#it’s certainly easier to stay calm when people are not being aggressive… but also I just try to not take it personally
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Just here to tell you how strong you are for dealing with these Drantis, they are the worst of all, and I don't understand why they keep bothering you in this aggressive way.
I blocked many people to avoid interacting with them in the future, and I can't understand why they keep going to fans and their spaces like this.
They are truly a bunch of bullies and you are so strong to keep being calm like this Bleue
Here, virtuals Hugs on your way
Aw thanks, most people haven’t been too bad, from what I’ve heard there are some really nasty people out there I have been lucky enough to dodge… perhaps I blocked them in September lol. I think the most recent ask might have been the most aggressive I’ve received or maybe I’m just tired of the same points being made, either way I kinda “crashed out” didn’t I lol. Oopsie. Anyways, thanks for your support, very much appreciate it. Nice to not be the only one frustrated with the drantis. :)
and yea… it is strange to see them invade spaces or go to fans where people clearly disagree, like they really are itching for a fight huh. Like as many posts as I’ve made it’s weird they’d come interact with me because I’m certainly avoiding all the innitors and drantis on my end. There’s no point to reason with people who have proven to be unreasonable.
#it’s certainly easier to stay calm when people are not being aggressive… but also I just try to not take it personally#besides y’all don’t know how much I’ve yelled about things to my friends lol… but I’ve been posting not to change minds but just spread#awareness… not one should feel like they sre manipulative and evil just for being autistic or having adhd#so I’ve just been trying to get that message out because I used to feel that way and seeing that said so publically everywhere would have#really made me feel shitty…#<3 <3 <3 hope you’re doing okay :)#hello there#as an aside I know I write a lot of words but I feel like if you are going to try and argue or disagree or come at me you should probably#read what I’ve said… then again a lot of people couldn’t be bothered to get context for clips or watch the vids or videos so nvm lol#… seriously if I get another aggressive ask about this topic I might just can an index of links for them lol XD
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Romance in the office.
Chapter 3- welcoming party.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/826adc45bb0b11ce16ec3841b55e8947/4e37af93cc4ba6b3-9f/s540x810/c336e7f9734be4f8057384c7f781563c2b21a37a.jpg)
It has been only a few minutes that i informed Mr.Takeda of the email and invitation, for a moment I didn’t think he would mind the request for a business meeting from one of his rivals, mostly because I had just witnessed a few hours ago how he interacted with his rival, Uesugi Kenshin. But I was wrong to assume the same exchange would happen between him and Oda Nobunaga. At this moment, I could describe this situation in many ways, but I suppose the best way was…
Tense.
I hadn’t seen that kind of expression on his face, it was only for a split second but it still happened. That easygoing, charming smile disappeared from his face when I informed him of the meeting. His face was serious as a small frown formed on his lips, he seemed to have been deep in thought.
This was taking longer than I imagined, what felt like hours were only minutes of silence. It was at this point that I decided to speak up.
“Uhn… Mr. Takeda?” I tried calling to him in a much softer voice, hoping to catch his attention. That serious expression quickly faded as he flashed a bright smile my way.
“Ah, I hope I didn’t worry you, angel. You are new here, so you must have not learned about this yet.” I could see that he was using a more relaxed tone, most likely to reassure me. It’s true that I worried I had done something wrong without realizing it, but it seems like I was wrong.
“About this meeting,” I began speaking again, which made him pay attention. Yet again, he seemed more stiff and serious than before. “I believe we should get prepared. They requested for this meeting to happen in three days from now on.”
“Three days? He truly hasn’t changed.” I noticed that there was a bit of an aggressive… no, it was more of an upset tone. “He arrogantly wants everyone to follow his will without taking into consideration other people’s schedules.”
Okay…? I suppose this meant that he truly didn’t have a good relationship with Mr. Oda. He was a true rival, different from Mr. Uesugi.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Takeda. I will reorganize your schedule so that we can fit this meeting in.” I reassured him, already making a mental note of what i should move to a different date to place this meeting. Naturally this is easier said than done.
I could already feel a headache coming, it would be difficult to reason with many businessmen to reschedule their meetings. I could notice my boss looking at me for a while, then a smile appeared on his face.
“I know this is your job, but I still feel grateful to you for doing that.” He said that in a genuine way, though I was confused as to why he was being grateful. This was just my first day, how could he possibly know I would do everything well?
It’s not that I doubted my ability, on the contrary. I knew I could manage this as long as I stayed calm and patient.
“With all due respect, boss, I believe you should wait for the results of my work to actually praise me like that.”
“All flirting aside, I do know you will do a good job, though I will certainly wait to see the results of your good work.” Somehow… I felt warm inside, this was only my first day of work and I was already feeling like so much happened and more things are about to happen.
“Thank you, Mr. Takeda. I will do my best.”
……..
Honestly… this is the third time I heard angry voices from over the phone. It has been a few hours since I returned from my boss’s office and was busy reorganizing his schedule, trying to move some of his meetings to a different date. I can understand their anger, as this whole rescheduling was too much of a short notice. Many of them will also have trouble moving their meeting to a different time or day.
I guess now I understood why Mr. Takeda said that about Oda Nobunaga. This did not affect only our company, but many others as well. I realized that I might stay a bit later due to my work, I don’t want to leave anything for tomorrow.
It was then that I noticed a knock on the door to my office, I told them to come in, while also trying to not sound tired. I noticed just how hoarse my voice was from talking so much on the phone. I saw Yukimura entering the office, narrowing his eyes brows when he looked at me.
“You are still working? I know I told you to work hard on the day of the interview, but not this much.” Great, now Mr. Nagging was scolding me… I was a little bit cranky but didn’t want to be rude, so I took a deep breath before responding.
“What do you mean? I am only staying a little bit late than my working hours.”
“You can’t be serious. It’s almost 10:00 PM!” That statement spooked me more than I had thought it would. I could swear it has been only a few hours since I talked with my boss about the meeting. Had i really been that busy?
One look at my clock and I got the confirmation that it really was that late. And I wasn’t even finished with all my work for the day.
“Look, you can finish this tomorrow. Right now we should get going.” He seemed a bit annoyed. Even with all the tiredness I was feeling, I could somehow see that he was only trying to be caring.
“Uh, excuse me, we?”
“Don’t you know? We are supposed to go for the party of the new employees. Which includes you.” The party… Ah! Now I remember!
Most companies tend to do this for the people who just entered the company, it’s a party to welcome the newcomers. I wasn’t the only one who just entered this company, there were other few people who just started today as well. I didn’t even remember this.
“Oh. Wait for me, I will just get everything ready.” He nodded and left the office. I was tired, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I at least attend this welcoming party and eat something. I was needing dinner after all.
I gathered my things quickly so that i wouldn’t keep the others waiting, though I noticed someone was waiting for me outside my office.
“I heard from Yuki that you were working until now.” It was Mr. Takeda. He smiled at me, it was a sweet smile, a bit different from his usual flirty smile. It was friendly, gentle. “I believe it’s time for a needed break, don’t you think? I won’t let a worker of mine work until morning.”
“I am grateful for your concern, but I had a lot to do.” Yet again, I remained professional, smiling politely for his concern.
“I know, but do remember that sleep and rest are good for productivity. Otherwise it will fall.” That sounded familiar, though I couldn’t remember why.
He seemed to grin at me, probably because he knew I recognized those words. It was then that it hit me. He used my own words against me. I remember what I said during lunch.
“I… suppose you are right, boss.” I won’t lie, I kind of felt played by my own words, I wouldn’t be able to deny his statement.
“Now then, let’s go. The restaurant we are going to for this welcoming party isn’t far. I bet you are hungry for dinner.” With that, he began walking, I followed him right after. I definitely was tired, but I was also hungry. Besides, I couldn’t wait to see how this party was going to be.
………
Oh. So this is a welcoming party.
We were all seated at a big table, together with us were senior workers and our boss. I was one of the new workers who just entered the company. You would think that a party like this would be a bit awkward, but it’s actually the contrary. Everyone was speaking casually with each other, getting acquainted, it kind of reminded me of lunch time, except now there were many people eating together.
Mr. Takeda was sitting at the right end of the table, where he was visible to everyone. I gave him a few glances out of curiosity, I noticed he was laughing and speaking comfortably with everyone. Somehow that sight captured my attention. He was… more of a leader than a boss, if that made sense. He was good at leading others, while also having a big charisma. Everyone seemed to be having quite a fun time with him.
It was at moments like these that made me see a different side of him, but it was only the first day that I met him. Something deep down made me feel like there was so much more I would learn. And I could feel that i would learn many sides of him.
I just… could feel it. Takeda shingen was much more than just a genius and flirt.
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I can’t tell you how much more impactful it would have been to have the IC, Cassian, Feyre, Elain, and then Nesta’s new friends Gwyn and Emerie be supportive to her while she was still standoffish and bitter. All of them.
I personally think that’s why fey/sand stans are sometimes infinitely more aggressive, because in the pursuit of Nesta getting a narrative, SJM trashed her other characters. But mark my words, none of us won with this book.
So can you imagine? We would have seen the Nesta of acotar truly come back, where she is irrationally impossible to deal with, simply because she doesn’t make anything easy which is her whole character in literally every book. Her self-depreciation then would make so much more sense, because then she would have to deal with the repercussions of her actions which were to push everyone away however she could. But then, she would also have the evidence that they love her despite how she is and how could they? They actually love her, and have been rooting for her this whole time, and appreciate what she has done in the past for them. So when she actually heals and makes those triumphs, they feel like wins for all of them. Then Nesta can be like, “I want to live for them,” even though that’s still not an extremely healthy perspective. But it’s much easier to have those words mean something, when she has the proof that they have stood by her side. Even the guilt would make more sense, even with her father, because then she can compare, like look at all these people who I didn’t know were supporting me or who loved me the best they could because I was angry at the world.
And support looks different and can look different to every character. It could have been Feyre staying away for Nesta’s sake or poking and prodding because that’s what she does. It could have been Elain slowly getting closer and reuniting again. It could mean Cassian pleading for her train and trying to goad her into action. It would look like Rhys asserting and proving that her choice does in fact matter and that he understands that darkness swallowing her whole. It would be Amren clearly showing that she is worried about Nesta. That it does not matter if she’s useful. She exists beyond use. It would be Mor who reluctantly helps her, even though she might have qualms against it, even if it’s only for Cassian’s sake, she’ll be quiet and supportive. It’s Azriel being the still calm, never once judgmental. Nothing much has to change. But a lot of it would have had to have been shifted into a perspective where they don’t look like the worst people known to man. Because they certainly do and you don’t need to do that to make Nesta palatable.
Then when Emerie and Gwyn enter the chat, it’s a full circle for Nesta. When the House comes to life, it’s the proof that she needs to take personal care of herself. That's what she did. She made something to take care of her without knowing she did it. A proof of unconscious self love and forgiveness.
Could you just imagine how healing this story would have been?
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FAULT | BAKUGO KATSUKI X READER
SUMMARY: Y/N accompanies her mentor, Aizawa Shouta, to the homes of her fellow students after the incident at Kamino Ward. One moment with her classmate Bakugo Katsuki stands out in particular.
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
WARNINGS: injury, insecurities, self-blame, is damn a curse word?
A/N: this is chill, i wrote it pretty quickly because i wanted the idea out of my head and onto the computer screen so lmk if its bad pls ashdkjashdjh
“Why exactly is she here again?”
Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Pro Hero All Might, stared at the girl that stood beside Aizawa Shouta. Scrolling on her phone with one hand, and the case that held her hero outfit in the other. Y/N L/N, one of the top students in Class-1A, and the entire Hero Course. Since she’d gotten in on recommendation, her name had been on Principal Nezu’s list of potential successors. After seeing her skill, he understood why, and to gain Aizawa’s favor? That was a talent in and of itself.
Shrugging, Aizawa brought his capture weapon and scarf further up around his head in an attempt to shield his face, they’d already been harassed by reporters about a dozen times and he didn’t want to be in any of the photos, “we have training after this.”
It appeared this young girl was also Aizawa’s protege, though the man would likely never admit it, Toshinori could tell he’d taken a liking to the young girl, and taken her under his wing. She’d received additional training from the Pro Hero just like Midoriya received extra training from Toshinori.
“So... I can go retrieve young Midoriya?” They’d just left his house, and now they were heading over to Bakugo’s. Y/N knew him fairly well, he’d insisted they train together when she’d scored better than him on quirk tests, and then he insisted they study together when she’d performed better on written work as well. In exchange, he helped her with the more physical aspect of being a Pro Hero. Her least favorite part if she was honest. But it was worth it, training with Bakugo was difficult, but it had certainly helped her improve.
Their time together had gone from... strictly competitive to competitive and fun she supposed. Y/N had found that after spending a while with Bakugo, it was easier to understand that he had his own way of expressing his care for you. When Y/N forgot to bring lunch, he’d call her an idiot but he would share his own nonetheless, and this was a frequent occurrence so Y/N was shocked when he’d told her to stop trying as he’d slammed another lunch down in front of her.
He’d made her lunch everyday since then. Nobody dared comment on it purely out of fear for their life. It was an unspoken rule not to discuss the way that Bakugo treated Y/N, the different way he treated her. Of course, this was a rule Kaminari and Kirishima broke frequently, earning them quite a few —empty— threats.
Watching her teacher, Y/N rose a brow as he practically glared at the former Number One Pro Hero, “absolutely not.”
The man opened his mouth to protest, only for Y/N to interrupt before the pair of teachers could argue, “I’m not interrupting anything by waiting outside.” Looking up from her phone, she offered him a smile, “if one of the parents happens to have a problem with it, I don’t mind waiting in the car.” Sitting outside was much more enjoyable than staying in the stuffy car with the scarily silent chauffer, but if she had to do it, then she would.
Aizawa gave Toshinori a look as Y/N spoke, and the man simply sighed in acceptance. “Onto the home of young Bakugo then.”
Y/N had been to his house a few times. Whenever the café they usual studied at wasn’t open, they either went to her home, or on rare occasions, his home. Of course, Bakugo had ensured his parents weren’t home whenever they did this, though Y/N wasn’t sure why. Regardless, most times at his house they’d get sidetracked, much to Bakugo’s dismay, and end up in his kitchen.
Pulling up in his driveway, a smile found its way onto Y/N’s face. She’d suggested numerous times that they have a picnic on his neatly trimmed lawn, though Katsuki shot her down most of the time.
Stepping out of the car and sitting on the steps that go up to his front door, she watches as Aizawa and Toshinori enter with few questions from Bakugo’s mother. She looked a lot like him if Y/N was honest, and from the sound of it, they also shared a similar personality. Y/N could hear their yelling from outside.
Smiling at the sound of Bakugo yelling out insults, Y/N let out a small laugh as she leaned her head back against the wall. Though her laughter came to an abrupt stop when she heard what his mother yelled next.
That it was Bakugo’s fault he’d been kidnapped.
Y/N found herself sitting up as the boy grew silent, coming to a stand to see if she could see his living room from the window beside the front door. But there was no view of Bakugo himself.
Perhaps thats because he was the one slamming the front door behind him, coming to a stop when he noticed Y/N’s attempts at snooping. She immediately turned to him, trying her best to look normal, though it was clear he’d noticed what she was doing. They made eye contact, and Bakugo opens his mouth, only to shut it as he narrows his eyes at her, “how much did you hear?”
His voice is oddly calm as his stare pierces into her soul, and its an odd change of demeanor for him, one that takes Y/N a few moments to understand.
He was embarrassed.
If Bakugo was honest, Y/N was one of few people he actually respected. She’d exceeded him in certain areas of school, and helped him improve in more ways than one. To make matters worse, despite his intent to get through his years at UA without a... distraction. Y/N had somehow wormed her way into his heart, no matter how hard he tried to keep her out of it. The fact that she’d come to his rescue when he was kidnapped, despite the potential consequences, hadn’t helped. She’d seen him at his weakest.
“Bakugo-”
His name alone is answer enough as Bakugo lets out a noise of frustration, moving to leave, only for Y/N to grab his hand despite the pain that spreads through her own at the feeling of small explosions emitting from his palm. Yanking him back towards her, Bakugo is opening his mouth once more, likely to yell at her for her idiocy as he attempts to remove his hand from her grasp. But Y/N doesn’t relent as she sweeps her foot under his leg and knocks him down, effectively allowing her to straddle him and hold him down.
“Let go of my hand you damned idiot!” There’s a panicked look on his face as he speaks, but the only thing Y/N can think of is the fact that he hadn’t threatened her yet. He hadn’t aggressively shoved her away with his free hand, nothing.
No, his concern was different, and Y/N’s concern probably should’ve been the same seeing as she could practically feel her skin sizzling from the heat of his own, but at that moment, she didn’t care as she grinned down at him, “bet you regret teaching me that move now, huh?”
He pauses his writhing beneath her, chest heaving as he glared, “are you serious-”
“You know, what your mom said isn’t true.” This makes him go silent, and Bakugo finally allows his head to fall onto the grass as he looks away from her once more. “It wasn’t your fault Katsuki.
Bakugo inhales deeply, “I ruined All Might-”
In response, Y/N uses her free hand to push his shoulder harder into the ground and hold him still, “no! You didn’t.”
“Didn’t I?” He finally manages to snatch his hand away from her, flipping the two of them over, Bakugo plants his hands beside her head, the grass singeing black because of the misuse of his quirk. Almost instantly, he frowns, “I can’t even control my stupid quirk-”
“You have some of the most impressive quirk control in the class, is that a joke?” Y/N brings both her hands—including the one that probably would’ve hurt a lot more had it not been for the adrenaline flowing through her veins— to his face, and as Bakugo brings his hand to her wrist, Y/N wonders if he’s going to rip her hands from him as she speaks, “Katsuki it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and at the end of the day we are just kids. You can’t be expected to save yourself against villains.” His hand remains on her wrist, but he doesn’t remove it from his face as Y/N inhales deeply. “If anything it’s my fault-”
“Shut up.” The hand still beside her head clenches, tearing at the grass. “Shut up.” He repeats, exhaling sharply as his eyes squeeze shut, Y/N realizes this is because a tear successfully managed to fall down his cheek, despite his attempts to prevent it. “Don’t be dumb.” He practically growls at her, trying to hide his pain with aggression once more.
