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arizona2004 · 3 years ago

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Safe Haven

Requested: yes

Cazriel x reader

word count: 3914

My face was pressed into the mud; I couldn’t even scream anymore. Three males held me down so I could barely move, but I was too tired from fighting so hard to struggle anyways. I was about to give up when the tip of a blade grazed my wing, and I remembered what I was fighting for. They were trying to clip my wings. I fought against the hold the males had on me to no avail. The fourth male brought his knife down, tearing it into my left wing. And not just once, not twice, but three long wounds. Then onto my right-wing. I tried holding back the tears, but it did me no good. I sobbed into the ground as not only my wings were taken from me, but the freedom and joy they stood for.

When the knife was pulled from my wing, I thought it was done, but the male picked up mud and smothered it in the open wounds. They burned, everything burned, and it was getting blurry. I was going to pass out, I realized. “No one is to touch her, no one is to clean her wounds, no one is to heal her,” the voice of the camp leader rang out behind me before he walked away, and I fell into unconsciousness.

I awoke a few times the next day, but when I did, it was to burning pain at my back and pitying eyes in all the females that walked by. I noticed I was no longer where I had been, pushed off to the edges of the camp, no longer in their way. So I turned my head away and looked at the forest to my left, falling asleep once more.

It was the next time that I woke, that I was not alone. I felt someone crouching to my right, and as I turned to look at him, another person crouched to my left. I whipped my head to the left to find Azriel. Staring at me with pain and grief behind his eyes. “It- it’s gonna be okay,” I heard from my right. Cassian. I turned to him to see the same look in his eyes and tears. He’s crying. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll fix this,” he murmured, pushing my hair back from my face.

I turn my face away, looking toward Azriel, but he’s not there. That’s when I hear the shouting. I look back to Cassian and passed him to the camp. I can’t see the women and children. There are only men; they’re being pushed inside a blue-force field? Yes. All of the men are being rounded up and forced into a prison, and there is Azriel: collecting them and pushing them all inside. I look back to Cassian and notice beneath the sorrow in his eyes is anger. He combs a hand soothingly through my hair, “We’ll take you to Madja. She can heal you,” he says, voice cracking. That’s when I notice the bandages on my back and the fact that I am not in as much pain as before. Whatever infection was settling in has been slowed by magic.

He continues soothing me until Azriel calls, “Cassian, they’re all here.”

“I’ll be right back,” he places a kiss atop my head and stands, walking toward Azriel. I watch in a haze as my males, my lovers, question all the men. Anywho are young, innocent, or remorseful are released. There aren't many.

They decipher who the males at the core of hurting me were. The camp leader and the ones that held me down. They were pulled aside one by one, and I had to close my eyes while Cassian and Azriel took turns hurting them. Through it all, I listen to them fighting, to their yells, and their pleas.

“We didn’t know she was your lover,” some of them screamed.

In the end, I’d turned my head away from the scene. I am no stranger to blood and gore, and I would never be angry with Cassian and Azriel for what they are doing, but I do not revel in watching those males dying. The camp leader is the last of them to die. He spits out cruel and disgusting words at all three of us, and I try not to listen. I’m not sure which of them does it, but his words are suddenly cut off as his head is cut from his neck.

Cassian returns to me first. He pulls the make-shift bandages from my wings, inspecting the wounds beneath, “Az, we need to get her to Madja. We couldn't have cleaned the wounds well enough, and she’s still losing blood,” he said over his shoulder. Seconds later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and we were spinning through space.

The room we landed in was clean. The floors and walls were pristine white and blue, and everything looked very orderly. Nothing was out of place or messy. A few people were in the large room, and their attention was immediately drawn to us as Azriel winnowed us in. Whatever place this was, it had many doors leading out of it and many healers- I realize as several of the males and females come to inspect my wings. Faintly I hear Azriel speaking to an older female. She must have ordered me moved because soon, Cassian is carrying me through one of those many doors and into a room with nothing more than a bed and a couple of chairs in it.

Then, I must have fallen asleep again because I woke up hours later, remembering very little after being brought to this healing den. I’m lying flat on my stomach, facing Cassian asleep in a chair to my left. Slowly I blink my eyes awake and turn my head. Azriel is seated on my other side with his head in his hands. When I try to speak, only a quiet groan escapes my throat. Azriel sits up suddenly and before he can mask it I make note of the guilt and pain behind his eyes. Cassian also jolts up behind me and moves to Azriel’s side of the bed. He’s far less skilled at hiding his emotions; they’re always written all over his face.

I want to speak, but the words won’t come. As if knowing my question, though, Azriel says, “she couldn’t save them,” Cassian turns his face down, away from me, and Azriel avoids my eyes too, as he continues, “She tried. Several healers did, but they couldn’t save your wings. The infection was too great. You’re lucky to be alive.”

A choked sob leaves me as everything crashes in. My wings have been clipped. I’ll never fly again. I turn my face into my pillow, dry sobbing into it, while Cassian sits on the edge of the bed. I feel his hand hover over my back, but he pulls back, deciding not to touch me.

I feel like I can’t breathe as I heave into the pillow and wish the entire world would just disappear. I know Cassian is saying something, but I don’t hear his words. Azriel hasn’t said anything else, but I can feel his eyes on me and the guilt in them.

After some time, I fall asleep again.

