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idrawprettyboys · 2 years ago

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Ishtar’s Harem: 2nd draft

Chapter 1 (April 2023)

A young woman named Rose sat in a hospital bed. She just narrowly survived a heart attack. All the stress of modern life proved to be too much for her. In order to support herself and her two children, she worked long hours, staring at computer screens and taking calls from angry strangers. Even when at home, she found herself constantly on call, ready to answer her coworkers’ and customers’ questions, because she wanted to prove to herself and her higher-ups that she was a good worker. She put work above all else. In this fast-paced, electronically-driven society, where everyone is constantly busy and constantly staring at a screen, one can’t afford to take a moment to relax. Time is money. Money is necessary. She couldn’t allow herself to take any time off work… and this is what it did to her.

Rose sat there, feeling defeated, with IVs in her arm. She looked out the window, listlessly. Is this what it all comes to? She asked herself. All this time and effort put into making ends meet? What’s the point of it all? I’ve been working so hard to feed myself and my kids. With this economy, how is a woman supposed to survive on her own? Her shoulders felt heavy. Her whole body felt weak. Is this what life is about? Where’s the light at the end of the tunnel? It’s all so overwhelming. And for what? Just to survive? I want to live.

As she thought that, she heard a knock on the hospital room door. “Come in,” she said, as she turned curiously to the door.

A mysterious young man with blue hair in a ponytail walked into the room. He wore a brown suit and held a bouquet of lively red roses in his hand.

Rose had never seen this man before. “Who are you?” She asked, slightly confused.

“My name is Lazuli,” he said. His voice, which was so strong yet so gentle, seemed to echo through the room. “I was sent here to help you.”

“Do you,” she paused for a second as she observed the stranger, “work here?”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I was simply informed of your problem, your overwhelming stress,” he walked confidently yet quietly to the other side of the bed, and stood in front of the window, so that the waning sunlight created a golden glow around his mysterious form, “and I want to help you. I have an offer. A vacation, if you will.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Try someone else,” she scoffed. “My bank account is already sucked dry from the ambulance and hospital bills. Try preying on another patient.”

“No, madam, you misunderstand me,” he said, with a smile. “It’s completely free.”

“A free vacation?” She raised both eyebrows this time.

“That’s right,” he said.

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, sarcastically, while reaching for the bell to call a nurse.

“No, wait!” The man lost his elegant stature and nearly dropped the bouquet. “Please, hear me out!”

“What’s in it for you?” Rose asked, without bothering to hide her distrust.

Lazuli’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath. He exhaled and explained. “The woman I love more than life itself saw you suffering,” he said. “She couldn’t bear to see your pain, and she wants to help you in any way she can. So she sent me here to make this offer to you… to spend some time at her resort, with hope of alleviating your pain. My selfish desire in this is to make my beloved happy, and to do that, I must make you happy. So please, consider my offer.” His sparkling amethyst eyes looked at her imploringly.

This seems to mean a lot to him, she thought. I’ve certainly never heard something like this from a scam artist before, so maybe he’s telling the truth, but… “Who is she?” Rose asked aloud. “This woman that you love? How does she know me? Why would she care?”

“She asked to remain anonymous,” he responded, “but it’s someone you work with. She saw you collapse.”

Oh, she put it together. It must have been Alice, she realized. She had been worrying about me for a while, and she was there at the office with the others when I had a heart attack. She must’ve paid for a vacation for me. She sighed a breath of relief. “Alice is too good to me,” she said aloud. “Alice told me there was a guy who was interested in her. You seem very devoted, so you have my approval.” She finally had a smile on her face.

“So, what do you say?” He asked. “Will you take up her offer?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said with a shrug. “I could use a break.”

“Wonderful,” he said, with a wide smile. Then he held out the roses. “She will be happy to hear that.”

Rose reached out to grab the bouquet. “Oh, are my kids included?” She tried to ask, but as she touched the flowers, they glowed with a blinding light that spread to the whole room. She dropped the bouquet, closed her eyes tightly, and covered her face, as she hunched over in her hospital bed.

After a split second that felt like an eternity, Rose opened her eyes. She saw blankets on her lap in front of her, but they were different, made of red silk, instead of the white cotton hospital sheets. She blinked, as her eyes were still weary from the light, and then looked around.

Huh? was all her brain could muster, as she tried processing the unfamiliar room around her. She was sitting on a gorgeous, king-sized bed with golden poles and a red canopy. The room had beige mud-brick walls and floors. On the floor was a large, ornate carpet of red and gold. Every corner of the room had potted plants with large, verdant leaves. In the top left corner was a fig plant. The bottom right corner had an iris. The other two had potted palm trees. Antique furniture lined the walls. One piece to the left of her bed looked like a vanity, with a tall mirror. Something by the door on the left looked like it may be a dresser. Then there was a desk and chair to the right of that. In the center of the room was a round table with a large bowl full of what she assumed was rosewater, going by the petals floating in it. To the right of where she sat was, not a window, but a doorway. It was an arch that led out onto a balcony. She could feel a warm, comfortable breeze through it.

She looked at her arms and realized that not only were the IVs not attached, but her arms looked different. They were tan and thin, yet strong. She flipped them around a few times to get a good look at them. What happened? She wondered. These didn’t look like her arms. She looked down and saw a heaving chest. Her breasts were never this large, her stomach never this flat. She quickly threw off her covers and jumped out of bed and straight to the vanity mirror.

She couldn’t believe it. That isn’t me! She thought, with absolute certainty. Yet there was no mistaking it… the person in the mirror moved as she moved. When she looked down and around and brought her hair to her face, everything was the same as the mysterious woman in the mirror! Her brown hair had turned black, and was ornately styled with numerous braids. Her face was different too. She now had a thin, small face, with a delicately pointed chin, big, beautiful emerald green eyes with long, luscious lashes, a medium sized nose, and delicate, petal-like lips. She played around with her facial expressions, moving her eyebrows up and down, puckering her lips, and so forth, to test out this mysterious face.

Her body was voluptuous and beautiful. She was wearing something like a toga. It was a simple, white piece of cloth, draped across her beautiful body. She used to be a B-cup, but her breasts now looked like Ds. They were so perfectly shaped. She couldn’t help but hold them in her hands for a moment to feel their weight and make sure they were real. Her hands slid down her surprisingly toned belly. She turned around in front of the tall mirror. It let her see her gorgeous, shapely butt. She didn’t know what kind of weird dream this was, but she wasn’t in any hurry to wake up. She beamed as she admired her new form.

“Glad to see you’re settling in well,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the room.

Rose jumped and looked over to the arch doorway, where Lazuli stood. This was definitely the man from the hospital, but something was different. His suit was replaced with a similar toga-like outfit. It was of a bright saffron that contrasted with his hair.

“How long have you been standing there?!” She asked, aggressively, alarmed that he saw her fondle herself. Then, she scrunched her face in confusion and held a hand to her throat. It wasn’t the fact that her voice was different. She expected that. What was weird was that she just spoke a language she had never heard before.

“That’s Akkadian,” Lazuli said with a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”

“What’s going on?!”

“This is your vacation,” he said, casually. “Allow me to explain. You were summoned here, not by your friend Alice, but by my goddess, Ishtar.”

“Ishtar?” She echoed, while she pulled her head back in surprise.

“Yes, Ishtar, the Mesopotamian goddess of love, sex, and beauty!”

“You’re pulling my leg!”

“Does it look like I am?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, as he spread an arm out in the direction of her body. “My beloved goddess is letting you borrow her form. As I said, she hated to see you suffer, so she thought the best way for you to enjoy yourself would be to live her life… the carefree life of a beloved goddess.”

“W-wait, how am I her?” Rose asked, bewildered. “I mean, I see that I certainly look like a goddess. I can’t argue there. But how can I just borrow someone’s body?”

“Divine magic.”

“Yeah, but,” Rose paused and tried to catch her breath. Her heart was racing. “If I’m in her body, where is she? Don’t tell me she’s in my hospital bed?”

“Oh, no,” he shook his head and chuckled. “She’s still in there, with you. Her mind is just sitting back and watching you at the moment. Mind you, she’s a goddess. So she enjoys watching humans. If you need her, she’s right there with you. At times, you might feel unfamiliar thoughts or feelings. Those would be Ishtar’s. But don’t worry. She won’t take over. Not until you’re ready to go back to your world.”

“My world,” she repeated the term, bewildered. “So, where am I exactly?”

“I was waiting for you to ask.” His body turned, and he looked back at her. “Come with me,” he beckoned, with a jerk of his head, out to the balcony.

She followed him out to the balcony, and was blown away by the sight. She was many stories into the air, and below was a gorgeous city of sand-colored buildings, stretching out to the horizon. People and palm trees were scattered around. The city was bustling and happy. She could see an outdoor market with lots of vendors, and people relaxing on the flat brick rooftops. In the distance was a wall, and past that was a desert, with sand that contrasted with the bright blue sky. It was breathtaking.

He put a hand on her left shoulder and whispered into her right ear, “welcome to Babylon.”

She jumped back. “Who said you could touch me?” she assumed an offensive position, as though she was going to punch him. “Would you touch your goddess like that?!”

His golden cheeks lifted into a big grin and turned slightly rose gold as he laughed hard, as though that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. “Milady,” he tried to calm down his laughter, “I’ll have you know that touching the goddess is my duty.”

“Excuse me?”

He wiped a laughter-induced tear away. “Please keep in mind that while you are here, you are the goddess,” he informed her. “A goddess’s devotees, worshippers, servants, whichever you wish to call us… Our life’s mission… our reason for living, is to please our goddess.” He gestured towards her body with both hands this time, but it didn’t seem like his message was sinking in. “You’re the goddess of sex, milady,” he said with a smile and with a tilt of his head. “Please be mindful of that.”

Rose just stood there and blinked.

“I’ll leave you alone for a moment to let things sink in,” he said, as he started walking back through the arch. His orange robe flowed behind him. “I’ll be in the hallway.”

“Wait!” She exclaimed, in a sudden panicked tone. “Where’s my phone?! I have to let everyone know where I am! I can’t take much more time off of work! I need to check on my kids! Everyone is going to be looking for me! I wasn’t expecting the vacation to be immediate, and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting it to be in another world! So you better give me my phone this instant! Because you totally tricked me!”

He sighed. “You can’t have your phone right now,” he said. “Modern electronics can’t exist in this world. You’re in ancient times, after all. I’m sorry to tell you that cell phones didn’t exist in 1700 BC.” He added, with a laugh. “Now, don’t fret.” He held a hand up towards her obviously fretful face, as though that would suddenly stop her from fretting. “Time is frozen in your world. Meaning you can spend as much time here as you’d like, and it will be like you never even left your world. From their perspective, you’re still in that hospital bed. And no one will move an inch while you’re gone. Check this out.” This time, he beckoned with his arm and his whole upper body, towards the table in the center of the bedroom.

Rose hesitantly followed Lazuli. He stood over the bowl of rosewater. He dipped the tip of his middle finger into the water and stirred. To Rose’s surprise, an image appeared, like a photograph. Lazuli took his hand away, and Rose could see the image clearly. It showed her daughters, Lily and Chrys, playing with their grandmother. They weren’t moving, but they were safe.

Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

Lazuli smiled, as though he had accomplished something good. But this was only the beginning. This girl still had a lot more relaxing to do before Ishtar would be happy.

He showed her images of her friends and coworkers as well. Anyone that she asked about, she could see. “And whenever you want to see any of them,” he added, “feel free to dip your gorgeous fingers in there and give it a whirl. Though I promise they’ll still be in the same position every time.”

“And they don’t get hurt from being still for so long?” Rose asked. She was having trouble fighting back her usual anxiety.

“No, no,” he assured her, “they aren’t literally stuck in that pose for a long time. It’s just that we’re in a different dimension. Whatever happens here doesn’t affect that dimension and happens separately from it. So time isn’t passing at all in that world. Not just for them, but for everyone. It’s not that everyone’s frozen. It’s just that when we go back, you’ll go back to the exact time and place when you left. You touched Ishtar’s roses at 6:42 pm on Monday, April 17th… I could go into the seconds and milliseconds and further, but I’ll spare you the extraneous stuff. But trust me, we’ll get you back to that exact moment. Nothing will have happened in your absence. And the best part is, you can spend as much time here as you want!”

“Oh,” she said, trying to let things sink in, “okay.”

Lazuli was about to exit the bedroom, but when he had his hand on the doorknob, he turned back around, and added “oh, right, I forgot to mention… The other servants don’t know about the situation. They all believe you are their goddess. Please go along with this belief. While you are here, you are her holiness. You aren’t lying or hurting anyone by assuming her position. It is her will, and her servants wish for nothing but to please her. So please, allow them to dote on you as they would Ishtar, because that would make Ishtar and her worshippers very happy.”

“They won’t be mad that I’m pretending to be their goddess?”

“Not at all,” he assured her.

“Then can’t I tell them?”

“You can,” he bit his lip and tilted his head from side to side, “but I don’t want it to hinder your enjoyment. Please allow yourself to feel like a goddess. Please don’t be afraid to let them pamper you as they would her. Remember, this is your vacation.”

#Ishtar’s harem #original novel #light novel #reverse harem #Ishtar #mesopotamia #Babylon

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isekaisyouwithmyforearmlaser · 8 months ago

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i seriously dont know what to do i work and work and work my fucking ass off and i have no education no friends that understand no family to help me nothing. my brother i let him stay with me amd he says thanks but putting out his cigarettes on my littles sisters bed and tearing her sheets with a knife and now i have to get her a new mattress and i cant affoed that. all i want if i HAVE to fucking live all i want is to give my little sister the life i couldnt have. i just want to help her go to college or whatever else she wants to do. i want her to never be afraid or ever be homeless of ever go hungry . i want her to be safe and i dont want my odler brother anywhere near her. but i am so fucking mad i struggle just to feed us, i dont have the time for her cause i have to work so hard, my little brother i let live with me drove mu electric bill up to 800 FUCKING DOLLARS, sometimes, i think my little sister would be better off without me. but then ivremember she has no one else just like me. i have to live and i hate every minute of it. i havent felt genuinely happy in months. ive just been numb and numbing it all i just dont know how much longe ri can do this. i cant even afford better shoes for myself and my body hurts so fucking much everyday and my lower back has been getting extra sore. im just tired. i sleep whenever im not working and its not enough. ive hung out with my friends maybe 1 tome this year. it was just one of my friends . i dont know. i just dont think anyone actually cares. because i care and i do all this shit to help and i think if everyone just cared a bit more like my family then i wouldnt be so stressed i have chest pains when i try to sleep. anyways fuck uou all listen to this utsu p song

youtube

#Youtube

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

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To You Someday

Choso x Reader

Warnings: sfw. mention of periods, and blood, but overall its sfw. afab reader.

Summary: some very self indulgent fluff with choso comforting the reader when they're on their period. i needed a bit of fluff to balance out the fact that for the last like month ive posted nothing but smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Without fail, once a month you have this conversation. And once a month, without fail, he thinks you're dying.

He didn't quite understand the first time you explained it. You aren't dying, which is what caught him most off guard. He saw the slightest bit of blood on the sheets once—an accident really, you didn't know your period had started until a few hours after it happened—and quite literally thought you were dying. You spent a while explaining to a frantic, grieving Choso that you weren't about to die. Nobody can bleed for that long and not die. You have to tell him that you, in fact, can, and that this is something a lot of people deal with. He gets that it's normal, but seeing you in pain stresses him out.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times you tell him to not fuss over you, he always will. Worrying is in his nature. You're precious to him, he's not about to let you slip through his fingers. God forbid you try to lift something heavy, or try to do anything physically taxing. Choso insists on doing everything for you. However well meaning, his presence is a bit suffocating at times.

Having spent most of his life in a test tube, with only the faintest notion of what goes on around him, modern life was a bit of a shock. He had little notion of how the modern world works. Everything seems to happen so fast, the world is so loud and bright and busy. He’s overwhelmed. It feels like the second he gets the hang of one thing, something else comes up entirely. But even as he’s frustrated, or down on himself for not getting something, you’re always there to comfort him. You never judge him for needing help.

You like to think he’s adjusted well over the past year. With the help of you and Yuji, he’s settled into a normal(ish) life. It’s hard to consider life normal when you’re constantly dealing with curses, but there’s some sense of normalcy to it.

You were one of the first people to help him. It was a long process. Even today he’s still adjusting as the world changes around him. He owes you a debt he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to pay you back for. You tell him he doesn't owe you anything, but he still insists on paying you back. With what, he’s not certain yet.

He didn't understand his feelings for you at first. Choso cared about you deeply—he cared about Yuji—but his love for you was so much different than his love for his brother. Choso has always been affectionate. Not just to Yuji, but to you too. When you spend so much time together, it's hard to not love someone, even if just a little bit. He saw you as a friend; and then he didn't.

He found his every waking moment consumed by the thought of you. You weaved your way into every corner of his mind. From the moment he woke up, to the moment he shut his eyes, he was thinking of—or seeing things—that reminded him of you. Even in his dreams too. You made his heart race every time you talked to him, to the point he thought he was dying. Everything made his heart flutter. His brother had to explain to him that no- that's normal when you have a crush.

He loved you.

He’s never been so in-love.

He was head-over-heels, in fact. He still is. Even as you moved past the honeymoon phase of your relationship, he still was so hopelessly in love. Maybe it never ended, the two of you only grew used to being around each other. The others constantly make remarks about how they’ve never seen two people so in-love.

Yuji was the first to help him figure out his feelings. Choso had no clue what a crush was. He knew he wanted something more than friendship. He wasn't sure what. But he wanted it. Though you were less vocal with your feelings, everyone around you knew. From lingering gazes, to your eagerness to spend time with him, it was obvious. It seemed like everyone but the both of you knew.

Yuji wanted to help him plan some big reveal. He spent weeks scheming an elaborate plan. It had to be special. He wanted it to be a big day for the two of you. He wanted you to know, but he wanted his reveal to be special.

Choso’s confession was entirely accidental.

You had come back from a job injured. It wasn't anything fatal, but he had warned you not to go alone, and in turn spent the entire day worrying about you. So when he came back to find you bleeding out all over your bathroom counter, he panicked. A little blood never bothered him. Until it was your blood. He pulled you into an impulsive kiss.

And when he told you how he felt, you grinned wider than he’d ever seen. He wasn't surprised that you felt the same way, more that he was relieved. Surprise isn't the right word for it. Yuji let it slip that you felt the same way.

It’s become a nightly routine for the two of you. In the evening, while watching a movie or getting settled down for the night, he’ll have you play with his hair. He says it helps him sleep. You can believe it. He’s usually knocked out within minutes of you starting. Tonight is no different. He drags you out into the living room, sitting you down on the couch. He picked the movie- one recommended by Yuji. It was a bit longer than you usually watch, but you don't have anything planned tomorrow, so you don't mind staying up a bit late. Work can wait. You deserve a day off.

As you settle into your nightly routine, he’s by your side, insisting on helping you. His presence is a bit more overbearing than usual, but you don't think much of it. It doesn't take him long to get comfortable, settled between your legs, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Choso’s head leans back against your stomach, hands folded in his lap. He lets out a soft sigh as you comb his hair out of his face with your fingers, tucking it behind his ear. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His hair is softer than it looks. It's getting long- it's past his shoulders now. Goosebumps raise along his shoulders as your fingers brush across his skin.