Brushing her thumb against his cheek, Y/N offers him a smile, “then I guess its nobody’s fault.”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes piercing in hers as he tries to figure out what to say. “Sure,” he grumbles in response, gently pulling her hand from his cheek, Y/N allows him to examine the damage, his brows furrowing at the sight of charred skin. He doesn’t say anything as he does, but Y/N can practically see the thoughts running through his minds at a million miles per hour. His fingers brush over the now raised skin, and when Y/N flinches, Bakugo’s fingers immediately leave her palm, causing her hand to drop.
Pushing herself up on one forearm, Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek, and she can practically feel his skin warm as she speaks, “it’s fine.”
He averts his gaze from her as her cheeks redden, “ I hurt you-”
“I’m fine.” Y/N disregards his words as she moves out from under him.
Bakugo’s brows furrow as he moves to a stand as well, “come over next weekend,” his words sound like more of a demand than an invitation.
“Sure, but can I ask why?”
He grabs her uninjured hand, moving to bring her back inside his home, “let’s get something to help with your hand.” Bakugo doesn’t turn back as he continues, “and I owe you a picnic.”
Needless to say, it was a very nice picnic. One that Y/N left with a boyfriend.
A/N: this idea came to me at exactly 9PM
#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou x you#bnha x reader#mha x reader#katsuki x you
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Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.
I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*
Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.
Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.
Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.
Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”
Word count: 8.9k.
Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”
Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s
“What the hell were you thinking!”
“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”
Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”
“Every damn night, laser pointer.”
A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.
You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.
Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.
Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.
“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”
“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”
“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.
“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.
“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”
“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”
“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”
“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”
“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”
“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”
“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”
“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”
“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”
Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”
“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”
And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.
“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”
There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”
You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.
***
Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.
First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.
Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.
Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).
Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”
Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.
…Actually, it’s probably both.)
“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”
Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”
Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.
Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”
At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”
Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.
You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.
…
“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”
Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”
You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”
Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”
There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.
She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.
She honestly looks so fucking familiar.
You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”
“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”
“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—
And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.
“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”
Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.
“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”
Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”
“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”
“Punk.”
“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”
“Punk—”
You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”
“Punk.”
You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—
Oh God.
Oh God.
Holy fucking shit.
You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”
“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.
“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”
He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”
“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”
“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”
You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”
“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”
“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”
“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”
You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”
“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”
“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”
“No, no—”
“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”
He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”
“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”
He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”
“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”
He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”
“How fucking long?”
He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”
Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”
He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”
“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”
“She never asked—”
“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”
“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”
You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”
“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”
“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”
He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”
Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”
“She can and she probably will.”
He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”
“Myshka?”
You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.
(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)
Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”
“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”
Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”
“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.
Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”
You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”
Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”
“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”
“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.
“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”
He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”
You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”
Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—
Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”
Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.
…
“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”
You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.
Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).
In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.
“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”
“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”
Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”
“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”
There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”
Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”
(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)
Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’
There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—
“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”
“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”
Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”
Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”
In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”
(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)
Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”
The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.
The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.
You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”
“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.
“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”
“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.
Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”
“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”
Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”
“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.
A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”
“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”
“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.
Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.
You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”
He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”
And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.
***
In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.
You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.
The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.
You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.
In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.
They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…
The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—
And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.
Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.
Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.
Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).
You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.
The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.
Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.
“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”
You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.
The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.
You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.
The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.
Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.
Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.
You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.
He drops to the ground, unconscious.
There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.
Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”
You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—
And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.
“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.
The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.
Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.
Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.
The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.
(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)
Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.
Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”
You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”
“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.
“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”
Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.
You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.
Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.
Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.
A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.
Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.
Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.
You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—
Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.
You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.
Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”
“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.
Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—
An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.
Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.
You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—
Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.
You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.
One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.
Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.
The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.
The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.
Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”
“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”
“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”
You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”
The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.
You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.
You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.
You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—
Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.
Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.
You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—
And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.
She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.
The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.
You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—
Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.
Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.
Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.
The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.
You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.
“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”
Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.
Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.
Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.
Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.
Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.
He doesn’t get back up.
“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”
The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.
The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.
The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.
The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.
Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”
Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”
Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.
“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.
“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.
“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”
Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”
Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”
“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.
(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.
“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)
“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.
“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”
“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”
“We would’ve handled it.”
“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.
“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”
Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”
Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.
“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”
“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.
“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.
“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”
“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”
Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—
Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”
Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.
“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”
Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.
All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.
Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”
Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.
…
The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.
You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?
Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.
Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?
Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”
You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”
“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”
“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”
“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”
“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”
Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.
You sigh—
And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.
Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.
You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.
She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.
Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”
Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”
Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”
Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“That ain’t worth shit.”
“I know… believe me, I know.”
Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.
Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.
Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).
What a shitshow.
Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”
…
Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.
Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.
The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.
Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.
Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).
The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).
Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.
Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.
Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”
Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”
She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”
Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”
“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.
Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”
Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”
“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”
“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.
Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”
“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”
“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.
And here it goes.
“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”
Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”
“You fucking heard me.”
Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—
Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.
And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.
#sass writes#piotr rasputin x reader#colossus x reader#nathan summers x wade wilson#frank castle x karen page#alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin#love me some soap opera style drama#and frankly so does marvel#and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this#probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL#deadpool fanfiction#x men fanfiction
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The Lost Boys with an s/o having an anxiety attack + fighting depression would include~
(Not my gifs) (Requested by anonymous)
(As a warning: I’m not really experienced in these things so apologies if these aren’t incredibly accurate or what you wanted.)
David~
Panic Attacks~
- Now David tends to let you wander around on your own when you’re out on the boardwalk though as much as you seem to stray from the boys, he never seems to be far away when something happens. So as much as you may feel like you’re alone when everything starts to become too much, I assure you you aren’t.
- Chances are you didn’t tell him about your panic attacks yet even if you did he’d react pretty much the same. He often doesn’t do something immediately even if he feels as though somethings wrong, not wanting to overwhelm you if there’s really nothing wrong.
- If he’s aware of whats happening, then he’d act fairly quickly once he see’s that you’re acting strange, making his way over to you and/or asking whats wrong to see if his assumptions are true.
- If it’s his first time seeing you have a panic attack; with no prior knowledge of your condition, than he’d most likely just watch you, silently waiting for an explanation or for you to cave and tell him something.
- He kneels/leans down to your level when things are obviously getting bad, becoming more commanding when asking whats wrong before his voice turns sweet as sugar, trying to persuade you to speak/lure you out of it.
- As the leader of a vampire pack, Davids seen a few panic attacks in his day though before you, he most likely wasn’t aware that people could just have them without much of a reason or because of a less than dangerous situation.
- He doesn’t let anyone near you when you, getting you to the nearest secluded area he can while blocking you from view.
- He’s fairly good at calming you down, soothing you with his words and letting you do whatever you need to do to stop panicking: i.e. dig your nails into your hand, hide your face, cling to him, take deep breaths, hit something, etc.
- He usually tries some kind of distraction on you, getting you to focus on whats around you, grounding you to reality.
- Once you’re semi-able to focus, he starts to get you to breathe correctly, praising you with every other sentence. He takes the time to finally ask if you’re alright but usually waits to ask what happened until you’re further away from the place, not wanting to make you think about it while you’re still vulnerable; if it is a trigger that caused it.
Depression~
- David hates seeing and/or knowing that you’re upset but he doesn’t want to smother you. He isn’t an expert in mental health but he understands that you’re just going to have days where you feel like shit for no good reason and days where you feel alright.
- He doesn’t make a big deal out of your condition unless you disappear for a few days, mainly because he knows that there isn’t much he can do to make you feel better. He may be able to temporarily cheer you up but other than that you just have to fight it by yourself.
- When you do disappear for a few days, he’d visit you once the sun goes down, practically breaking into your house to; usually, find you in bed. He’d take a moment to fiddle with your things, watching you for a while before sitting down on your bed and jostling you awake.
- He’d brush the hair from your face, stroking your cheek and asking you how you’re feeling before either pulling off his boots and sliding into bed beside you or ushering you to get up and move a little.
- He’d ask if you wanted to talk about it, more so implying that he wanted you to more than anything though he doesn’t push it if you’re unable to or just really don’t want to.
- David has a way of making people do things that they wouldn’t normally do. Even if you think that it’s impossible for you or someone else to make you join the living; so to speak, you’ll be amazed at just how much he’s able to get you to do for yourself.
- If he managed to get you up then he’d suggest going for a ride on his bike, intending to get some adrenaline in you to; hopefully, get your blood pumping and give you a little more energy.
- David is good at keeping his emotions under control; he isn’t scared off by people lashing out at him, especially someone like you. While it definitely does bother him when you say things out of anger; usually things you don’t mean, he takes it in stride and understands it isn’t really you saying those things.
- Rant and rave all you want, he isn't going anywhere. Pushing him around wont work either; he’s going to stay until you wear yourself out and admit that somethings wrong, then he’s going to help however he can.
- He gets more sentimental and touchy when your depression flares up/when you’re feeling particularly low. There’s just something about seeing you feel so awful that makes him cherish you even more. It certainly helps having someone show you just how loved you are.
Dwayne~
Panic Attacks~
- Dwayne rarely lets you out of his sight so he notices when somethings off almost immediately. He’d watch you closely before softly asking you whats wrong, beginning to worry as you seem to be struggling more and more; though for your sake, he remains outwardly calm.
- He ushers you to somewhere quiet without another word or follows you closely as you begin to walk there yourself, practically pushing people out of your way.
- Although he isn’t a very hostile person, he isn’t afraid to get aggressive when people won’t leave you alone. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with any onlookers when he’s helping you, no matter what they’re there for.
- Initially, he would keep his distance, not wanting to overwhelm you with his presence though he’d immediately move closer if you wanted him to.
- Dwayne; like David, isn’t completely clueless when it comes to people experiencing panic attacks though he’s experienced in anxiety for a different reason: Laddie. While a little boy’s fear is far different than a panic attack, it does give your boyfriend a little leverage when it comes to dealing with scared people or people in a fragile state.
- He’d be rather good at soothing you, quietly assuring you that you’re alright and that everything is okay while you ride through the storm; though he does tend to keep his comments to a minimum, not wanting to add on to the ringing in your ears.
- He treats you very gently; unless you urge him to do otherwise. He see’s this side of you as very delicate and fragile, and doesn’t want to inadvertently harm you or make things worse.
- Once you begin to come to, he’ll ask if he can touch you, puling you into his arms as soon as you allow him to and pressing soft kisses to your forehead. He’d finally ask if you’re alright, the worry beginning to show in his voice as he checks you over closely.
- He’d insist on getting you a drink and maybe something simple to eat, helping you stand up and/or straighten yourself out. If you don’t want to move right then, then he would stay with you until you were ready to go, perhaps asking one of he boys to get you something while he stands with you.
- If it’s your first panic attack in his presence, then he’d insist on knowing all the details and how he can help when you’re more calm. You’ll never have to tell him twice, he memorizes it verbatim so that he’s prepared when you go through one again.
Depression~
- Dwayne is particularly good at knowing when somethings up. He can always tell when your depression has reared it’s ugly head no matter how good at hiding it you think you are.
- He understands what depression is though you’d have to explain some aspects of it to him. When you initially tell him about it, he’d immediately be concerned, assuming that something had to have happened to you, not that your brain could just... do that. He isn’t sure whether he should be glad that nothing serious happened to make you feel this way; it just feels like a rotten thought no matter how well-meaning it is.
- Since Dwayne is good at telling when things aren’t going good, you rarely have to suffer in silence. Though he knows that there’s often little he can do to help; he’s going to do whatever he can.
- Oftentimes, he’ll do things for you without even being asked nor thinking of it as a big deal; even if it is to you. He doesn’t expect any thanks or anything, he just wants to make things easier for you.
- He’d be incredibly patient with you, helping you go about your routine and taking care of you. He’d make sure you ate or drank something, get you to wash your face and put on some new clothes before attempting to do anything else.
- He would definitely lift you out of bed or wherever you were, carrying you off to do something that will help you help yourself. You may hate him in the moment but you’ll realize that it’s for the best later on when you’re feeling at least a little better.
- If there’s something Dwayne does best: it’s staying quiet. Yell, rant, rave, throw things; whatever you want to do, he’ll stand there and let you, though he has a tendency to wrap his arms around you and hold you until you mellow out. He’ll find a better way to help you release all that frustration, he doesn’t want you accidentally hurting yourself or causing someone to call the cops.
- He grows more protective over you when he knows you aren’t in a good head-space. He wants to make sure that no one takes advantage of or upsets you even further. Seeing you like this allows him to see just how strong you are yet also how... mortal; fragile in a way.
- While Dwayne does enjoy his usual nightly activities with the other boys, he doesn’t mind spending a calm night in with you either. Just want to sleep? That’s fine by him. Don’t worry about ruining his night or wasting his time; you could never.
- He isn’t much of a talker but you probably don’t mind. It’s nice having someone be there for you even if being there for you is just sitting with you for hours without any expectations. The point is that he’s showing his love and support for you and that’s welcome more than anything.
Paul~
Panic Attacks~
- You know when your pet knows somethings wrong and will start checking in on you, either worriedly peeking at you while keeping their distance or trying to nuzzle at you and get you to act “right”. That’s Paul.
- Paul isn’t the most observant so he won’t notice that something’s up until it’s pretty obvious, like when you get up and leave without a word or grab onto him. He’ll initially respond in his usual good-humored fashion before he sees your face or as you refuse to stop for him while he follows you.
- It’s when he realizes somethings actually, really wrong that his smile drops and he becomes concerned, trying to get you to talk to him and/or assure you that everything's alright.
- He refuses to leave you alone once he understands whats going on though he’s torn between staying by your side and getting one of the other boys who would actually know what to do.
- Seeing you so “upset” pains him but he forces himself to watch you closely while attempting to get through to and calm you down. He wants to make sure you aren’t dying which he completely believes is happening for like the first minute or so of your attack.
- He takes the same approach as a babysitter who doesn’t know how to stop a baby from crying; attempting to distract you with things and hoping something will catch your attention enough to bring you back to reality.
- Paul would be the most outwardly and internally worried. He’d panic himself though he’d try to remain calm in an effort to help you become that way. You know how hard it is to try and model how someone should breathe when you want to hyperventilate yourself? Paul now knows.
- He’d really want to hold you but wouldn’t push it; he’d immediately stop if you showed any signs of discomfort with it. He’d scoot away but would try to stay as close as he could, his hands itching to touch and physically comfort you.
- He wants to help in any way he can so you just say the words and it’s done. Whatever it is you need, he’ll get/give, no matter the cost and without question.
- Once you come to, he’ll keep calling you pet names, asking if you’re alright and cuddling up to you once you let him. He really wants you to explain everything but he lets you take your time catching your breath and really calming down.
Depression~
- Once again, Paul probably wouldn't immediately notice, especially if you’re good at pretending to be fine. It wouldn't be until you stopped answering your phone and disappeared for a while or broke down in front of him that he would finally see that something was wrong.
- He’d initially think that you hadn't been getting enough sleep because of him and his lunar cycle or that you were physically sick; like with a fever or something. He’d ask you if you were alright, feeling downright awful for you.
- You’d definitely have to explain it to him. Paul is the least likely out of all of the boys to know what it is or more so understand how it worked. Before you, he just thought that depression could only happen after something terrible happened like the loss of a loved one. Even after you explain it, he probably still wouldn’t quite understand but he’d understand enough.
- He’d still try to get to the bottom of why you’re upset; for lack of a better term, wanting to know the reason; if there is one, and how he can help you.
- He always innocently asks if you took your medication; if you do take any. He doesn’t understand exactly how it works but he does know that it’s meant to help you which is why he asks before trying anything else.
- His next course of action would be to drag you off and take care of you: brushing your hair, washing your face, getting you something to eat, dressing you in fresh, comfy clothes, etc. He’d be a little more serious than usual though he’d still keep his usual sweetness, a little smile always tugging at his lips. He doesn’t like seeing you upset but a part of him enjoys being able to take care of you, to be somewhat needed by you.
- If you just want to “sleep it off” then he wouldn’t argue with you. You know what’s best for you so sure, he’ll stay with you while you rest, holding you tight and taking the time to admire your features. He doesn’t mind doing nothing, he’s just happy being by your side.
- Please try to avoid lashing out at him, it breaks his heart. If you want to yell then he’ll take you somewhere no one will see or hear you. Get it all out and raise hell if it will make you feel better, he’ll do it with you.
- It certainly helps to have someone around who can momentarily cheer you up even when your body screaming at you to feel miserable. Even if he can’t get you to smile, having him around is better than surrounding yourself with things that will only make you feel worse.
- Every time he comes to see you when you’re depressed, he’ll tell you he loves you about a hundred times. He just really feels the need to constantly let you know, hoping that that will help you in some way.
Marko~
Panic Attacks~
- Marko acts before he thinks most of the time so he’s prone to springing into action without having any real plan. He won’t immediately understand why you aren’t looking too hot but he’s going to find out which may; initially, only succeed in making things worse from time to time.
- Once he realizes that you aren’t in any shape to explain things then he’ll soften his approach, coaxing you to calm down and telling you that everything's alright. It’s not far from what you’d do when trying to lure in a frightened animal.
- Though he’s seen a few panic attacks; being a bloodthirsty creature of the night and all, he isn’t experienced in handling or trying to fix them. Anytime he’s seen a panic attack, it’s over in a minute because he’s killed the person who’s panicking.
- He grows extremely protective of you, ensuring that no one comes anywhere near you while you attempt to calm down. He’s more than ready to threaten or throw someone if they won’t move away.
- Believe me, if he knew somebody had caused you to have to “go through that”, he wouldn’t hesitate to find them and get rid of them, even if they had no way of knowing. He’s furious once you can actually explain to him what happened.
- His go-to method of dealing with an attack would be to bring you to the beach and drag you into the cold water in an attempt to shock you back into reality. If he knows you wouldn’t want to completely go inside then he’d bring you to the edge, dipping your hands into the water or splashing some on your face.
- Once you’re alright, he’d pull you into his arms, defying the urge to hug you tight as he rubs your back. He’d assure you that everything's alright, maybe even cracking a little joke to try and ease the tension away though he’s still quite worried himself.
- He wouldn't push you to explain anything right then an there but he wouldn’t let you out of his sight for the rest of the night, checking in with you every time you seem just the least bit unhappy.
- He’d urge you to drink and would want to take you home, thinking it best to get you in bed instead of staying on the boardwalk or wherever else you are. If you refuse to go home; even after he tries to argue with you, then he’d reluctantly let you stay; though he’d relocate the two of you to a quieter area.