Before I even open my eyes, I know it's not a nightmare as I had hoped. My wings ache with burning pain. “You’re due to take another tonic for the pain soon. I can go get it,” Azriel says from behind me. He must have sensed my pain. When I open my eyes to look at him, he is not who I see. Slouched forward in a chair, head lying on the bed, is Cassian. One of his hands is brushing against mine, and I move it closer, wanting more contact. I look slightly behind me at Azriel and tell him with my eyes that I would like that.

He’s gone for only a moment before he returns. I barely had the chance to blink, and he was already back. Walking over to my left side, where Cassian sleeps, Azriel helps pour the bitter liquid down my throat and gets water to ease that too.

My hand rests on top of Cassians; I briefly look before returning to Azriel. “He must be exhausted to not have woken up yet,” I say.

Azriel looks down at him and puts his hand to Cassian's head, gently running his fingers through the dark curls, “He wouldn’t sleep. Drank so much coffee he couldn’t even dose off; he didn’t want to. Eventually, I knocked him out.”

I raise my eyebrows in shock, but Azriel just smirks slightly looking back to me, “I didn’t hit him or anything. I asked Rhys to go into his mind and put him to sleep for a while,” the moment ends then, the smile leaving his face, “I didn’t want him getting hurt too.”

He blames himself. I know he does. He always does, though I wish he wouldn’t, “It wasn’t your fault, Az,” I murmur, closing my eyes. I can feel him staring at my wings, which have already started to ease as the tonic sets in.

“If we had come to see you sooner, this wouldn’t have happened. Madja said there was nothing we could have done about the infection, even soon after they did it, but if I had been there a day earlier, then we could have stopped it from happening at all,” the words rush out of him angrily at first. He sounds like he’s speaking more to himself than me. Then his voice cracks on the last few words, and I open my eyes to see tears welling up in his eyes.

I look at him for a moment longer and say, “come lay with me,” a confused look crosses his face, “this wasn’t your fault Azriel, now please come hold me.” He didn’t miss a beat. Crossing to the other side of the bed, he laid down on the edge, gently maneuvering himself to only touch me where there was no chance of making contact with my wings.

His right arm slithered under my head, resting his hand on the other side of my body. My right hand felt numb beneath my body, but I pulled it up to brush it with his. He grabbed my hand in his, and so I fell asleep, knowing I held both of my males close to me.

My dream started as a memory. It was the first time I had met my males; crouching next to the creak outside of camp, I sharpened a rusty old knife with a rock. I had been wishing I had a good knife, but that would be too risky to steal, and any protection was better than none. I didn’t hear the figure to my left, and when a branch snapped behind me, I knew I only heard it because that male wanted me to.

Dropping the knife, I quickly stood, turning to greet the male. It had been Cassian. Jokingly he said, “You couldn't hurt a fly with that knife. You really need a lesson in weaponry, don’t you?”

I shouldn't have gotten angry, but I did anyway, “I know about weapons,” I snapped, “but not all of us are privileged enough to have pretty little knives like you,” That's when I became aware of the figure to the side. He laughed deeply, and I was sure he must be laughing at me. I would be punished severely for this.

My attention snapped back to the first male as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, “but you really shouldn’t use that dagger. I’ll get you a better one.”

“Here. She can have this one,” the other male spoke, pulling out a dagger. It is plain and silver with a simple, twisted image of shadows carved onto the surface, leading to the black hilt, “I’ve had it for ages but never really use it,” He detached a sheath from his belt and slipped the dagger in before handing it to me. I looked into his eyes a moment longer before turning away, blushing.

“What do you need a weapon for anyways?” Cassian asked.

I shrug slightly, “protection.”

“From?”

“Everyone,” I say, tucking the dagger under my skirts. I probably should keep it closer being alone with two males, but for whatever reason, I did not feel threatened by them. The memory faded away as another appeared. Only days after I had first met the two Illyrians, the high lord’s most trusted friends, and advisers, they appeared in my camp again. Not for business with the Camp leader, however. I felt them stalking me as I walked through the wood, when I was carefully distanced from the camp, they showed themselves- Cassian with a grin spreading across his face, and Azriel with a carefully blank expression, but curious eyes nonetheless. That was when things began. When I started falling in love with them.

These meetings continued for months. We met inside a small cave just outside the camp. It was glamoured now from anyone's eyes but ours. My little safe haven. It had been where I was running when I realized they intended to clip my wings. I wasn’t fast enough, though.

Now the dreams were turning, twisting into something more terrifying. Darkness rushed toward me as I fell into the next scene. I tried screaming and fighting as hands grabbed me in the dark, but I just kept falling. My whole body burned, and a shiver ran down my spine as I was thrown into the waking world.

The warm heat of a body pressed at my right ran through me as I blinked my eyes open. It was Azriel, I realized now. He brushed his fingers gently down my spine, soothing me, “It was just a bad dream,” he murmured against my hair, pressing a kiss to my head.

On my other side, I felt Cassian squeeze my hand. He was awake now, holding my hand tightly as he laid his head closer to mine. Feeling them beside me was already enough to relieve my aches and ease my mind. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Cassian whispered between us, just loud enough for Azriel to hear. I shook my head in answer, closing my eyes tightly in an attempt to fall back asleep.

I couldn’t, though. So I just lay there with my males on either side of me, trying to pretend we were still in that little cave, and nothing had gone wrong. I still had my wings.

Days have passed now. Most of them were filled with me laying in bed with one or both of my males holding me. Other times though, they involved tears streaming down my face and screams tearing out of my throat. Cassian and Azriel were always there, rocking me through it and reminding me of what I still had, though it felt like I’d lost everything.