You’re the first person to touch him in such a way. You’re the first to hold him like he’s precious. Before you, his only physical contact was from fighting. Affection in such a way was completely foreign to him. He was touch starved, to say the least.

And then you came along and looked at him like he was the world.

He shifts so he’s nearly sitting in your lap, arms looped around your neck. His face buries in yours—his—shirt. Choso has lots of baggy, comfy clothes that you constantly steal. It smells like you, and laundry soap, and a bit of your shampoo. He likes letting you borrow them, you always return them smelling like you. As his head leans against your chest, he can hear your heartbeat. It's steady, but picks up in pace as he stretches to press a kiss to your lips. Blush dusts his cheeks, turning the tips of his ears and nose pink.

Choso runs cold naturally. Most of the time he refuses to cuddle unless you’re wrapped in blankets. You have to reassure him that you’re not as fragile as he seems to think you are. He knows. But that doesn't stop him from worrying.

Painkillers weren't exactly working. The pain is manageable, albeit coming and going in waves. Manageable is about the best things get. Choso seems to know something is up before you do. Call it a sixth sense or whatnot. Though you don't appear to be ill, you're not acting like your usual self. He doesn't remember you getting injured. You're acting like you're injured. That worries him greatly.

"You're hurt?" He asks.

“I’m just a bit tired.” You say. "It's nothing to worry about."

Slowly he untangles himself from your limbs. You try to pull him back into your lap, but let him go when he insists.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, gently pushing your shoulders back.

There’s no use arguing. He’s hellbent in his ways, especially when they come to you.

You wouldn't say you were paying attention to the movie, so much as you were present for it's duration. You flop back on the couch, your attention turned to the tv.

He tries to remember everything you normally do that helps. Heating pads, tea, fluffy blankets and extra pillows. Small creature comforts he’s never really lived with before. He didn't see a need for them until he had them, and then he found himself unable to live without them.

Choso disappears into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a cup of tea, and a heating pad. Heat helps sore muscles. As he settles back onto the couch, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist, your back against his chest. The warmth helps with your cramps a bit. The heat feels nice against your sore muscles.

His fingers trace across your skin, memorizing every inch of your body like he’s reading a book of braille, soft and loving. Choso isn't shy in how he appreciates your body. He could spend hours running his hands over your body, tracing every dip and curve of your form. He wants to know your body better than he does his own; what you like, how you feel, what you taste like. In public he has to have an arm around you, or his fingers laced with yours. Everyone has to know you’re his.

One of your hands finds his, your fingers lacing together. He holds your hand to his cheek before planting a kiss on your knuckles. Soft locks of his hair pool around his head, tickling your neck.

He’s never been so hopelessly in love.

Though your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you still fight to stay awake. He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it around you. The warmth, combined with the feeling of his arms around you, threatens to lull you to sleep.

Choso is there when you fall asleep. And he’ll be there long after you wake up.

#jjk x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #cw periods #cw blood #choso #choso fluff

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

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For the BTHB... Villain with appendicitis?

Thank you for the ask!

Rupturing

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: appendectomy, fever, anxious character, painkillers, pills, vomit, anesthesia, surgery, IV, needles, refusal of medical care

9:01. He was a minute late.

9:05. Five minutes late.

9:15. Hero started to pace around, kicking pebbles with her foot.

9:20. She was starting to get nervous. Villain was never, ever late.

9:30. Okay, this was getting absurd.

Hero stood up, grabbed her phone, and called Villain. It rang, but never clicked.

He didn't answer.

Hero bit her lip, a nauseating pit forming in her gut.

Something was wrong. Villain was always overly stressed about time and always showed up at nine- not a second too late.

So, naturally, being the anxious, paranoid worry wort that Hero was, she went to check up on him.

Of course, Hero spent all her freetime figuring out where Villain lived if there was an instance like the current one.

Upon knocking at the beige door, that nauseous feeling overcame her again. Something was wrong.

She busted through the door and immediately the eerie silence of the home startled her. Even though Villain lived alone, there would surely be a TV playing or the dishwasher going.

Hero searched through the various rooms. It was a normal house. Quaint and small with barely any decor apart from a few spontaneously placed plants. All the walls were painted with the same, dull blue that the sky had right before a storm. It was dreary and perfectly villainous.

"Villain!" Hero called, peeking into a room she assumed to be his bedroom. Apart from a shoddily made bed, it seemed as though Villain hadn't been in there for a long time.

The next room in the hallway was a bathroom. Hero stepped in there, ignoring the horrid stench, and examined the counters. Bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen were scattered about. His gnawed on toothbrush was laying by the sink as water slowly dripped from the faucet.

That didn't look spectacular.

Hero stepped out of the bathroom and turned the light off before turning and walking into a large room that seemed to be the kitchen and dining room combined.

"Hey Villain! Are you home?" Hero called again, observing how badly stocked the fridge and cupboards were. Basically, the only food that Villain seemed to store was ramen and some protein powder.

"Villain!" Hero yelled, getting nervous. Based on the state of his bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, the villain seemed to be in rough state.

Or was that just her nervous tendencies kicking in?

The next room was without doubt the living room, though with those desolate walls, one may beg to differ.

In the center of the gray room was a dark cherry wood coffee table and a small armchair. And that was it.

Except for the body strewn across the ground.

Hero bounded over to the seemingly dead corpse and rolled it over to come face to face with Villain.

"Oh my gosh!" Hero exclaimed, thrusting her fingers by his neck to check for a pulse. It was there, thump... thump... thump...

"You okay?" Hero asked, smoothing the sweaty strands of hair out of his face. Villain blearily blinked his eyes open and shook his head.

"Stomach bug," he whispered.

Hero looked down at him skeptically. No, this wasn't just a stomach bug. He was obviously in pain and was likely running a nasty fever. And he looked so incredibly tired and weak.

"How long have you been like this?" Hero asked, putting Villain's heavy head in her lap.

"M day," he groaned, gasping for breath. "Stomach hurts."

"Where?" Hero asked. Villain lightly brushed his fingers over his right side.

"Oh okay bud. I think you have a fever," Hero said, taking his temperature with her hand. It was burning and he looked so pale.

"Yeah cold," Villain agreed, nodding the tiniest nod.

"Okay buddy," Hero murmured, stroking his flushed cheek. "I think we need to go to the doctor."

She recognized the symptoms. Her sister when they were kids got sick like this and they had to take her to the hospital. Hero was too young to exactly know what was going on, only that it was serious.

But Villain shook his head, aimlessly clawing at Hero's hand.

"No doctor. No doctor," he begged, then winced, whimpered and grabbed his right side. When he looked back up at Hero, there were tears in his eyes.

"Okay we are going now," Hero stood up with Villain in a bridal carry. He protested weakly, but then stilled. Hero stopped walking to see if he was still conscious by shaking him. He groaned.

Hero loaded Villain in the back seat of her truck and buckled him in around his chest and legs so he could safetly rest.

The drive to the hospital seemed longer than what it was. Every moment she got, Hero would look behind her to peer at Villain, and everytime he was still staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

Finally, they arrived. Hero barely put the vehicle in park by the time she was leaping out of the door and running to Villain's side.

"Hey! Hey!" Hero called when she ran into the hospital, placing Villain on a bench. Other patients stared at her and receptionists stood up to meet her.

"Bring him into the ER," one of the receptionists said as she grabbed a stack of papers and called the doctor. Hero gathered Villain back in her arms and ran into another room.

The receptionist handed Hero the stack of papers. "Fill these in to thr best of your ability. I'm going to get the doctor."

Hero sat on the raised hospital bed with Villain resting against her shoulder. He sighed contently and nuzzled his cheek to find a perfect spot. Hero looked over at him- he was almost asleep with his whole body splayed out and limp.

Hero wrapped her arm around his shivering body and rubbed his shoulder before answering some of the paperwork.

She was able to answer most of them relatively easily, but got stumped on occupation.

She couldn't just say villainy right?

"Hero, why hello. How is your arm healing?"

Hero looked up to see the doctor sauntering into the room, his blonde hair slightly tousled with pale gray shadows under his eyes- remnants of a busy day.

"Good, good," Hero said, putting the paperwork aside.

"Is this one of your team members?" The doctor asked, running a thermometer over Villain's forehead. He frowned at the reading.

"Not exactly," Hero replied, timidly. She rubbed Villain's hair as he stirred from the cool touch of the thermometer. He near immediately fell back asleep.

The doctor's face paled. "He's a villain? Hero you know-"

"Yes, I know, but look at him Doc," she gestured her head towards Villain's sagging body.

The doctor glanced at Villain for a moment. He then said, "Yeah, he's sick. I'm thinking appendicitis, but he's a villain. The hospital is not required to treat them, unless there's an order. Order as in signed by ten, high-ranking heroes. Besides, it'll endanger our staff."

"He can't even lift his head!" Hero exclaimed. "How is he going to be a threat under anesthesia? C'mon tell me."

"He could wake up..."

"As sick as he is? Not likely."

"A MRI scan could amplify his abilities."

Suddenly Villain coughed, interrupting the conversation. He groaned before expelling his stomach's contents on the floor.

"It's okay," Hero murmured, scowling slightly at the sight, before glaring at the doctor while raising her eyebrows.

The doctor sighed. "Lay him on the bed." Hero complied, laying the villain flat on the bed, adjusting his head to rest on the pillow.

The doctor took his hand and prodded at the right side of his stomach. Villain groaned, breathing heavily.

"He's going to need emergency surgery," the doctor said, standing up and trotting to a phone. "Nurse? I need a team of anesthesiologists for an appendectomy."

Hero grabbed Villain's hand. His forehead was creased in concern as he listened and watched the doctor's erratic movements.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll be right there with you," Hero soothed him. He seemed to relax, but his muscles did not let go of their tension.

"Okay. I am going to go get ready." The doctor left.

Soon after, a couple nurses came in and hooked Villain to an IV. He flinched, watching the small needle go into his elbow.

Hero grabbed his hand and rubbed it.

A couple more people sauntered in and injected a hypodermic needle into the IV line.

"Okay Villain, count down from ten."

"Ten... nine... eight... sev...ven...si." Villain looked over at Hero with pleading eyes before they drifted shut.

A nurse put a mask over his nose and he was wheeled away.

Hero waited in the lobby, twidling her thumb and reading health magazines. Every two minutes, literally, she would look at the clock and bite her lip.

After two hours, the doctor made his appearance.

"The surgery was successful. He is waking up now, so he will be very groggy, but his vitals are good. You can take him home."

"Don't you have to monitor him."

"Come back in two weeks for a check-up."

Hero walked into the ER and to Villain's bed. His eyes were half-lidded and he barely noted Hero's presence.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, stroking his head. "You scared me."

Villain didn't reply, just blinked very, very slowly. Soon, his blinks became longer until he drifted off.

Nervous, Hero called for a nurse. "Why is he sleeping?" She asked.

The nurse shrugged. "The effects of anesthesia hasn't worn off yet, so he'll be in and out for a while."

Hero nodded and sat back down.

"You can take him home, you know," the nurse said. "We don't keep villains for monitoring or over-night stays."

Hero groaned and looked at the nurse. "Well you should."

"But we don't. Please take him home, he's occupying beds that could be used for more important patients."

Hero rolled her eyes, but obeyed. She picked Villain up and helped him into his jeans, but left his shirt off to not irritate the stitches. Then, she rolled him to her truck in a wheelchair.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hero got Villain to her house and changed into something comfortable. He was dozing, but every movement seemed to awake him. He was totally and completely silent, allowing Hero to tuck him on her bed before sliding in next to him.

She wrapped her arms around Villain and pulled him in tight. He drifted off to sleep instantly, and Hero was not far behind.

When Hero awoke the next morning, she was sprawled across her bed with Villain laying on her stomach. She smiled and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest before carefully removing his head to go downstairs and prepare breakfast. After a quick research, she decided to make a bowl of pudding with toast and avacado.

Villain came down the stairs stiffly, groaning with each step, just as Hero put the bread in the toaster. She looked up just in time to see him lean heavily against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Hero scolded and gently led him to the couch to sit on.

"Heard you- engh," Villain winced, holding his side. "Downstairs."

"Okay," Hero sighed. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"No not really. Just you and the hospital. Everything else is just a blank."

"You had an appendectomy," Hero explained, brushing the hair out of Villain's face. He jerked back and Hero pulled away. He was so cute and vulnerable when he was out of it.

"What's that?" Villain asked, but Hero had a sense that he knew and just wanted to fill the silence up.

"Your appendix was removed." The toaster clicked, so Hero went and grabbed the food.

Villain spooned at it for awhile before putting it towards the side. His face was pale.

"Not hungry," he said.

"You gotta eat."

"No," Villain slowly laid on the couch, his body seizing with every motion. "I'm tired..."

"Yeah, you had surgery, but please eat something so I can give you some painkillers."

Villain rolled his eyes, but allowed Hero to feed him some avocado and pudding. However, by the end of it, he was too exhausted to resist Hero putting two large pills in his mouth.

Between the pain meds and fatigue, it only took a few minutes for Villain to fall sound asleep.

Hero idly ate her own pudding and stared out the window. After finishing both her's and Villain's chocolate desert, she went to do dishes.

Then she showered.

Then she playing monopoly by herself.

And then she ate lunch.

All the while waiting for Villain to regain consciousness.

He did, eventually, and very slowly.

"How are you feeling."

"Bit dizzy," Villain admitted, rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"About," Hero looked at her phone. "Five hours, give or take one."

Villain groaned and quickly murmured an apology.

"Don't be. You are still a bit feverish and just came out of surgery."

Villain closed his eyes. Hero thought he might've fallen back asleep, but then he spoke,

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Hero smiled.

#bad things happen bingo #feverish villain #drugged villain #hero caretaker #hero x villain #heros and villains #anesthesia #appendectomy #writing #villain whumpee

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yonkimint · 4 years ago

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So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

TAGLIST (send me an ask or leave a reply if you want to be added!): @esteemedsalt @halesandy @historicalgigi @seaoffangirling @secretlycrazyhummingbird @kiwimash12 @aviwasabi21 @sehun096rainbow @darkskin-buttercup @rainfallingfromthesky @yoongiofmine @lucedelsole97 @pleasegivemearemedyyy @kim-jias-den @unadulteratedlyunique @thesweetest-peas @joyfullyobsessed @irishhbamb

When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long.

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit.

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat.

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon.

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not.

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing.

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives.

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down.

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments.

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway.

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line.

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks.

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one.

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon.

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar.

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands.

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet.

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page.

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him.

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls.

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus.

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working.

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren.

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch.

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish.

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him.

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him.

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks.

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before.

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

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daddyjackfrost · 4 years ago

Text

i accidentally deleted your request anon😭 but i managed to take a pic before! so, here it is!

prompt 36: “fuck you scared me... don’t you do that ever again!”

prompt 37: “are you afraid to die?”

warnings: angst, talk about death, kinda grim, self indulgent (just a bit! y/n’s thought process) car accident, loss of memory, crying osamu

osamu miya x gn!reader (intended lower case)

in the comfort of the darkness, you sat on your sweater on a hill that overlooked your neighbourhood.

after a long day of school and work, you managed to squeeze some time of solitude for your thoughts.

with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin resting on your crossed arms, you inhaled the sweet scent of freedom.

out here, away from the busy streets and tall buildings, you were free. out here, with only the trees and stars to keep you company, you were content with life.

you heard rustling behind you and shut your eyes, inhaling a long breath before you heard a familiar voice quietly call out to you.

“here,” you whispered.

you didn’t turn, nor did you look up. osamu laid a jacket beside you before sitting down next to you. his arm brushing against yours.

“how’d you know it was me?”

you smiled. it was the same question he asked you every time he received a text from you and met you up on your hill. and every time, you gave him the same answer.

“just a hunch.”

osamu drifted his eyes away from your face to the stars. there wasn’t much of a difference, he thought. the stars were just as captivating as you, you more so. you were just as fascinating as the stars, shining brightly in solitude and the dark.

without making any unnecessary noises, osamu leaned back on his hands, kicking his legs out in front of him.

he needed this break just as much as you did.

in the silence of the night, you and osamu sat together, letting the stress and sorrows of the previous week slip away.

simultaneously, you both leaned back, your heads resting on the soft fresh grass.

you gently shut your eyes, reminiscing in the quiet atmosphere. no one was here to bother you. there were no looming assignments or demeaning parents.

out here, it was just you and the stars.

and osamu.

“are ya afraid to die?”

your eyes flew open, and you turned your head, grass tickling your cheek.

osamu’s dark grey eyes twinkled as he stared into your eyes. you thought about his question. obscure thoughts tangled with apparent ones.

you turned your head, facing the dark sky.

“not really.”

osamu hummed. “why not?”

you lifted your hand, spreading your fingers so each nail connect with a stare.

“because it’s inevitable.”

osamu raised his eyebrow. shifting to his side to face you completely. “care to expand?”

“i’m not afraid to die because the second you’re welcomed into this world, you’re introduced to the concept of death. you know you’re going to die. so you live while you can.”

osamu’s eyes were set on you. you always sounded so old—mature—when you talked like this. like you knew things he couldn’t understand.

fate he couldn’t fathom.

“i’m not afraid to die because i’ve been preparing for it my whole life.”

you turned your head to meet osamu’s curious eyes.

“that’s a bit depressing,” osamu laughs.

you grin at him, your lips pulling into a breathtaking smile. “it is.”

after a few silent moments, you whispered,

“memento mori.”

“what?”

you pretended to squish the stars in between your thumb and index finger like grapes.

“it’s a latin phrase that originated from ancient rome.”

“what does it mean?”

osamu loved your knowledge of random things. he knew an abundance of phrases from different origins because of you.

“remember that you will die.”

“god, y/n,” osamu sighed. “you’re so grim.”

you smiled. “what? it keeps me grounded.” osamu let out a light chuckle.

“no matter what i do, how much money i make, who i marry, i’m not going to live forever. i won’t go down in history unless i do something monumental. i’ll live, i’ll aim for a good life, and then, inevitably, i’ll die. it helps remind me that stress and sadness does eventually come to and end.”

you licked your lips. “are you afraid to die?”

osamu shrugged. “yeah. i am.”

you shifted your weight to your side so you were completely facing him. with your arm bent under your head, you rested your head on your elbow.

“how come?”

osamu shifted his eyes to the ground before meeting yours again.

“i guess i’m afraid of not living my life to the fullest. i wanna be happy. do things that’ll make me smile. i wanna die knowing i lived the best i could.”

you gently smiled at him. “what’s stopping you?”

silence.

osamu stared at you like he didn’t know how to comprehend your question.

what was stopping him?

he was young, talented, and persistent.

a heavy realization fell upon osamu. there was nothing stopping him. he was stopping him.

the only person who stood between his happiness, was himself.

with a goofy smile, osamu turned to face the stars.

“nothing. nothing at all.”

you smiled at him, happy he understood. you gently pushed yourself up, letting out a small yawn. you stretched your arms, sighing when you heard your shoulders quietly crack.