- Once he knows of your condition, he’ll try to keep you away from the more alarming situations the boys get themselves into; i.e. killing or aggressive adrenaline-junky activities, not wanting to spur another attack. He’d still be wary even if you explained that he didn’t have to worry about that sort of thing.
Depression~
- Marko comes to see you for a little while just about everyday so it wouldn't take him long to figure out somethings the matter. Why don’t you want to go out, why do you seem so tired, why does your smile seem forced, etc.
- He’d ask you if there’s something that’s upsetting you, just in case there was a reason but would understand if you don’t have one. After he gets his answer, he’ll ask you what you’ve been doing, mainly to see what needs to be done.
- It may be hard to imagine Marko at a library but he does his research once you tell him whats up. He’s going to understand whats going on with you and find out the best ways he can help.
- He’s used to running errands for the other boys so if you need something, don’t hesitate to ask him. He’ll never mind so don’t worry about inconveniencing him.
- If he knows that something will help you then he won’t take no for an answer, you can be annoyed with him or complain all you want; he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making your life better even if you don’t appreciate.
- If you need to take out some frustration then just let him know, he’ll take you to some junkyard he frequents and smash shit with you. He’s hot tempered himself so it’s best if you try not to snap at him; even though he knows it’s not “you” talking, he can’t help but get a little aggravated.
- Even if he can’t fix things, he can at least make you feel a little better, right? He’ll throw some comfy clothes at you, get you some good food and crack some light jokes in an attempt to make you crack; at least, a little genuine smile. Would seeing his pigeons help?
- He makes little deals with you when trying to get you in a better place. You do this and he’ll do that sort of things; compromises that seem pointless but put you on the right track.
- Want him to just hold you? How can he say no to that? He understands that it’s hard and that sometimes it’s best to take a long break; hide out from the real world for a little. Even though he usually prefers more wild activities, he can’t deny that he likes just laying with and cuddling you.
- He never lets you be too hard on yourself. Whenever you call yourself weak or “jokingly” apologize that he has to see you “like this”, he’ll tell you he loves you no matter what and to cut yourself some slack. You might not feel like you are but he thinks you’re incredibly strong and is rooting for you harder than you can ever imagine.
#the lost boys#david the lost boys#paul the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#marko the lost boys#80s movie imagine#80s movie imagines#80s movie headcanons#80s movie headcanon#the lost boys imagine#dwayne imagine#dwayne the lost boys imagine#dwayne headcanon#dwayne headcanons#paul headcanon#paul headcanons#Paul Imagine#marko imagine#marko headcanon#Marko headcanons#David headcanons#david imagine#david headcanon#the lost boys headcanon#the lost boys headcanons#paul#dwayne#marko#david#tw // panic attack
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Let me down pt.3
Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Reader (platonically), Reader x oc
Warnings: I mean, in my eyes this is pure fluff, but who knows if it will hurt you
Summary: Peter and May have dinner with Y/N’s family, prompting a lot of questions to get an answer.
A/N: oKAY, I know that what happened wasn’t exactly what you expected and and it has taken me so long to write this but it's finally here. I want to thank you all, I never meant for this blow up like it did or to even become a series, honestly when I wrote the first part I was just in a really bad mood and I felt like writing something sad and that came out, but then people started to ask for a second part and well the rest is history. So yeah, I actually want to write even more parts to this so let me know if you would like it. Also, I tagged everyone who asked me to write more to this, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist
Masterlist
part one part two
Peter couldn't help but feel like his head was spinning as he walked back home from the metro that night. Claire had sat him down in her bed for almost an hour showing off all of her Avengers stuff. She had a replica of Thor's Mjolnir (and she knew how to pronounce it, which was even more impressing), she had the Spider-Man's Uno she had mentioned (it did make him kind of emotional to see a drawing of him on the package) and she had Iron Man's full suit.
Yeah, he did his best not to cry with the last one.
Even if she hadn’t ran up to you screaming ‘mommy’, he would’ve known that she was your daughter. Claire had your hair, your eyes, your nose, even when the rest of her tiny face was more like Mark’s. The corners of her eyes wrinkled the same way yours did when you smiled and she was as energetic as you, she got lost in her own thoughts just like her you used to do.
He had been counting the seconds to be out of your house and be able to break down on the guardianship of his loneliness, but when he found himself walking down the street after dinner... he just didn't.
Peter had gone to school that day being sure that as soon as he saw you, something would be okay, and even if it hadn't gone according to the plan, he hadn't been wrong. Something was okay: you were okay. You had a career, a good job, a loving husband, a perfect daughter, a beautiful family.
You had a great life and, most importantly, you were willing to welcome him in it, so yeah, maybe things were going to be okay.
So when Claire asked him to dinner with them again at the end of the week, and you said you wanted to say hi to May, he just couldn't refuse. That's how he ended up standing in front of your house again, with May by his side this time, holding a cherry pie they had placed and decorated on a plate as if to pretend they hadn't bought it from the grocery store.
As soon as the door opened, Peter handed the dessert to May, because he was prepared for the moment Claire jumped to his arms to greet him. You smiled openly at May, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes at the sight of the woman who had given you a place to call home everytime you felt like your own house was not it.
Both Peter and Mark noticed how you tried to keep your composure when her arms wrapped you in a warm embrace.
"Sorry, I'm a mess," you muttered in apology, trying to wipe your eyes without messing up your mascara.
"You look beautiful," May corrected, making your eyes wet all over again. "It smells amazing," she said suddenly, changing the subject to give you a chance to calm down, "what are you cooking?"
"Oh, I'm not cooking," you clarified rushing them inside, Peter still carrying the little girl in his arms, "Mark is. I somehow manage to burn the water."
"You could always make PB and jelly sandwiches," Peter said with an amused smile, earning a fond laugh from your lips, as if you shared an inside joke.
Only when Mark received the pie from May's hands did Peter notice that he was wearing a purple apron over his white unbuttoned shirt, and he couldn't help the sting in his heart at how perfect he was. He kindly apologized at the fact that the meat still needed a few more minutes on the oven, because he had been held back a little longer than expected at the office.
"What's that smell?" You asked, frowning.
"Daddy, the aspargaroos!" Claire exclaimed instantly, clearly unaware of how to pronounce asparagus, as she wiggled to let Peter know she wanted to be back on the ground. The tiny human ran behind her father into the kitchen, ready to do the damage control.
You decided to grab a bottle of white wine (and another Capri Sun for Peter) while her husband and daughter tried to resolve the asparagus crisis. He tried to pay attention to the conversation the two women in front of him were maintaining, but it was like they were talking in some foreign, alien, grown up language he couldn't understand.
This time, you took a little longer to finish your glass of wine than the last bottle you had opened, which had been a week ago when Peter had showed up in your doorstep. You were trying your best to hide your excitement talking to May, but you couldn't help the profound feeling of pride that took over your chest when you saw her eyes glimmer with amazement as they explored around the living room, where the pictures and prices of all of your family's accomplishments were displayed.
Peter was the first to notice Mark come out of the kitchen with a sheepish smile, "alright, so, the asparagus isn't salvageable, er, how do you feel about KFC salad?"
That's how they found themselves sitting at the round dinner table eating steak with a mushroom sauce Claired had been the one to think about, roasted potatoes and KFC salad, because apparently the always ordered some extra salad on their takeaways and stuffed them in the fridge.
"So..." May started, eyeing the young couple nervously. "There is so much to talk about. How... you... well..."
"How did I end married and with a kid at twenty three?" You finished for her, saving a sigh to yourself although you felt your husband tense a little beside you. The more you two heard that question, the more annoying it got, even when you knew May didn't mean to offend you.
Of course you knew you were young, and that many people your age couldn't handle such commitments, you didn't need people telling you that constantly. You had heard the same discourse from teachers, employers, even neighbors you had never talked to, it quickly got old and you tried not to become aggressive everytime you heard it.
Mark and you had a happy, healthy marriage, with a wonderful daughter that had brought light into a world as dark as yours was since the blip. You had good jobs that allowed you to have a stable economy and also take care of your family. You were happy, what else mattered? If you wanted opinions or needed help, you would certainly ask for it.
You never once had.
Still, you responded kindly, "well, we met in college, Princeton," you mentioned, earning two proud looks from your guests. "We were in different programs, so we met specifically through a praying group."
"That had never really been my thing," Mark picked up, "praying and all that God related talk bored me, but most of family and friends had been blipped... I was lonely. So I thought maybe I should give it a try."
"I honestly thought he had gone for the food, because when the meeting was over he looked like he hadn't understood a single word."
"Because I hadn't."
"A friend and I decided to come and talk to him, but after she left we hung out a little longer," you tried to hide the cheesy smile that took over your lips, but you looked over at Mark, who hasn't trying to hid his, and couldn't. "I don't know how to explain it, something about that moment just felt" you shrugged shyly "right."
The memories of you staying on the library, hiding behind the stacks of books so that no one would notice you trying to stay inside after it closed and talking the whole night long never failed to raise goosebumps along your skin. He would offer to read for you when your eyes got tired of working with the dim light that entered through the window, even when he was a law major and didn't understand a single word on the neuroscience and robotic books you were always studying.
It was soon after getting to know him, you just knew Mark had been made for you. There was something in the way you could see in his eyes that crowds freaked him out and that he tried not to cry after talking to his mom in the phone, something in the way he understood your whimpers in the days where anything above a mutter was just too much, that you knew this awkwardly tall curious guy was meant to cross your path.
"Things moved pretty fast after that," you continued, hoping you hadn't zoomed out for too long, "like 'we got married eight months after' fast."
May did her best to hide her surprise, while Peter choked on the salad. Was listening to your loving tone as you told the story easy? No, not at all. He wanted to throw up. Peter was still hopelessly in love with you, even when you were now five years older, even when you had a husband and a child, even when it was ridiculous and impossible, because for him it hadn't been years, it just had been months.
"Claire came soon after that," Mark concluded after pouring some more juice on Peter's glass and asking him if he was okay. "And all of this happened throughout college?"
"We had a really good support system," he nodded, smiling down at Claire, who had made a mess over her chicken sandwich. "A really good amount of friends willing to babysit whenever we had to work, understanding teachers who let us bring Claire to our lectures. My mom and Y/N's parents were also a great help."
"We were both on scholarships that gave us some allowances to support ourselves each month, too," you added. "It wasn't much, but it helped."
"And what are you working on now?" May switched to a conversation that would probably be easier on her nephew.
"Well, Mark is an associate on a buffet in Manhattan," you said grabbing your husband's hand. "What's your approach?" Peter asked, somewhat genuinely curious.
"Environmental law," he replied proudly.
"And I-"
"Mommy builds robot limbs!" Claire exclaimed excitedly, prompting a laugh on the others.
"Before I graduated, I got a job as lab assistant on a research for neuro prosthetics," you explained, "and after graduating, they hired me as researcher. Basically what we're trying to do is to create a non-invasive implant we can connect to the brain and spinal cord that controls robotic prosthetics for people who have lost limbs or return movement to paralyzed body sections."
Peter's skin prickled at the description of the research, for it was one he had known before it all went crumbling down. A memory flashed through his eyes, Tony helping his friend walk after he had been injured in Germany, on his first mission.
"That's..."
"A Stark Industries' research, yes," you nodded solemnly.
"Y/N told me you had an internship with Tony Stark before... it all happened," Mark commented carefully. Peter's head practically snapped in his direction, then, more subtly, in yours. You shook head slightly, almost imperceptibly, but clearly enough to let Peter know you hadn't told his secret.
"You met Tony Stark?" Claire asked him with a bright light in her eyes, one that Peter had seen thousands of times on other kids that, very much like himself, dreamt every night of robots and technologies that could change the world.
"Yes."
"How was he?"
Peter thought for a few seconds about his answer. What was Tony Stark? He was charming, sure, but he wasn't exactly friendly. He was a genius, yet he had never let that cloud his judgement. He had trouble expressing himself, but he always made sure the people around knew how much they meant to him. Suddenly Peter understood why Shakespeare was always making up words, there were just some things, some people, the english language wasn't extensive enough to describe, so he said the best he could come up with.
"He was the most amazing guy I ever met."
You smiled down at your nearly empty plate, it was impossible to forget how much had mr. Stark meant for Peter. Even when you guys broke up and cut off all communication, you still prayed for him to always be under the wing of his mentor. You couldn’t imagen what it was like for Peter to live in a world where Tony Stark was no longer there to help him walk through life.
Hopefully, you would be able to do that in his absence.
taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine @marvel4geeks @hedwigprewett12 @dummiesshort @alyssasanchezz14 @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme
#peter parker#peter parker fic#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker angst#peter parker fuff#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x oc#spiderman#spiderman fic#MCU Spiderman#spiderman angst#spiderman homecoming#spiderman fluff#spiderman fanfiction#tom holland imagine#tom holland x oc#tom holland x reader#tom holland fic#imagine#MCU#tony stark#avengers#series
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189 (Spencer Reid x Female Reader)
*gif is not mine
Summary:
y/n is a new addition to the BAU team, she is also a doctor, so can she and Dr. Reid work together to solve her first case or will the keep butting heads? Reader is 21 in this, it is set in season 3. (Spencer is 26 for reference)
Warnings:
Bad editing, a few nono words. Mention of drugs, kidnapping, and murderey stuff. somewhat implied smut. enjoyyyy. this is my first fic, I tried with the case stuff so hopefully it makes sense. teehee it probably sucks.
word count:
5,280 The time it took for the elevator to get from the ground floor to the bullpen was too long, but not long enough. I only gained the privilege of drinking a few weeks ago but here I was walking into the bullpen of the Bau. The weight of my Go bag over my shoulder couldn't match the weight of nerves and excitement in my head right now. Jesus y/n. Get yourself together, I cursed myself in my head. You have three doctorates in your name, you can do this.
I watched as a man walked down from an elevated platform leading to what seem to be a bunch of offices.
“Ah you must be Ms. y/l/m, I’m Supervisory Agent Hotchner. If director Struass wants you here so bad you must be special. Not many people warm up to that woman, me included. Please follow me.”
I’m not sure if I should be happy or frustrated he didn't let me get a word in. Probably happy, he saved me the embarrassment. I followed him up the stairs into what I assumed was a meeting room. And I was right. He pushed open the door to reveal a bunch of people sitting around a round table.
“This is your new team, ssa Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, derek Morgan, Emily Pretniss, tech analyst Penelope Garcia, and… Dr. Reid.”
I looked right at the man he pointed to as he said that. Tall nerdy type. He looked very young to be a doctor. Then I remembered I’m a doctor times three and I can't even rent a rental car yet. He was cute, scratch that absolutely adorable, and his hair. Jesus. I was pulled out of my trance when Hotch continued,
“Team this is new special supervisory agent y/n y/l/n.”
That's when I realized I could make my impression and the world fell out.
“Actually it’s Doctor.”
Everyone in the room stared for a few seconds. Emily was the first to speak,
“what are you 16? I mean I shouldn't be surprised cause Spence is only 26 but I didn't realize young people are getting smarter.”
This reaction wasn’t new to me.
“I’m 21”
I replied with a smile as I sat down next to Garcia. I quickly turned to see Morgan pat Dr. Reid on the shoulder and proceeds to say,
“Well pretty boy, looks like she beat your record by a year. You were 22 when you joined.”
Dr. Reid quickly brushed off his hand and shifted in his seat.
JJ was the next to speak,
“Where did you study?”
I quickly thought back to two years ago as I received my third (and final) PHD from MIT. I missed school, things were easier there.
“MIT, that’s where I got my doctorates.” I replied.
“Wait, Doctorates? As in plural?” David Rossi asked even more dumbstruck.
“Yeah…” I replied hesitantly “Mathematics, psychology, and humanities. I was only going to study psychology but after I received it I realized no one was hiring 15 year olds so I stayed in school till 17. After that I participated in a few field studies with professors and my mom made me take a break and do some normal things, like friends and stuff.”
I don't know if it was possible but everyone was even more shocked. Everyone but Dr. Reid, he seemed more… shameful. Derek spoke first, turning to Dr. Reid
“dude she broke your doctorate record by two years AND has friends.”
That certainly didn't help with the shame he was displaying. But seconds later he resituated himself and seemed more closed off, even angry. I tried not to think much of it.
“Alright folks, you spent all our briefing time interrogating Dr. y/l/n here, Garcia you’ll have to prep us on the jet.”
He turned to me this time. “You have a go bag with you?”
I nodded my head in reply as everyone stood up. “Good, wheels up in 30.”
Everyone shuffled out of the room. Across the table Derek was rubbing Dr. Reids back again saying, “don't worry kid, you still have your IQ of 187.”
I smirked and even giggled a little at the statement, but when they both looked up at me questioningly I quickly squeaked out a “sorry nothing.” Now, about this jet…
_______________________________________________________________________
Spencer’s POV:
When y/n first entered the conference room I took her in. She was very pretty with a “doe in the headlights” type of innocents. She looked extremely young, I was happy to have someone more my age around. I assumed she had just excelled at her training at Quantico, but when she announced she was a doctor my heart sank a little. She was beautiful and smarter than most people in the room already, how would she like me at all? At least I have my two other PHDs I told myself, but then she delivered the second blow. She did too. And sooner than me.
I could already tell the team was going to go to her as their “resident genius.” Most of them found me annoying already. And she said it herself, she has friends. Which means she has some sort of social skill… Even Morgan expressed his belief I had been beaten out. I have to prove to the team that I’m just as smart as her though I may lack most of her other attributes. Especially after she smirked when Morgan mentioned my IQ of 187.
Like Hotch said, we were wheels up in 30. Garcia was on the monitor briefing us.
“You guys are on your way to Ann Arbor. There have been three deaths of males, ages 20-26.”
Rossi interrupted “why haven't we been called sooner?”
“I was getting to that…” garcia retorted
“All of the causes of death were overdoses. The local police didn't think much after the first one of it till two more showed up. All the bodies dumped in public places. Each male did very well education wise. One was valedictorian, the other two honors at university of Michigan”
y/n jumped in this time. “What did they all overdose on?”
I could immediately see the change in demeanor on Garcias face. She paused for a second before she proceeded to answer
“they all overdosed on...Dilaudid.”
Shit.