Occasionally I’d wake to arguing. I heard the high lord scolding Azriel and Cassian about their actions after the first day, but he didn’t sound seriously angry. Mostly I heard the whispered arguments between Azriel and Cassian about me. My treatment, my pain, how best to help me. I hated that they were arguing. It happened less and less as I recovered, but I still hated it.

Neither male was here now though, it was a rare occurrence. I had told both males the other was staying with me and told him he should go eat. I needed the alone time, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Rather than stay in bed, I stood on numb legs and hobbled over to the bath. It has been too long since I’ve bathed. How Cassian and Azriel managed to be near me without wanting to vomit at the stench was beyond me.

Kneeling on the ground, I held my hand under the water as it rushed out. When the water was ready and smelling of lavender, I submerged myself to the waist. Slowly I let my wings touch the water as I lowered myself further. When I was finally in the water entirely, I relaxed and leaned my head back before slipping down lower to wet my hair.

When I was still under the water, finally relaxed, I breathed out slowly. Everything was peaceful until a pair of large hands gripped my upper arms and pulled me from the water. My eyes shot open, and I fought the male until I noticed it was Azriel, “Stop!” I yelled at him, “What on earth are you doing?” I shouted. I shot a glance to Cassian, standing in the doorway. He looked upset, and Az was definitely angry.

“What are you doing?” he replied with a growl. I tried pulling my arms away from him. He loosened his grip, but only enough to no longer hurt. I still couldn’t get away.

“I was bathing,” I glared at him, “I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed.”

“Bullshit,” he said

“Az…” Cassian spoke.

“You’re not allowed to kill yourself! I won’t let you,” Azriel shouted.

What, I thought, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I say calmly, looking straight into his eyes, “I just wanted a bath.” Suddenly a wave of guilt hit me because I’d made them think that. Azriel must have believed me because he released my arms and took a step back.

I pulled my arms up to cross my chest and looked away from them. Cassian pulled Azriel out of the bathroom, but neither of them closed the door. I returned to the bath but was no longer relaxed. I decided to quickly clean up and return to bed. The room was nearly silent except for the short whispered argument between the males. When I stepped into the room to dress, they both studiously looked away from me and one another. I dressed quickly and laid in bed, falling asleep before either of them could try and talk to me.

After weeks had passed, I was sitting and walking again. Most of the pain had gone, now only phantom pains and sore scars remained. I was barely able to move my wings, and Madja said with some physical therapy, I would regain much of the movement but never enough to fly again.

Cassian sat with me now, massaging my back. Things had gotten better. I’ve tried imagining life without my wings, and as long as I remember that I’ll always have my batboys, things aren't so bad. “Do you wanna go for a fly,” Cassian whispered.

“I can’t,” I said, tears welling up as I imagined I could.

Cassian pulled me up, “come on,” he said, pulling me by the wrist. He walked us up to the roof and stood behind me. Pulling my hips to him, he said, “stand on my feet.” I looked at him confused, “just do it.” So I did. I stood on his feet, and he wrapped his arms under mine and across my chest. “Try to keep your legs straight against mine,” he whispered against my ear, “if you need to hook your ankles around mine, do that.” Then we were taking off into the air, flying straight up. It wasn’t the same as flying myself, but it was relaxing nonetheless. We flew straight for the house of wind and hovered there for a moment. I was going to ask why we weren’t moving, but then Azriel walked out onto the balcony and shot toward us.

We spent hours in the sky. We even developed signals so Cassian would fly however I wanted. Glide left or right. Sharp turns. Down, up, backflip, frontflip. I felt like a kid again as I tumbled through the sky with the two most important people in my life.

When finally we were too exhausted to continue, we landed at a restaurant in the city. Azriel went in first, apparently having made reservations. As I followed-Cassian's hand in mine-we were led across the room between tables until we reached a curtained wall in the back. The males both grinned at me as our host pulled back the curtain, revealing a beautiful candle-lit scene. A beautiful private area just for us.

The evening was perfect. We ate dinner and laughed and just enjoyed each other. The room reminded me of our cave: chilly, small, and with colorful pillows and blankets littering the floor. It didn’t take long after finishing our meals for the three of us to end up in the mess of fabric. I have no idea how long we laid there. They just held me whispering beautiful things into my ears and an occasional obscenity from Cassian. They always knew what I needed.

My back was pressed to Cassian as he carefully wrapped his arms around me, avoiding my wings. I’m almost positive he’s asleep, and even in sleep, his grip is like iron. I couldn’t possibly move. Azriel, in front of me, combed the hair out of my face. “You’re gonna be okay, ya know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I know it doesn’t always feel like it, and you wanna give up sometimes, but you can’t. Please don’t ever leave us. We’re gonna be okay,” a tear slid down his cheek as he whispered these words to me.

“I promise,” I whispered back, pressing my forehead to his, “I promise.”

The next day I was released from the healers’ den, but it didn’t matter; Cassian and Azriel still never left my side. I didn’t mind, though. As soon as we left, they dragged me down endless streets of houses. I had no idea where we were going until I saw the large manor seated beside the Sidra, to our right. It must be the high lord and lady's house. We didn’t turn to it, though. Instead, I was led left, that’s when I noticed the smaller house, seated directly across from the manor. It was smaller, but not small. Beautiful ivy ran across the brick it was built of. It was supposed to look old but was certainly brand new. A short white fence ran along the yard. Cassian opened a little gate motioning for me to continue up the path. Inside, the house was stunning and appeared brand new. A curved staircase wrapped around behind us, and a chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

“What is this,” I asked quietly, not wanting my voice to echo.