“time to go home.”

osamu let out a whine. “do we have too?”

you stood up, brushing your jeans with your hands. you grabbed your sweater, slipping it on.

“yes, ‘samu.” you narrowed your eyes at his frown. “we have school tomorrow.”

osamu rolled his eyes, but got up anyways. he grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder.

“let’s go home then.”

you both walked down the hill and into the street, bickering and laughing.

your heart felt so full. this is what you were afraid of losing. this laughter and feeling of content. you weren’t afraid of dying, you were afraid of loosing the feeling of your heart being full forever.

so when you pushed osamu out of the way, and a car came blazing towards you, you didn’t have a moment to think about what was going to happen.

only that you really liked laughing and would miss it.

before the pain took over, you remembered hearing osamu’s loud and panicked voice yell your name. the last thing you saw were his tear-filled grey eyes.

***

the smell of antiseptic, stainless steel, and blood filled your senses and your eyes flew open.

as quickly as you opened your eyes, you squeezed them shut. the bright lights of the hospital room too strong for your weak eyes.

the machines around you buzzed and you groaned. pain had enveloped you completely and you licked your dry lips.

your head was pounding and your memory was hazy. you pulled yourself up, wincing in pain when the iv in your arm moved with you.

you gently opened your eyes, blinking to get used to the bright white light.

your eyes swept across the large hospital room and your frowned.

how did i get here?

your eyes fell on a mop of grey hair and you blinked a few times to clear your vision. your eyes took in the male sitting by your bed, his eyes closed and his lips pulled into a frown.

you tried putting a name to the far familiar face, but you came up empty, and at that thought, you started spluttering, trying to form words.

at the sound of your hoarse breath, the grey-haired man’s eyes flew open and locked on you.

your eyes were locked on the rheumy and heavy-lidded eyes, the taste of familiarity on your tongue but unidentifiable.

“y/n...”

the voice you had heard in your dreams whispered a name you knew was yours.

you licked your cracks lips. “water.”

immediately, the trance the man was in has broken and he sprang up, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to you. you hesitatingly grabbed it, staring at the lid before gently twisting it.

the man stared at you, his eyes burning holes into you. you kept your gaze on your bed, afraid of the pain you felt when you looked at him.

he quickly left the room, yelling an unfamiliar name loudly.

you drank half of the water bottle before twisting the cap back on. you leaned back, wincing. you gingerly brought your hand to your forehead, gasping at the feeling of bandage.

a tall, thin and pale man with light brown hair and round glasses walked into the room. he wore a long white coat and was holding a clipboard. the same man with grey hair and a women of much shorter height with tear-stained cheeks walked in behind him.

the man, whom you assumed was a doctor, walked up to you, keeping a distance. he smiled at you before motioning to the chair beside you.

you nodded, unable to use your words.

“y/n, i’m doctor kim.” he waited before you met his eyes. “do you know where you are?”

you stared at him. he waited patiently until you gently nodded. “the hospital.”

doctor kim smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“that’s right. can you tell me your full name?”

you stared at him, your eyebrows furrowed. you tried remembering, but your head began to hurt profoundly. it was like there was a wall that separated you from your memories.

“it’s okay,” doctor kim whispered. “you must feel disoriented.”

you didn’t nod, just fought the wall. you knew that you had a last name. it was right there, but unaccessible.

after a few painfully silent moments later, you let out a heavy sigh.

“l/n. y/n l/n.”

doctor kim smiled and the women in the corner of the room let out a sob, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

you stared at the women, a wave of familiarity hit you and you frowned. you knew her. so why couldn’t you remember?

“y/n,” you turned your head to face the calm eyes of the doctor. “you were in an accident.”

your frown deepened. “i don’t... remember.”

doctor kim nodded, his eyes glancing at the clipboard before he smiled a faux smile at you.

“you hit your head really hard. it’ll take you a few days to regain all your memories. you remember your name, that’s great process. over the week, your memories should all come back to you.”

you nodded. an accident? why didn’t you remember? and why was the man with grey hair staring at you like that?

doctor kim checked the machines before making his way to the door. he smiled at you and then looked at the women.

“ms. l/n, can you come with me to fill out a few pages?”

your breath hitched. your eyes were locked on familiar ones and you quietly whispered, “mom?”

your mother painfully smiled at you before running out the door behind the doctor. you watched her go with a frowned.

you turned your head to the man who stood in the corner. his posture was rigid and you were sure he hadn’t blinked since he walked in the room. his gaze unwavering.

you shifted your eyes from his, his gaze too intense.

“can i... can i sit?”

you nodded. his voice was intensely familiar. it was the voice you heard in your dreams. the one you had grew attached too.

osamu sat on the chair with hesitation. he was feeling so many things at once. you had been in a week long coma, and osamu hadn’t had a moment of rest since he sat with you in the ambulance.

osamu let out a heavy sigh, bringing his hands to cover his face. you watched him from the corner of your vision. he felt so familiar, so why couldn’t you recall his name?

osamu began to cry, his shoulders shaking.

you turned your head to face him, your lips set into a permanent frown. for some reason unknown to you, your heart hurt at the sight of his tears.

“fuck, y/n,” osamu lifted his head. his eyes brimmed with red. “you scared me.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to do. you didn’t know why you had scared him. but his shoulders shook and his lips trembled, so you stayed quiet.

“don’t you— don’t you do that ever again!”

you just silently watched as the grey-haired man cried and yelled at you. “don’t you ever push me away! don’t you ever try and save me again!”

the room was heavy with silence. the grey haired man sobbed into his hands and the machines buzzed in your head.

you don’t know what compelled you to say this, but you did anyways. it felt right. like the man crying in front of you deserved to hear these words.

“i won’t. i’m sorry.”

at the sound of your voice, his crying grew quieter and after a few moments, he wiped his tears, his bloodshot eyes staring at you.

“promise me.”

you saw the whirlpool of emotions in his grey eyes and although you couldn’t decipher them, you promised anyways.

when he smiled, his cheeks using muscles it hadn’t in a week, you suddenly felt guilty.

you had promised to a stranger.

a stranger who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

a stranger who seemed to think you knew him.

i didn’t know what kind of angst you wanted anon, so i kinda went with the flow! also, i was too lazy to add capitals. so. i think it adds to the theme. sure.

also yes. doctor kim from dr. romantic. sue me.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @bokuatsubro @literaleftist @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @felixsamour @megumeee @aghashiii @fail-big @kailleis-sunshine

requests are closed.

hana’s author note.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #hq osamu #osamu scenarios #osamu x reader #osamu angst #osamu x y/n #hq x you #hq angst #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq imagines #hq prompts #hana.writes!

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Until the End of the World - 18

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2763

Rating: E

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, induction without consent, forced medical proceedures, mentions of forced pregnancy, action, violence, death

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created

Chapter 18

You had sent Geo back to his bed with his instructions. You didn’t think you could get out of here with him without getting caught. Yes, he could open all the doors for you, but there were still guards, and you had no idea where you were. The risk was just too high. Not to mention, that if Viper had been telling the truth, there were other people here who were being experimented on again. If you could get Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers here, then that was the best option for everyone. You hoped Geo could do as you asked; if you could send a message to the tower - however primitive it was - you trusted that FRIDAY could work out that it was Geo sending it.

You slept badly. The bench was hard and uncomfortable, and they had provided no blankets or pillows. That teamed with the stress of you and Geo being captured, and how close you were to your due date, you were uncomfortable and highly wound. Even with the lack of sleep, a group of HYDRA guards still managed to startle you awake the following day.

They had no concern about treating you gently in your heavily pregnant state. They didn’t even shake you awake, so much as march into the room, grab your arm, and drag you out of bed and down the hall. You had trouble walking and you stumbled down the bright white hall as they dragged you along with them.

You were brought to a room with a hospital bed and a lot of medical equipment, as well as a sterile-looking sofa chair and a clear plastic bassinet and incubator. It looked like a delivery room in a hospital that cared nothing for the comfort of the mother. Viper was waiting there with a group of medical staff dressed in green scrubs.

“What’s going on? Where’s Geo?” You asked.

“Geo is safe,” Viper assured you. “And we’ve decided we’re going to induce labor. Staying in this location is risky, so within the week we’re going to move you. We figured if we move you and your children separately, you’ll be less likely to try and draw attention to yourself when we inevitably see other people.”

“I’m not due yet,” you argued.

“It’s not ideal, I know,” Viper said as the guards muscled you onto the bed and strapped you down. “But it’s close enough. We did consider just cutting that little thing out of you, but they said this way would be safest. Don’t make me change my mind.”

One of the medical staff inserted a cannula into your arm and another began doing an internal examination as two of the guards held your legs apart. You tried to fight them, but there were just too many of them.

“Don’t worry though, dear,” Viper said. “We decided to help keep you calm you’re going to have an old friend here to help you with your labor. A birthing partner. That’s what they call them isn’t it?”

You looked at her wild-eyed, completely confused, and panicked. You had no idea why she was doing this. If they really wanted the baby out, a c-section would be quicker. Though you guessed, with the surgical recovery time it would be harder to move you unnoticed. The whole thing just felt like mind games though. Like she was trying to show you exactly what kind of control she had over you, both your mind and your body.

There was a pop and a gush of water between your legs as the doctor broke your waters and you began to cry. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She patted your cheek. “Consider it your payment for evading us for so long, and destroying my whole operation,” she said. “Or at least a down payment. I don’t plan to make anything easy for you.”

She tapped your cheek again and strode to the door. Just as she reached it, she turned and looked at one of the doctors. “If she behaves, you can let her up, but if she does anything to mess with this labor, strap her down again.”

“Yes, Madame HYDRA,” he said, saluting.

She left the room and the doctors went back to fussing around you. They put monitors on you that seemed to track both yours and the baby’s heart rate. When they seemed to be done most left without a word. One doctor remained. He had a sharp face and dead eyes. “If I let you up, will you behave?” He asked. “I warn you, if you take any of this off, you’re risking the life of that baby.”

You nodded. “I’ll behave,” you agreed.

Your restraints were unfastened. There are guards at the door, not that you can get out,” he said. “And you are being monitored on cameras all over the room. Behave and we’ll be in to check on you regularly.”

As he left a woman was led in. She looked like a wild animal that had been caught in a trap. Her hair was lank and didn’t look like it had been brushed in weeks and her hollow eyes looked around wildly. She was wearing a simple floral nightgown and in her arms was an infant that couldn’t have been more than a few days old. It took you a moment to realize you knew her. She had been in the medical trials back when you were in college. “Azi?” You said.

She turned to look at you startled, furrowing her brow as she assessed you. “Oh my god,” she said and rushed to your side. “Oh my god! What are you doing here? I didn’t know they had you too.”

“How long have you been here, Azi?” You asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. A long time. I don’t know. They came right after the trial ended. I wasn’t pregnant then. Now I have a baby. They move us.”

“Oh my god,” you said, wrapping your arm around her. “Come, sit down.”

You led her to the sofa chair and she sat, cradling the baby. It fussed a little but fell back to sleep as its mother held it close. “Azi, what did they do to you?”

“They took me… and some of the others in the test,” she said. “They’re all dead now…” her eyes snapped up to you.

“They’ve been chasing me. This is all my fault,” you said. A dull pain throbbed out from your back and sides, and you winced and gripped the IV stand. Azi looked up at you alarmed.

“Are you in labor?” She asked.

You nodded. “They just induced me.”

“Did they… did they …?” She asked.

You shook your head. “No. No… I think they were waiting. I’ve been living with someone. Some men. I think they were waiting to see if we’d just end up having kids. What… how… did they force someone on you?”

She shook her head. “It was a medical procedure. I know whose it was… I think… do you remember Gal?”

You nodded. Gal was short and funny and you remembered during the tests he always got telekinesis. He thought it was funny to tap people on the shoulder while he was standing on the other side of the room. “You think he’s dead?”

She nodded and then shook her head. “I think… I don’t know. They were injecting us with things, to make our powers come back, but it wasn’t working. Katrina died. And Shae. And … and…”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

She looked up at you with wide brown eyes. “If I die, will you take care of my baby? You were always stronger than the rest of us. You’ll look after him. Get him out of here.”

“Shh…” You whispered, crouching down. “We’re gonna both get out of here. Okay? And your baby. What’s his name?”

“I called him Gal. I think… I think that’s only fair,” she said. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

“I promise. But you’re going to do that yourself, okay?” You assured her, hoping that Steve and Bucky would come for you soon.

Whether it was the drugs they were using or the fact it was your second child, you couldn’t be sure, but your labor seemed to progress very quickly. Once Azi got used to being in the room with you, she became a little more of a comfort to you. She put baby Gal into the bassinet and would rub your back and soothe you through the contractions. Not that there was much she could do. Having someone on your side was better than being alone with HYDRA scientists, but all you could think was how much you needed Bucky and Steve. Even if they did find you now, they were going to miss the birth of their daughter, and the longer your labor progressed, the harder it was to hang on to hope they’d find you at all.

Azi rubbed your back through a long contraction as you bent over the bed. You’d been left alone again, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until the urge to push hit you. You were in that period of serious pain where everything felt helpless and all you wanted to do was be with your boyfriends and curse them out for doing this to you. Instead, you were in pain and terrified and with a woman who was even more scared than you. Gal slept in the bassinet and part of you was even concerned that if you made too much noise would wake him and take Azi’s attention off you.

“You’re doing great,” she soothed. “I think it won’t be long.”

“I don’t want them to deliver her,” you whined. “I don’t want to do this here.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. I’m here.”

A siren started sounding, waking Gal so the baby's cries blended in with the harsh screeching of the alarms. Azi looked around and hurried over to the infant. “Hey, mommy’s here… I’ve got you,” she said, lifting him and holding him so one ear was pressed to her chest and the other was covered by her hand. “What is that?”

Hope began to creep in again. They’d found you. You knew it. It was only a matter of time before you’d be safe again. You might even get to have this baby with them there with you.

Another contraction hit and you felt the need to push. With Azi distracted with Gal and the sirens sounding, you weren’t sure what to do. “Oh god,” you groaned, gritting your teeth and resisting the urge.

The sirens stopped and you heard footsteps run down the hall. You couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling they’d left you unguarded. Another contraction hit and as it was ending the doors opened. “Mommy,” Geo cried as he ran over to you. “I don’t wanna be here.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing his back. You looked around unsure what to do. If you stayed here, then you were somewhere set up to deliver a baby, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for Steve or Bucky to find you. The problem was if you stayed here all of HYDRA knew where you were too, and if they were going to try and take you out of here before Steve or Bucky could get to you, then staying here let them do that.

You gritted your teeth. “Geo,” you said. “Do you think you can get the building to take us to a safer room?”

He nodded and took your hand. “Azi, let’s go.”

She didn’t move and you doubled over in pain as another contraction hit. “Mommy?” Geo said, looking at you in fear.

“It’s okay, Geo,” you assured him. “Your sister is coming.” You looked back to Azi. “Azi! We have to go!”

She jumped and followed after you. Geo led you out into the hall, clinging to your hand and pulling you along. There were the sounds of shouting and gunfire, but while none sounded close yet, it was rapidly getting closer. It was coming from several different sides and you began to worry that there wasn’t going to be anywhere safe to go.

Another contraction hit as you turned a corner and you almost collapsed to your knees. The urge to push was intense and you had to consciously clench. You were worried she might already be crowning.

“Mom, please,” Geo said, a look of pure panic. “They’re coming.”

You tried to move, but all you could manage was a few staggered steps.

“Stop them!”

Azi jumped and you flinched at the sound of Viper’s voice as she came around the corner. You pushed Geo behind you and tried to get him to move him forward. Azi squared up, holding her baby so he was slightly protected. “Get away from us!” She screamed.

“There’s no use running, you idiots,” Viper snarled as the guards moved forward. “Where do you think you’re going to go.”

Azi pushed Gal into your arms and charged at the guards, a look of wild rage on her face.

“Azi! No!” You screamed.

Everything happened in slow motion. Azi charged at them hands up like she was going to claw their eyes out and lept at the guard closest. He stumbled back, and the gun went off. Azi’s face froze as blood erupted out of her back. You pulled Geo close as he began to wail and hid his face in your side. For a second you weren’t even aware of the alarms going off again, as both Geo and Gal were screaming.

“Geo, run, go,” you said, pushing him forward. He wouldn’t let go of your hand and you were worried that you weren’t going to be able to convince him to move.

“You idiots! We needed her!” Viper screeched. “Get out of my way!”

She ran at you and you pushed Geo forward in an attempt to get away, knowing full well in your state you weren’t getting anywhere. You managed to waddle forward a few steps as loud blasts erupted behind you. Viper grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back. You held Gal closer to you, sure she was about to make you drop him and a gunshot ran out behind you.

Viper’s grip relaxed and she slumped to the ground behind you.

“Daddy!” Geo shouted as he looked around your legs.

You spun around. Behind you, the hall was complete chaos. The lights were flashing red and white and there were some of Iron Legion rounding up the few guards that Viper had with her. Ari’s body was on the ground and one of the Legion seemed to be assessing it, while Viper's body lay at your feet.

Bucky hurried down the hall, shouldering his rifle. “I’m here,” Bucky said, scooping the boy up. “I’ve got you.”

Geo buried his face in Bucky’s neck and gradually the alarms calmed down and the lights settled. Bucky put his arm around you. “I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you said, the emotions breaking as you started to tremble in his arms. “Take the baby.”

He took the infant from you and you held his elbow as another contraction hit. “Is this her?” He asked.

You shook your head. “No…” you said through gritted teeth. “But she’s coming.”

“Shit,” he cursed. “Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe.”

Geo pointed to a door and Bucky helped walk you to it, even as your body fought you moving at all. “I need one of you to guard,” Bucky barked at the Legion. One flew into place, standing at the door with its hands up and repulsors at the ready.

Bucky moved you inside and your knees buckled - like you’d been holding out until you had even one fragment of safety. Bucky kneeled down beside you, still juggling Geo on the baby. Geo was clinging to him like a koala and he hadn’t lifted his head from the spot in Bucky’s neck since he’d lifted the boy into place.

“Let me see,” Bucky said.

You got on your hands and knees and lifted the gown they’d put you in, spreading your legs until you were as comfortable as you could be. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Steve, you read me?” He said. “I’ve found them. And I’d suggest getting to us as quickly as you can if you wanna see your daughter born.”

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #until the end of the world

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giggles-and-freckles · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do "I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something" with anakin (cause desert kid) and obi wan and cuddles?

from these extremely exhausted starters

“And that one?”

“Bassin Minor.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin tried not to sink too deep into the pride Obi-Wan seeped into their bond. “You’ve been studying.”

“You don’t let me do anything else,” Anakin said to shield his own joy at Obi-Wan’s praise. He was a teenager now; Obi-Wan didn’t need to know that Anakin still cared about his opinion.

“Ah, yes,” the older Jedi surveyed the star map thoughtfully. “I had a lapse and momentarily forgot what a terrible, totalitarian teacher I am.”

“I don’t know what that word means, but it sounds like something you’d be.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you should focus on your politics now that you’ve mastered constellations.”