_______________________________________________________________________
y/n's POV
As soon as Garcia spoke those words the whole mood on the place shifted. I could immediately tell Dr. Reid was the most uncomfortable. I tried to break the silence but I could tell right after I said it it just made things worse.
“Hydromorphone? That’s an oddly specific drug. This could be personal.” Everyone remained quiet.
“Is something wrong?” I asked directed at everyone.
“No.” Dr. Reid replied immediately so I took the hint to let it go.
JJ and Emily made knowing eyes with me right after. Hotch broke the awkwardness soon after and begane giving assignments.
“Ok, so the sheriff informed me they still have the most recent crime scene barred off, so y/n and Spencer I need you to check that out. JJ I need you to get ahead of the press, this is a school so it's going to be a mess, the rest of us will go down to the precinct and meet the local police.”
The rest of the plane ride was calm with nothing but a whisper or two from everyone.
We landed and headed to the latest dump site. It was a public library. The ride to the library was even more awkward then that moment on the plane, Dr. Reid was acting very guarded.
Many people have asked me what goes on inside my head, what makes me a genius? I hate that word. The only way I can describe it is that like most people our brain is aware of everything going on around us, but does not register it. My brain does. I can assume it's the same for Dr. Reid.
“So…” I began, “You know a lot about me already… how about you?”
He obviously dreaded the fact I opened my mouth. He didn't take his eyes away from the windshield as he responded.
“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I graduated from Caltech with three doctorates in Engineering, chemistry, and mathematics, I can read 20,000 words a minute, I have an IQ of 187, I have an eidetic memory, speak four languages and partial of a bunch more, and I work as a profiler for the BAU. ”
I honestly couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or just trying to piss me off. I really wanted him to like me but I guess that wasn't happening. Was he showing off? I tried to lighten the mood,
“four? I only speak three. English, latin, and greek. But I can sing the alphabet backwards so I guess that makes up for the rest.”
He didn't say anything afterwards. So I sat back and enjoyed the quiet car ride to the library. That’s not true. I silently spiralled about how to get Dr. Reid to like me. But the more and more time I spent with him, the more closed off he became.
Everything about the crime scene was textbook. There wasn't anything obstruct, just the body. Nothing of interest was found at the crime scene except how Dr. Reid was obviously ignoring me, and when he finally did speak it was a passive aggressive remark.
The coroner confirmed it was a dilaudid overdose. When Reid and I arrived back at the station the rest of the team was just as stumped. All we could profile was that it was probably someone with a hatred for successful scholars. They were probably rejected by The university.
We had Garcia look at rejects, and people on dilaudid prescriptions. There were no red flags in either categories. We were all sitting around bouncing ideas off each other. Everyone seemed to be glossing over the fact dilaudid was the drug of choice but I knew it was important in some way. Hotch got the team's attention a little while later stating,
“The sheriff informed me we have another body at a public park.”
And a few minutes later we were all on our way to see it. I was in a car with Emily and JJ this time. I liked them both, they seemed like a good group of people to get blackout drunk with on a saturday night. And trust me, I'll be needing that with all the worrying I've been doing about Dr. Reid hating me. Almost like Emily could read my mind she bagan,
“So, y/n, you’re 21. Have you had the time to get a drink at your first bar yet? JJ and I are going out tonight if this case goes nowhere.”
JJ jumped in, “just a drink or to, can't get drunk on the job… Emily.” Emily scoffed at her remark.
“Depends, are you buying?” I gave my answer in my response.
When we arrived at the park, most of it was barred off, the body was covered in a white tarp. Hotch lifted the tarp to reveal a female body lying there.
“Wait a second, she's female, that doesn't fit the profile,” Emily stated.
“We have to wait for the coroner's report to determine if it's the same cause of death.” Hotch replied. “Derek get Garcia on the phone, see if we can identify her.”
Derek walked away talking to Garcia on the other end of the line.
I jumped in “the crime scene is the same as the one at the library, nothing”
Dr. Reid finally spoke an unamused look on his face, “that could mean this isn't related at all, actually She looks like a druggie who just overdosed in the park last night.”
I bent down and examined the body, that's when I noticed a bit of dried vomit in her nose. “She definitely overdosed, there is vomit in her nose. She probably aspirated. But there isn’t any on her lips or on her face. It looks like she was wiped clean. Remorse? Her clothes are dirty but that could just be from the rain last night”
Reid seemed to be making a game out of dismantling everything I was saying with his reply “Or she aspirated and the rain washed the vomit away. And her clothes could just be dirty cause she's an addict. We won't know till we have the coroner's report. I don't think this is related at all.”
Damn he was getting on my nerves. Something nagging in me knew this was connected just like the dilaudid. Derek came back,
“Garcia couldn’t identify her, she doesn't have any ID on her. We have to wait a bit.”
Hotch added “Well then, till the coroner report we can't do anything so I think we should all head to the hotel.”
Emily lit up “woohoo drink timeeeee,” everyone shook their head. I got in a final word before everyone left,
“Something tells me the dilaudid, and this woman are connected to this case in a way we aren't seeing.”
Reid seemed even more annoyed with me now. Then it hit me, the denial, the walls I knew it all to well. I had been there.
_______________________________________________________________________
Loud music and people chatting filled the room. JJ, Emily, and I are out at a bar like promised earlier. Two drinks in we all cut ourselves off in case we needed to chase someone down later that night. We were all still tipsy and chatting now. JJ was talking about the annoying parents trying to interfere with the investigation and press. Emily suggested we take them out next. Yeah, she wasn’t tipsy. She was drunk.
“Is Reid always such an asshole?” I asked bluntly.
“No, I think he just doesn’t know how to act around girls. Especially his age.” JJ snickered.
I followed up “Did he have a problem with hydromorphone? He gets more and more annoyed with me everytime I bring up dilaudid.”
The girls immediately looked at eachother sceptical. At that moment I knew. “Nevermind, forget I asked.”
The rest of the night consisted of giggles and silly stories, but the wheels about the case were still turning in the back of my head.
_______________________________________________________________________The next day came quickly. We were all back at the precinct, waiting for Hotch and the sheriff to arrive. Emily and JJ were sitting in the corner whispering to themselves, when derek walked over to them,
“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside girls?” He asked them. I giggled cause I remembered back to last night after they decided to order more than two drinks. Emily could see the smirk on my face and responded with a very sincere “shut-up.”
Reid sat in the corner of the room observing. I took that silence as a time to speak up,
“Guys, I’ve been thinking a lot, what if the unsub isn't targeting a certain type of person because they don't like scholars, what if they are playing with us?”
Derek chimed in “what do you mean?”
“Well it depends, do any of the males on the team have a history with dilaudid?”
That was the final straw. In that moment Dr. Reid got up and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him. I immediately got up and followed him out of the precinct into the ally behind the building.
“WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?” he yelled at me. He was frantic running his hand through his hair.
“What's MY problem? I DUNNO YOU ALSO HAVE THREE PHDs WHY DON'T YOU FIGURE IT OUT?” He looked startled but I continued,
“The MINUTE I joined the team you’ve tried to upstage me or ignore me. You’ve completely closed yourself off to me, you only speak to me when you want to challenge me.”
He was slowly inching closer to me but I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention as I continued,
“And stop trying to hide the dilaudid thing! You make it so obvious! You forget I’M ALSO A PROFILER!...” I had many more things to say to him but I was immediately cut off by his lip on mine. They were soft, which confused me, one would think his lips would be dry for someone who doesn’t know how to shut-up.
We stayed like this forever which was really only 30 seconds. He pulled away and looked at me. I couldn't read his facial expression. Not two seconds Hotch came into the ally.
“Is everything good, we got the ID and coroner report of the woman from yesterday.” Before I could speak Reid replied,
“Yes everything’s fine.” He began walking back into the building.
Regret, that's what the look on his face was.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Linda Ferell, age 20. She graduated from MIT this year.” Garcia gave us the woman's ID.
“Why was she all the way out here?” Emily questioned,
Spencer was sitting across the room yet again ignoring me as I made eye contact with him. He was unreadable again.
“She has a mother who lives a mile from here. She fits the profile but why would the unsub start killing women?”
“Cause of death?” I asked.
Then my fear, the thing that was weighing on my gut for the past 24 hours.
“Xanax.”
At that moment I knew my theory was right.
“I know what this is about.”
Everyone turned to me, I gulped and began telling the story that you’ve only ever told your parents and your therapist.
“I had a hunch the unsub was targeting someone personally for the specific use of dilaudid and how all of the male victims matched the description physically and education wise of well… Reid.”
Everyone was confused. I could see it in their faces. The only person keeping up was Dr. Reid. genius’s I guess. I continued….
“So when I thought that Dr. Reid had some past involvement with umm… dilaudid I began to think the unsub was targeting him.”
Some of the team was starting to get it… I think. I looked over at Reid, he was ashamed but he nodded at me to keep going. Almost as if he knew what I was going to say next.
“Two years ago. I was out of school, I had no plans. Like I said my parents pretty much forced me out of school and I was lost. I could pretty much do anything and I became overwhelmed and decided to do nothing... That makes no sense but it does in my head, anyway, I got into well… Xanax. So just now when Garcia confirmed the victim not only excelled academically, but graduated from MIT young and overdosed on Xanax…”
I took a pause and the team was obviously on edge,
“I think this unsub is targeting Dr. Reid and I.”
Everyone was caught up now. And they seemed even more on edge now.
The room filled with “Hows?” and “whys?” Everyone began questioning me and the memories started coming back. Doing drugs made me feel powerful, it was the after where you felt worthless, not only worthless, but wasted potential. I couldn't bear to relive it. I had moved on. I started to feel bad cause these are the feelings I Probably brought up for Dr. Reid.
“I um, I need to take a breather, when I come back I’ll give you the rundown list of everyone who possibly knows about my… past.”
And with that, I quickly walked back out into the ally.
But then, everything went black
_______________________________________________________________________
I woke up in a room with industrial lighting next to boxes. Wait, am I in a supermarket? Shit, what the hell happened. I can feel my hands tied, not ziptie or duck tape, which are the two things I know how to get out of, dammit. Rope? My feet are tied as well. My mouth Is free though. There's a figure walking towards me.
“Well well well, guess who's awake. y/n y/l/n. Or should I say Dr. y/n y/l/n. Or even Agent y/n y/l/n! Where’s your little friend Dr. Reid?” The voice was a woman.
“Wha- who are you? How do you know me, how do you know us?”
“Your little genius counterpart, I was in his class.” she paused and bent down in front of me. I got a good look of her face, she was young. No more than a few years older than me.
“Ya Know…” she continued “you guys aren’t the only geniuses. There was one time… i was in his class, Dr. Reid was sweating, frantic, constantly itching his hands. He was so obviously high, didn’t take much sleuthing to figure out what he was constantly fidgeting with in his pocket. Good ol’ dilaudid.”
She took a long pause and sat on a crate on the other end of the room.
“He’s such a hypocrite ya know? He comes into class high like three times, but I come into class high once and he reports me. Given it wasn’t MY class but…”
“You’re mad cause Dr. Reid got you kicked out of school for being high in the wrong class? Why didn't you just report him?” I said groggily.
“Nah, my revenge was going to be much sweeter. So yeah, anyways got kicked out sent to mandatory rehab, I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I was in one of your field studies. Jesus Dr. Rohden lovedddd youuuu. He totally wanted to get in your pants. I bet Dr. Reid does as well. Heh”
I thought back to that field study with Dr, Rohden, it was just a simple eco testing site. I was the youngest person on the case. And it was also the last time I got high. The woman continued.
“The first few days on site, YOU were high to! No one noticed though, cause ur miss goody goody.but four weeks later I was fired for showing up high. Well I guess my point or the “source of my pain” is the fact you two still have a future. Well not anymore. Here I am, working at Blue market or some shit after you two ruined my life.”
Blue market. Keep that in mind! She walked over two me and pulled a bag out from behind me. She unzipped it and… shit, pulled out a homemade bomb.
“Well, I guess my major in chemistry will finally come in handy for once!” she said gleefully.
“Now, lets see if the two of you are truly the geniuses you say you are… you can send him a hint to come and get you. Also if you couldn't tell already, those other dead people didn't mean anything to me. I just needed to get your attention babe. They were just some smart people who are now dead. Sad. wasted potential, almost, like, soon to be, you.”
She handed you a phone, you carefully grab it with your tied hands getting ready to tell him where you are.
“But there’s an exception” she started again. I dreaded her next words.
“You can only use numbers… and you have 30 seconds starting, NOW!”
Shit, what the fuck am I supposed to write?!? Ok I thought back to any conversation we ever had (which was very limited) Finally after almost 15 seconds of contemplating I knew what to write. I had no faith he would know what it means though. He better, He’s the only one who could know. I typed it up and handed it to her.
“really , you seriously think he’ll figure this out?” she snickered. “Oh well, he doesn’t have a choice.”
13.21.15.18.15.6..5.12.2.
- She sent that, come get her you have two hours.
(figure it out spencer, you’re the only one who can ;))
“And… sent.”
She taped up my mouth, walked out of the room, a remote in hand. She closed the door. I felt relieved. It was short lived. Cause seconds later the timer on the bomb I was tied to started ticking. 2 hours. Come on, Spencer.
_______________________________________________________________________
Spencer’s POV
Dammit, I felt like a jerk. She knew what I went through, if I hadn't pushed her away she could've related to me. Then I kissed her. Wow Spencer, you can’t get anything right. The room was full of chatting. Morgan and Garcia were digging into y/n’s past.
I left the room for a second, JJ coming out a few seconds later. She put her hand on my shoulder.
“Hey Spence, are you ok?”
“Yeah,” I gave her a look of sincerity. I fumbled my hand through my pocket and pulled out a coin.
“My ten month chip. Ten months sober. I’m ok. I’m gonna go check on y/n.” She had gone outside around 15 minutes ago. JJ smiled and went back inside.
I made my way out to the ally, but y/n wasn’t there. I checked the block, and the car, she wasn’t there. Don’t panic, she’s an adult, she probably just went somewhere. Only 30 seconds later I got a text.
13.21.15.18.15.6..5.12.2.
- She sent that, come get her you have two hours.
(figure it out spencer, you’re the only one who can ;))
I ran back into the precinct extremely frantic. I burst into the room.
“Hey pretty boy, what's wrong?”
I was on the verge of tears. Ignoring her couldn’t be the last thing I did. All I could do was hold up my phone to everyone.
2:00pm
That's when I received the text. I had to have those numbers figured out by 4:00pm, no 3:30 to be safe to get there in time. Garcia couldn’t track where the text came from. So I had to.
2:07pm
A cup of coffee, it did nothing. Come on, Spencer, she's a genius. So are you. She gave you a message only you would understand.
2:16pm
“Are they coordinates?” “A phone number?” “address?” “Social security?” No.
2:45pm
Everyone was working frantically, I’ve translated the numbers through five computer codes, nothing. Garcia was fiercely translating as well.
3:02pm
Time was running out. No, no… I was drifting to sleep.
“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I graduated from Caltech with three doctorates in Engineering, chemistry, and mathematics, I can read 20,000 words a minute, I have an IQ of 187, I have an eidetic memory, speak four languages and partial of a bunch more, and I work as a profiler for the BAU. ”
“four? I only speak three. English, latin, and greek. But I can sing the alphabet backwards so I guess that makes up for the rest.”
I jolted awake. That’s it! I looked at the clock
3:26pm
Why did no one wake me? Oh well, I got it!
“Guys! I think i got it!” I walked over to the dry erase board where the numbers were written down, staring at me for the last hour and a half taunting me.
13.21.15.18.15.6..5.12.2.
“We were in the car yesterday, she told me something, we were talking about languages, I told her I can speak four languages, her response was four? I only speak three. English, latin, and greek. But I can sing the alphabet backwards so I guess that makes up for the rest.”
Everyone was confused. I started re-arranging the numbers up on the board.
Alphabet backwards, to greek, to latin, to english.
2 12 5 6 15 18 15 21 13
“If each number corresponds to a letter…”
Ble foroum, greek.
forum blue, latin
“BLUE MARKET. GARCIA LOCATION OF BLUE MARKET!” I rushed out of the precinct, everyone followed and we jumped into the cars.
3:30pm
_______________________________________________________________________
y/n’s POV
There were 16 minutes left on the countdown and I had pretty much given up all hope of being found. Oh well, I wonder what happens when you die. Time to find out. That’s when I heard footsteps. I immediately started making noise. With my hands, feet, yells that really came out as moans. Then I almost cried because they were telling my name. Oh my god, Reid actually figured it out.
The team burst in. JJ cut my free on my hands and feet free. As soon as I got to my feet Spencer pulled me into a huge bear hug. Almost like he forgot he kissed me earlier. But I wasn’t going to let him.
“You figured it out genius,” I ruffled his hair up, and he blushed.
“You’re the genius.” I left him with a peck on the cheek and walked outside, leaving him blushing even harder.
I gave my statement and told the team that she didn't care about the people she drugged and killed, it was just to drag us out here. Bomb squad had enough time to disable the bomb. A female body was discovered a few minutes later on a street a block away from University of Michigan. I identified her as the woman who kidnapped me. She had overdosed. Her name was Tracy Stern. After the field study incident her parents kicked her out and she was stuck working at that supermarket. That must’ve been the trigger. She had been stalking us ever since. Spencer said he remembered her incident from a few years ago. She had an Opioid problem, which is what she had overdosed on. Hotch sent us all to the hotel, we’d be wheels up in the morning. For my first case I’d say that went ok.
I guess opioid was her poison, and like most of us, we eventually succumb to it.
_______________________________________________________________________
I had just showered and changed, I was getting ready to sleep when I heard a knock at my hotel room door. I opened the door to see none other than Dr. Reid standing there.
“Rei-” He cut me off,
“I know I acted like an asshole this entire time, I know I kissed you when you were expressing your feelings and I shouldn't have, and I promise I wasn’t trying to shut you up I just don’t know what came over me. And I promise you I’m not very ego protective but when you walked in you were just as smart as me if not smarter, and you have friends which I don’t, and your pretty, like extremely pretty, beautiful, and you have everything and all I have is my brain so I got worried everyone was gonna pass over me even more than they already do, and I’m also sorry for pushing you away about the drug thing and basically i just wanted to come here to tell you I’m ten months sober and I really want a fresh start, and please stop me cause I’m rambling-”
“I forgive you Spence, and I’m two years sober, and I’d love a fresh start. If it includes this…”
I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him as though I WAS going to blow up, that we were going to explode together but the only thing exploding in this moment was my heart. And by the way our lips moved together I could definitely tell he felt the same.