“A house,” Cassian answered simply, “how about a tour?”

“Whose house?” I asked.

“Ours, of course,” Azriel replied. “We figured the house of wind was out of the question since you wouldn’t very easily be able to get in and out. And the beds in the River house are just big enough for two Illyrians. Not three.”

“So we bought this place. For the three of us,” Cassian finished, biting his lip nervously.

“You bought me a house,” I asked incredulously.

“Us. We bought us a house,” Cassian replied.

This would take some getting used to. Them doting on me all the time; always near. It wouldn’t be difficult, I imagined.

“You can decorate it however you’d like,” Azriel spoke.

“Even if I want to paint all the walls pink and hang orange curtains from all the windows,” I smirked. He cringed slightly, and Cassian laughed, holding out his hand, offering the tour again.

#cazriel x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #cazriel imagine #cassian acotar #cassian fic #azriel acotar #azriel fic #cassian x azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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k-s-morgan · 3 years ago

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Hi! I've been in the Hannibal fandom for two years now. Rewatched the show many times and yet Will Graham still confuses me like no one else. Hannibal's design is complex but somewhat understandable after watching the show again again. But Will's design is like a loophole. He can empathise with the killers. That means he can understand them. If he can understand them then why does it feel good for him to kill them? How does it work for him exactly. Does he feel for the killers? If he felt for the killers then what about his violent tendencies towards them?

I've always thought that he is like a God. A God of the killers. The killers offer him their design and he takes sacrifice in return of understanding. But how does his psyche work exactly?

Hello! Oh yes, Will is a very confusing character - it’s his defining trait, and I think that’s because he lies to himself, to others, and to us as an audience. He wants one thing, wants to want another thing, does the third thing, and making sense of it is a complex process.

I think Will’s empathy is a big red herring. I agree with Freddie here: he understands killers because he’s one. He has an almost supernatural gift that helps him recreate the situations almost exactly as they happened. He understands what motivates killers, he might sympathize with them, but I think he might also envy them their freedom to be what they are. They are a reminder of what he is and what he can’t allow himself to have. But most importantly, they are a way for Will to find a compromise with himself and feel better about his true self. Killing bad people is an excuse to justify his darkness, but I don’t think it’s a part of his design per se.

I agree with you that Will is like a God - he and Hannibal both are. That’s one of the things that separates them from others and elevates them above everyone else. Let’s make an overview of Will’s victims.

1) Hobbs. Hobbs was a monster and Will killed him. But it wasn’t about justice and righteousness, not according to him. Killing a person and feeling pleased that you saved someone versus liking the act of killing itself are drastically different things. Many police officers have to kill in their line of duty. Very few of them get off on the act of murder. Those who do are killers, and they are especially dangerous if they immediately try to follow it up with another murder. Will never once says he liked killing Hobbs because he made this world better. When asked, he says that he felt a sense of power. This is a motivation of many actual serial killers. If Will was just glad that he saved Abigail, he would know it's normal. He wouldn't have been almost on the verge of a break-down and haunted by Hobbs. So it’s not about helping others, it's about murder, even if the victim was a monster.

2) Stammets. Will had no reason to try to kill him (which he admits to doing). Based on his and Hannibal’s talk, he understands that he just wanted to feel what he felt after killing Hobbs, and this makes him panic. So again, no someone. He’s chasing the high of killing someone, and Stammets is the most appropriate victim.

3) Ingram. On the surface, it looks like Will wanted to avenge Peter and himself by proxy, hence pulling the trigger on Ingram. However, after Hannibal manages to stop him, days later, Will complains about losing a chance to feel how he felt when killing Hobbs. Murder high is his main motivation again - everything else is background or an excuse, depending on your reading.

4) Randall. Will threw away the gun on purpose to make the murder more intimate. This is not about justice and this is not about protecting himself because by doing this, he reduced his chances. Will also beat Randall up until he wasn't moving. There was no reason to snap his neck. Mutilation, cannibalism that followed, keeping his suit, admitting he enjoyed the murder and calling it his design - this is about murder and WIll’s love for it primarily. The design part is especially important: based on it, we can conclude that Will loves a performance just like Hannibal.

4) Chiyoh and her prisoner who Will set up. Chiyoh was innocent and didn't deserve to die. Her prisoner might not have been guilty - in fact, Will was the one to suggest that, and yet Will still set him up. It was a game and he was an observer - he lied in waiting for Chiyoh’s scream. He then turned the body of a losing party into art. Very creepy and very like Hannibal.

5) Chilton. Will clearly explained his motivation: he wanted Chilton to pay just because he wanted to be famous and messed with Hannibal by writing his ridiculous book. Will showed no remorse and admitted he did it on purpose.

6) Police officers he set up to be killed by cooperating with Francis. The ones he stepped over without a second look. They were innocent and they were a collateral damage. Will is a cruel God who doesn’t bother with mere mortals as long as it fits his purpose. In this case, his purpose was freeing Hannibal. Everything else was still a blur in his mind.

7) Francis. Enjoyed the murder, admired the blood, called the situation beautiful.