Anakin shifted in his seat. “Politics are stupid.”

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan beamed in jest. “A lesson better learned early on.” A dismal frown replaced his smile. “Unfortunately, they still dictate a large part of our lives.”

“I dictate my own life,” Anakin said with all the confidence of a thirteen-year-old who knew everything. He leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the holo-projector.

Obi-Wan shoved them back to the floor.

“We’re landing soon. Get your parka.”

It was music to Anakin’s ears. It seemed like they’d been flying forever and he wasn’t even being allowed to pilot, so all he had for entertainment was a star map, a broken mouse droid (which he’d finished repairing six hours ago), and Obi-Wan.

Anakin needed off this kriffing ship.

He stood from his seat, quickly–and immediately fell back down. His head suddenly felt heavy and his vision swam. Weird.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan called from the small room in the back of the ship. “Parka! Some time today, please.”

“Coming,” Anakin groaned, standing again–slowly this time–and holding his head as he walked.

Every step toward the back room tugged at muscles that shouldn’t be sore. Maybe he’d just been sitting too long, but it seemed strange for him to suddenly ache all over, when he hadn’t even done any physical training in a few days.

“Here,” Obi-Wan shoved a parka into his chest as soon as he got in the doorway. “Make sure it’s zipped.”

“Okay, okay,” Anakin mumbled, sliding it over his robes.

“If your feet get cold, tell me. I don’t want a repeat of–”

“Master. I’ve been to Halak IV before.”

“Yes, and I practically carried you the entire way back to the ship because you were whining.”

“Oh,” Anakin grinned sheepishly, tugging on his earmuffs. “Right.”

Obi-Wan moved past his Padawan into the main hall. “I’m going to check on the cargo bay and see if everything’s secure for landing. You go ahead to the cockpit and supervise the autopilot.”

“Can’t I put it on manual just for landing?” Anakin pleaded.

“No. Now go.”

Anakin watched his Master walk away with a sour pout. Obi-Wan was no fun when he was stressed–and he was almost always stressed.

He made his way to the cockpit and settled into his seat. Supervise the autopilot. Stupid.

Nothing was visible through the thick atmosphere they were flying through, but they must be getting closer to ground-level because the air in the room ran cold and Anakin barely managed to contain a shiver.

It was strange, because even though his body was freezing, his head felt warm–and still so heavy. He leaned against the back of his seat and tried to pinpoint the pressure. Maybe this atmosphere had less oxygen than they had anticipated?

That could be a problem.

“Hey, Master?” Anakin tried to shout to the back of the ship, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Obi-Wan had always been impressed with his ability to speak at obscene decibels, but suddenly, Anakin found that his throat was tight and unable to produce more than a whisper.

It had been a little sore earlier, but this was ridiculous.

He rubbed at his throat with a frown and tried again. “Master Obi-Wan!”

The throat only tightened and the pressure in his head amplified. He was so distracted by the pain, he didn’t manage to catch himself before shivering along with the next wave of chills that overtook him.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan’s voice came from behind him.

Anakin spun around his chair and winced. When his feet planted themselves on the ground, the room didn’t stop spinning. “I think–” He pressed on his temple, willing the pain to go away. “I think we read the–stats wrong. The atmosphere seems...ugh, highly pressurised. And not oxygen based.”

Instead of insisting they hadn’t read the stats wrong because Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t do anything wrong as Anakin expected, the older Jedi only stood in the doorway of the cockpit and studied his student with a frown.

“What?” Anakin asked, uncomfortable under his gaze.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh? Nothing.”

“You’re shivering.”

He shrugged as casually as his headache would allow him. “Just cold.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look like he was listening. Instead, he dropped into a crouch in front of Anakin’s chair and laid a palm against Anakin’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Concern flickered through their bond.

Anakin pulled away. “I’m fine.”

“Have you been feeling like this all day?”

“I’m fine, Master.”

“You’re staying on the ship.” And, like that, Obi-Wan was back on his feet and walking out of the cockpit.

“What?” Anakin cried, jumping up to follow. Immediately regretted it. His head–ow, ow, owww.

He fell back into the seat with a groan. “Master!” he yelled, his voice straining and stretching

“You have a fever, Anakin,” Obi-Wan called from the main room before striding back into the cockpit with a heap of emergency blankets. “I’ll drop off the supplies. You stay and rest.”

His voice came out garbled behind all of the blankets, but Anakin understood enough to scoff in protest. “No way, Master! I’ve been stuck at the Temple for your last two missions. I–oof.” His words were cut off as Obi-Wan unceremoniously dropped the heap of fabric into his lap. “Master Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t Master Obi-Wan me. You’re sick and I won’t have you going out into the freezing cold and getting even sicker. Now strap in. We’re landing.”

Anakin made sure to click his seatbelt as loudly as possible and give a disdainful groan to make sure Obi-Wan knew just how unfair this was.

…

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep or how long Obi-Wan had been gone, but it had felt like hours since his Master had gotten off the ship and locked it behind him, leaving Anakin frowning under a few hundred tons of blankets.

But suddenly, he was being lightly jostled and–

“Master?” he slurred, blinked up at the face hovered a couple inches above his.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back. “You’re awake.”

“Why are you on top of me?”

“I’m trying to undo your seatbelt.”

“But you always say that safety is–”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, but the corners of his lips quivered. “We’re on the way back to Coruscant. The mission went off without a hitch. I have auto-pilot set. Go to the back room and sleep.”

“Not tired,” Anakin lied.

“Bed.”

“I'm just a little cold, I'm okay, really.” Anakin scrambled to sit up and realised he was, in fact, very cold. “Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, gently. Why was Obi-Wan being so nice? “I’m worried about you. I’d feel better if you were getting real rest in a real bed.”

“That’s not a real bed,” Anakin pointed out.

“Please.” And something about the way he pleaded instead of demanded it. Like it was a personal favour he was asking his Padawan to complete–

“Okay.”

Anakin didn’t need help walking to the back room, but he let Obi-Wan guide his shoulder anyway, because something told him it’s what Obi-Wan needed.

And it definitely didn’t count as a real bed, but maybe Obi-Wan had been right, because it sure looked more inviting than the stiff seat in the cockpit. He stumbled into it and Obi-Wan’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” the older Jedi asked and, for the first time in Anakin’s life, he thought maybe his Master looked a little unsure of himself.

“No.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan nodded quickly to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“Master?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“You said that three times.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed and then chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry.” Then, he looked back at Anakin. “Do you need more blankets?”

Anakin grinned, looking down at the mountain of fabric on top of him. “I think I’m set.” But his teeth chattered anyway and Obi-Wan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t have any medicine,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself, his eyes flickering around the room as if he had the ability to speak it into existence. “I could comm Bant and see if she could–

“Obi?” Anakin asked, too tired to be embarrassed by the old nickname that tumbled through. “I’m okay, but would you–would you just stay?”

He felt like a youngling again–like the nine-year-old who had known nothing about this life and had relied completely on his Master. Obi-Wan had been there for him every single time, even in the midst of losing his own Master. It was something Anakin had only recently found the time to process and be grateful for.

Obi-Wan’s face softened and Anakin felt warmth through their bond. “Of course.”

Anakin moved as far toward the wall as he could and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted of their own accord, like he’d only just realised what Anakin meant by ‘stay.’ In that moment, Anakin’s bravery crumbled–he was so stupid. Too old to ask Obi-Wan to sleep with him. Too grown, too big, too independent–

Obi-Wan climbed into the tiny bed and rested his back against the wall, dropping his hand to rest on Anakin’s head, his fingers absentmindedly moving through the small curls that had formed in the absence of a haircut.

“Hey, Master?” Anakin said, his voice coming out quiet and croaky. Relieved. At peace. Safe.

“Yes, young one?”

“You’re good at taking care of people.”

The tiny movements in his hair froze for a moment and Anakin wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then–the movements resumed and Anakin didn’t need to see his Master to sense his smile. Obi-Wan’s smiles were always like this. The genuine ones anyway. Blinding and merciless in the way they spread through a room, touching every heart in their path and almost always pulling smiles in response.

Anakin thought he was pretty lucky to get to be on the receiving end so often.

#my fic #I guess obi & ani cuddles are just the vibe for the week #obi & ani #the PADAWAN years #soft sweet boys #I just wrote this one in my classroom bc one of my students walked up to me and was BEAMING that he passed a hard test #so I gave him a fist bump and told him I was proud of him and I watched this kid STRUGGLE to not grin at me #and I was like oh #OH #that’s anakin skywalker #anon you know my heart bc platonic cuddles are my THING #this one got obnoxiously long SORRY #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #writing prompts #sw fanfiction

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pa-panda-heroes · 4 years ago

Note

Is it alright to request Bakugo, Todoroki, & Kirishima finding out that their usually well put together s/o secretly smokes (only to cope with stressful stuff like a rough home life) but now that she’s with them she tries to quit but then a bad mission happens & they walk in as she’s shakily holding a cig? Happy ending pls. Sorry if it’s complicated recovery isn’t linear & ive been feeling bad just thinking abt going back to it.

Sweetheart, please don’t apologize! I understand, okay? No judgements whatsoever. I’m really sorry you’ve not been feeling well, but keep fighting, love. You can do it!! You got this!! I’m so proud of you for taking this giant step for your health <3 and so are the boys :> I put it under a cut because it’s long ^^

Katsuki, Shouto, and Eijirou with a s/o who’s trying to quit smoking (Scenarios)

Warning: slight mentions of relapse, smoking

Katsuki:

He knew. He knew you’d had a particularly bad day handling an awful situation - the kind of job any hero (maybe even Katsuki himself) would pass off onto a rookie so as to avoid having to deal with it. He knew you’d been trying your hardest to quit smoking. He knew you only picked it up as a way to cope. He knew it was hard. He knew it all. He was right there with you.

Yet it didn’t break his heart any less when he got home from his own hero shift to see you trembling and holding your head with both hands, an unlit cigarette nestled between your shaky fingers. A lighter lay on the coffee table in front of you, seemingly forgotten but not really. Your sniffling was loud, and it pained Katsuki to hear it, as if with each sniffle the hand around his heart squeezed tighter and tighter.

“Y/n.” He doesn’t say or do much else, and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your sniffling and occasional hiccups. Katsuki sighs, not out of frustration, not out of pity, and certainly not out of anger. Well, maybe there was a hint of anger, but it was not aimed at you. It was aimed at whosoever pushed the put-together, organized you to this habit which was giving you a run for its money. Quietly, he moves to sit next your trembling form, wrapped in the plush blanket you got him for his birthday last year. It smelled like him. No smoke, no ashes. Him.

“Just take deep breaths,” he says quietly, afraid to spook you, as he slowly brings up his arm to wrap around your shoulders and bring you close. You’re rigid. Stiff. And so unlike yourself. “Don’t feel bad, y/n. Stuff like this... it’s hard. There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to recovery. No one gets it right on the first try.” It’s hard, rewiring your brain not to crave a certain substance, or anything else, really. Katsuki hasn’t dealt with this firsthand, but as a hero he’s seen enough to know no one gets it right on the first try; sometimes people slip up.

“People slip up. And that’s fine,” he continued softly. “They just need to push themselves back up and fight back even harder. I’m so fucking proud of you, alright? And you - you’re tough as hell, you know that?” He stops, as if to gauge your reaction. And react you do. You bury your head in his chest, dropping your hands to your lap without a word. Saying something is too much right now. The cigarette is still between your fingers, but Katsuki gently takes it from you and tosses it onto the table.

“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you are.” Katsuki pats your shoulder furthest from him, leaning down to whisper at you. “You’d have to be, to put up with me and my bullshit,” he jokes with a pinch to your cheek, and finally you chuckle with a wee grin. “No, seriously! I always leave the toilet seat up, I scream at the TV, I never put my laundry right into the hamper, and I always forget to wash dishes... I’m kinda hard to live with.”

“You also kick in your sleep,” you quip with a giggle, voice tiny and meek yet full of love and spunk.

“Ah hell, do I? See, the list goes on and on.”

You shake your head wistfully, your grin growing by the second, but then it leaves you for something sweeter, something quieter. “Thank you for helping me quit, Katsuki.” The gentle lilt in your voice is music to his ears, though he wouldn’t outright admit it.

He huffs at you playfully. “Aw, shaddup. With everything you put up with from me, I’d say we’re even.” He almost seems bashful at your thanking him. Maybe he is.

“No, not quite. You also walk around naked at the worst possible times.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

You turn to look up at him, eyes gleaming - and not from tears. “My friend really didn’t need to see you walking around in your All Might boxers.”

He shrugs it off. “She should’ve knocked. And you shouldn’t have bought them as a gag gift, babe.” Katsuki flicks your nose gently, leaving you to you wrinkle it and recoil from him.

“Jerk!”

Shouto:

Damn paperwork.

His back hurt, his eyes burned, and his wrist was currently cramping.

Yet it was better than everything you dealt with on patrol earlier. He wasn’t sure how you made it back in one piece like you did.

With a yawn he decided that’s it, a break is most certainly due. So he’d go looking for you, maybe even just five minutes together would make him a new man. But he couldn’t find you. Oh. Shouto wasn’t panicked by any means, but he was in a hurry to find you. He knew if even after one relapse, no matter how short-lived, you would beat yourself up about it better than you do villains. Even if there was no need to. Relapse happens sometimes.

Finally, he found you in the alleyway behind the agency. And he found the cigarette. It was lit, snug between your lips and slowly developing ash. Your hand was so shaky, Shouto was worried something was medically wrong for a second before he realized himself. He called out to you, a hand reached out as he approached. You jumped in your skin, head jerking his way, one lone tear trail on your cheek. “Y/n, please put that out.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand unceremoniously, but it didn’t bother him. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “It’s just- it’s hard. I feel like I’m trying to put myself back together, but I’m missing a piece. Does that make sense?”

Shouto looks at you gently. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to me,” he says clearly. “As long as you understand it and talk about what you’re feeling, I’m happy. Why don’t you tell me more about what you’re feeling right now? It helped last time.”

“Overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed as fuck.” You suck in a breath and bring your fingers to your lips to pick at them rather than take a drag.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being a hero is hard work.” He’s being supportive. He understands; he’s a hero, too.

“With everything at home when I started... and being a hero...” your voice breaks, “pushing one down for the sake of the other and trying to hold myself together and quit... it sucks, Shouto.”

Your love’s eyebrows pull upward with worry. “I’m sorry, love. You always do your best, you do so well.”

You glance at him with tears in your eyes before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with a drawn out sigh. That... actually felt nice. It hurt, too, but it was nice.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to talk to me when you’re craving, okay?” Shouto’s hands grab yours, thumbs rubbing the back of your hand soothingly and slowly. “It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. I want you to talk to me. I want to help.”

You nod quickly, unable to form words as tears well up and your lips fight against you to grimace. You wipe at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling all the while. You choke out a quiet “thank you,” and swallow thickly, only for Shouto to lean toward you and plant a kiss to your forehead before pulling you in for a warm hug in the cool alley.

“Dont thank me,” he whispers, squeezing you tight for emphasis. “It’s only natural I want to help you. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”

You nestle your cheek to his shoulder. “Even if I fuck up?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, y/n. I’ll always be so proud of you for fighting on.”

Eijirou:

“Hey, y/n-“

You blink at him, cigarette between your lips and lighter in your shaky hand. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are red. The flame of the lighter licked the cigarette but did not light it, and then suddenly died out as you pulled your thumb off the plate below the wheel. You reached up and closed the window of the bathroom before sitting back down on the side of the tub with your hands in your lap. “Please don’t be mad...”

The grin he wore just before he saw the cigarette faded. “Hey, I’m not mad.”

“I had a really bad day and... I dunno.” You looked down at your hands and the lighter and cigarette within them. “I just needed one. Just one. To deal with it.”

“But...” He hesitated, worried he’d come off too chiding. “Remember? ‘Just one’ turns into two, then three...”

You nod. “I know, I know, but...” Your sniffle hits his ears and it’s hard to hear.

“I’m not mad, or trying to be mean... I’m just worried.” Eijirou scratches the back of his head almost awkwardly. “Why don’t we go for a walk, yeah? Get some fresh air, too?”

You didn’t feel like it, but agree anyway. Eijirou doesn’t take you anywhere in particular, just walking and turning here and there when he felt like it, your hand in his all the while. You’re quiet the entire time, but he speaks enough for the both of you, talking about everything he sees or whatever a certain sight seems to remind him of. His hand squeezes yours every so often, as if to remind you that you don’t need to say anything, as long as you let him do this, let him distract you, let him help you - how ever you want to word it.

But suddenly he stops and turns to you, red eyes bright and gleaming. “Can I ask something selfish of you?” It’s sudden and unlike him to ask something like this.

You’re taken aback, but nod anyway.

“Any time you get the urge, any time you catch yourself reaching for a cigarette, will you promise me you’ll get out and take a walk?” Eijirou’s voice is quiet and soothing, yet you pick up concern. “Or just get up and walk around if you’d rather not go out. Please? Even if I’m not around...?”

You smile at him, his expression immediately relaxing upon seeing it. “Promise.”

“Good! I don’t know how well distraction would work, but maybe it’ll help.” He shrugs and continues walking again, pulling you with him. He had a point. Some fresh air did feel nice, and hearing the birds chirping as you walked by a small park was relaxing. That, mixed with the warm and kind hand of your lover, seemed to wash away the awful day you’d experienced. It was so soothing, you wondered why you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

With a sweet sigh, the tension in your shoulders dies downs an you relax, finally, for the first time in a while. This was Eijirou’s doing, certainly. This walk would only be half as pleasant without him, but you promised. Push comes to shove, you could go out for a coffee or snack break on your walk to keep yourself occupied.

“Hey, Eijirou.”

His hand squeezes yours before he turns to look at you. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He gives you a toothy, closed-eye grin. “O’ course, sweetheart!”

#mha #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #kirishima eijirou #take care lovely! 🖤🤍🖤#I hope you enjoy these!!

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years ago

Text

reid’s anatomy pt. 2

summary: after seeing spencer in the OR, you have no other choice but to wait and see if he makes it or not

word count: 1,827 reading time: 7 mins

masterlist

Pt. 1

My spine had succumbed to the soreness that had spread throughout my lower body as me and Morgan sat almost lifelessly together on cold hospital floors.

If Spencer was present at the moment, he would ramble about the billion strains of bacteria and viruses incomprehensible by the naked eye, at which our skin would be exposed to. But he wasn’t here, he’s laying placid under OR lights that were just as bright as Time Square’s streets at night and a scalpel just as sharp as the sushi chef in the japanese cuisine he took me out for our 2 year anniversary.

Morgan still continued to stroke my head, our tear ducts running dry as the minutes passed us. I sat up from his shoulder, facing him for the first time since he came to check up on me.

“What happened out there?” I asked disdainfully. It was evident in my tone that I held some sort of animosity, possibly blame towards the team for not protecting Spencer. But deep down I knew that no matter how many cautionary provisions they’ve taken, you can never dodge the inevitable.

He flinched at the presence on my voice, not anticipating that I would be so prominent in speaking. He shifted to face the ceiling, sighing as he dragged his hand over the bridge of his nose.