I pulled away for a second, “so you think I’m pretty…” He began blushing. “I’m kidding.” I snickered. We gravitated back towards each other and our lips met again. I pulled away again speaking again,
“You wanna know why I giggled yesterday when Derek said your IQ is 187?” He nodded, obviously eager to go back to kissing.
I got on my toes, brought my mouth to his ear and whispered,
“Mine’s 189.”
A fire lit in his eyes, he crouched down and picked me up by my thighs making his way into my room.
I knew I was in for it now.
#Criminal Minds#spencer reid#spencer x reader#emily prentiss#jj#Aaron Hotch Hotchner#derek morgan#fluff#spencer reid smut#reader#teehee
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if request slots are open: consider. i know you don’t like shoto but listen listen. royalty!au in which the darling is also a royal, of an opposing kingdom. shoto just thinks they’re so soft and lovely and why won’t they accept his marriage proposal?
This is pure self-indulgence, really. I just want to use fancy language and imagery and say nothing bluntly ever because straight-forwardness was only invented in the 1900s, and this is a reality I accept.
TW: Dehumanization, Abuse of Power, and Metaphors.
~
Your kingdom was known for never refusing a guest.
It was a state more than a nation, really, a wonderful city that relied on trade and unity to sustain itself. As such, you were more of a diplomat than a ruler, a host dressed in jewels and made to entertain true leaders from the allies held in such high-esteem by your advisors. You’d mastered the art of meaningless conversation, your patience taught to you by decades of being talked-over, and although many royals had seen fit to test your policy, there was always a free room ready when they were prepared to humble themselves and accept it. You adored that part of your occupation, how kind you got to be, to your people, traveling peasants, kings and queens and anyone who crossed your path. You liked to be generous.
But, Shoto was not a Prince known for bringing out the best in people. And you were certainly no exception to his contagious aversion.
Usually, you would make an effort to greet your visitors in the courtyard, but his visits were too frequent and too impulsive for you to do so much as stand before his entourage was in your throne room, the young Prince standing before you. He didn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm, the boy smiling so brightly as he stepped in front of the elevated platform. You didn’t doubt he would run to your seat, if given the chance, but your personal guards made their aggression known as soon as his foot touched the first step of the short flight. “My Songbird,” He greeted, instead, not seeming to notice the way you cringed at the nickname. “You haven’t been responding to my letters, but my yearning still persists. Have you grown tired of singing to me so quickly?”
“I do not see why it’s necessary to respond to inquiries I have already answered.” Your voice was cold, at best, frigid at worst. You didn’t have it in your heart to be cruel to anyone, much less a friend you had once held so dear. Even with how appealing he made cruelty seem, these days. “I am not your songbird, but if I was, I think you would dread having to hear the same two notes play on a never-ending loop. God knows my throat has grown sore from delivering them.” You paused, glancing towards the advisor on your left, positioned there on the chance your behavior slipped into something less than agreeable. She waited a moment, pondering, but a nod was all you needed to proceed. “You must be tired, Todoroki, please allow my valet to show you to your chambers. A long journey deserves an even longer rest.”
You saw Shoto falter, a hand unconsciously coming to rest on the sword at his belt. You guards mirrored the gesture, although you didn’t take it as a threat. “I am thankful for any note you grace me with,” He assured, taking another step forward. “But, there are three that would make me euphoric. Isn’t that what you should want? Why would you sing at all, if not to make someone happy?”
Straightening you back, you leaned forward, uncrossing your legs to better fill your throne. “I sing for my own joy, no one else’s. Be glad I am forgiving enough to let you listen from a distance.” He opened his mouth, but you carried on, drawing circles in the velvet under your arms. “My answer is no, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. When I find a shelter I can roost in, one I choose to roost in, then and only then will make my nest. I have no desire to make my home a cage, regardless of how golden the bars.”
At that, he smiled, and you dug your nails into the soft fabric. “It would be a beautiful cage, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re intolerable,” You mumbled, deflating. It was hard to be angry, now, the disappointment cutting through you more deeply than the knife of loathing ever could. Marriage was not a necessity, to you. Unlike his own clan, your’s had never placed an emphasis on blood. You’d been an orphan most of your life, and you had no issue with continuing the tradition your childless parents had started. Children who’d never known love always seemed more appreciative when receiving it, although you’d admit Shoto’s existence contested that theory. “I cannot–”
“And a beautiful cage deserves a stunning creature to inhabit it,” Shoto continued, speaking over you without hesitation. Another step was taken, then another, leaving Shoto towering before you, too close for comfort. You were tempted to stand, if only to put the two of you at an equal height, but Shoto would’ve simply found another way to place himself above you. He was good at that, especially if it meant making you feel small. “Think of it as an alliance. Your country would have my father’s army behind it, and I would have you. Is that not a worthwhile sacrifice?” You weren’t given time to answer his question, Shoto dropping to one knee unceremoniously, suddenly. It caught you off guard, enough so for you to lean forward, moving to help him up. But, Shoto only took your extended hand, holding your palm to his cheek as he spoke. “Visits aren’t enough, this isn’t enough. I wish to have you as my partner, and if I don’t, I can not guarantee my next action will be one of peace.”
You jerked back, not asking for permission before pushing yourself onto your feet. It took more of your self-control than it should’ve to keep from telling him to leave, to get out of your castle and never come back. Your anger must’ve been visible, because your advisor reached out as soon as your fists had a chance to ball, a steady palm coming to rest on your shoulder. It was a small consolation, but it snapped you out of your rage nonetheless, even if your calmness was still volatile when regained.
“Rest, Little Prince. Exhaustion has clouded your better judgment.” His eyes widened, lips contorting into a frown, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. Instead, you made the first move, waving for your guards to follow as you descended the short staircase. “If I hear one more word about marriage, I fear I may be the one to abandon our treaties. This songbird wishes to sing in another court, for now.”
Shoto was quick to stay on your heels, his excuses following just as closely. “But–”
“One more word,” You warned, his troop of guards and servants parting to let you through. “I don’t wish to make an enemy out of you. Please, enjoy my city and take advantage of my hospitality, but do not approach me with the same attitude. I have made up my mind, and my decision is final.”
And with that, you left. That was the advantage of his petname, you supposed.
Flying away was much easier when you were given wings.
But, Shoto was a beast of the ground, unfortunately.
He stayed as you fled, watching you run from him like prey from a predator. Part of him acknowledged your feelings, or the lack thereof, rather. He knew you didn’t love him, not truly, and he knew you didn’t care for him as he cared for you. He knew you didn’t want to be with him.
And yet, you were kind and welcoming and genuine. You were loving towards him, even if you didn’t love him.
Shoto took a moment to scan over the room. His guards surrounded him, as faithful as ever, each buzzing for an order. His father had never allowed him to travel lightly, even when Shoto was more than capable of protecting himself. Your nation didn’t have the same strength. With no standing army, no way to defend yourself, you relied on neutrality and alliances for protection. It was a symbolic security, but one that would stand unless a very powerful, very feared kingdom attacked.
Unless Shoto’s kingdom attacked.
He decided he would bring the idea to his siblings, as he waited for the room’s doors close behind you. It would be a controversial suggestion, but there was territory to be gained, resources that could help more deserving people. With their forces, it would be over in a matter of days, hours, even. He doubted your ‘allies’ would care, by the end of the week.
Besides, Shoto had a pet who needed to be put back on their leash.
You seemed to think you’d outgrown your cage.
#yandere#yandere love#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere prompt#yandere imagines#yandere scenerio#yandere drabble#yandere oneshot#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia imagines#yandere my hero academia imagines#yandere my hero academia#bnha imagines#yandere bnha#yandere fantasy#yandere fairy tale#yandere prince#prince!shoto#todoroki x reader#yandere todoroki#shoto x reader#yandere shoto#shouto x reader#yandere shouto#yanderecore
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Matchup!
Commissioned by @nemkultra, tysm ^^ 💗✨
~Requests are closed~
Masterlist: x
I match you with: Eyeless Jack
This mans has some hardcore heart eyes for you ngl 💗~💗
You’re just,, so chill and easy to get along with??
Maybe it’s your style—that dark emo kind of fashion that he also tends to stick to himself—but something about you just makes him feel super at ease from the very beginning
In a room full of people, even before he got to know you, he kinda just naturally gravitates towards you tbh
You just have this magnetic pull on him that feels right
Your scent too btw?
It’s kinda weird to say but you smell fckn delicious to him 👀👌
And the fact that you’re pretty short—especially compared to him—combined with your scent & that magnetism really sends his demon instincts in overdrive
Meaning, he ends up getting very protective of you very quickly
He realizes earlier on that you can most certainly take care of yourself, but like,, that’s not gonna stop him from wanting to defend you any way he can
Any threats in the near vicinity, especially the physical/confrontational ones, are nearly nonexistent when he’s around
Which might be more often than you realize
Like I’m not saying he stalks you, he just sometimes keeps a close eye on you,,, from a distance,,,,, usually lurking in the shadows skdkhdksldl
Honestly, lord help anyone who comes near you with aggressive intentions smh
Not only that, but he also can and will remove anyone who’s bugging you or draining you social battery & making you anxious
All ya gotta do is ask or gives him some kind of signal
And even then, if he gets suspicious they’re being rude or unpleasant or anything, he’ll straight up just come to you like “is he bothering you, queen?”
But other than that, he’s a pretty laid-back person ngl
He’s a great listener & will gladly hear you ramble on about anything and nothing
Whatever it might be, whether you just wanna talk about your day or some new songs you’ve discovered, he’ll put you on his lap, stroke through your hair or trace your tattoos while purring contently, listening to you
Boy just wants to be near you and hear your soothing voice as you explain to him your general thoughts & opinions—it makes him so damn happy tbh ^^
He’s a very good bf and will always support you however he can uwu
Even if you don’t really feel like talking, he’s fine with just wrapping his arms around you & quietly enjoying your presence
He might not know much about ADHD, but he will do his research to get a better understand of it & learn how to help any way he can
He does, however, have a bit of PTSD himself, so he already knows a bit on how to help deal with that
So he’s very considerate of any triggers you might have and does his best to keep you safe & happy & comfortable :>
Also like,,,, this man’s presence is so damn comforting
Any time you feel a panic/anxiety attack come on, having him around does wonders
It’s very reassuring to have a tall, strong & protective demon bf in life tbh
Like he knows he’s pretty intimidating, so he‘a got a very calm & relaxed demeanor to make up for it
Knowing this strong ass predatory monster would do anything in his power to protect you from legit anything does wonders to your peace of mind
And having him hold you in his arms, purring and rumbling soothing praises is always very comforting—like the two of you are in your own little world & nothing can reach you
He’s kinda effortlessly powerful, but it goes without saying that he’s an absolute gentleman & would never use that strength against you—with exception in the bedroom, but we’ll get to that later ;)
He doesn’t wanna abuse his capabilities, but he still does end up naturally taking charge tho—both in the streets and in the sheets
Those are just demon instincts for ya ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Boy admires how you don’t take any crap & won’t hesitate to stand up for yourself tho
He likes knowing you’d tell him off if he ever crossed any boundaries; that way he doesn’t have to overthink or worry too much
Also, that nurturing side you’ve got with those strong maternal instincts??
His demonic side is crazy for it
He honestly admires you so damn much, you have no idea ✨🤧
Like he, himself, isn’t the best with kids; he’s kinda scared to hurt them and he’s not really sure how to react around them
But he still appreciates them & their different perspective on life
So he genuinely likes asking how your day went at work, and after a while, he’ll start learning about the kids & asking about them too ^^
If he can help them with any kind of,, situations out of their control, he most certainly will, almost like a guardian demon angel :”)
Like with kids, even if he does appreciate them, he’s also not the best with animals
They can usually sniff out his demon side & it scares them
Cats are sometimes ok with him, but even then, it depends on the cat
So honestly, ya just gotta give him a lil time to adjust to them and vice versa :”>
He’s also a lil freaked out by spiders, snakes, rodents and the like, but he’ll never admit it, so it’s just fun to tease him skdjdksll
He’s a very clean boy himself, so unless he doesn’t eat/sleep for a while & loses control to his demon, you don’t have to worry about him making any kind of mess
Ultimately, this mans is super chill & laid back and will absolutely not hesitate to cuddle up with you any day/any time, whether or not you’re feeling stressed or anxious tbh
You've had a long day & just wanna unwind watching anime or playing video games?
No prob boo; even if he might not understand them, he’ll gladly watch any show with you while offering up some fine back rubs to help you relax 😌👌
He doesn’t really understand poetry either, but he’ll listen to you read it aloud, purring faintly, rubbing his thumbs over your skin and sometimes planting lil kissies here n there 😚😚
He also might try to pick up an instrument, having the faint recollection of knowing how to play from his old life, just to impress you ngl
He just wants to make you happy & care for you because he loves you and thinks you deserve the world uwu
NSFW
Omg you’re honestly like,, the perfect height for him to just pick up & manhandle however he pleases tbh skdjdhslsl 😳😳
When you’re wearing dresses too?
All the easier to use you like a perfect little doll~
But he won’t do it unless he knows it’s alright with you, ofc
Like I said, he’s a gentleman first & foremost 😌👌
Homeboy’s also got a thing for those fishnet tights 👀
So you can bet he might just tear a hole through them & stick his dick in them to fuck your thighs through the lace
He just can’t resist the feeling of your plush thighs squishing his length, squeezing him with the frail material stretching & wrapping so perfectly around him
Don’t worry though, he definitely buys you new clothes all 👏the 👏time 👏to make up for it ;))
Sometimes when he’s feeling like a tease, he’ll settle you down nice and comfy while you’re still wearing those tights & get between your legs to tease his tongue through the material
Loves hearing your little gasps and moans as you try to rub into him for more friction, desperate to feel the entirety of his tongue without that stupid obstruction
Once he thinks you’ve had enough, he won’t be able to hold back any longer before dislocating his jaw and absolutely devouring you until you’re practically shaking against him
But other than the occasional teasing that has you mewling and squirming, this mans will absolutely treat every inch of your body just right 🥴👌
Those belly button & nipple piercings will definitely receive the attention they deserve 👅💦💦
If you’ve had a stressful day at work or if your anxiety’s starting to get the best of you, it’s no prob bb
You can lay back, relax & let him do all the work—having his fun tasting you & shoving his tongue in and out of your dripping core~
He’ll be on cloud 9 knowing he can help while also getting to stuff his face between your legs
Also likes dislocating his jaw to cram the full length of his tongue down you throat to toy with the little metal ball on your tongue too :pp
His demon is totally enamored with everything about you, so you can bet he’ll always leave plenty of possessive bite marks all over you
He’s super scared to hurt you tho, so it’s safe words galore tbh
He pays a lot of attention to your boundaries & needs; you’re so frail & vulnerable compared to him, how could he ever forgive himself if he hurt you?
His heats are especially bad when it comes to being rough—he has to resist absolutely ruining you every time
It honestly takes a long ass time for him to let you stay to help through it because he’s so scared of losing control
If he ends up going too hard & you need to use a safeword, he’ll treat you like porcelain during the aftercare
And even throughout the next couple of days that follow, he’ll be extra careful around you because he’ll feel like shit for taking things too far ngl
I’m talking about waiting hand & foot on you—not that he wouldn’t already do so regardless
And he might be a tad reluctant to do the nasty afterwards, but a lil convincing & reassurance on your part and he won’t be able to resist
Except he’ll take things real slow and careful
Like,, excruciatingly slow skdjdhsl
But honestly, it doesn’t make the orgasms any less intense
Instead of hitting you hard & fast like electricity rocketing through you, it’ll be like one long wave crashing into you as he keeps rocking his hips at a perfectly steady pace
He just wants to make you feel good & show you how much he loves and cares for you, ya know?
Those back rubs I mentioned have some high ass chances of turning into something more
They might end up with you beneath him, one of his large hands pining your hips down, the other entwining his fingers into yours so he can feel every little squeeze when he drags his cock along you most sensitive spots
And if you read him some steamy poetry, he just might end up between your legs one way or another, chuckling and coaxing you to keep going as he hits every spot so wonderfully
This mans is practically a sex god even if he might not realize it ngl 👁👅👁
Only thing is, like I’ve mentioned, him and animals don’t always get along
So he can’t stand being watched by your pets while he’s trying to get some :/
You, ah, might wanna close the door behind you or he’ll have to stop halfway through 😬
But he’ll be more than happy to keep going once he knows the two of you are completely alone again~ 😏👌
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Being Human - Chapter 13
<= Chapter 12
Summary : Snatcher makes up with the kids Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/65582983
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Another chapter, yohoo ! I hope you'll like it ! Thank you for all your lovely comments, you're all so nice !!
The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !
Happy reading !
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Chapter 13 - “What’s ‘Corgi Quest’?”
With Cooking Cat to help him to stay stable in the hallway, going back to the spaceship hub was easier. Snatcher didn’t like being reminded of how weak he looked at the moment, but he had managed to push his pride aside, if only for a brief moment. The cat was nice and considerate enough to make no comments about it, which was more than welcome for the former spirit.
It didn’t take them long to leave the first hallway and to cross the machine room. When they reached the second and last hallway before reaching the hub, voices could be heard from the other side of the door, informing them that the little girls were there. Suddenly, Snatcher felt his heart sunk in his chest. God, why was he reacting this way! There was literally nothing to be afraid of! It wasn’t the first time he had angered the brats and it certainly wouldn’t be the la-
Wait. Why was he even worried about that anyway? He was the powerful ghost of Subcon Forest! He had killed so many people and now he was worried about little children being mad at him? Oh please, what a joke. He rolled his eyes at himself, Gods, he was so stupid.
A little pat on his hand cut his thoughts short, catching his attention. Just like before, Cooking Cat was patting him, trying to reassure him, to comfort him. Ugh.
-“It’ll be okay,” she assured with a smile: “I’m sure they forgave you already.”
The former spirit glanced away, both irritated and embarrassed, because heck, he hated being this easy to read. How was she even able to do that? Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was annoying and that it made Snatcher think about things he’d rather ignore. He let out a long and exhausted sigh, turning to the cat with a scowl on his face:
-“Oh please, I don’t care what they think. They might as well be sulking, it changes absolutely nothing for me,” he groaned, more than exasperated: “All I care about is to be dead again. That’s all.”