8) Bedelia. She's innocent in comparison to Will and his body count. If Will faced no repercussions and continued getting more and more people killed, she had every right to go free. But God doesn’t have to be fair, and Will proves it by targeting her.

What does it all say about Will’s design and philosophy? Apart from Godlike attributes and indifference toward collateral damage, I think Will is led by his bloodlust - he just tends to control it and direct it at specific targets.

Will might prefer to kill “bad people” in the first two seasons, but it’s the process of murder that excites him. So I see his righteous choices as a preference that helps him justify his dark nature partly, not the core reason for his violence. Hannibal seems to be moved by his interest in human nature and his hunter instinct, but Will, I think, is a truer killer because he actually feels drunk on murder. Unlike Hannibal, he looks downright euphoric when/after he kills Randall and Francis. In TWOTL, Hannibal is more focused on the fact that his dream came true and he and Will killed someone together, but Will seems primarily caught up in the murder after-shocks themselves. Hannibal thinks about Will, Will thinks about how beautiful blood looks under the moonlight.

So, post Fall, I believe that at first, Will will stick to killing bad people like murderers, but once some times passes, his need for justifications will fade. He’ll move on to rude people, only his rude will differ from Hannibal’s. Hannibal doesn’t differentiate between genders and ages, but I think Will will. He’s interested in a feeling of power, like he himself says, in a sense of dominance, so he’ll look forward to a fight. He won’t be interested in attacking a teenager like Cassie, for instance, because the power imbalance is too prominent. But as soon as someone more equal does something Will heavily dislikes, something that wakes his bloodlust (a personal insult, physical or verbal abuse toward other people/animals, etc.), he’ll attack. He’ll be careful - he knows how to avoid being caught, but it will still be unpredictable and passionate. Will is a storm to Hannibal’s calm.

Then there is unpredictability. Hannibal tends to plan everything methodically. The only times we see him being impulsive is in Europe, where he’s descending into self-destructive mode, so it’s not a norm for him. For Will, though? Will consists of unpredictability, and Hannibal is fascinated by it.I think Will is going to kill when an impulse strikes. For example, he might go shopping, without having any dark plans, and end up murdering someone because the circumstances pushed some unfortunate soul onto his path. Will might or might not display the body depending on his mood. Today he can be in an artistic mood, but tomorrow he’ll be in a violent and impatient one, wanting to destroy the body entirely and leaving a total mess behind.

How Will would prefer to kill? In my opinion, in an intimate way. It doesn’t mean he’ll be weaponless, but something like a knife would fit his tastes well. He’d be able to feel it plunge into his victim’s body, tearing through skin and muscles, etc. - personal and intimate. Akin to what he did with Francis - his feral half-snarl, the way he paused after stabbing him before opening him up - it was dark and mesmerizing. Will might get into strangling, too, because it takes a lot of time and it is even more intimate. It might end up being his favorite. So, I can see him using his hands or small weapons to fully sense what he’s doing to a victim. This is something that he has in common with Hannibal because from what we saw, Hannibal also enjoys more intimate and prolonged murders that give him a glimpse into a person’s pain and struggle for life.

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #meta

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dorotharry · 4 years ago

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tiny dancer ; chapter three

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 (coming soon)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, angst, nightmares, metal limbs?

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: Well, hello again, honestly after yesterday I really wanted to write again soon so I could start giving more away. Eep so exciting, thank you again for all your support too!! Please feel free to like, repost and comment any feedback, it’s much appreciated :)) Also lets just ignore that infinity war is a thing for the moment lolz.

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Natasha. It rang in your ears, there was some familiarity to that name. You kept your face blank, but for some reason it felt like you’d known her in a past life, or perhaps a life you didn’t remember. Though her face gave no indication that she knew either. But a younger version of her face flashed in your mind, only she wasn’t blonde she had bright red hair. You shook yourself from your thoughts, Natasha was a common name, surely you couldn’t know her. Surely.

“Come in,” you responded moving to the side as the women eyed you as she entered. She had to be around a similar age to you. At least in looks, you were at least a century year old in reality. “Did you want something to drink?” You said as you shut the door and gestured to the couch nearby.

The blonde shook her head, taking a seat her gaze still wary. “You’re probably curious to know why I’m here and who I am?”

You nodded as you took a seat on the second couch, it wasn’t often you had visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Avengers,” She started.

That’s where you knew her from! She’d swapped her red hair for blonde and suddenly you felt less confused.

“I’m a part of it, and our director Fury has been sending me on mission after mission looking for you. It’s only now we got a tip that you were living in Madripoor.”

You almost wanted to interrupt and ask who had tipped them off, but you thought better of it. You rose an eyebrow at her comment, giving her an expression that told her to continue.

“Anyway, I’m here because we wanted to bring you back to the compound. You’ve been hidden away from us for a long time. In fact, the only reason we know you exist is because of the HYDRA files I shared in 2014. We hoped you could give us some intel; we think something big is going to happen again, but we aren’t sure if it’s HYDRA or something else.” She looked at you again, a serious expression on her face.

Yours matched hers. “You should know I don’t do that anymore, I don’t work as an assassin,” you began suddenly feeling more vulnerable as the terrible things you had done came back up in your memories.

Natasha cut you off sensing your distress. “We aren’t asking you to, we just need your knowledge. Whilst I know Fury wants you to join us in the long run and start fighting again, we also respect your decision not to if that’s what you want.”