“I-i can’t even to begin to explain Y/N. I-i’m so sorry” He repented, his eyes beginning to water again. I prolonged my examination of him, egging him to continue his narrative.

He now bowed his head, laying them on his hands that were supported by his knees. “We were with the unsub right” He painted out the scenario, I nodded while following along with his recollection of the events. “We were in the middle of a standoff. We had about 3 additional agents with us and the police force, but me and Reid were hanging back behind the unsub, in case he had tried to escape...” He paused in the midst of his sentence, taking in a breath as he began to choke on a few words.

“It was supposed to be me” He confessed, earning a look of perplexity from me. “The unsub had a kid in hostage, and the kid got in the middle of me and the unsub. So naturally I went to take the kid away, but I made the stupid mistake of dropping my gun. Obviously, the unsub heard and turned around to shoot me and the kid since we were both defenseless. But...Reid, he-. He shoved both me and the kid, taking the shot himself”.

The words that came from Morgan’s lips were incoherent by the time he finished. He looked over to me, his eyes exhibiting a great deal of grief before searching my own for a response or clemency.

In contrast to the circumstances that were placed before us, a forced chuckle lunged out from my throat, acquiring Morgan’s attention. A morbid smile planted on my lips as I thought about Spencer.

“He would’ve been such a good father. Don’t you think?” I asked using the same tone from earlier. Morgan agreed apprehensively, sorrow still evident by the way his body responded to mine.

“He deserves children. Doesn’t he, Derek?”

“Y/N- I don’t understa-”

“Then he should be able to have them” I snapped, slamming my fist against the wall behind me. Morgan reached a comforting hand out, but I swatted his hand away. I gave him a crazed look, running my hand through my hair. “H-he should have a family, he deserves a future...Morgan, he should be...alive. That’s how it’s supposed to be” I choked out, word vomit spilling from my mouth as my thoughts swirled around my head at a thousand miles an hour, any sense of rationality I had depleting.

“Y/N- I-”

Soft sobs racked my entire body and defeated whimpers had crawled up my esophagus. I rocked myself back and forth, burying my head into my arms until all I saw was the artificial darkness I placed myself in. It was almost a cocoon that composed of me and my thoughts, regardless if Morgan was next to me.

My own heartbeat was ringing in my ears, drowning out any other noise around me, including Morgan. That wasn’t until I heard scurried footsteps, metal hitting metal, and the attending inside the OR yelling brutal commands at the staff.

It suddenly came clear to me when Morgans hand gripped mine and all that could be heard from the OR was, “his BP is down, he’s going into V-fib, we’re losing him”. At that moment, my heart stopped and my vision dwindled, I was too tired to react. Pain resurfaced as my mind grew dizzy, next followed the sensation in my arms, legs, and back. Finally, my consciousness inevitably followed in its footsteps as it withered away to the sound of the doctors frantically shifting around to save Spencer’s life.

Light began to be apparent again, my vision gradually retaining it’s efficiency as I noticed I was placed on a hospital chair. I rubbed my eyes, sitting up in the seat that I was slumped down on, scratching my head while my eyes examined the environment.

The first thing that had caught my attention was that I wasn’t in the hallway anymore, but in a post-op room. My eyes felt heavy from all the crying I’ve done previously and my forehead grew hot from the stress I’ve undergone.

The sound of voices pricked my ears, and in curiosity, I stood up to investigate. Getting closer to the noise, I noticed my legs were tender and that I had a great difficulty at maneuvering around.

How long was I out?

I finally got to my destination and was met with a privacy curtain that ran from the ceiling to the floor. I heard a multitude of voices that rang from the other side of the curtain.

Uneasiness set in my bones, not wanting to get my hopes up. I slowly pushed the fabric aside, letting my presence be known, and let me tell you, it was the best decision I’ve made.

To my fortune, there stood the attending that was operating on Spencer with the rest of the crew that surrounded a single bed. On that hospital bed laid the love of my live.

Spencer was the first one I locked eyes with, he was in the middle of speaking with his colleagues when we did, which halted his speech. In recognition of Spencer’s pause, all eyes were then relocated to me. Although I didn’t reciprocate anyone else’s glances, except Spencer.

“C-can we have a moment of privacy please?” Spencer requested, looking at his doctor for approval.

The attending nodded in agreement, shifting his focus to me and gave me a hopeful smile. The same smile I would give to my patients after a successful surgery. Everyone filed out after the doctor one by one, leaving Morgan to be the last one out.

As he exited the room, I stopped him by the shoulder and silently thanked him. He returned the gesture with a large smile, nudging me towards Spence. When the room was finally empty, I inched towards spencer with the brightest smile I can wear. His eyes shone nothing but love as he continued to gawk at me venturing towards him.

When I finally got to his side, he greeted me with an amiable ‘hello’ like it was the first time we met. He reached out for my hand, placing it on his chest for comfort and giving it an affectionate kiss.

I, then, proceeded to lovingly whack him upside the head in return, earning a playful wince from him.

“I swear to god Spencer Reid, if you ever, and I mean EVER, put me through anything like that again, I will personally go into the OR and cut your LVAD wire and kill you myself, bec-”

“Y/N, honey, I’m here no-”

“DON’T. Don’t you dare tell me to calm down Spence because I will have to be restrained and placed in a mental hospital when I lose my license for kicking the IQ out of you” I finished, heaving as I gathered my composure.

Spencer looked at me amused, gripping my hand in his and hauling me closer to the side of his bed. “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m sorry for putting you through everything you went through” He looked up at me with sincere eyes, melting all the disdain that swelled in my heart.

I sighed, leaning down to lay my head on his chest, in which he gave me permission to hop into his bed. I pulled him in closer, terrified that he might vanish from my grasp into thin air. “Spencer, I love you so much” I sniffled, muffling my words into his chest. “You have no idea Spence, I-i felt so lost and hopeless. I-i couldn’t do anything to save you, they-they wouldn’t let me” I sobbed, my throat tightening up as the words spilled actively from my lips.

Spencer quieted me down, stroking my hair as I spoke. “I don’t know where I’d be without you Spence”. I looked up at the man who held me, my heart beating in delight, in contrast to the emotion my face was probably expressing.

He leaned in pressing a long lasting kiss on my lips, then he proceeded to reciprocate the same gesture on my forehead. “You’re my absolute everything Y/N’ He sighed. “Before I- before everything became a blur, all I could think of was you. All I could think of was that I took out one less person that can harm you. I love you so much Y/N”.

A comforting silence followed after, creating an environment of serendipity. I toyed with the hospital gown that covered his body, thinking of all the events that had occured before, thanking the heavens for the outcome that was given to me and praying for the future.

“I want a baby” I professed without warning, feeling Spencer tense up in surprise.

“W-what did you say Y/N?”

“I want a baby, I want to start a family with you” I continued, adjusting my position to get a good look at his reaction. “I want to have a baby now” I declared, determination dripping from my confession.

Spencer chuckled, gesturing to the IV and the tubes that were wired into him. “I would be glad to Y/N, but I’m kind of a human experiment as this moment” He joked.

We both chuckled in glee, holding each other tight as we basked in the pleasant scene. “But I would love to have little Y/N’s and Spencers running around, especially with the one I’d want nothing more than to spend my lifetime with” He pulled me into another kiss, peering deeply into my eyes before shutting his own to get some rest.

“I love you so much, Y/N Y/L/N” He whispered through his breath.

“I love you more than you know, Spencer Reid”

A/N:

That’s a wrap, you know I was going to end this short story with Spencer dying, but I thought about how evil that was. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and don’t be afraid to put in any requests :)

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @spideyreid @evelyn-4034

#spencer reid imagines #spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid icons #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines

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poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 10, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Relief.

Notes: now ive said this before, but i need to say it again and add on to it. This chapter will NOT make much sense if you do not read Mahjur's story, None Like You. The experience of reading this chapter will also be enhanced if you read Piye's story, Miscreation, but it's not as necessary as Mahjur's story. theyre also long as fuck so heres the important stuff: Piye was born blind and went on a mission when they were about 14 in which they grew their dark skin, massive height, and white hair, and gained some of the sight they'd lost. Mahjur gave up everything to be with Ahk. in the end, Ma'at (Goddess of Truth and Order) forced them apart in the name of the 'holy law'. Ma'at did this because mahjur, as a god, was not supposed to be interfering with the lives of people.

WC: 6.4k

Throughout the entirety of your two-day journey, you never left the canoe, leaving your muscles cramped, and strained, and restless. Still, you supposed you were in a better state than Piye, who had yet to sleep or rest from their rowing. On the other hand, Ahk was fine. At one point you asked him if he was worried about the coming events, but he told you that he wouldn't stress until it happened, and continued to swim beside the canoe without a care.

How you wished to have his capability to simply not think about things.

As you passed by Thebes in broad daylight, you looked far across the river from the western bank, searching for the falcon soldiers. Like Aswan, most of what you saw looked vacant or abandoned. Despite that you continued to stare, watching civilization pass by slowly, till city walls faded away to the flush green of the Nile.

"When will we get there?" Ahk moaned, his neck on the edge of the canoe, allowing him to dip his head upside-down, the crown of his hair soaking in water.

"Shut up," Piye said. The Pharaoh obeyed, although begrudgingly.

Night came and went in the blink of a sleep-heavy eye, passing into the dark early morning. Birds had yet to stir, leaving you in the eerie silence––the quiet before the battle. The only to feel such stress appeared to be you and Piye. Ahk slept on as usual, and the rest of the world remained ignorant to your journey.

"How did you meet Ahk?" You asked, desperate for someone elses' voice rather than the one in your head.

"My father was employed by his father, the Pharaoh of the time. I was... nine, maybe?" They said, taking a moment to remember. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem very close."

"I suppose we are." They paused. "He was a great comfort to me when my father died. And other... such things."

"He seems to have a habit of winning people over," you noted quietly.

"Yes, well... he has a certain charm."

As the sun's light began to crest the horizon, Memphis appeared in the distance, and Piye pulled the canoe to a stop on the western shore. Ahead of you lay the city you had so eagerly fled, the silent white walls foreboding in the worst of ways. You were certain the city would be flooded with falcon soldiers, as well as people who had heard of Ahk's treason, and who had decided Gyasi would be a better ruler. There would be few friends in those walls. Those of standing who had openly expressed their support of the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah had been banished.

Once the boat hit the riverbanks, Piye jumped out of it and pulled it the rest of the way onto solid ground. From there they donned a head covering, and shook the water out of their sandals, before helping you out as well onto dry land. No words were exchanged as you fully dressed yourself as well, sheathing knives you had been toying with.

You stepped to the side, tapping Ahk's head and laughing when it lolled to the side. It took a few more pokes before he truly stirred, moaning about a poor night's sleep, before he noticed you above him.

"When are we gonna be there?"

"We're here," Piye said flatly.

"We are?!" Ahk jumped to his feet, nearly falling over in the canoe. "How's the city look? Is it burned?"

"Look for yourself," you said, manually moving his chin to face the city behind him.

"Beautiful as the day I left," he said, seemingly satisfied. "So what are we doing?"

"Following a Goddesses' orders," Piye said as they finished pinning their head covering.

Ahk haphazardly dressed himself, but refused to wear a head covering. Piye explained thoroughly how screwed the three of you would be if Ahk was instantly recognized, and though the Pharaoh argued back for a little while, he was eventually won over. With that decided, the three of you abandoned the canoe and made way for Memphis.

The flush bushes and trees lining the river soon disappeared into empty sand, the land having been cleared for the construction of the great city. From where you now stood you could see guards inside the entrance of the massive walls. Your heart thrummed in your chest, crashing against its' own strings, sending your thoughts into a flurry. Disappearing was your act––returning was not. Facing the consequences of your actions was something you rarely did, since you weren't locked down anywhere, and didn't require anything from anyone but yourself. Now, you had a self-appointed duty––keep your friends safe. After the many years of your travels, you finally had something to lose.

And the thought of that terrified you.

"We aren't using the front entrance, are we?" You murmured, mostly to Piye.

"Of course not. Have you ever scaled a wall?"

"Well... once when I was trying to escape Ahk," you said reluctantly.

"Oh, I remember that," Ahk said with recognition in his eyes. "Then I tied you to the bed."

"Yeah, and then I cried."

"You two are.. I don't even know. You're insane," Piye said. "Now stop being insane and help me here."

You had yet to reach the walls of Memphis, so Piye stopping halfway there confused you for a moment.

"What are we doing?"

"I can't throw a grappling hook straight up that far," Piye said, kneeling and digging into their bag, "so we have to set up here."

Before they could find the hook amongst the mass of other tools set carelessly in their bag, they stopped suddenly, raising their head and looking off to the city. It didn't catch your eye at first, but when they didn't move for a good minute, you noticed, as did Ahk.

"Piye?"

They stood suddenly, the tools in their lap clattering to the ground. Long threads of white hair began to rise, floating mid-air as though Piye stood underwater, or stood suspended in nothing.

Your attention alarmingly caught, you circled round them, finding their eyes white and glowing on a face of night-black skin.

"Piye, this is not a good time to have a revelation!" Ahk chided, reaching for their wrist. Before he could do so, Piye flicked his hand away, making him recoil with a pained gasp.

"There is..." their voice spoke in double, in triplicate, echoing in your skull like the resonance of a gong, "... much to do."

You and Ahk looked to each other, both searching for answers that neither of you had. Piye continued their path forward, leaving you and their belongings behind, as they headed in broad daylight towards the city's gates. Without ever having to reach up, their head scarves and chest coverings fell away till all that remained was their skirt.

What the fuck do we do now, came through your head, but you had little time to voice your question before Ahk ran to Piye. You followed, mimicking his actions when he tried to stop Piye or direct them the other way.

"You're going to get us killed!" Ahk scream-whispered, all too aware of the soldiers surrounding the city's entrance. He leant the entirety of his weight on Piye, attempting to pull them back, but they showed no sign of strain.

"It is meant to be," they said in a hush. "It is meant to be."

Their mouth closed but the words remained, whispered over and over again in your ears. Your own breathing had already hastened, fingers tense with your own terror, worsening as you met the eye of one of the guards.

"Ahk, they're looking at us!" You hissed behind Piye's back, still grasping helplessly at Piye's hands to attempt at pulling them back.

Panic stewed in your heart and leaked into your head, leaving you in a daze of confusion, unsure what to do to protect yourself and your friends. The soldiers were now focusing their attention on you, and Piye's eyes were still glowing.

It was then, within full view of the falcon soldiers and about ten feet from the city itself, that the magi released themself of your terrified grips, rising into the morning air. They opened their mouth and out came a voice that did not belong to them, lodged in their throat as they screamed over the rustling of guards and soldiers readying themselves for battle. Bells began to chime in the city, alerting officials and citizens to the threat now floating above the white walls of Memphis.

"If ye are in Heaven or on Earth, I am the Only One in your bodies," Piye spoke, loud enough to be heard throughout the city.

The sheer volume and the vibrations within the earth that followed had you crouching down, and covering your ears with your hands, a position Ahk soon adopted as well. You watched from the corner of your eye as the soldiers fell victim to that same, screeching pain digging into either side of their heads. Swarms of people began to leave the city through the back entrance, trampling over each other like fleeing rats.

"I am the Pure one – I shall not die a second time. I am He Who is Not Known."

Ahk's eyes darted upwards, recognition flooding him.

"They're calling in Amun," he murmured, just loud enough to hear between the pauses of Piye's words.

"Already?!"

"I don't think they can control it," Ahk said, but as Piye continued, he was forced to cover his ears once more, wincing away.

"Your forms, indeed all forms, are my habitation. My moment is within your bodies. I am The Unveiled," Piye said, and suddenly the aura around them stilled, fixed on a glow brighter than the sun.

For a moment all was silent. Then their mouth opened, gaped and unhinged from the skull as they looked to the sky. An ear-splitting note came from them, running through the earth and sky, even through the water that now bubbled on the shore as though heated by fire. Horror filled your chest, spreading quick through your veins till your body trembled and shook.

Light flooded out of their mouth, a great beam of sun cast into the dark morning sky. Their still-glowing eyes now gave their skull a hollowed look, filled with nothing but light, pouring out with the overflow. Such multitudes could not be contained to a mortal body.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Ahk yelled over the horrifying screeching, attempting to cover his ears best he could while still reaching for you.

Hopeless, you reached out as well, finding his hand in the space between you and grasping it as though he were a ship in a storm. He pulled you along, stumbling on his feet just as you did. The deep hum running through the earth and water had already worsened, till the ground began to crack, the water of the Nile turning into steam at an alarming rate.

You said nothing to each other, but he led you into the city and you followed without question. Every two seconds you cast looks behind your shoulder, watching events carelessly unfold, and stumbling over yourself whenever Ahk increased his speed. Together, you barrelled down the straight pathway to your destination––the gleaming palace.

"Ahk, what are we going to do?" You asked in a shaky voice, burdened by stumbling feet and a racing heart.

"I don't know," he admitted in his own fear-laced tone. "We need to hide you."

"We can't hide forever!" You wrenched yourself out of his grasp, pulling the both of you into a side alley hidden from Piye's––or Amun's––eyes. "That Goddess wants us here for a reason. We have to face him eventually."

"What if they were just dreaming?" He grasped both your upper arms, looking into you with wide, terrified eyes. "What if that Goddess doesn't come? I. Cannot. Lose you."

"It's our only hope. Don't you believe in your own Gods?"

"Not since Amun tried to steal you from me," he said, still searching your face for something he clearly couldn't find.

"That's your fucking friend up there!" You said, pointing behind you to Piye, who was now floating above the city walls, their hair suspended as they continued to bellow with that horrible ringing sound. "I know for a fact Piye would give their life for you and you should do the same."

"I know, I know," he hissed. "But I won't risk you. I have to hide you –"

He reached for you again, but you swatted his hands away.

"I will not be hidden!"

"No, no, no, no, no," he began to murmur, his gaze flickering between you and Piye, far behind you. "No, you must stay away. Far away."

"Ahk, I'm n––"

He tore his sleeve, a habit he had apparently used enough to become good at, and promptly tied it around your mouth. You protested greatly, pushing and shoving and kicking him away. In the end it was that same struggle you never won––your hands were tied behind your back, quite literally, and your legs followed. Even as you writhed and yelled, you could note the tears streaking down his face.

"Don't you do this!" You said through the gag, your words muffled as he threw you over his shoulder.

"I must keep you safe. I cannot fulfill my role if I am worrying about you," he explained in a weak voice.

With that, he hid you away in an underground cellar, locking the door as he left. Try as you might––and you did try, from yelling to thrashing to crying––you couldn't move from your spot, tied to one of the pillars holding up the dirt ceiling.

As much as he promised not to hurt you or bind you in any way, he sure had done it a lot. Tears began to burn your own eyes, and soon they were falling, soaked up by the gag wrapped around your head.

Piye's unholy screeching had yet to stop, even within the earth. The vibrations you'd felt so fiercely were dulled with distance, a fact you were very relieved about, as any risk of cave-in would've held you mortified. It was a small comfort compared to the severity of your situation, but you tried to revel in it nonetheless.