The other only nodded her head as an answer. She probably knew it was best not to argue with him on that topic, considering how sensitive it was for the moment. Whatever wanted to say at his words, she kept it for herself, staying silent and motionless instead. She was waiting for him to approach the door for it to open, not rushing him.
Gods. He was so ridiculous.
The former ghost took a deep breath and, ignoring how much his legs felt like cotton, took a few steps towards the door. As soon as it opened, the mechanical sound echoing all around, it was like a weight settled on his stomach, twisting his guts as soon as his eyes spotted the two little girls. They had changed and were now wearing coloured pyjamas, still wearing their signature headgear, weirdly enough. They were sitting in front of the television, watching, no, doing something with it? He wasn’t sure what, he was not very informed regarding new technologies, considering he lived in the same forest for centuries. They were holding weird things in their hands, black devices with coloured buttons on it. Whatever they were doing, they were also bumping each other with their shoulders, loud high-pitched giggles resonating in the room. However, when they heard the door, they both turned around in his direction.
-“Oh, you’re back,” started the hatted brat, her voice almost passive aggressive. Yep, she was mad, just like he had thought. She seemed to make an effort as her younger friend “discretly” nudged her in the back, instructing her to be nice: “You feeling better?” she asked with a more neutral tone.
Did he feel better? He supposed he did, though it was hard to say. His mind was like a cacophony of thoughts, all very, very different from one another. Some part of him did feel better, it was true, while his pride was screaming at how sappy and mushy the whole situation was. It was most likely this part of himself that snapped earlier, or had at least contributed to his meltdown. It really was strange and uncomfortable to say the least.
-“Yeah,” he replied, still with a grumpy expression on his face: “guess so.”
He had been tempted to go with his usual approach, putting a show with the loud persona he had fabricated through the centuries. After all, it had almost completely fused with his, well, original personality, having been kept in a cold cellar for days changing him greatly, just like the after-life did. He was not the nice and compassionate Prince anymore. He was The Snatcher, a powerful soul-stealing ghost that had no remorse over killing people for his own survival and, by now, even for fun. And yet… And yet, sometimes, putting on the mask that had become such a second nature to him became… Difficult. Unnatural.
Right now was one of those times.
For a brief instant, he thought he saw a remorseful look on the hat-wearing child’s expression, though it quickly died down as he glanced away. She looked like she wanted to forgive him, but it was a bit too early for her to completely do so. At least, that’s what Snatcher thought it meant, it wasn’t like he was some kind of social behaviour specialist. If anything, law was his forte, but this? He was just guessing at this point.
His thoughts were cut short as the bow-wearing kid joined the conversation, lifting a plate of grilled cheese sandwich that had been on the ground until now. She was smiling at him, yet it was easy to see she was somewhat trying to hide her unease behind a warm expression:
-“We saved some for you,” she informed him with a gentle voice before cringing a bit as she glanced down at the food: “… Well, it’s cold now, but we can always reheat it later when you want!”
Snatcher frowned, feeling something akin to guilt rise in his chest. It felt wrong, so, so wrong, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth. He normally didn’t care about being the bad guy, about being unfair or mean, or, well, murderous. Yet, there was something in this very specific situation that gave him an awful feeling of shame, one he really wished he could ignore.
What was happening to him?
-“Yeah, fine,” he simply replied, embarrassment unfortunately clearly audible in his voice as he walked closer, not comfortable enough to say the magic word just yet. It just got stuck in his throat. Thankfully, the kids didn’t mention it. Just as he was about to ask what they were doing with the television and what they were holding in their hands, Cooking Cat’s voiced echoed just behind them:
-“Well,” she started, straightening her chef’s hat with her usual smile: “it’s getting late, I think it’s time for me to go home. I had a lot of fun today, thank you for inviting me!” she said to the kids before turning to him: “I hope you’ll teach me how to tell scary stories soon! But, on a more serious note, I really hope your wish to be a ghost again will come true. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to experience being alive after so much time as a spirit.”
Snatcher glanced away:
-“It’s… Not so great, yeah,” he confirmed with a frown.
Her smile disappeared for a bit, quickly replaced by a serious and compassionate expression:
-“Don’t push yourself too hard,” she advised with a caring tone: “Do what you can and if that doesn’t work out, it’s okay. You’ve been human for a day or two, barely, and I can only guess how much it is to take in. Try being nicer to yourself, it’s fine to fail sometimes.”
The former ghost scoffed at how corny this all was. Oh sure, what a great idea to rest and relax while his crazy ex could wreck havoc in his forest, freezing everything and everyone again! Of course, he’d have the right to, since he could “be nicer to himself” and that it was “fine to fail sometimes”! And if he came back to see the whole forest being covered in ice again, well, “whoopsie daisy!”, right?!
What a joke.
Cooking Cat could obviously tell that Snatcher wasn’t taking her words well, but knew better than to insist. She looked away, a bit embarrassed, though she tried to smile again. She turned to the children, who had watched the scene, silently:
-“Can you teleport me down there?” she gestured to the floor, or what was under it. The planet.
-“Yeah, of course,” replied the hatted girl, moving to the control panel, before waving at her: “See you soon, Cookie!”
The younger kid soon imitated her:
-“See you, take care!”
The cat looked happier from the kids’ kind words and waved back at them. Her eyes then glanced to the former spirit, smiling back at him:
-“Goodbye, Snatcher. I hope I’ll see you soon as well, in your true form this time,”
Snatcher only nodded in response, feeling all the stares being fixed on him once more. He liked attention, sure… But not like this. This one was oppressive, stressful and… In this meat sack of a body, he didn’t feel completely safe. However, Cooking Cat seemed satisfied with his answer, and nodded to the hat-wearing little girl, telling her she was ready for teleportation. Honestly, the man couldn’t help but be impressed at her calm face: his own experience through scientific teleportation was… Not a good one. He had always been fine teleporting magically, but this? This could be labelled as a vomit-inducing machine and he wouldn’t even be surprised.
The cat disappeared in a blink, a blue light quickly engulfing her for a second before it was gone, leaving no trace from her, as if she had never come onto the ship.
Silence fell in the room as the trio was left alone once more. The atmosphere was tense, almost palpable, no one knowing what to say after everything that had happened in only one single day. After all, it was a lot, it made sense that tensions started to appear after a while. Well, perhaps they mostly appeared because of him, but it didn’t matter.
Eventually, after a while, the bow-wearing kid gestured to the television with an awkward smile:
-“Wanna keep on playing Corgi Quest?” she offered, winking at the hatted brat, once more very “discreetly”. But it seemed to work as the other sighed yet shrugged nonetheless, visibly exhausted from the events of the day:
-“Yeah, fine, sounds good to me.”
Snatcher watched them walk to the television and sit on the nearby coloured pillows. Confusion was plastered on his face as he wondered what they could be talking about. ‘Corgi Quest’? What was that? Was it what they were doing before he and Cooking Cat entered the room? Was this a “TV thing” he wasn’t aware about? That could very well be the case, seeing as he only knew what a television was from what he learnt with his ex-contractors.
So, not a lot, considering they didn’t live long enough to explain what it was in further details. Not like he had thought he would need it someday, though…
-“What’s ‘Corgi Quest’?” he questioned, voicing his confusion, glancing at the kids then the television repeatedly, trying to understand.
-“Our favourite video game,” answered the hatted child, picking up one of the device from earlier -what was it?-, pushing some of the buttons and… Controlling what was happening on the screen? What? His brow furrowed even more: how did that work?
-“It sounds pretty simple, but Corgi Quest actually has a deep storyline!” added the younger child, her eyes full of stars: “It’s also very cute, and there’s even a multiplayer mode! Much better than in the last game, Corgi Quest 6. Oh yeah, we’re playing the 7th one, but you don’t need to have played the oth-”
-“Woah, woah, kiddo, stop,” interrupted Snatcher by lifting his hands in the air, already feeling a headache coming up just from hearing about all this stuff he couldn’t understand. What were they even talking about? He took a deep breath and pinched his nose, stopping soon afterwards. Wait, he never did that before, was it because he had a nose now?
-“First, I don’t care about all of that,” he established, though it was a lie: he was curious, at least on the way this was working: “Second, what the heck is a video game?”
This was a simple question, really, one he thought was basic and pretty common… And yet, as soon as the words left his mouth, the two children gasped as if he had insulted their parents in the worst possible ways. Wait, did he ever do that? He didn’t remember. Still, they were staring at him with wide eyes, clearly not believing a single word he had just said. Was it that obvious? If it was, why didn’t he hear about that from his victi- oh wait, right, he usually killed them before they got the chance to talk. Not that he wanted to, life outside of his forest didn’t interest him usually. And it wasn’t like talking with his “brain-dead servants” were entertaining, hearing them scream in pain was though.
His thoughts were cut short as the little girls exclaimed at the same time:
-“You don’t know what a video game is?!”
Snatcher shook his head, warier and warier as seconds passed. This was getting extremely suspicious and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore, given the reactions he got just from not knowing whatever that thing was. In any case, apparently, said thing was pretty famous or at least common now.
The two kids shared a knowing and decided look, as if they telepathically agreed on something.
All of a sudden, Snatcher felt like he should have kept his mouth shut. But he didn’t have the time to think more, as the bow-wearing little girl moved behind him and pushed him more towards the television, while the older kid placed more pillows on the floor for him to sit on.
-“Wait, wait, what-” The former ghost tried to protest, but was interrupted as the brats forced him to sit down, his opinion clearly ignored from now on. Soon, one of the strange-looking device was placed in his hands, and he turned his head to the kids, even more perplexed than before.
-“Okay, so you definitely failed in life just not knowing what a video game was,” informed the hat-wearing child, an exaggerated look of disappointment in her eyes: “Allow us to educate you on that topic.”
-“Trust us,” added the younger one, placing her hand on her chest as if what she was saying was extremely important -when it wasn’t-: “We’re specialists.”
Snatcher’s confusion was now reaching new heights. He had no idea what they were talking about, and he was so bewildered by what was happening that, despite his wish to protest, his voice got stuck in his throat. His brain was trying so very hard to understand what was happening, but soon, the brats sat next to him… And started to explain things and concepts he had no idea existed before.
How did this even happen…? Whatever the answer was… Snatcher knew he was stuck with them until he learnt what those ‘video game’ things were.
This was it. Snatcher was cursed, and he had the feeling this was not going to end soon.
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Well, everything goes well ! Isn't that wonderful ? Truly, it would be such a SHAME if SOMEONE were to ruin that................. Not that it's going to happen or anything !! ... Unless...?
:)c
Anyway, thank you all for your comments, they mean so much to me !
=> Chapter 14
#A Hat In Time#ahit#ahit fanfiction#snatcher#cooking cat#hat kid#HK#bow kid#BK#fanfiction#Being Human#ahit being human#BH#erekio bh#my art#oth#Oh The Humanity AU
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Promise is a beautiful lie (pt. 1)
Dhawan!Master x Reader
Summary: finally, you could just sit at your comfortable sofa in peace and quiet when you heard the sound which you thought you’d never hear again.
Word: 1731
Warning: angst (I really like this genre)
Note: I really like brave and nasty reader so I love this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
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It was evening. It was obvious from your fixed eyes looking up at the dark starless sky that you weren’t in the real world. A nervous sigh escaped from your throat. You were sitting on the sofa with your legs tucked under you and your head in your lap. To be honest, today wasn't your day. Everything fell apart: whatever you started, everything didn't come out the way you wanted. Although this had never happened before.
In general, it is very difficult to return to normal life after adventures with the Doctor and sometimes it is simply impossible. But you didn't have much choice. Besides, no one knows if she's alive or not... No! They say thoughts are material, so you shouldn't even think about it. Surely, she is alive, got out of a difficult situation. That's what the Doctor always does, isn't it?
You missed traveling in the TARDIS. Everything was so simple in this blue small outside but bigger inside box (not everything, of course, but at this moment you thought so). Explore new galaxies and planets, study historical periods... What could be better? Although perhaps there is one thing... The Fam. Ryan, Yaz, Graham. Wonderful people who have really become your family. You missed them very much. Missed all the moments you spent together, whether it was: exploring different corners of the Universe or meeting historical figures. Or even just staying in the TARDIS, watching all together some movie or reading favorite books in the comfortable silence. Yes, those were good times.
You didn't pay much attention to the sound coming from the opened window at first. But then you realized... It can't be! You heard again the best sound in the Universe which you thought you'd never hear. And now... You had tears in your eyes. You ran to the window in disbelief... That damn blue box! You thought you'd never see it again. You still stood for a minute to make sure it was real and ran to the closet, quickly put on the first thing that came to your hand and went out of the house.
You ran headlong to the TARDIS. Your feet got a little tangled because you had to stay at home for the last month, but you didn't complain. The most important thing is to run to the box and dive in this amazing world of travel again. And now you were standing inches away from those damn blue doors. Your hand went quickly to the door handle and was about to touch it... But something stopped you. There was an unpleasant feeling in your stomach, a doubt in the back of your mind. Something was wrong... Yes, something was definitely wrong. What's wrong with you?! Why couldn't you just walk through that door? It was a blue police box. Who besides the Doctor will travel in a 50s police box? You took a quick breath and opened the door.
You were so preoccupied with your own thoughts that you didn't notice some changes in the design of the TARDIS. It was darker, and the console was smoother. Because of the unaccustomed darkness you didn't immediately notice the mess in the console room. And in general, a nice, friendly blue with yellow changed to... Red? Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard ‘I told you so.’ You turned around slowly and were about to leave when you heard:
"Surprise! Glad to see me? Of course, you’re glad, you're always glad to see me." you slowly turned on the voice and saw the Master standing next to you. Why him? Of all the possible aliens, why him? The man who tried to kill the Doctor, your friends, and you during the encounter with the Kasaavins. Brilliant! Could this day be any worse? "I found an wonderful planet where the city is built on mountains and gorges. Therefore it feels as if the city is floating in the air. Although it's a shame that this beautiful place is ruled by a tyrant king. But there are rumors that a palace coup is being prepared. And I think this is the right time to steal the crown. Sure you'll like it."
You just stood there and stayed quiet. Just a little more and your jaw would have dropped. What the hell? What just happened? Wait-wait-wait... He wants to show you a planet? He? The Master? No, this is some kind of deception. Trick. Another sick game. What should you do? What would the Doctor do? She certainly wouldn't have stood there in silence.
"What are you up to?" your voice was low and anger flowed out of you like a river.
"What do you mean? I'm trying to show you a planet..."
"Stop playing with me. I will ask you again and it'll be the last time "What are you up to?" a restrained growl escaped from your throat.
"Y/N, I don't know what's gotten into you..." he really seemed confused, but you decided to not believe him.
"What's gotten into me?! Are you serious? You've tried so many times to kill the Doctor, my friends, me at least. You think I'll believe a word you say? Don't flatter yourself!" while you were saying your mini-monologue, your hands didn't stop going up and down.
"Are you finished? If so, let me ask you a question. Just one: "What year are you from?"
"What?" your eyes widened.
"What year is it?" he repeated the question calmly. It was so strange to see him calm considering his constantly changing behavior.
"Um ... 2020. April 22nd."
"Oh... Who would have thought this would ever happen to me..." he muttered, rubbing his beard. It was like thinking out loud. "Yeah... Unpleasant situation... So, it turns out that... yeah. Then I'll just send you home... Yes, that would be better." his eyes met yours. They were full of... sadness? Is this even possible?
Suddenly the TARDIS was yanked so hard that you couldn't keep on your feet, you were ready to fall with eyes closed, but it didn't happen. Your eyes remained closed for a few seconds, then you slowly opened them and saw the Master's face a few inches away from yours. One hand gently encircled your waist, the other held your raised wrist. Your chests were so close that you could feel the warmth of his body. You felt your cheeks flushed a little, but you held back your embarrassment. But apparently you didn't do it well, because he gave you a big smile. Or he knew you too well. But you met him once, so he couldn't, could he? When you travel with the Doctor, you’re not sure of anything.
"What are you smiling at?" you said it firmly, but it sounded a little confused.
"Nothing..." mischief played in his eyes, the smile spread even wider on his face. You snorted in annoyance, rolled eyes and turned your head. You did it not only to avoid his gaze but also because you didn't know what to do. Deep down you admitted to yourself that he was damn attractive. It was like fire, just as unmanageable and dangerous. And hell, you like playing with fire. Besides, he wasn't... himself. Not that you know him, but... He was calmer and friendlier than before (well, at least he didn't even try to kill you, which is a success).
"Let me go" you said it quietly and not as aggressively as before, trying to calm down your thoughts.
"Are you sure you can stand on your own?" you turned your head to look at him. Wait a minute! Was he... flirting with you? No! No, it can't possible... Right? Oh, and how his smug smile infuriated you! The rage was boiling, bubbling in you, ready to burst out like a fountain. Barely holding back it you looked at him. You could even feel the fire in your eyes. Reading your glare the Master realized it was better to let you go which he fortunately did. If this situation had lasted a little longer, you wouldn't have been able to answer for your actions. At this moment you didn't really care who he was. A rebel timelord, the most dangerous criminal in the Universe... You didn't care.
As soon as you freed yourself from his grip, you turned your back on him, wrapped your arms around your neck and took a couple of steps toward the door. Your eyes closed, a sigh instantly escaped from your throat. Yeah, what an evening! Well, at least you'll come home alive, according to the Master, which was actually easier to say than do. But did you really have a choice?
You felt his gaze, but you didn't turn around. You just didn't want to give him what he wanted. Maybe you should considering you don't have eyes in the back of your head and he could do whatever he wanted to you, but you didn't worry about it right now. If he wanted to kill you, he would do it earlier... Right? This went on for a few more seconds, until you heard his quiet sigh and retreating footsteps.
You didn't have to turn around to know he was next to the console and started pressing various buttons and pulling levers. Few minutes later he said in a low sad voice (okay, this really started to scare you, strained every cell in your body):
"Well, we're here" apparently you wasn't supposed to hear it, but in this tense silence you kept ears open. You raised an eyebrow as if asking him ‘are you going to let me go so easily?’, which, of course, caused him to get annoyed and roll his eyes. "You're home again. London, 2020, April 22nd, 23:48. You can go. I'm not holding you."