You looked at her sceptically, had she not heard what you had just said? Plus, now your cover in Madripoor was blown, if the Avengers knew where you were then surely it wouldn’t be long until every other government in the world would too. You were sure there were many people who wanted you dead.

As if she had heard your thoughts Natasha spoke up again, “don’t worry, if you turn down helping us, no one but Fury and I know you’re here. Not even Steve.”

You silently gasped, you had forgotten about Steve in these brief moments, he was captain America back then, in fact he was still Captain America. Even if you would be throwing yourself back into the line of fire, maybe it would be worth it to see your old friend again. Would he want to see you though? After everything awful thing, you had done. Your eyes began to well again, but you didn’t want Natasha to see you vulnerable.

“Fine.” You spoke sternly looking at the woman in front of you, “I will help, but only if you promise that you avengers will protect me. There’s a lot of people who want me in chains.”

You could see the hint of a smile on her face as she listened, “Don’t worry y/n, we have ways around that,” she smirked. “I don’t exactly have the cleanest record either.”

You nodded, standing up. You knew now if you were leaving that you could never return to Madripoor. If you chose not to fight with the Avengers after helping them, then at least you were sure they could protect you and finally you could maybe be back home. “Where to then?”

Natasha told you to get anything valuable, some clothes and anything else you felt you needed. Luckily for her, you always kept a duffle bag with everything you needed if you had to leave under you bed, along with the shot gun that had been in your hand this entire time till.

You walked to your room, grabbed the duffle bad and your other favourite weapons in another bag and returned in under a minute. Natasha let out a chuckle, she should have known an assassin was always prepared to flee. Something they all knew, never get too comfortable.

Natasha led you out of your apartment, you close the door behind you both and follow her. It felt strange to be taking from directions from anyone else. Besides HYDRA you had always been the person in charge, choosing what you did without direction. But unless you miraculously knew how you’d be getting back to the Avengers compound this seemed like a time you would have to not be stubborn.

She led you to a jet, gesturing you to get on before she did herself. She walked to the front closing the door and sitting in the pilot’s seat. “Feel free to have a sleep.” She said casual pointing to the bed next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled going and lying down. After having no sleep, you wouldn’t complain, and it would save you having to make small talk with Natasha. Plus, usually you didn’t have nightmares in you ever occasionally napped.

Natasha answered a call and began telling someone (who you assumed was Fury) that you were coming back with her, just as your eyes were filled with the darkness of sleep.

1943

You woke up once again your entire body in pain. Although this time it was different, and though you remembered where you were much of your memories were feeling fuzzy. Like someone had attempted to begin removing them.

That couldn’t be possible though, could it?

There was an ache on your face, remembering your last memory before you had been engulfed in darkness again. You were sure there would be marks from whatever machine had done that to you, wincing at the thought of the pain again.

But besides there being the same pains you had felt before, there was something different. You were still restricted by your arms and legs in the same position but now you had a heart monitor attached, the faint beeping being the only noise you could hear in the silent and dark room. This wasn’t a room though, it was a lab you knew that now, and you were a lab rat to the red skull and his scientists. Why would they care if my heart is still beating? You pondered.

Once again you pushed against your restraints in an attempt to get out, the leather digging into your skin causing you to wince due to how in pain your body already was. But again as you’d thought earlier, there was something different, yes your arms were wincing at the pain from the leather but your legs felt nothing. You moved your toes and felt no sensations. It was as if they were numb. What had HYDRA done?

As if on cue the laboratory door opened, the same scientist from before entering and two soldiers following behind him. The door slammed closed as the soldiers stayed there on each side of the door. Just in case you got out of your restraints again.

The scientist shuffled forward. “How are you feeling y/n? I realised I forgot the other day to introduce myself, I’m Arnim Zola but you can call me Doctor Zola.”

You sneered as his friendly attitude, causing him to frown. “I can’t feel my legs.” You responded in a harsh tone, “Why?”

“Well y/n, I told you that you would become a soldier for the red skull did I not? Now I understand you’re a ballerina but there’s something wrong with this. You see you always want to be perfect, and what makes you not is among many things your feet.” He looked down proudly at your legs.

The words rang in your ear. Your harsh glare to seem mean had softened as your eyes began to water. “Wh-- what have you done?” You began blubbering, your chest fell up and down panic striking your lungs.

“I’ve made you perfect.” He responded without remorse. Instantly he signalled for the men that had been stood by the door this entire time to come over. They did so, grabbing parts of your body so you were even more restricted that you already were as Doctor Zola walked to the foot of the table you were on. Slowly he undid one of the leather straps restricting your leg. You couldn’t even feel him doing it, your senses not working.

He lifted your right leg so that you could gaze down and what you saw only made your panic attack rise. You shrieked at the sight before you. Your eyes welling more and more with tears. You could hear the heart monitor beginning to pick up in noise, as you heart raced.

From halfway down your calf was what looked like a metal leg and foot. It looked exactly like what legs should be, but it wasn’t. It was silver and cold. Down the side of your calf nearing your ankle was a red star.

Tears rolled down your face as he placed your leg back down strapping it back up, then signalling the men holding you down to move away again.

You would have preferred to die then lose your feet. Your mind wandered as your chest rose and fell so quickly that the world around you began to spin. Would you ever be able to dance again?

Doctor Zola was now next to you again, his face held no remorse, in fact all you could see was pride. Even though the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on him you knew he didn’t care. “Don’t worry y/n, after today you won’t care about this. You won’t even remember who you are, only who we tell you are. From now on you aren’t y/n anymore. I’ll see you again when you’re ready to comply.”