Every now and then you'd thrash in your bonds again, hoping your continuous struggle had done you some sort of good. Each time you were proven wrong, and still you rubbed your ropes against the splintered wood that kept you there, praying the bonds would break.

A soft hum reverberated in the room, and for a moment you were terrified Amun (in Piye's body, of course,) was knocking at the door. But a popping sound marked the end of the tune, making way for a person to appear, their form tall and still nothing more than a white silhouette.

How many god-damned magic people am I going to meet in Egypt? you thought tiredly. Piye was already enough for you, but the bushy, almost circular hair of this person had you convinced it was someone else.

Eyes pulled themselves open. The only trait on the glowing, ethereal form, and you recognized them. The heat on your skin. The crawling unease trickling down your spine. You recalled a night's sleep spent in a restless haze, and it clicked––it had watched you. This had watched you, now reaching forward as though to touch you. Instinctively you flinched away, but you couldn't go anywhere, not bound to the pillar. You tried your best to cringe and strain away. It still touched you, first by its' fingertips, and the burning heat reached down from your forehead down into your sternum.

"Stop!" You cried when the entirety of its' hand spread over your forehead, sending searing pain through your nerves like electricity. With your shout it withdrew, seemingly surprised by your reaction.

"Whhhat iss your naammmee?" It asked in many voices that spoke one after another, stretching the words.

"... Amoke," you said quietly, still pushing yourself against the pillar, but thankful it was no longer hurting you.

Slowly, starting at their crown and spreading down to their feet, their image appeared through the light. Who stood before you was not someone you recognized, but there was something unearthly about them––as their mouth opened, you found long rows of sharp teeth, all ordered as if it were normal to have that many teeth. But they towered above your shrunken form, fiery gold eyes staring down.

"You are... a friend of Ahkmen's?" They breathed out.

"Y - you mean Ahkmenrah?"

"Yes," they said with a relieved sigh, a smile stretching too-wide across their face. You curled further into yourself at the sight of their sharp teeth. "How is he?"

"Fighting Amun, I think," you said, hoping it would help them along.

"Oh, right," they said, jumping back into action.

Circling you, they bent to untie your ropes, grabbing your hand and wrenching open the lock on the door. Without pause they bounded up the steps with you in tow, leading you out of the alley and back onto the main street. By now the sun had risen, now shining bright with its' familiar warmth, circled by a sky of blue.

"Come, we must –"

"Wait, for one second," you said, pulling on your hand to release their hold, but you couldn't shake them off. "Who are you?"

"... my name is Mahjur," they said in a quiet voice. "I don't know if you know of me."

"I've... heard some things," you said vaguely.

"Shall we go now?"

You nodded, and the two of you were off. The main street still led straight from the gates to the palace, Gyasi to your right and Piye to your left. You had no way of knowing which way Ahk had decided to go, but Mahjur seemed to have some idea, as they set off straight away for Piye.

When you reached the city gates, you found the ground ripped into pieces, lightning-like strikes running through the earth. You stumbled over them and jumped, reaching the riverside where Amun had unleashed a special hell of holy wrath. The Nile was still boiling, and the height of the water had gone down drastically already, matched by the haze of fog and steam now hiding Amun, and Piye, from view. Spilt blood soaked your sandals, reaching up to the soles of your feet in a sticky liqueur. Sickness suddenly overtook you, nearly vomitting from the sensation even despite your previous run-ins with blood-soaked limbs, memories of dry blood tainting your tongue.

"Who has brought me to this form?" He asked from Piye's mouth, too deep for them, too roaring and ear-piercing.

"I am," said a woman, and your attention zipped to a figure standing atop the city gates, looking up at Amun. "I came to a magi in a dream and asked them to summon you."

The Goddess.

"Who is that?" You asked Mahjur quietly.

"Ma'at," they answered. "Goddess of order. I asked her to help. Knew she wouldn't stand by if she knew a God was breaking the natural order."

"Can we help her?"

"Yeah. Just need to wait for Ahkmen to get back from the palace," they said, looking back over their shoulder towards the shining palace in the distance. "He's fetching his royals and their soldiers under the guise of protecting the city. Once they're here, we can take down Amun, and Ahkmen can deliver a final blow. That'll reinstate him as Pharaoh."

"You've thought this through."

"Of course I have. I actually plan ahead, unlike Ahk."

"You can say that again," you mumbled beneath your breath.

Mahjur didn't respond, but took your hand again, pulling you out past the giant walls. The cracks in the ground were large enough that, at times, you needed to jump over the crevices, dodging the crumbling earth leading into a bottom you couldn't see. Before you could ask what to do, Mahjur began to search through the stalls still put together after Amun's rampage.

Caught up in whatever Mahjur was searching for, you remained unaware of Amun's argument with Ma'at, one that had digressed into nothing more than angry yelling. His eyes inevitably fell to you, and the glow within them tripled.

"Amoke," he said in a whisper that still echoed like drums.

You whirled around with eyes big as the moon. He, Piye and Amun, looked upon you with a smile that crawled across the darkened skin, illuminated by both the glow in his eyes and the rising daylight. Petrified into place, you could do nothing but watch as he lowered himself to your level. In Piye's body, Amun still towered over you, just as he had inhabiting his golden statue.

"Don't you look away from me, Amun!" Ma'at yelled from the top of the wall.

Even as the Goddess yelled, he did not tear his gaze from you. You began to back up, looking behind you to try and find Mahjur, but they were as scared stiff as you were. They would not help you, and Ma'at was too far away.

He snatched you in his arms, grinning as though he'd won some sort of prize. In Piye's face, glowing with Amun's power, you found something familiar––hunger. Ahk's hunger, of cannibals, of the rich. Your hands shook, followed by your heart thundering in your chest till you were sure your veins would explode. His smile was too wide, like Mahjur's, but empty and near expressionless.

"Pretty little thing," he said softly, scanning your face.

Wings of green and gold spread out above Amun's head, catching your eye as he attempted to lean in closer to you. Your eyes further widened when they began to descend, growing larger till the ground shook with the landing of heavy feet, marking Ma'at's footprints in the earth that burnt at the touch of her skin.

"How dare you look away from me," she said in a voice that trembled with her fury, barely contained in her mortal form.

A large hand came over Amun's head, wrenching on his––or rather Piye's––long, silver hair. Under Ma'at's control, he turned to face her with ire in his gritted teeth.

The Goddess, who had at first seemed rather small and delicate, had grown to twice the size of even Piye, meaning she seemed much like a statue to you and Mahjur. Her wings that came from nowhere now flared out, appearing to crown her head that she held high. Her eyes did not glow, but her anger reverberated in the air, thrumming in your bones.

"You claim to be a lord of all creation," she said through a fixed jaw, forcing Amun back and kneeing him in the face, hard enough to hear an audible crack that you winced away from. "And then you kill your children, betray the one who saved your armies, attempt to steal from the one who gave you back your power. You were not born yesterday, Amun."

When Ahk left you tied up in a cellar, the tears that lined his face grew cold in the wind of his running footsteps. His pace was slowed by the uphill slant, but he pushed himself as far as he dare, and made it to the bottom of the palace entrance in a short amount of time.

He noted throughout his run an astonishing absence of people. No people in their homes, no markets setting up, no guards at the palace door. As he made his way up the stairs, the reason for it became clear––the sound of many footsteps all trampling over each other came from within the pristine white walls of his home, coupled with fretting voices talking muted behind the walls. He cracked open the door to the inner chambers, and found his hypothesis to be correct.

The whole of the city––or those who had decided not to flee––were hidden within the palace. At the other side of the room sat the raised floor of the throne, and upon it sat Gyasi, flanked by the lesser advisors of Ahk's father. He kept a perfectly still expression, but Ahk knew better––Gyasi panicked under stress but seeked action in times of peace.

Keeping his head low, Ahk crept through the crowd, a hand on the wall to ensure he wouldn't lose himself. A few of the people he passed had hanging swords attached to their hips, and so he stole two just in case, hoping he wouldn't have to use either. Through the mutterings he heard, there were a good deal of complaints about Gyasi––a fact he definitely liked, though his delight was shortlived, as he soon heard a fair amount of criticisms on himself as well.

Murmurings and voices grew louder, more concerned as Amun's voice pierced the thick walls, sparking panic among the crowd. People began to move, bumping against each other and pushing one another aside. Ahk was inevitably hurt as well, thrown against the wall and landing on the floor.

It came to such a height that Gyasi stood, yelling a call to attention above the crowd, who stilled on command.

"Amun will not kill his devotees," he ensured, the skin of his neck dangling as he shouted. "He is searching for the False King and his whore."

Ahk could physically feel his irises shrink as he singled down on Gyasi, hatred boiling in his head.

"He is seeking a citizen," Ahk said, projecting his voice to speak over the old man stealing his throne.

Gasps came from those around him, the crowd suddenly parting completely, leaving him centered out from the bustling heads. Gyasi narrowed his eyes as he saw him.

"A citizen named Amoke. They are my friend, so I must protect them, but I will not abandon my people, leave them helpless in the hands of an artifact," Ahk continued as he stepped forward, making his way to the throne, where Gyasi began to back away. "Do you really think keeping everyone here is going to work?"

"We are dealing with your mess! It is undignified to insult someone cleaning up after you," Gyasi said with furrowed brows, a grimace and a sneer forming simultaneously on his crooked lips.

"I think it's alright if they're doing a godawful job at it," Ahk said flatly. "You need to get the citizens out of here, hide them in the brush of the Nile. If Amun breaches the city walls, this is the first place he will look, and he will demolish every living thing he sees. He is aiming to kill my friend, Amoke, and he does not care if others die in the process."

His words were doing little to quell the audience's worries, but that was his aim, as detrimental as it might be to the health of his citizens.

"You think you know better than I? I have been protecting the people of this city longer than you've been alive."

"You are a remnant of my father's rule. A relic from a time of barbaric violence and meaningless bloodshed. Now get the people to the nearest outcrop of the Nile. You and I have a God to face, if you're truly ready to protect Kemet," Ahk said, offering forward one of his swords.

"... very well," Gyasi said slowly, grasping the sword and drawing it to hilt on his hip. More murmurings came from the crowd that watched the argument. "Pikta, divide the populace and take them in groups. Divide soldiers evenly as you can."

"Yes, sir," said a soldier, who bowed and ran to the front of the room to obey.

"Is Amun outside?" Gyasi asked as he made his way to the entrance of the palace, Ahk at his side.

"He's at the city gates in Piye's body," Ahk said, and as the two of them breached the threshold, he found he could still see Piye's flying body in the distance.

"That beast?" He said with raised brows. "We have quite the battle ahead."

"Hopefully, we won't have to use these swords. We should have the help of a Goddess," Ahk said. "She came to Piye in a dream a little while ago and instructed us on the beginnings of a plan. It is our duty to help her."

"How do you know it isn't a trick?"

"We don't."

The two men began to run down the pathway, both sets of eyes trained on the distant crumbling walls of the city, allowing them to see a tall woman holding a man by his neck against the reflected sun on the Nile. As Ahk noticed two much smaller onlookers, his pace doubled in speed till he bounded down the street. He reached the end much sooner than Gyasi, but it didn't take long till both of them stood shocked, watching Ma'at raise Piye––Amun––into the sky on long, emerald and gold wings.

"I am the Lord of this world," Amun growled, a statement that sent him crashing towards the earth, Ma'at's muscled arm pounding him down.

She stalked over to him, footsteps drumming against the ground till she knelt at his side, grabbing his hair and pulling his face out of the mud.

"I want you to say that to Ptah," she said, before letting his head fall back down. "Mahjur."

Ahk's heart froze at the name. You watched it happen, how his body seized, eyes darting to the God beside you. He lost feeling in all his limbs as Mahjur stepped forward, glancing at Ahk before quickly looking away and joining Ma'at's side.

The two Gods––Ma'at and Mahjur––spoke to each other quietly, and most everyone present listened in with shocked expressions. What you didn't notice, caught up in Ahk's reaction to his old friend, was Amun sinking into the earth. You only realized this as you, too, began to lower into the earth. Beneath you, hands had grasped your ankles and pulled you down.

"Um, Ahk...!" You said in hyperventilated gasps, helpless on how to save yourself.

You no longer had control of your legs, unable to pull them upwards, and there was nowhere your arms could hold onto. Ahk looked to you, shouting when he caught the tail-end of you disappearing wholly into the ground. He ran to where you stood, but it was too late, and Amun was raising himself into the sky with you bound to him.

"Amoke!" Ahk cried.

“They do not belong to you,” Amun said with a smile, unsheathing a knife and baring it to those watching him in an act of vanity. “It’s mine.”

From above, those gathered at the city gates seemed small––even Ma'at, who was twice your height. You watched, unable to breathe through your bindings, as an object materialized in Ma'at's hand and was handed to Ahk with words you couldn't hear. The point of it directed to you, and in an instant you recognized it.

A hornbow.

The tip of the arrow pointed straight to you, and you writhed, desperately trying to escape Amun's grasp and worm out of the way. But he held you fast, and through his speech you couldn't hear over the thundering of your flowing blood, he laughed and held you tighter yet.

Twang.

The drawstring shot back into place, sending the arrow zipping through the sky, and straight into Piye's chest. Amun's arms and magical bindings faded away, and you fell through the open air. Ahk ran to catch you, careening straight into the still-steamy river with open arms. His efforts were not for nothing, as he caught you, using the water to ease your descent as well.

"They asked me to do it," Ahk said through tears pouring out of his eyes, falling as a rainstorm does, as waterfalls do, as blood does from the tip of a sword. "They asked me to shoot them. I didn't think. I saw you, and – and – I didn't –"

"It's going to be alright," you whispered in a shaky voice, comforting best you could even with your trembling hands. His shoulders wracked with heavy sobs as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, wide, haunted eyes cast over your back.

You looked upwards, watching what Ahk could not bear to see. Piye, and Amun, were suspended in open space, the end of a glittering arrow buried in their chest. As the body began to rise higher, your gaze fell to Ma'at and Mahjur still on the shore. They were chanting, both of them––something you couldn't hear, but their eyes began to glow, the veins in their body shining through their skin. You tapped Ahk's shoulders, asking him in a murmur to look. He reluctantly turned to watch.

The heavenly glow emanating from Piye's bones and eyes began to separate from the physical body, peeling away from itself till all that remained of it was a golden shell, shimmering and translucent. Your mouth fell open, watching the two forms pull away from each other.

Once Piye was fully separated from what you guessed was Amun, they fell down into the river, where Ahk also stumbled weakly to catch them. They did not wake, but the slow up and down of their chest marked that they were still breathing despite the arrow piercing them.

You turned back to the power of Amun, transforming from Piye's body to the symbol of the sun. The spells falling from Mahjur and Ma'at grew slowly louder, lifting Amun's essence through the sky, till it dissipated, and fell into the sun.

Silence.

The hum of magic, of broiling Gods and Goddesses came to a halt, and time stood still. It felt as though the world around you had been imbued with enchantments, marinated in it, and then separated entirely, cut off from the feeling of holiness. Your chest had caved in, leaving you near unable to breathe.

No wind. No movement in the water.

Someone was sobbing––you turned to search for the source, and found Ahk knelt in the water with Piye in his arms. His face was buried in his vizier's neck, quiet apologies coming from his trembling lips, matched by fevered hands.

"Bring them here, Ahkmenrah," Ma'at said softly, beckoning the Pharaoh.

He turned to face her, slowly breathed away the tears still building in his eyes, and carried Piye to shore best he could. When he reached Ma'at's feet, he set his friend down to life flat on the earth.

"Oh you young men," Ma'at murmured as she knelt, a hand poised over Piye and the arrow. "Shu of the morning... who have power over those who flash among the sun-folk, whose arms move about and whose heads sway to and fro... may they move about every day."

Piye's eyes fluttered slowly open, a soft groan escaping them as they blinked. The arrow lodged in their chest dissipated to no more than ash. Ahk gasped, a wide grin spreading across his features as he once more knelt to his knees, helping Piye to sit up.

"Are you alright, my friend?" He asked hurriedly, scanning over the healing injury.

"I... I can't see," Piye murmured in a breath, still swaying from the weakness of their muscles. They fell against Ahk. "I can't see anymore."

"What? How –"

"Oh Gods," Piye said, their breathing quickening. "It's as if I am a child again."

"Amun claimed your magic," Ma'at said softly. She hadn't ever looked you in the eye, but she met the magi's, a kinder look on her than ever before. "To save you and your.. friends, I locked Amun into the sun, with help from Mahjur."

Mahjur gingerly stepped up behind Ma'at, looking to you, then Piye, and to the ground below Ahk.

"I am afraid your magic intwined with Amun’s, and I had to lock it into the sky as well, to rid of him," she finished. “Your magic is what gave you eyesight to begin with, if you remember those years.”

"I... do I look.. the same?" They asked in a shaky voice.

"Taller than anything," Ahk said instantly. "Dark skin. White hair. You look the same."

"But with no... magic," they murmured.

"You may still have remnants. Most people do have a base magic. You might be able to do small spells," Mahjur said. You watched Ahk bite into his cheek and look down.

Piye cried––you expected little else, and you waited patiently as they came to process everything that had just happened. When they requested a rundown of the events (as apparently their memory was not fantastic), Ahk happily explained what had come to pass, with his usual dramatic debonair. Ma'at stayed and chuckled at certain points, but stood when Ahk finished.

Movement caught the corner of your eye, and your gaze darted upwards, ready for any return of danger. But what you found instead were people––lots of people, coming from several different directions and circling you, Ahk, the two Gods, Piye, and Gyasi. They were muttering amongst themselves, and from what you heard they appeared to be discussing the validity of Ahk's story.

"I must return to the Duat before anything else decides to unhinge itself from the natural order," Ma'at said at the end of Ahk's retelling. Mahjur, who had taken a seat beside the Goddess, stood as well.

"Wait, Ma'at," Ahk said, standing with a hand out, hoping to halt her. She turned expectantly. "Can I... Mahjur..."

She glanced between the two, who even now were too nervous to look at each other. You watched on though, watched how timid and shaky they both grew, itching terribly to acknowledge one another.

"... very well," Ma'at sighed. "I'll give you a moment."

Ahk didn't even leave time to thank Ma'at for the allowance. He went straight to his friend, colliding with them and wrapping his arms so tight round them you could swear it'd kill a regular human. Mahjur had much of the same attitude, tears and laughter coming simultaneously from them.

"I will be waiting for you," they said with the biggest grin, parting for a very short moment to stroke the side of his face. "I wait for you in the field of reeds."

"I await my death, then," Ahk laughed giddily, followed by his friend bursting into giggles as well. You couldn't help but grin, but you hid it behind your hand.

"Come now, Mahjur," Ma'at commanded, and the two friends reluctantly parted, allowing Mahjur to rejoin Ma'at.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, though Ma'at was still a great deal taller than everyone present, and in a flash they were gone. Murmurings in the crowd grew in volume, people drawing closer as they realized their Pharaoh had never lied.

They had truly seen Ma’at, the Goddess of peace.

Relief––that was the only way to explain it. Pure, unaltered relief, flooding your veins, flooding your thoughts. Tremors in your hand that you didn't even notice were there disappeared, the knot in your brow fading with it. Air felt like it had been made anew, refreshed after a hundred years of a solitary cave, and you could smile. No more Gods.