'Wow, how generous of you!' you thought.
You looked the Master up and down trying to make sure he wasn't coming up with something and headed for the door. You didn't even say 'goodbye' to him when you opened the door (why would you do that? You two are not friends). Stepping out the door, you didn't notice it wasn't London outside and the TARDIS was surrounded by some guards with spears in their hands. When you closed the door and faced them you realized your mistake and tried to open the door without turning around but the spears immediately went to your throat stopping inches from your skin.
"Hands up!" one of the guards shouted, dressed a little differently from others and you assumed it was the commander. "You are under arrest for stealing his Highness's crown!"
"But I..."
"Silence! I said “hands up!" you slowly raised your hands and mentally damned the Master with every possible word. You didn't even know what was more in you at this moment: fear for what they might do to you or rage because this damn timelord brought you here.
"Y/N, I don't know what's wrong, but the TARDIS just refuses to listen to me today, but you're not on Earth..." he said before he saw your situation. "But you already know that, don't you?"
"Thank you, I noticed." you gave him a sham smile, glaring at him. Well, at least you weren't alone in this situation. That's good, right?
#doctor who#dhawan!master#dhawan!master x reader#The Master#the master x reader#the master imagine#dhawan!master imagine#dw#dw imagine
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[AmeriPan] Chapter 3: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency
Ao3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286367/chapters/56767471#workskin
This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper
You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.
Previous Chapter
Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
Main Pairing: Alfred F. Jones & Kiku Honda (America & Japan)
AU: Demon AU/HellTaskAgency!AU - Demon!America & Businessman!Japan
Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)
Trigger Warnings: Mention of Incest ( no actual incest, it is only mentioned out of disgust), Joking about murder.
“I really...should get back to my co-workers…” Kiku gulped, side-eyeing the aggressive yet patient look that Mr Zwingli was sending. “I just wanted to say sorry for bumping into you this morning. I hope you moved in okay…” Lord, Kiku internally cringed at his own words- why was he even saying sorry? He could have just ignored the 2 and just…
“I do hope zoning out isn’t a hobby of yours Mr Kiku- it doesn’t seem like something your coworkers would appreciate” - Al had gotten a little bit too close to his personal bubble and the Japanese man could do nothing but look away from that dazzling smirk that seemed to be too pretty not to notice. Confused and frustrated with what must be his social ineptness, Kiku shuffled backwards before awkwardly bowing and retreating hastily to his table.
“You’re trying to corrupt him, not kill the damn thing with social awkwardness Al.” Matthew sipped on some coffee as he gazed away, Gilbert now leaning an arm around him also snivelling after Alfred’s performance. “Oh shut it. Not like you’re doing so well with ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ over there huh-”
“First off, they are siblings , I would really hate to have a Bonnie Clyde situation- incest was not in the brief. Secondly, we both know we’re going to get a job near them regardless of what we do so it was worth a shot. Zwingli’s suspicious cus he’s paranoid. He’s human .” The last word was thrown out with such disgust, despite the fact Gilbert had affectionately been poking at Matthew’s extremely cherubic cheeks; their human forms really did not aid Matthew in his grunting monologue. Alfred knew Mattie must have been bitter at the blatant disregard that Zwingli man gave him, for he had been more willing to ‘try’ the whole human thing before.
“You two need to calm down. Humans are easy, they’ll commit some crime by themselves. We just have to watch them and make sure it's a crime that will help us all. Wouldn’t that be awesome.” Before Alfred could pitch in some remark the senior demon stood up after planting a very chaste yet meaningful kiss to Matthew’s cheek and stroking his hair; “I should probably go I have another soul on my schedule today- later birdie, and good luck to you southerner- make sure you don’t get too involved with your charge.” and just like that he up and left. Confused by the strangely intimate gestures between his brother and a most revered senior he searched for an explanation on Matthew’s disgruntled glare.
“We just... really...really know each other. It’s nothing.” Alfred could barely wiggle his eyebrows at the perverse confession before his brother sent him a death glare almost as bad as the time they started that plague in Marseille a few centuries ago. He dropped it and continued to idly watch his victim from a distance, it seemed like Kiku Honda was much too occupied in the droning of that Swiss financier to notice him back- Al pouted; ah he could always wait till Monday to play with his meal.
Kiku had tried to pay attention. He really did. It was just hard when he could feel the stare of that American on him so strongly. Did he not know manners? It was rude to stare. The thoughts of the blonde hair only burst when the little girl that sat beside him coughed, searching for some attention.
“Mr Honda. I believe my brother asked you a question. Dubel …” at that last murmur said brother tutted Lili- Although he did not know what exactly had been said in their Swiss, Kiku gathered it must have been some snide remark.
“Of..of course. Yes, it is quite unfortunate trade has made tech a bit difficult but there’s not much I can do about it, Mr Zwingli. except ask for you to balance out the pay and help me scram for something.” The industry was struggling with so much saturation and the recent embargoes and trade tension between China and the US had not made it any easier. Zwingli huffed, sharing the same feeling of disappointment as Kiku.. but after a glance at his sister and flickering between his coffee and the tie of his associate, Vash leaned in and mentioned under his breath:
“You know Kiku... Yao’s been quite overzealous with his penny pinching...generous with his escapades and vacations. You’ve been slaving away quite a bit in comparison…” he paused before whispering even more. “Doesn’t seem right for the right-hand man to be fed at the feet like a dog..” Kiku tensed, suddenly his throat felt dry and a little bit of anger clouded his mind- he was not the only one who recognised the dubious actions of his childhood friend it seemed.
“What- how much is Yao stacking to himself?” Zwingli shrugged nonchalantly, again avoiding Kiku’s eyes as if he had not just admitted to possibly traitorous gossip- the Swiss man turned his head to eye that Matthew boy again, letting Kiku deal with the folder that Lili had unceremoniously slid onto the table in front of them. Give him time to view the damage. Nervously, but with some fiery fingers, the short man opened the folder, ripping it up as if it contained the secrets of the world- if it explained the month shortcomings then perhaps it was the whole world. Kiku’s face went through a tremendous hurricane of negative emotions- disbelief, disrepair and complete fury...and sudden absolute blankness.
“I see.” Humming away in agreement, Vash spoke with his eyes still trained on Matthew on the other table: “Reasons I don’t work with childhood friends.” For some absurd reason, Mr Honda could not stop himself from trying to rationalise or reason on behalf of traitor:
“Yao was reasonable growing up, I have always trusted him- it's like how you are with Ms Lili-”
“Lili would stab me in the back if she knew I was costing us a fortune. At least I hope she would. I taught her well enough. Siblings don’t owe you anything, and friends most certainly don’t.” to that Lili preened, as if a child is praised for cleaning her room, not at the analogy of betraying her own kin. Kiku brewed in his own discomfort and the revelation for a short while before Zwingli cut in once again.
“You know much about those two?” the businessman nudged his head motioning to Kiku’s new neighbours. He shook his head and spoke the truth of knowing just as much as his partner did. “There’s something about them. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Lili’s voice, soft like a bird chimed in, “They are quite easy on the eyes brother.” and just as she uttered the words the two brother
Zwingli only scoffed in response and sipped his near cold coffee. That was not what bothered him.
--
“That Zwingli dude’s been staring at us.” Alfred tried to play it cool and look subtle in her observation. Matthew had gotten a magazine and was doing much better at the covert spying.
“No shit sherlock. He was looking at me like he wanted me roasted on a spit.”
“If you play your cards right maybe he will roast someone else. Get your work done quickly ya know.” Alfred grinned as his brother rolled his eyes. The two got up and headed out to explore earth’s delights, before the back and forth ogling got too suspicious to warrant a restraining order. Tomorrow the two had to go down to Hell and pop into Arthur’s office just to report on how they’ve settled.
“Do you Artie could tamper with my form a bit? I don’t know if I dig the whole classic American boy next door thing going on; being stuck in this for the next 200 years is just a bit dull.” Matthew huffed as they entered their apartment, the afternoon had already faded into a quiet evening.
“Ask him yourself. I was planning on going down tonight and staying there till Monday, to save me from dealing with human night cycles for a bit…”
“Already sick of human life?” Al sniggered before aiding his brother in positioning their candles on the floor in the trademark pentagram and conjuring up a rough but secure portal to their real abode. The walls of their earthly apartment crumbled as the two were engulfed in a blaze of bright and deadly flame. It was a quick half-second that they appeared in the glorious office of their higher up Arthur.
“Bloody hell, must you two always show up with the foulest stench? Clean up before you blast in” The demon with his huge grey wings cringed at his desk from the lingering odour of humans that had clung to Alfred and Matthew, that had invaded his office. Al shrugged, already past the stink of mortal life, and sauntered forward towards his boss.
“When were you gonna tell me Gil is a district manager up top huh?”
“It was in the case of file imbecile. and Matthew told me it would not interfere with your jobs- have you already screwed it up Matt-”
“Fuck off. Alfred just doesn’t read his crap.” Arthur’s brows were raised in surprise- Matthew, despite being a demon, had always been more diplomatic and civil compared to the lot of them.
“Ignore him, he’s bitter about the whole job transfer thing. Anyway, I know it all just began but when can we be transferred back to the patrol division- I already take back what I said about it being boring.” Arthur shot him a pestered look before reminding the pair that the contract would last for 200 years.
“I suppose it could be shortened though...the morality and ethics department have been missing dear old Mattie; it's not the same torturing people when you can’t use moralistic irony on them.” Matthew’s disdain snapped to sudden interest- he would do anything to get out the mess Alfred had gotten them into; he’d sell his soul if he had one. Alfred, on the other hand, was fiddling with some skulls that Arthur had been using as a paperweight as his brother negotiated terms to lower their sentence on earth.
“If you can finish your research, then I’ll get Francis to draft you guys back down here. Alfred will still be on suspension and on the petty crime division but back in hell nonetheless.” satisfied with such terms the 3 shook on it, signing a secondary contract that sizzled up into an invisible seal of demonic promise the moment the pen lifted off the scroll.
“I can’t keep playing favourites with you two, I’ve got other creatures on my payroll. I’m expecting Armageddon level chaos up there. No take-backs, and when I see the papers I want the murder to be fantastically gruesome and that company to be reeking of corporate greed- enough for the big man himself to come to knock by our offices. I need a fucking bonus down here..the newer recruits are all too wimpy to carry out real torture. Now go. The real work starts Monday” Arthur shooed them, flicking some invisible force that pushed them out of his office doors and into the hot underworld.
“Well I’m gonna stop M&E and witness the new sinners, everyone keeps saying the new wave of demons are inefficient. I won’t be back till we have to go back up top.” Matthew had already begun cracking his neck and stretching his spine as he grew out his dark maroon wings, faux-human form melting away as he began fluttering off into the distance. Alfred kicked the dust at his feet before stretching his arms with a bored yawn- his wings unfurled with a puff and he picked at his re-emerged fangs with complete monotony. Perhaps he should pay to those seedier creatures that lurked near his den around this time. Just as he made his way to his den, he saw some scuffling of some frazzled looking fledgeling- the tail of the little thing curling in panic.
“Hey. Why ya lurking around someone else's territory runt? Go back to your own nest..” the little thing had the tiniest wings, scruffy black feather with yellowish flecks that reminded him of Arthur. In fact, the hair on the top of the premature hell-raiser was reminiscent of his boss so much that it could not have been a coincidence. Oh, hell had Arthur pumped out another batch of fledgelings? Crap that guys ancient there’s like no way he’s got so much-
“Are you Alfred?” the thing squeaked out, some confidence spilling over as it turned to face Alfred's chest straight. Al decided to entertain the creature, he had nothing better to do till Monday anyway. Before he could finish nodding the creature jumped into a salute and yelled the most idiotic thing Al could ever imagine.
“COULD YOU SMUGGLE ME UP TOP?”
Just how dumb were the new fledgelings these days? Hell' has really gone down the drain...
#hetalia#america#hws america#hws japan#hetalia world stars#APH America#aph japan#america x japan#hws#Hetalia Fanfiction#alternate universe#demon!au#heta#multichapter#hetalia fandom#fanfc#fanfiction
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listen to me — chapter 38
LISTEN TO ME — 0038
listen to me masterlist;
WORDS: 1.7K
Jinah felt as if she were walking beside a heavy storm cloud that would start shooting lightning everywhere at any moment. It was a surprise to see that Jade was willing — as far as possible — to go to class that Monday, given that she could barely sleep the night before and everything around her made her want to cry repeatedly, but, Jinah was starting to believe the idea had not been so good. Perhaps it would have been better if the american had stayed at home, the motives were explicit on her face.
— "Jade" — after looking at her out of the corner of her eye more than four times and holding on to herself not to keep a safe distance, Jinah finally spoke, using as much caution as she could muster. — "Is everything alright?"
Obviously it was not all right, but Choi never thought that crossing the campus next to one of her best friends would become so tense. Jade was no longer crying, though the makeup covering her face — including all the freckles, which, unfortunately, she made a point of hiding — made it clear that her intention was to hide her dark circles and her haggard expression. Her jaw was clenched, and Jinah, in all the years she had known Kang, could tell with conviction that she had never seen her carry such a sharp look. Truth be told, Jieun looked ready to do a massacre. It was a little scary.
Jinah had her question completely ignored. The same had happened to Chan, a little while earlier, still in the kitchen of their shared apartment. With Felix too, when they met at the college entrance and he came to know how she was doing. All of this generated some pressure, as if she were a time bomb. It got worse as Jade walked straight past her office building and headed toward the life sciences building.
— "Where are you going?" — asked Jinah, again in vain. She would have an appraisal exercise in seven minutes, but she felt that, if she let the american do what she was going to do on her own, it would definitely go wrong. — "At least wait for me!"
Jade entered the corridors like a hurricane. Little did she know which way she was going, her eyes just darting over the little plates above the doors, and when she finally read 'Biomedicine — Ninth Period', she didn't think twice before entering the room. Luckily, there weren't many people waiting for the professor yet, but the one she wanted to find was standing right in front of her. Kang left no warning before gathering all the strength she had in her body, clenching her fist and punching Josh's face, who fell to the ground with shock.
— "Jade!" — scolded Jinah, pulling her friend by the arm. — "It could cause you to be expelled from college, you idiot!"
— "I warned you that you weren't supposed to come into my life with Changbin, didn't I?" — Jieun practically spat in Josh's face. A trickle of blood ran down the boy's nose, who couldn't take his eyes off of the floor. — "I thought I could trust you!"
— "Calm down" — Hyunjin got up from his desk and joined Jinah in trying to continue the mission of controlling the american girl's nerves. — "Jinah's right, this is no time or place to work it out."
— "I could take the case to the dean right now and get you in a lot of trouble," — muttered Josh, blankly, still not looking up or even making to get up.
— "Well, do it!" — answered Jade. — "So I'm free to break the rest of this cynical face of yours!"
The way Josh was acting was totally and completely contradictory. He barely had the courage to look Kang in the eye, such was his shame and regret, yet he still acted like an idiot because it seemed a thousand times easier than stepping on his own pride, apologizing, and accepting that this fight was no longer his, that Changbin had won that time. Josh loved Jade, but Jade loved Changbin. And now she hated Josh. It hurt.
— "You talk like it's just my fault..." — and it really was, but maybe he deserved the punch and a little more. Damn the dean and all the bureaucracy. — "Since you even closed your eyes..."
Like fire finding gasoline, Jade went up on Josh again, needing Jinah and Hyunjin to stop her from reaching Lee. Angry and frustrated, she tired of debating uselessly and shoved her two friends, then left the room with the same speed she had entered. Jinah sighed and exchanged a discouraged look with Hyunjin, who, nonetheless, reached out and helped Josh to his feet, but made no point of saying anything to the latter.
And it was still only Monday.
♡˖°
Minhwan lit another cigarette.
The perfectly glazed car was smelling of smoke, but he didn't give a shit. Standing under the shade of a tree, a few yards from the college's main gates, he had more important things to think and worry about.
The distance he was in did not allow him to see exactly, but, after so many days of doing the same routine, he had become accustomed to the condition of seeing her only from afar. And it was almost unbelievable to think that time could only make Jinah more and more beautiful.
Minhwan felt hate, but also felt love. Sounds crazy, but you can't blame him, after all, that's what he is. A crazy, insane, unbalanced, delirious, wild and every other synonym found in the dictionary. However, like everything else in this life, he had reason to be so, since living on crumbs while spending most of the day following someone from afar as a hallucinated was not a choice any sane person would choose to make.
It used to be like a light at the end of the tunnel. Darkness was everywhere, but there was a speck that he pinned his hopes on and clung tightly when everything else pressed down on him. Minhwan was only sixteen when he met Jinah — his little flame in the middle of a freezing night —, and, from then on, the weight on his shoulders became much more bearable. He hadn't had a chance to find out what many people's hearts had to offer, but, of the few that had ever done him any good in his life, Choi was certainly, the most valuable. There is not always someone who is willing to sew a heart full of cuts.
Minhwan had been raised by his maternal grandmother since his mother died at his father's dirty hands and was sent to prison. He had no siblongs, thank God, so he wouldn’t have to witness another innocent child suffer all that he had suffered as a child. The marks were everywhere, both on his body and his soul. At the time, Minhwan didn't have many friends to talk to, but he was pretty sure the parents of the other street kids didn't do what his did when they were alone at home. And even as an adult, he still couldn't find enough words to describe exactly how he felt, just carried the unwanted whimpers in his nightmares and a screaming horror in his heart. When his grandmother also died, it was as if the old bricks supported by only a crumbling pillar collapsed and threw their heavy debris on his back — the world came to the ground. And then, Jinah appeared.
Minhwan didn't believe there was a more amazing person on Earth. Even with all his faults, Choi had accepted him and made herself available to cure him of all his suffering. Her smiles functioned more like infinite anti-inflammatories that sent the pain far away and spread tranquility through every cell of his body. Minhwan loved her so much he felt his chest sting, and strongly believed she would be by his side forever. But then came insecurity and fear.