The same machine from earlier then began to make noises lowering down to your head. Doctor Zola began rambling Russian words you couldn’t understand, the immense pain began again, and you screeched out in pain.

Present day; 2017

Gasping for air you shot up on the bed on the jet. Natasha looked back at you and instantly you dropped your fearful expression into one that was unreadable. No one would know your nightmares, no one could know you had weaknesses.

Luckily her gaze didn’t last long as she spoke up, “We’re here.” She was just glad she wouldn’t have to wake you up. She stood up, you following her lead out of the jet and towards a large white building with a big ‘A’ on the side.

“Jeez subtle.” You scoffed muttering under your breath.

She rolled her eyes at your comment but proceeded to walk into the building. “I’m sure you’ve heard about most of us. So, I feel there’s no need to explain to you, our names.”

She was right there, of course you knew their names, the whole world did. You hummed in response. She led you both to two big double doors pushing them open as you trailed behind. You may have been as assassin but that didn’t mean you were particularly keen on meeting new people, especially all at once. It took a while for people to come to your liking.

She stopped and you stood almost completely behind her looking down at your hands. You never looked at your feet anymore. The noise of all the voices talking amongst each other suddenly stopped and you could feel all of their eyes on you both.

“Everyone this is y/n, she’s going to help us with our current task we’ve been working on.” She spoke sternly but giving them all a small smile.

You raised your head reminding yourself to not be vulnerable and narrowed your eyes as you scanned them all. Of course, most of already knew who you were having read your files when she released them; each giving you sympathetic looks mixed with fear. But not Steve he never had the heart to look at yours and Bucky’s files. If he ever saw you both again, he knew in time you’d tell him.

Finally, you were met with a familiar set on blue eyes, not the ones you had fallen in love with but still ones who once meant so much to you. Now you weren’t so sure.

Steve looked like he was going to die of shock, as he stared at you with such intensity.

He took a step towards you, “y/n?”, his eyes searching for you to show some sort of emotion. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You took another step back, away from him, the hurt instantly flashing across his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone.

“Hi Steve.”

A/N: ooo we love the tension. how does reader know Natasha?? is it just cause she's an avenger or is it something else? I’ll guess you'll have to see *evil face*

P.S. we’ll see Bucky again soon I promiseeeee

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@maybe-a-marvel @thatredlipped-classic @flightsandfantasy @7minutes-tomidnight @rebelemilu @cataves

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sakura-83 · 3 years ago

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Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 6: Remorse Is the Poison of Life

1. Diana having to run through the dark with nothing but a lantern and quite reasonably tripping. I never really thought about how dark it would actually be out because there’s always light.., somewhere in a modern city. It’s dark but you can usually still see

2. Every time Anne and Diana are separated they end up reunited during some great tragedy and are like “I missed you so much!!” Like yeah that’s great but. Please focus

3. It’s terrifying how easily children could die before modern medicine. They still can die very easily and that’s still terrifying but back then there was no quick fixes or easily accessible help

4. “It’s an old wives tale.” “I might be one but not the other. Evidently one doesn’t have to be either thing to know it.”

5. Anne knowing how to treat croup because all of Mrs. Hammond’s sets of twins had it

6. “I was supposed to be a boy but when I wasn’t, they decided to keep and raise me.” “How extraordinary!”

7. Minnie May almost choking to death on her own phlegm and Anne ultimately saving her because there’s no way the doctor would’ve made it all the way from Soencervale in time

8. “I believe I need a brandy.”

9. It’s really interesting how much of the script comes straight from the book

10. “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren’t you?”

11. John Blythe’s love for adventure and how Gilbert undoubtedly sees it in Anne

12. Eliza apologizing for how she misjudged Anne

13. “My darling Diana”

14. “I can’t tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishes at this thrilling moment!”

15. “Even aunt Josephine said she’d like to see you again, and she doesn’t like anyone.”

16. “Shes disinclined to stay home alone since her companion passed away.” “Her companion?” “Her best friend forever and ever.”

17. “Aunt Josephine never married. Neither of them did, they lived with each other their whole lives.” “I’d live with you forever if I could. But I know you’ll leave me the date you get married to some wealthy and handsome gentleman. I hate him already.” “How’s Gilbert?”

18. “It’s very likely Gilbert’s father isn’t going to get well, so it’s more than possible that when Gilbert finally comes back to school… he’ll be an orphan.”

19. The cut from that conversation to John Blythe’s funeral

20. Matthew grabbing Marilla’s arm because he knows how much john meant to her

21. Gilbert watching the snowflakes melt in his hand

22. Marilla’s flashback

23. Young Marilla teasing john

24. Him giving her the same hair ribbon she later gifts to Anne

25. Anne and Gilbert being just like their parents, mirroring their romance and yet achieving the love Marilla and John could never have

26. Anne trying to make Gilbert feel better but making it seem like it’s about her. I often find it hard to articulate my relation to others in a way that does sound like I’m relating and not like I’m making it about me

27. Aunt Josephine on a stroll in the woods

28. Anne’s ranting about her “extensive knowledge of being an orphan”

29. Her calling Gilbert a dumb boy and refusing to think about him

30. “Romance is a pesky business. No sense to be made of it.”

31. “May I enter your humble abode.” About Anne’s run down little shed

32. “I couldn’t be less interested in Gil- that boy!”