Finally.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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dclsbaby · 4 years ago

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mykonos-crossed lovers (part ii) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part ii

prologue

part i

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angst angst and more angst

Author’s Note: part 2 is finally out! thank you so much for the continued love on MCL, i can't accurately put into words how much it means to me seeing all the positive responses! i hope i haven't upset you too much on last chapter’s cliffhanger, and if so, i hope this one makes up for it a little bit 🤍 please let me know what you think! xx

Gif:

***

“It’s funny, I’ve flown out to this island to forget you, yet here you are. I can’t ever get away from you can I?” Dom asks, rather rhetorically. Shocked, you turn your head and see your ex standing in front of you, in Mykonos, of all places. You cringed at his honesty, but you can’t say you didn’t escape to the warmer climates for the same reason. “Hi, Dom,” you smile at him. “The boys are here?” you ignore his initial remark. “Yeah, Mase, Davo, and Ben are sat there,” he gestures to a table close by yours. “Luke’s flying out tomorrow”, he says. “So the full team,” you comment. “It seems you’re in for quite a holiday then,” you add.

He walks ahead to stand next to you, his toned arms resting on the white border, dangerously close to yours and he takes in the view you’ve been absorbing. Silence fills the space between you two. A little to quiet for both of your likings, you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beat out of your chest. You decide to break the silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” you asked, voice a little shaky, unsure if you even wanted to know. You looked up at Dom, and caught him sniggering at the question. “Never better,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got my call-up, ball finding the back of the net week in week out, all’s well. You?” he shifts his body to look at you. “Well,” you pause to face him. “I’m on a tropical island with my girls, away from work and grey British skies, so I’m enjoying it,” you replied.

“British Vogue is it?” he asks. You landed the job a couple of months after your breakup. It was the job you needed to make a life out of yourself, to have a career you loved. It was a job you left him for. So, to say that you were good at it was an understatement. If you had to endure the pain of a devastating heartbreak for your career, it had to mean everything to you. And it was. It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember, you have always loved fashion, and this love was complemented when you began dating your ex who has an eccentric fashion sense, always straying away from the mainstream mediocrity, which somehow, he always pulls off. It’s a gift.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”, you were curious. “Mum’s told me about it, she’s proud of you, by the way,” he stops to look at you. “Sounds like a big deal,” he says as he lets out a small smile. It’s the first time he’s ever shown some warmth since the conversation started. You smile back at him and nodded. “It’s been my dream since forever, if you remember,” you look up at him. “And that’s lovely from your mum, do let her know that I miss her,” your heart warms thought of his mum. “Of course you do, you two would gang up on me whenever she’s around,” Dom chuckles. “Only because we both know how obnoxious you could be,” you joke. “Obnoxious enough for you to break my heart I see,” he jokes as he smiles at you sadly. “I d-didn’t mean it like that,” you feel terrible. “I know, I was messing with you,” he lied. A part of him wants you to know that his heart is still broken.

Two people, former lovers, with so much shared memories, once each other’s worlds, reunite in unexpected circumstances.

“I miss you, you know,” Dom says. Your head turns to face him as you try to catch a look of his eyes that are looking down on his fingers. Standing at 6’2, you had to crane your neck to properly look at him. A painfully gorgeous man, his green-hazel eyes still shine so bright despite the evening sky, lips so full waiting to be touched, his curly locks tied up in a bun only to accentuate his perfectly sculpted jaws. He is so beautiful, the pain so visceral, so intense.

***flashback***

“It’s not fair,” your best friend said. “You two would make the most gorgeous babies,” you and Dom chuckled at her comment. “When they’ve got a mother with a face like this I’d imagine it to be difficult to not produce beautiful babies,” Dom says as he cups your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You did not just say ‘produce’!” you move away from him, jokingly made a disgusted face and laughed at his choice of words.

Later that night as you two were tucked in bed, you drift off into a daydream which caught Dom’s attention. “What are you thinking of in that little head of yours babe?” he asked. You softly smile at him. “You really think we’d have babies?” you asked as you look at him. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting his body so it’s resting on his side, with his knuckles supporting his head up. “I mean, is this where we are headed?”, you clarified. Dom runs his fingers through your hair. “I absolutely wouldn’t mind having babies with you,” he pauses as he moves closer to you. “I want no one else more than you, to be the mother of my children, my partner through it all,” he looks at you with loving eyes. “You mean it?” you asked, a little surprised at his honesty. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says as he pulls your body closer to his.

***

Dreams of starting a family with who you thought was the love of your life quickly shatter as you realise where you were; stood in front of him, both with hearts that need mending.

“Don’t do this,” you quietly say as you stare into his eyes. “What? It’s true,” he shrugs. “I miss you and I thought you should know. You should know how much you’re hurting me by not being with me,” Dom confesses. The alcohol has definitely kicked in, Dom thought to himself. Liquid courage got him pouring out the subconscious thoughts he’d never unlock without a little help. “Dom, please. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you close your eyes for a second. “You’ve had a lot to drink, you should go be with the guys,” you say as you take your arms off the wall. “Come, I’ll take you back,” you say as you lightly push his elbow to lead the way.

“What more do I have to do to show you that I am still in love with you? Fuck’s sake,” he says as he mutters the last two words. He quickly turns around to face you, shocking you in the process as you drop your arm. “I don’t know, Dom, maybe not have tabloids put pictures of you and different girls on its covers I’d assume?” you sarcastically said, referencing to the covers you have seen of him from the week before.

Dom cringed at your comment and shakes his head. “You seriously can’t believe what those tabloids say-they blow things out of proportion!” he says as he flails his arm out of frustration. “And did you expect me not to see other people? What was I supposed to do, sit and mope around, waiting for you to come back to me? Please, do enlighten me!” he encourages. “Tell me how I can get over you because I am desperate to get you out of my fucking head,” he rants angrily, loud enough to get the attention of several guests.

He pauses to catch his breath. Before opening his mouth again to spill his suppressed thoughts.

“You were my heart, my soul, my whole fucking body—my entire life revolved around you!” he yelled, not as loud, but his frustration was emphasised as he stresses every syllable. Every bit of pride he held onto dissipates, showing his true feelings that still held onto you.

Offended, you retaliated. “You act as if I didn’t do the same for you! But I’m not stood here telling you how much I’ve missed you after I’ve fucked about with random guys!” you replied, matching his volume.

“I’ve never fucked anyone since you, so don’t ever fucking accuse me of that,” he says in disgust. “And you have no right to tell me how I should cope, when you left me! You were the one who left!”, he points at you repeatedly. “You left me with nothing,” he says nearly out of breath, and drops his arms to his sides.

“It surely didn’t seem like it when you go through girls like they’re some kind of pitstop!” you angrily responded. “I was fucking hurt! You fucking broke me! I was sad and desperate, give me a fucking break!” he says as he brings his hands to his forehead. “And don’t act so innocent,” he spits out. You give him a confused face, unsure as to what he meant. “I know you’ve been out with him,” he emphasises. “Yeah, our friends talk,” he states the obvious.

You knew who he was talking about. The friend he fell out with, another footballer friend. Things got too competitive, the words exchanged at the end of a match too harsh to redeem with a handshake. The same friend who could’ve sworn he chatted you up first, but you and Dom’s connection was too strong to deny. Of course, it was nothing like he insinuated. His friend, or, former friend, rather, had dipped his toes into the world of fashion, which caught the attention of your seniors. They assigned you to an interview with him, knowing your connections in the sporting industry and knowledge of it, as you dated a footballer after all. “Th-that was nothing,” you shake your head in disbelief, shocked at what you’re being accused of. “Bullshit,” he curses. He still remembers the day he saw you two on the news. Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s Ex Moves On with His England Teammate?, the headline says. Beneath it were pictures of his former friend sitting opposite you, as you two enjoy each other’s company at his favourite breakfast place in London. It is your favourite too. He recalls trying to ignore the jealousy, he tried to stop reading gossip sites that had the tendency to over-exaggerate, but he couldn’t. It made him angry, so angry, he threw his phone across the room and smashed it into a wall, its screen shattering. Sick and nauseous, he ran to the bathroom and dunk his head into a toilet bowl, dispensing the contents of that day’s breakfast. The effect you had on him was still potent and undying.

Your conversation was interrupted when you feel a hand wrap its fingers around the back of your arm, surprising you as you jump a little. “Hi, hun, everything okay?”, asked two of your friends, who spotted you as they were making their way to the bathroom. You nodded and gave them a smile, “I’m okay,” you whispered. They were beyond shocked to have seen Dom, but they knew better than to mention the obvious. “Give us a shout if you need anything,” your other friend says softly. You nodded. Your friends waved at Dom, then walked to where they were headed, which Dom did the same before you two returned to your conversation.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Dom,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You know why I had to end things with you, I honestly thought you understood,” you say as you try your best to blink the tears away. “No, I never understood, and I still fucking don’t,” he says as his large hand grips the surface of the wall.

“None of this makes any sense to me! I understand that it is important for you to prioritise your career, be in control of your life or whatever it was you said,” he throws a hand up. “But I will never understand why you had to sacrifice me in the process, of all things,” he replies with absolute honesty. “So, what? You expect me to drop every possibility of starting a career instead, and invest all my time and energy in you?” you ask in disbelief. “That’s not fair, Dom!” you argue.

Dom throws his head back out of frustration as you cross your arms. “I would’ve fully supported you every step of the way, given you the space you needed, anything!” he responds. “But instead you left, and took my entire life with you,” he argues back, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You didn’t have to leave,” he quietly says.

You two look at each other in silence, both feeling the pain the other endured. The pain heavy, overwhelming, a sinking feeling.

“I wasn’t trying to compromise you,” you say softly. “I had felt so detached from myself and made you the centre of my life and I was fucking terrified, Dom,” you try to justify yourself. “Had you left me at any point, I wouldn’t have survived it,” you sigh.

“Had I left you? How could you ever assume that? You think I am strong enough to be apart from you for even just a day? For fuck’s sake,” he curses as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I never said you would, I said if you did,” you clarify.

“So, you’re saying you left me purely due to a hypothetical scenario? Come fucking on. Don’t you fucking get it?,” he pauses. “You left me because you were afraid you couldn’t live without me, when that was never the case to begin with. If anything, it was the other way around,” he mutters the last sentence, just enough for you to hear.

“What?”, you asked, looking up at him.

“If one of us were to be too attached to the other person, it would be me. I’m not even fucking ashamed to admit that. I’m just pissed you assumed I could ever leave you. And that you broke my heart,” he reveals, a little too much for his liking but he didn’t care. You had to know.

“I-I never knew you were this upset,” you reply, still trying to process what he just said. “Clearly,” Dom says with sarcasm. “All you do is assume,” he comments. “That’s not fair,” you respond. “None of this is,” he quickly says. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to make you feel that way,” you try to assure him. “Yeah okay,” he looks away.

Silence fills the room once again. What used to only be comfortable silence between you two turned into awkward, deafening silence. Silence between two people still in love with one another, both stubborn, both hotheaded, both their egos in the way.

You hated this. You wanted out. Your heart could no longer handle the different coexisting emotions, the sadness, anger, exasperation, confusion, equally intense, equally felt. It was all too much.

“I-I think I’m just going to go, it’s been lovely to see you, I'm sorry again Dom, truly. Have a great-“, “You’re fucking joking,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. You sigh, surprised at this interruption. “What now, Dom?” you asked, a little agitated.

“You’re leaving? After I’ve poured my heart out to you? Fucking pathetic that,” he said angrily. “What else was I supposed to say, Dom! I told you I was sorry, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you! What more do you want?”, you responded with aggravation.

“YOU! I want you! How could you be so dense? Honestly, fuck this—you broke my fucking heart and I am not going to let you walk away from me again,” he gestures angrily. “This time I’m leaving you, have a great fucking night,” he says as he storms off, taking half of your heart with him.

At that moment, it felt as though every effort you had put into moving on, all your self-care nights, girls night outs, mental health days, music playlists of happy songs, immersing yourself in work, suddenly meant nothing. All your efforts were countered, destroyed after seeing him again for the first time in months. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave you standing alone, under the blue Mykonos sky with the most breathtaking view of the island, whilst heartbroken once again. The perfect irony.

You were left in shock. You could see Dom walking through the crowd where everybody was partying from your peripheral vision. It took him way too quickly for your liking to wrap his arms around a certain blonde-haired girl in a blue dress you recognised from tabloid pictures. You feel a sharp pain in your chest from a sight you never wanted to see. You knew you had no right to feel this way since you were the one who left, but it hurt you nonetheless.

Two things could’ve come out of this scenario. You could a) suck it up, take three straight tequila shots and party the night away with your girls, who are increasingly growing concerned about your whereabouts, or b) you could call it a night and figure your heart out.

After moments of deliberation, you chose the latter option. The intense conversation you had with Dom was too emotionally draining for you to continue on. Seeing your ex on the exact trip you booked with your girls to remedy your heartache, listening to him tell you how much you’ve broken his heart, how he wants you, but proceed to wrap his arms around another girl minutes after, all in one night... you could not bear it all. You quietly made a swift exit and made sure to text your girls’ group chat as you’re walking.

Babes, I’m heading back to the villa. Rough night. Details tomorrow. Will leave some paracetamol on the counter. Be safe and have a blast! Love you. X

You took the furthest route towards the exit door away from the party scene, not giving your friends a chance to even stop you. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself together as your heart crumbles. The only affection you could seek from is yourself. The pain of growth slowly paying off, as you manage to at least leave the scene in one piece.

However, despite extra efforts to not get noticed, Dom caught you slipping out of the club.

You stood outside the breezy Mykonos night and waited for your taxi to come. What just happened? You thought to yourself. You were a bit tipsy from the drinks, your tired body making you feel a little delirious. It seemed like it was all a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but it isn’t. That actually happened. You inhale the fresh air, and pace your breathing to calm your nerves. The background music spilling from the narrow gaps of the doors slowly fade as you close your eyes and focus on your peace.

Peaceful silence suddenly interrupted by a loud sound of doors bursting open.

What the fuck was that? you thought to yourself as you turn your head towards the loud noise. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw Dom clumsily stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” you asked, completely taken aback. “I saw you walk out,” he says out of breath. “And I know you like to go on walks to clear your head. I was making sure you weren’t, this isn’t the place where you could do that safely,” he continued. “I know, I’m waiting for a taxi,” you say quietly. Dom nodded. “Okay,” he looks away. “Be safe,” he says as he looks at you one last time. You look at him with a sad smile and nod.

As Dom retreats back into the club, he had to hold his chest, clutching where his heart is to contain the pain of seeing you force a smile at him, it was too intense, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you again how in love with you he is, but he knows his heart can’t take another heartache.

So Dom does what he does best, fake a smile, join his friends, and power through the night despite the building anxiety of being away from you. He feels sick to his stomach and would love nothing more than to call it a night. He goes on to reject every girl who threw themselves at him left and right, which Mason took notice of.

“Mate you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” asks Mason. “(Y/N). She’s here. Well, she was,” Dom says. “Here? In Mykonos?”, Mason asks in disbelief. Dom nods his head. “Shit. What happened?” asked his concerned friend. “Told her she broke my heart. I lost my head. Told her I want her, then walked away,” muttered Dom as he looks down to play with his fingers. “Mate, I mean, do you still want her? Even after everything you went through?” Mason asks carefully, cautious to push any buttons.

Dom takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing in this life I want more than her,” he spills, looking at his friend dead in the eye.

“You know what you have to do, Dom.” Mason says.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin blurb #mclfic

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dadoroki · 4 years ago

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Reminder [3]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Description: the final chapter to the story ends here. You’re given an ultimatum, having to choose between your painful past and your current present.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s been about 7-8 months since I wrote part 1. Whoops!

“Not so hard, Keigo.”

You hissed in pain as the man dabbed the cold cloth on your facial injuries. “Not my fault you wanted to play hero and fight all those Nomus yourself.”

If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have been alive. Iv tubes were hooked onto you and the beeping sound of the monitor aggravated you more than the nagging winged-man himself.

“Yeah well someone had to do it.” The sunset highlighted your face and Keigo couldn’t help but fall distracted. The moment was cut short the minute he heard a loud screech coming out of you. While being distracted, Keigo had accidentally pressed deeply into your wound and in return, you punched his arm. “Ow, sorry sorry.”

“Whatever.” You groaned as you laid back down, facing your back towards him. He was about to question your sudden change in attitude but sensed a weird aura around. Getting up from his seat, he headed towards the door in a hurry. “I’ll come by tomorrow alright? There’s something I gotta deal with.” Without looking back at him, you gave a weak wave.

He quietly shut the door to your room but before he could turn the corner, a voice caught him off guard. “So you and Y/N, huh? Never thought she’d go for someone so low.” How did he know your real name? A low chuckle left Hawks’s lips. He turned around and sent a fake smile followed by a wave. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met before? Oh right! I sent dozens of my feathers at you. Hope it didn’t kill ya too much!”

Dabi clenched his teeth, roughly pushing himself off the wall. “I’m gonna burn you to pieces you little chicken shit. You hear me?” Hawks playfully held his hands up. “Woah, calm down buddy! But if you’re serious, why don’t we take it somewhere else?”

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

And that’s exactly what happened. The two men faced eachother with two different expressions. One held eyes full of rage and anger while the other was smug and laid-back.

“What’s with the face? Makes you look even more uglier than you already are.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Hawks rubbed his chin, observing the man infront of him while thinking deeply. “I still don’t get it. Why do you hate me so much?”

Dabi only scoffed in response. “Enough talking. When I’m done with you, I’ll be sure to give Y/N your burnt chicken wings as a present.”

Hawks didn’t have time to think as blue flames ignited his way. He flew around the abandoned area, the flames following close and burning everything behind him. Now it was his turn to strike. He flew towards Dabi, a long red feather making it’s way into his hand and he striked. Dabi managed to dodge all his attacks with ease, causing the winged hero to flinch. “Huh, you’re so weak. I don’t understand Y/N.”

Hawks ignored his instigation, attempting to hit him at least once but continuously missing all his shots again. “Look at you, you can’t even hit me. Why would she pick a weak man like you? You couldn’t even protect her.”

Emotions ran deep inside Hawks. More specifically guilt? Insecurity? Deep down, he knew everything Dabi said was nothing but the truth. He couldn’t protect you and for that, his worth for you was a newly engraved insecurity. That sadness turned into matched anger, causing him to hold a tighter grip on his feather and putting all force into the swing.

Dabi let out a maniacal laugh, gripping onto the man’s wrist and throwing him onto the ground. He watched unapologetic as Hawks squirmed beneath him in pain. He reached down to his jacket pocket and took out a shiny object, twisting it between his fingers above the injured hero in a taunting manner. “Keigo Takami.”

Once the name reached his ears, he froze in sheer horror. First your name and now his? He slowly realized the shiny object was the promise ring he gave you. “You.” The unstable man continued with poisonous venom leaking from the single word. “It’s all because of you. Y/N no longer cares about me and that’s all because of you! I’ve always despised you Keigo. Even when we were kids.”