After so many early losses, he had taken some trauma from too strong relationships. Jinah had a lot of friends and much more uncomplicated and interesting people to talk to; so, anyone who approached and took one of her kind smiles was already viewed as an opponent by Minhwan. The boy never wanted to lose her, only that possibility made the scars in his heart ache as if they might reopen. And Jinah always knew so much cooler guys! Guys who knew how to be romantics, who were prettier, who had more money, who could offer her so much more than an obsessive love! Although Choi had never cared about these things or disrespected him at some point in their relationship, it was impossible for Minhwan not to let jealousy gradually overwhelm his conscience, causing him to make threats, be aggressive and extremely controlling, act impulsively and hurt one of the only people who really cared about him, all for fear of losing.
But it was no use, because he lost anyway. Now, he couldn't even get close to Jinah thanks to the subpoena he received when Choi informed the police that she was uncomfortable with his presence. Not that he cared about laws or court orders, but, on second thought, it was even better, since Minhwan didn't want to do anything ahead of time and wasn't sure what would be his reaction to being face to face with the boy who lately only knew how to draw passionate glances from his girl.
Han Jisung. Minhwan hated him. He was pretty sure Han didn't deserve all the love Jinah gave him, just as he didn't love Choi enough — in Minhwan’s tormented head, no one would love Jinah more than himself. It was simply unbearable to see them kissing or walking hand in hand on the street, it looked like a misplaced piece in a complicated puzzle. Minhwan wanted Jisung to disappear once and for all... He wanted to disappear too. Or rather, wanted to find peace... But he couldn't do it without Jinah.
Although now she looked genuinely happy, as when Minhwan promised.
Yeah... Maybe Jinah should disappear too.
Everything's gonna be okay.
a/n: things are going downhill lol
I decided to talk a little bit about how Minhwan feels not to be like in those stories that the couple is having a wonderful time and out of nowhere a crazy idiot appears to end it and that's it. I didn't put it in all the words, but I imagine you guys understood that he was abused by his father when he was little and this generates an absurd trauma to any child, especially if not treated with a specialist doctor, so this is one of the reasons why he's kind of crazy like that.
Josh is not just another sucker either, he just has a hard time dealing with his feelings and that makes him stupid most of the time, but I ask you guys to calm down. You guys don't even have to like him yet, I just want to say that, like Chaerin from the beginning of the au, his attitudes don't show everything he really is.
and speaking of Chaerin, let's add Seungmin and say that they are missing in 'Listen To Me', don't you guys think? I at least think that and already advance that the two little angels will soon be between us
can I ask you guys to tell me your expectations? if you guys are liking it or what you expect. I haven't asked this for a long time and I always like to know, so don't be afraid to tell me :)
I'm leaving now, Ily and see you guys in the next chapter <3
#stray kids#skz#stray kids au#stray kids angst#stray kids fics#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids reactions#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut#skz au#skz angst#skz fics#skz imagines#skz reactions#skz scenarios#skz smut#multifandom#bang chan#woojin#minho#changbin#hyunjin#han#jisung#felix#seungmin#jeongin#kpop#kpop au
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Itchy Numbers
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f8d3a12b5be1d2db0df42d382681c464/tumblr_pkxni6Mq8p1rvn0dh_540.jpg)
This is totally not proof read or edited or anything and was written in a day but hey ho. I loved this prompt from instagram and wanted to give it a go. Thinking of maybe extending it to be an avengers fic, maybe Bucky, or cap, or stucky? Let me know what you think, much love as always xox
Words: 1,641
Staring down at your arm, the itchiness unbearable but perversely welcome. Six months you’d been living in this cell, six months you’d been forced to live through things no one should ever have to live through. Six months you’d been hating yourself and resenting everything that led to you being here. The itch was a physical sign of that hate. With each day this itch occurred, the hate you had for yourself increased and burned brighter and hotter, it was starting to boil and bubble over. Which, you suppose, was exactly what they wanted. You were breaking.
Six months ago you had a normal life. You were a normal college student. You didn’t sleep enough, you drank too much, you worked two jobs, you spent hours in the library on your assignments, you ran to clear your mind, and you took self defence classes like every other girl living in a large city. Until you weren’t.
Walking home one night, you felt the familiar feeling of being followed. Trusting your instincts you changed the route you were taking immediately, crossing the road and looping around the block once more. Except they’d been watching. They knew you, knew what you’d think, what you’d do. Before you could grasp what was happening, one man had grabbed your right arm hard, swinging you round so you were facing the buildings at the side of the road. Another man stepped out of the shadows, grasping something that looked suspiciously like a knife, who quickly lunged at you, swinging his arm out towards you.
Instinct, and years of self defence classes, kicked in and you blocked his arm, pushing him back into a wall, smacking his wrist into the brick as you’d been taught, forcing him to drop the knife. However this wasn’t like class, this wasn’t one on one sparring with friends. This was three men who had clearly targeted you, and you just wanted to survive. Swiftly dodging various kicks and punches, you tried to keep an eye on all three, but as the chaos continued it was harder for you to fight and see where the others were. Suddenly pain spread across your shoulders and neck, the unexpected impact winding you before everything went black.
Upon waking up, it didn’t take long to realise your arms and legs had been strapped down to what was reminiscent of an 1960’s dentists chair, the room around you, the epitome of laboratory meets industrial chic. Machines and various pieces of testing equipment lined the work surfaces, the floor and walls both a depressing sight of endless smoothed concrete. Your mind thinking of only one reason why both would be so similar as it takes in a small feature in floor nearby your ‘seat’; easy clean up. The small drain next to you, taunting your anxious mind. You could feel the panic rising as you began feeling more and more claustrophobic in your own skin. Trying to calm yourself you look to your hands, counting your fingers, remembering having read somewhere that you never have ten fingers in a dream. Whilst counting you started to realise the odd position you had been tied in; your left arm had been tied down in a normal relaxed position, but your right arm had been pulled out so that it was almost fully extended and tied down with the palm of your hand parallel to the ceiling. The numbers just below the crease of your elbow were easily read with how your arm was placed, but why did they need to be? It was the only benefit of your arm being tied like that. Well that or taking blood, but there was no evidence of that, and taking blood from an unconscious donor would certainly be easier as they don’t have a choice.
It wasn’t as though your number was particularly impressive or unique. Everyone has a number on their arm, most numbers that you had seen were between 0 and 5, yours fitting this pattern, 1.2. Although you once met a professor whose number was 11, though he was a world leading in his specialism so you could understand that. For each number, supposedly, was a percentage that represented the individuals importance and influence in what happened in the world. With how many people there are alive, it was understandable that not many people had large numbers, one person couldn’t possibly have that much influence over the world. The largest number you’d ever heard of someone happening was your current president. It had come up during the presidential campaign and it turned out she had the number 60 clear as day printed on her skin. So why did they want you?
That became all too clear.
“You’re even feistier than we thought. Perfect.” We’re the words that greeted you when people eventually came to see you.
Most of your memories from that moment to this involve pain. Pain from all the injections, pain from all the beatings, pain from being “trained” like the soldier they decided you were to be, pain from the heartbreak you were experiencing from being ripped from your old life. Every day you’re dragged into that laboratory and indicted with various concoctions designed to ‘improve’ you. After that was the physical training, structured around your ‘improvement’. Though what they defined as an improvement was questionable. They wanted you to be stronger, faster, more agile, more aggressive, to feel less. They wanted a mindless soldier. What they wanted more than anything else though, was a soldier that mattered. They wanted to prove that you could change the numbers imprinted on arms worldwide, and they would do that with you.
Every night you would sit on your small bed, that was really no more than a pile of blankets and old cushions on the floor, and cry at what had become of you and what you had lost. Being caught crying however, led to further pain, further beatings and more reasons to cry. You could also feel the changes that were being made to you, in you. This bastard itch, was the main one. When one of the many chemical concoctions succeeded in altering who you were, the itch would come. You would burn in that one spot where the numbers could be seen, desperately needing to itch. You couldn’t bring yourself to. The itch was addictive, and a reminder of how life was never going to be like before. You were never going to be that girl again.
The strangest thing about the itch though, was that whenever it came, the numbers on your arm became more and more unclear. What was your importance now? Did you even matter in the world anymore? These questions stayed etched onto your mind, amplified every time the itch came around.
The sound of your cell door being unlocked shook you from your memories; it was time to be a lab rat once more. Although today was different, you could feel it. The general hum about the laboratory was a thousand times louder than on any other day you could remember, which may not be too many to be fair. Instead of taking you to your usual chair, the guards dragging you around stopped in the corner of the laboratory today, in front of a large metal contraption.
There were more gauges and valves and handles on the front of this machine than you had seen around the entire compound you had been held in. What this could do, you really didn’t want to know. You had a strong suspicion that this was today’s test, and it was going to hurt. As always photos were taken of the blurry 1.2 on your arm, before a side door to this large machine was opened and you were pushed inside. As all the doors were locked in place, water started pouring into the compartment, the cold water almost refreshing, although not quite enough to override the panic you were feeling. Were you about to drown?
“You won’t be submerged for long, though I recommend you take a large breathe.” The only comfort you received as the water reached your neck. Though it was far more than you usually received. not wanting to infuriate or anger them after such kindness, you nodded eagerly, trying to show appreciation, hoping they could see through the tiny window.
Taking in a large breathe and squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed the water wouldn’t submerge you for long, this compartment making you feel incredibly claustrophobic without the addition of water. The sound of valves being turned and handles pulled echoed softly through the water. Bubbles swirled around your body, the speed they moved at changing with every soft noise passing your ears. Suddenly the water felt as though it were about to boil, the temperature shooting it almost immediately. The pain of the scalding water almost too much to bare, you fought to remain calm, you had to keep holding your breathe, you had to survive this. Almost as quickly as the heat and the pain arrived, so did a sense of calm and peace, although it did not remove the pain you felt. The water drained with great speed and you all but fell out of the machine upon the compartment doors being opened again.
Physically, nothing seemed to have changed besides the pain you felt. It was soon discovered that one thing had changed. Opening your eyes, you saw three scientists grinning down at you like you were their prized animal at a country show. Checking yourself over to try and determine why, you soon gasped, a feeling of terror building in your head, though it didn’t quite reach your heart.
Your arm no longer read 1.2. You had become what they’d dreamed of all along.
The number on your arm now? 99.
Part 2
Masterlist
#studentville-struggles#rachel tries to write#imagine#imagines#writing prompt#short fic#do you like it#avengers fic#avengers#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#avengers drabble#avengers x reader#stucky#stucky x reader#what do you think?#writing#trash#cap x reader#cap#captain america x reader#captain america fic
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Soul Food: The Fine Arts - Sugar Shacks
By: Natalee Gilbert
With open arms, Soul Food: The Fine Arts took in all walks of life and allowed passionate creatives to express theirselves freely. Beyond a non-existent canvas, souls were captivated by the performer’s artistic flair. Through the means of all-around awareness, relatability and just having fun — Soul Food: The Fine Arts created a settling ambience. But really, it was everyone involved who made this event worthwhile. It was hard to not take notice of the musician and poet’s way with words. In the hands of urgency, they reeled out inner thoughts, doubts even fears. Other times, they would lend a hand (with precaution). Still, everyone was there to simply enjoy the arts. Sparks flied, friendships rekindled and networks formulated in a smooth manner.
A tale of all tales — Soul Food: The Fine Arts is one for the books. Certainly, this event will go down in history.
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Here are 5 creatives that I had the pleasure to speak to with at this diverse event and thank you Big Dawg K for the opportunity:
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/efa7fa7832c5ede28a51bc64c1d4841c/3a367e20a68bc6ca-49/s540x810/c98d8dccc02e09e5e097acc4b16f63898063dc6f.jpg)
Ivan Polanco: A singer/songwriter who creates R&B and acoustic pop music — Ivan Polanco is one who provides within his lyrics that he’s just a young man growing up in this day in age. Sure, every guy has love/heartbreak songs but for him its to a certain extent. In his perspective, his music speaks about what a young man encompasses during his growth. Sonically, Ivan’s voice embodies real emotion and care. Moreso, it’s very soft, crystallized and adaptable to change when needed be. Initially Polanco started his music career with the drums. Since his dad was also fond of singing and songwriting, he would play the drums for him from time to time. But Pacheco’s dad seen it more as a hobby. Being a self-taught musician, Ivan decided to dabble into singing and sought to write his own music. A source says that Polanco knew Big Dawg K earlier on. But they lost contact, reconnected and discovered (10 years later) that they both were still making music. In a span of 9 years, Polanco has released 4 albums. Currently, he’s working on another called To Grow. Essentially, it comes with the notion that “this man is 26,” he’s grateful for those he’s encountered and very proud of his journey. Besides being an artist, Polanco is a personal trainer. His advice to all is to be happy with who you are. “Find your voice.” he adds.
LINKS:
1. Website: https://ivanpolanco.com/home
2. Instagram: @ivanpolanco.music
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Bobby Sanchez: Bobby Sanchez is one who passes it forward. In the name of education — Sanchez does his part in informing the world about current issues that are (sometimes) unheard of. But really, he wants to be more than heard. Sanchez aims to decolonize the way others think and reconstruct the past in a narrative that’s centered around the indigenous perspective. Apart from this, Sanchez’s cadence depicts the pain felt by our ancestors. In pursuit, his words are taken with much intensity and remembrance. A 24 year old hip-hop artist and poet from New Rochelle, New York — Bobby Sanchez started writing raps/poetry seriously after leaving high school. Back then, it helped him to find purpose and healed him from the depression he was going through at the time so, he went with it. At the break of dawn, Sanchez keeps his family in mind because they keep him motivated. Funnily enough, his ancestors are also a source for inspiration. Sanchez adds “I can feel their [his ancestors] presence on a daily basis.” A strength of his in music, comes from the truth. “It takes courage to speak out against issues that others are not talking about.” For instance, his song “Pasion” was him, looking within to find a truth. To warm up, he reads books about new concepts so it can be added between the lines of his rhymes. “Most books have to do with colonialism, relating to Latin America, as well as indigenous cosmology.” Sanchez says. Currently, Sanchez is sitting on about 9-10 songs. He plans on releasing them every week for the next couple of months.
LINKS:
1. Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/bobbysanchezmusic
2. Instagram: @bobbysanchezmusic
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Lady Kay: The saying “..walk a mile in someone else's shoes.” goes a pretty long way. Especially when you’re Lady Kay. At most, empathic — Lady Kay possesses the skill to feel and understand. As part of her execution, Lady Kay gives a powerful delivery when it comes to speaking the world’s truth. Still, it gets tough for her to do so, when revealing her own. To define her style, Kay says its moreso persona poems. Essentially, Kay goes into their perspective but it can get difficult at times when she has to come for herself. For instance Kay’s poem ‘Don’t Sleep With An Artist’ takes a jab at those who get romantically involved with artist. And funnily enough, she is an artist. Sometimes, she even offends those who listen unintentionally because they believe her poem is about them. But, she’s just doing her part through bold statements and social awareness. Lady Kay put the pen to the pad in 3rd grade. Then she pursued spoken word after high school. Kay adds “I’m not really emotional, but I can write out feelings.” Really, this is what pushed her towards poetry. Now, Kay is apart of a collective called Femsovl. The goal for all 3 is to create events that are calm, cool and collected. In Kay’s words, she relates with this: “To speak your truth whether on a soap box or stage. Its all you" From her poetry, Lady Kay wants others to feel the intensity. She is currently working on a book that’ll include short stories, interactive pieces and illustrations.
LINKS:
1. Instagram: @kaybeethelady
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Smoove Babii: One who armors the heart on his sleeve — Smoove Babii speaks from within and astounds others with his familiarity on personal experiences. But really, he self-identifies as “a fireball of energy who just demands attention with his presence.” Smoove Babii comes with the intent of being a safe haven for those who need it. He’d like for people to feel safe when they tune in. However, what he really means is that he’d like for others to feel safe being theirselves. Babii adds “I want them to feel safe by knowing their not the only ones in life going through or has been through what they might experience.” In a passionate tonality, Babii is able to reel out inner emotions. To put it further, his poetry is raw, aggressive and often times, understanding. Likewise, there’s no theme to his mastery. “My mood really determines how creative my poetry gets.” Smoove Babii says. Speaking of which, his favorite verse out of his poems is: What to do? Is the question I ask myself every day. MJ has been trying to tell us for years that, THEY DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT US! So, I talk to THE MAN IN THE MIRROR as I put my coat on. Everybody wants to be THRILLER but they out there trying to make us GHOST! I get BUTTERFLIES in my stomach every time I walk out my door. Seeing who's trying to ROCK WITH ME! Hope my family doesn't have to REMEMBER THE TIMES I MOONWALK back through my door. Look at my brothers as JACKSON 5 and go to school to learn my ABCs and make it easy as 123 and stop leaving BILLY JEANS and chasing these girls to ROCK THEY WORLD! We all are not SCARECROWS, WE ALL HAVE BRAINS, we must show them that WE ARE NOT ALONE and together we are INVINCIBLE so they can just BEAT IT with all those images of all us being SMOOTH CRIMINALS! This is bigger than being BLACK OR WHITE, that's why I get down on my knees and pray at night. Not to forgive me for my sins or beg to let me in but for forgiveness, just in case the cops have to JOE JACKSON me and I can't see my kids.
From Smoove Babii’s upcoming poetry expect it to be more personal, deep, and talk about adventures that have formed him into who he is. Also, expect poetry albums and poetry EP’s as well. Maybe even a collab with Oliver The Writer. His first EP is out now on SoundCloud. It’s called Welcome To My Ghetto Gospel.
LINKS:
1. Soundcloud: https://m.soundcloud.com/user-515974176/sets/welcome-to-my-ghetto-gospel
2. Instagram: @smoovebabii
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Acoustic Cat: Acoustic Cat reminds us why we fell in love with music to begin with. As he goes to great lengths to bring back fine tunes, Acoustic Cat adds his flair through guitar progressions and gruffness. Likewise, Cat goes for a sound that’s more 60’s-70’s. To start off, Acoustic Cat got his big break after joining a rock/medal band. Although he toured around New York City with them and considered them “brothers”, Cat ventured off on his own. To describe what he goes for, its moreso a “naked” sound. In a word it’s an exploration of rock, jazz and everything in between. On the other hand, Acoustic Cat says his now-solo career is a learning curve. But the more he does it, the easier it gets. One message he tries to tell others is to stay positive. Through life’s ups and downs, Cat won’t stop until his sound becomes universal.
LINKS:
1. Website: www.acousticcat.com
2. Instagram: @theacousticcat
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