, asshole,” you reply, voice betraying you and ultimately cracking while you seethe. “Grab your stupid ass drink so you can finally go home to the boys and cry about not getting any.”

You finish your sentence and stand aside for him, motioning to the drinks all the while his eyes widen in what you presumed to be shock—but before he has the chance to respond, you hurry the fuck up and leave.

The poor employee at the counter who saw the scene playing out (store ain’t that big, now), seems to want nothing to do with any of this. Graveyard shifts must be really fucking fun when you’re graced with not one, but two annoying idiots.

You drop all of your items on the counter and while the cashier is scanning them, you pat all four of your pockets, looking for your wallet to pay.

Until it dawns on you.

No fucking way—

Ain’t no fucking way your stupid, braindead ass forgot to bring money.

This isn’t fucking happening to you right now.

Especially since the embodiment of patience is standing just a few inches behind you, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other and waiting with bated breath for you to finally pay and get lost.

“Uhh. Do—Do you guys keep tabs open?” you ask, recoiling at the sound of your own voice, scratching at the back of your head sheepishly and almost whispering the second half so the guy behind you wouldn’t be able to hear it. “I kind of… forgot my wallet at home.”

The cringe that is already coursing through your veins, deepens infinitely when you see the employee stare at your face, as if you grew a second head.

“No.”

Your humiliating predicament makes the guy behind you break into the creepiest snicker. You shoot him a glare and dare him to say something, but he’s too busy laughing at you.

God, if only the ground would swallow you whole, right fucking now.

With the worst shades of shame coloring your face, you turn around to leave, swearing to never set foot in this fucking establishment ever again. Nevermind that it’s the only store close to your house.

Before you have the chance to make good on your promise, the white haired guy reaches out—if a bit hesitant—and grabs your arm.

What’s the chance a nuke would crash into this fucking store and wipe out your entire existence, together with whoever is here to fucking witness this? Or maybe aliens could finally make contact with planet Earth and take you the fuck away. Getting your ass probed sounds infinitely more appealing than this incredible embarrassment you feel in front of the two assholes.

“Hold.”

Your pathetic gaze lifts from the ground and when you meet his eyes he looks—amused?

“What. Let go of me, man.” You panic, trying to free yourself from his grip, but his fingers are firm. Is that blood under his fingernails?

“I’ll pay,” he offers, a disturbing smirk playing on his dry lips.

This fucking guy.

“N-No, I’m good. Thanks.” Your voice is shaking more than you want it to and you feel tears finally prick at your eyes.

Why do you live your life this way? Why are you so fucking pathetic—especially in front of assholes like him?

Why are you still so weak?

After everything you’ve been through?

You try once more to shake him off of you, but he’s deceptively strong for his build, and doesn’t relent now that he’s got you where he wants you to be.

“It’s okay, really. This just made my night so I’m gonna pay for ya,” he says, the almost-even tone in his voice not matching the way his creepy smile seems to be getting wider.

He swiftly pulls out some scrunched-up bills from the pocket of his sweats, slipping them to the employee who could not give less of a fuck about whoever pays first, grabbing your already-bagged purchase and basically shoving it to you as he gives his best ‘Come again soon!’ bullshit line that actually translates to ‘Please fucking leave the store already’.

“How about that, huh? Now you owe me one, little bitch,” he whispers into your ear, voice low and full of grit sending chills down your spine and rendering you absolutely speechless.

Without sparing you so much as a second glance, he finally pays for his own shit and leaves the store in a smug stride.

You could basically read the “EZ” he wrote in slash all chat while destroying your fucking nexus.

What a horrible fucking night, you think to yourself, hurrying to go home as well.

Your only comforting thought being that you wouldn’t have to see his stupid fucking pasty face ever again.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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