Hawks was at a loss for words. He was in disbelief, unable to comprehend the situation. “I’ve always despised you since the day we met. The day I realized my feelings for Y/N. But of course, you just had to be in my way. You were always in my way.” Dabi psychotically laughed, recalling the memories like it was yesterday. “You know, I used to blame Y/N for not knowing how I felt. But I loved her so much and felt stupid for even thinking about blaming her.”

Dabi laid his hand flat on Hawks’s face, watching the man hiss in pain as the light heat made contact to his skin. “And then I started to blame myself. I was the reason why she didn’t love me back. I wasn’t good enough for her.” The heat began to increase, making the hero groan in pain. If the first one didn’t leave a burn mark, this one definitely did. “But then I realized it wasn’t my fault nor was it her’s. It was yours, Keigo. Did you know I was planning on killing you back then? To pretend it was a double accident? I was gonna kill you but then I thought about Y/N. She’d be alone and depressed out of her mind and so I chose to spare your life. Man, was I stupid for that.”

With that, he removed his hand to reveal a complete burn mark along the hero’s left side. He stood up and dusted himself off, facing his hand towards the half concious man lying helplessly on the ground. “You ruined my life Keigo Takami and now, I’m about to end your’s.”

Before Dabi could finish him off once and for all, a pleading voice called out for him in a distance. “Touya, please! Stop it!” The voice was so pure and angelic that Dabi couldn’t help but retrace back to the old days. Back when he was Touya. He slowly let his hand fall, backing away from Hawks.

Dabi was undoubtedly a powerful man. However, no matter how powerful or strong you are, everyone has their own weakness. And for him, it was you.

You limped over as fast as you could, the pain from days prior still taking in effect. “You need to let this go. This was all in the past.”

“The past can come back to haunt you.”

“The Touya I know wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not Touya.”

“You are to me. You’ll always be Touya.”

That’s all it took for Dabi to be wrapped around your fingers. Those eyes once filled with hatred and rage were replaced with sadness and despair. In that moment, he fell completely vulnerable to you. “Just choose me damnit, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, confused at his words. “I know we have our differences but my feelings for you never changed. You promised me you’d always choose me so why can’t you just do that goddamnit?”

You realized at that point, you were given two critical choices. These two choices would lead to two very different outcomes.

Firstly, there was Touya. He wasn’t the same person he was back then but nonetheless, you still made a promise to him. Plus, it was hard to see him as Dabi when all you saw was Touya. Deep down, you were aware that some feelings were still there for him though you definitely wouldn’t admit it.

Secondly, there was Keigo. You always saw him as a friend but as time went on, it was like the friendship turned out to be a stepping stone for something new. Honestly speaking, you already imagined what it would be like to have a future with him.

The time to choose was now. You deeply sighed, getting ready to reveal your answer.

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

You stood infront of the mirror, taking a full look at yourself. Who would’ve thought the day would come for you to finally get married. A long white dress that made you look like a princess, your hair pinned up, and a sparkling veil travelling from the top of your head all the way down to your dress. The final piece was a necklace which you were having trouble putting on.

“You need help?”

Glancing back, you saw that beautiful faint smile to which you returned. The man made his way behind you and took the necklace from your hands. You watched as he clipped the chains together and smiled, matching his gaze through the mirror. “Thank you, Touya.”

“Anything for you.” He admired you from your reflection, eyes travelling all around to every single detail. He never thought he’d see the day where you were like this. All dressed up for the wedding. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and you couldn’t help but clear your throat. “You should get going soon. You shouldn’t even be here and your family came by the way.”

Touya hummed in response and nodded. He made his way towards the door but stopped and faced you. “It’s not too late, Y/N. Just come with me an-”

“No, Touya.” You said abruptly. “I’m not changing my mind. You know I can’t. It’s the right thing to do anyways.” The right thing to do. He sighed in defeat and quietly left your room. The moment you heard the door shut, you deeply exhaled and rubbed the sides of your forehead in stress. You stared at the promise ring Hawks had given you years ago. Today was the day where he would replace that promise ring with a wedding ring, just like he promised.

“Keigo. I choose Keigo.”

That was a sharp pain in Dabi’s chest like he’d been stabbed right there and then. He was expecting some kind of hope, at least just a little bit, to have you say his name. But you didn’t. There wasn’t even any hesitation when you spoke.

“Why? Why him? Am I not good enough for you?!”

You stared at the ground, unable to look the broken man in the eyes. “It’s just how it is, Touya. I don’t make the rules and I can’t choose any differently. I’m sorry.”

Huh, what a joke he thought. When you’re chained to the institution, you have no choice but to submit yourself. That’s exactly what happened to you and because of that, you were now their little puppet to control. Had that not happen, would you have chosen differently? Would you choose to live your life with him and keep that promise?

Hands deeply shoved in his pockets, Dabi walked away from the building and never turned back.

Tags for my peeps that had to wait😂: @trenchcoatdevilsworld @bmthevick @thepplaskingmonthsago

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eliesaidwhat · 3 years ago

Text

red-handed

cross posted on ao3

!!trigger warning!! mentions of suicidal thoughts. this book contains death, murder, graphic descriptions of violence and other sensitive subjects. please read with caution.

1. thirteen suspects

Adrien walks through the clear doors, and she sits up straighter on the bed.

He makes a beeline for Marinette, immediately bending down to her height and wrapping her up in a tight hug. She’s sure she smells rather disgusting. The blood and dirt that once left not a single inch of her pale skin untouched was washed off as soon as she arrived at the hospital, but it’s been a few days since then and she’s sure her hair is starting to smell of sweat.

Still, if he’s bothered by it, he doesn’t show it and rests his cheek gently against the top of her head. She struggles to angle herself towards him, wrapping her arm that isn’t hooked up to the IV around him. The smell of him is familiar— like laundry detergent, expensive cologne and watermelon gum.

Her mind is foggy, and even though her wrist is still aching, it doesn’t reach her. All she can think about is the way her best friend uses way too much fabric softener, how maybe she can finally get some answers, and how she doesn’t have to be alone. God, she’s so tired of being alone.

Her parents were here, and she doesn’t know when they stepped out, but they didn’t tell her anything. The events that landed her in the hospital feel a bit cloudy, and though they’ve slowly started to sink in, she wishes someone would just tell her. All they would do is squeeze her hand while she pleaded for Kagami, for Adrien, for Alya, for anyone.

He drags a hand through her tresses. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Marinette,” He breathes. “I tried to get here as fast as I could. I’m sorry I took a few days.”

Without her phone to contact anyone, Marinette has been left to stir with her thoughts and questions. She assumed that perhaps Adrien and Kagami were occupied with their parents' expectations, trying to calm herself. Still, she stressed over the possibility that maybe something else had happened. It poked at the back of her brain. Now, seeing him in person, her relief is immeasurable.

She pushes her face into his chest. “I’m just happy you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

They stay like that. Adrien clings to her like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets go for even a second. He strokes her hair with one hand and rubs circles into her back with the other. He squeezes her softly enough to not hurt her but tight enough to make her feel completely safe and cared for.

It’s nice to feel the warmth of a hug. She feels cold, right down to the bone. Like the chill is coming from within her, instead of as a response to her surroundings. She isn’t sick, the hospital is warm, and yet still, she’s cold.

After a few moments of silence, she withdraws from him. She meets his gaze.

“Adrien, where’s Kagami?”

For the first time, she really pays attention to the way Adrien looks. She was so absorbed in worrying about how dirty she must be that she didn’t even take him in. He doesn’t look any less handsome than usual, but he doesn’t… look well.

For the first time, she notices the redness breaking up the usual brilliant green light shining from his eyes. He looks horribly pale, not unlike a porcelain doll, but on Adrien it looks almost sickly. Dark streaks crease his under eyes, the tiredness evident. Despite the paleness, the area beneath his eyes and along his cheekbones is splotchy with redness.

Marinette sits up straighter. The ECG grows louder and faster. She sees the faint streaks of dried tear tracks tainting the flawless skin of his cheeks. His waterline still seems flooded with unshed tears, as if he’s holding back tears.

“Adrien… where’s Kagami?” Her throat burns with dehydration, but she still pushes out the question with force.

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” His voice breaks. The cold intensifies.

No, she thinks.

But the evidence sits in front of her, too loud to be ignored. She swallows hard, and it pains her. Her heart hardens like a rock, and the weight of it drags it all the way down to her feet. The strings that once tied her to Kagami now wrap around her chest and squeeze, suffocatingly tight.

Denial itches her skin, and for a moment the temptation to fall into it is too strong. It can’t be, she thinks. That maybe, just maybe, Adrien is wrong, or lying, or playing some sick joke. Or maybe, it’s not what she thinks at all, and she’s just jumping to conclusions.

However, eye contact with the blonde boy is enough. Because in the depth of his pale green irises lies the undeniable, horrific truth she had feared.

She knows.

Without warning, a small cry is drawn out from her throat. Her hand rises to her mouth. She bites down on her knuckle, trying to stifle the despair passing through her dried lips. She didn’t cry when she got brought into the hospital— she was hurt, but she didn’t cry.

The implication of his words is more painful than any physical injury she could endure. God, she would break every bone in her body to have him take back those words.

The hospital bed creaks with her trembles. She feels the wetness slide down her cheeks, then drip onto her hands and the thin sheets. She can taste the saltiness of her anguish. Marinette reaches forward and clutches Adrien’s shirt tightly, drawing him closer.

“No! No. That— that can’t—!” Wide eyes and a raw throat from the shouts. “We made it! I… we got here! Why didn’t they—why didn’t they save her?!”

Bile sits at the back of the throat but never comes out. She’s in complete hysterics, and her wails echo through the room. She clutches Adrien tighter, and he only fights down his own tears, winding his arms around her.

Anger spikes in her, and she momentarily draws back her hands only to slam her fists back into his chest. Her pleas don’t die, and she keeps begging until her throat goes raw. Her nails dig into his shirt. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away. He keeps his arms around her, and he takes it.

“Please! Tell me—!” A sob swelled in her throat. “Tell me you’re lying! Please!” She goes slack in his arms, and soon her wails start to soften down to light hiccups and short cries. “Please,” she almost whispers.

Adrien’s chest shakes with his own cries. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I...I wish I could.”

“They should have left me,” she sobs into his shirt. “They should have let me die there if they weren’t going to save Kagami. God, I wish they fucking let me die there.”

Adrien tightens his hold on her. She can tell it’s not what he wants to hear— and why would it be? He just had one of his closest friends die— but she means every word. She can’t bring herself to consider his feelings at the moment, or think about anything other than the fact the woman she loves more than anyone is gone.

And no one would fucking tell her.

Marinette is now fully slumped against Adrien, no longer able to support herself.

“I wish they would let me die.”

Marinette’s lips are pulled into a tight line.

She looks different than she did before, she notes as she admires herself in the mirror. She’s taller, for one. Her legs and arms have a definition they didn’t have before, and the lines on her abdomen are more defined than ever. Five years is a long time, and she worked hard to make sure that no one ever pulled a fast one on her ever again. She wouldn’t let her guard down.

She has the same small curved nose, the same hooded blue eyes, and the same plump pink lips. However, the newfound definition in her cheekbones and jaw did wonders for her face. She feels like she’s staring at a totally different person in the mirror. Her hair, once shoulder-length, now sways at her waist. Long bangs tickle her cheeks. She touches her ends. Maybe it’s time for a cut.

Kagami’s death was destructive. God, how that broke her. She holed herself up in her room for weeks. Adrien had to slide food under her door frame. When she finally did open up her room door, it was to pack her bags and leave Paris. She booked the first flight as far as she could go and never looked back.

Everywhere she turned, she could see her. The melody of her laugh when she walked through Trocadero Gardens, the faint feeling of her hair tickling the slope of Marinette’s neck and shoulder on her chaise, the smell of her perfect peppermint exhale in the living room. Worst of all, the only thing she could taste for months was Kagami’s familiar cherry-flavoured lips.

She never had a preference in any flavour. Her parents raised her in a bakery, so she got pretty used to sampling all sorts of flavours and loved them all the same. That was until she and Kagami had their first kiss. All she could taste was cherry. It was the only flavour she had ever craved. She could probably live in it.

Now, the thought of it makes her want to cry and vomit all at once.

Marinette closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. Being back in Paris is awfully overwhelming. Every corner, every turn, every monument has a painful memory attached to it. She’s not ready to remember what it was like to love Kagami because she was never ready to lose her.

But, she came here for a reason. There isn’t anything she can do to bring back Kagami, but she can bring Hell on earth for her. And Marinette is more than ready to make Francois Dupont burn.

Adrien marches into her hotel room without knocking, clearly taking advantage of her spare key. Luckily, she’s already dressed. She clips her hair up and folds her arms across her chest in disapproval.

She’s always admired the way he dresses. His style has certainly evolved from his days of bright orange converse. He always dresses in a classy, clean way with an air of femininity around it. An academic feel with a preference for neutral colours. She loves it.

She’s glad their colours match. While she never voices it, she always tries to match their colours and even predict what he might choose so they can match. It makes them look more put together and planned, even if it mostly isn’t. Their colour palette of tan, khaki, and light pink eases any irritation she had with him for his intrusion. She’s still going to bug him about it, though.

“That key is for emergencies.”

“It is an emergency,” he lies.

She narrows her eyes. “Oh, really? What’s the emergency?”

“The emergency is that I needed to be in your room and I wasn’t.”

She looks at him like he’s stupid because he is. “It’s a mystery to me that you’ve made it this far.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “I’m a mystery to the world, not just you, Princess. Some speculate it's because of my good looks and charm. Scientists hate me.”

She pats his chest. “Good to know your humour aged like milk.” She scowls as the realization just hits her. “And do not call me Princess.”

“My apologies, my lady. Shall we get down to business?” Adrien pushes down on the door knob, pulling the door open and holding it open for her.

She steps through the door. Their topic of discussion isn’t necessarily unpleasant to the two due to their unfortunate comfort with death, but it is still rather grim. “Thirteen are on my radar. I only have confirmation for four of them, and it’s because I saw them with my own two eyes. They can go first.”

He hums. “Names?”

“Mylène Haprèle, Ivan Bruel, Aurore Beaurèal and Sabrina Raincomprix.” She presses the button on the elevator door. “Mylène is the timid, follower type. I’m not surprised she got roped into this. Ivan is in love with her, so I assume he only went along with it for her.”

“I predict a quick death.”

She nods firmly as they step onto the lift. “No need to make it torturous. I’m not cruel. I can’t say the same for the other two, though. Aurore seemed far too content going along with it. She did the honors of breaking my ankle so I couldn’t run. As for Sabrina, she didn’t do much that day, but she was the one who pulled strings to get the case dismissed. It’s what forced us into a corner and made us accept a deal to make this all go away.”

Adrien chuckles darkly, leaning against the elevator wall. His arms are folded against his chest. “I’m guessing you’re planning on getting pretty creative with these ones? Shall I soundproof the cellar?”

Marinette knows he’s only teasing, but the sinister note in his tone sends shivers of anticipation and excitement up her spine. In a twisted way, she can hardly wait for what comes to follow. She doesn’t really know what to make of that. “That won’t be necessary, kitten. I’m sure I can make do with a nice, big, open field. Or a mouth gag. Whichever is more available to me.”

“And the others? The suspects?”

“Lila Rossi, naturally. Marc Anciel, Nathaniel Kurtzburg, Max Kante, Luka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Mirielle Caquet, and…” she hesitates on the last name. She doesn’t know how Adrien will feel about it.

He lifts a brow. “And…?”

She sighs, but stands her ground. “Chloé Bourgeois.”

Adrien’s gaze hardens and narrows into slits. “No.”

Adrien didn’t have many friends growing up, despite his charisma, as a result of his father. Though he fell out of touch with Chloé, his bias towards her because of their history is expected. Still, she expects him to understand that Chloé Bourgeois was most certainly not a saint and could have very well played a role. Especially considering she was Sabrina’s best friend.

She steps off the lift, turning her gaze in front of her. “Adrien, I get it, you guys were childhood friends. But, you can’t let that influence you. She could easily be guilty. She has every reason to hate Kagami, her father is the mayor, and she’s not exactly beneath something like that.”

“It’s a big jump from being a high school bully to murder.”

Rage bubbles beneath her skin. “Well, obviously not,” she snaps, serving as a reminder that whoever put Kagami six feet under is probably considered ‘just a high school bully.’

He winces, retracting his claws a bit. “Look, I just really don’t think Chloé would do something like this. I know you don’t get along, but I’ve known her for a long time. Trust me, she can be a bitch, but she wouldn’t do that.”

That’s an unfair card, she thinks. He knows she trusts him with her life, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with him in every situation.

“I do trust you, but I’m not willing to rule out Chloé yet. I’m not saying she did it, but it’s still possible. I won’t rule it out until I know for sure.”

He opens his mouth to object, but she interjects.

“If she really wouldn’t do that, then you should have no reason to worry about me looking into her. Right?”

Adrien sighs. “Right.”

Marinette cares for Adrien dearly, she really does. However, he’s easily swayed by his emotions, and his natural gift of connecting to people mixed with his history of not having friends makes it harder for him to notice the red flags waving right in front of his face. Despite his willingness to follow Marinette’s rather gruesome plans, he has a softness for people he cares for.

While she appreciates this, and it’s one of the many reasons she loves Adrien, she has to crush it under her heel for the time being. She might care for Adrien, but not as much as she cares about getting justice for Kagami. If she has to force him out of his comfort zone a little to do so, or even if she has to slaughter his childhood friend, she will.

But…

The expression on his face makes her frown. She reaches forward and physically smooths out the crease in his brow with her thumb. “Look, we don’t know anything for sure, kitten. I’m not saying she’s guilty. I’m just saying we need to look into her.”

He relaxes, nodding softly and giving her a soft smile. He quickly switches the topic. “Not to doubt your abilities, Princess, but there’s only two of us. Not sure how you plan to pull off four, let alone thirteen… inconspicuous disappearances within the month we’re going to be here.”

Of course she had thought about that. If nothing else, Marinette is an over-planner to her core. When she plans, she numbers them rather than sticking to the usual a,b,c, etc. She doesn’t want to limit herself to only 26 plans. She thinks about every possible outcome, failure, and remedy.

“Firstly, I don’t plan on inconspicuous disappearances. I’m thinking maybe a few, and then some accidents, and by the time anything connected we can be out of Paris.” God, how she wants to get out of Paris.

He lifts a brow. “I still don’t see how just the two of us are going to manage to pull that off by ourselves.

Marinette slips her arm through his, and they start towards the exit. “What made you think I planned for us to do this all on our own?”

He looks confused, but when they step through the front doors of the hotel, the answer stands right before them.

Marinette watches his eyes focus on them. Her long, curly hair and figure-hugging orange dress that falls to the floor. Her foxy eyes, brown skin and smirking lips. His short hair, covered by a green hat, newly lithe and tall physique, and complexion that matches his companions.

One of the slyest duos in all of Paris— second only to Marinette and Adrien— Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe.

chapter two posted on ao3

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#djwifi #miraculous ladybug #mlb #serial killer au #fanfic #adrien x marinette #adrienette #marigami #murder #morally grey

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