33. “Let your ambitions and your aspirations be your guide.” “But I have so many!”

34. “I’ve always wanted to be a bride, but I don’t really expect to be a wife.” “Interesting!” “So you see the conundrum.” “I do. I have the following thoughts to offer. First, you can get married any time in your life, if you choose to do so.” “That’s true-“ “And two, if you choose a career, you can buy a white dress yourself, have it made to order and wear it whenever you want.” “Why didn’t I think of that!? I love that idea! I’m going to be my own woman!” “I’m a proponent for making ones own way in the world.”

35. “If you become a doctor, perhaps you can discover a cure for old age.”

36. Anne calling aunt Josephine her new role model, as well as Marilla and Matthew

37. “I’m going to be the heroine of my own story.”

38. Marilla finding an old letter from John

39. The theme Unrequited Love playing during this scene

40. It’s fascinating when you come to recognize the instrumentals by name, the names actually have a lot of double meanings in relation to the show. Fire in The Town not only plays when there’s an actual fire, but also when Anne’s rumors about prissy set the town ablaze

41. “If the key to a mans heart is through his stomach-“ “Which it is!” “Then, we have to make sure that this is the best shepherds pie that Gilbert has ever had.”

42. Anne wanting a boy to loved for her brain and personality rather than her abilities to keep a home

43. “Don’t you think Gilbert looks even more handsome now that he’s sad?” “I didn’t notice.”

44. I just noticed aunt Josephines mourning clothes, I know she was grieving but I didn’t put two and two together

45. “Take the boy the godforsaken pie before I suffer a mental collapse.”

46. Anne rambling excitedly about Jane Eyre.

47. Anne almost spoiling the book, just like Gertrude used to do

48. Anne suddenly breaking down over death. I’ve done that before, far more frequently in middle school when I realized that we all die someday

49. “It must be awful beyond measure to lose someone that you love deeply. In a split second, a heartbeat, they’re gone forever… and there is nothing you can do to change it or bring them back…”

50. “Anne? You’re crying on the potatoes.”

51. “There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, Ruby. And I’m going to say it because I am.” “You’re just going to make it worse if you say that. His father!! Just died!!!” “That’s what people say when someone dies.” “I don’t want you to upset him.” “He’s already upset because his father just died!”

52. “We hope you like shepherds pie.” “Everyone LIKES shepherds pie 😡. We hope it’s a comfort to you, Gilbert.🥰”

53. Anne telling “but I would make a terrible wife!” And running out.

54. Matthew offering to help Gilbert get his farm back in order

55. Gilbert not wanting to be a farmer but having an entire farm shoved off on him when his only family does, despite being… 14 at most? 15 maybe?

56. Matthew losing all his crops when the Dal Marie sank

57. Billy wanting Gilbert back to control the “ugly orphan” and Gilbert defending Anne

58. “She’s smart, deal with it.”

59. Gilbert telling billy to read a book for once

60. “I’ll give you a tip, okay? I’m not your bud. And if you ever hassle Anne again, you’ll regret it.”

61. “What’s your problem?” “Ask me that again. No, seriously. Go ahead.” “Why you gotta be like that?” “Ask me!” “…what’s your problem?”

62. Gilbert throwing his stuff at billy to preoccupy his hands and THEN punching him straight in his stupid face

63. The boys are fighting!!!! And rolling around in the snow too that’s kind of funny looking

64. Gilbert beating billy in that fight

65. Marilla telling Gilbert about his father

66. All of Gilbert’s siblings died

67. Gilbert’s father taking him to Alberta before he died, where Gilbert was born

68. “You resemble him in many ways.”

69. “He asked you to go?” I’ll always be grateful to him for thinking I’d be brave enough. Obligation… can be a prison.”

70. Anne trying to write a letter to Gilbert apologizing for what she said

71. Anne visiting aunt Josephine for advice and accidentally interrupting her grieving

72. “Emotion is rarely convenient and often intolerable, but I find at the moment that I don’t mind it.”

73. “Grief is the price you pay for live, you see. So it’s alright.”

74. “You and I are not the marrying kind.” “Ah, but I was, in my way. And we had a full and wonderful life together, and I gave no regrets. That’s all you really have to decide Anne, to live a life without regrets.”

75. Anne kissing aunt Josephine on the cheek and running off to live said life

76. No Matthew don’t make that loan deal!!!

77. Anne sprinting to Gilbert’s house bit for the first time of many to come, being too late to reach him.

#anne with an e #renew awae #awae #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #josephine barry #marilla cuthbert #mathew cuthbert #diana barry

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sailors-diary-for-elise · 3 years ago

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Reaching Out

SEE! SOMETHING OTHER THAN SMUT. Also this one is old and a bit dusty, sooooo warnings are gonna be to the best of my ability. ALSO. THIS IS ANGST AND HAS TRIGGERING THEMES. PLEASE SCROLL PAST IF THE WARNINGS ARE DISTRESSING TO YOU. I wrote this during a really difficult day and was just word vomiting tbh. I am also gonna state that this is a work of fiction and I am in no way a therapist or anything, so if something here bothers you I’m sorry this is just something I wrote mostly for myself.

Warnings: god this is painful but here we go. Reader is depressed and has anxiety, mentions of self-inflicted injuries (she punches a mirror...repeatedly-), blood, panic attacks, it takes a few of the members to restrain the reader so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read this, this is honestly just a hard read imo so please read with care. Also, the reader hates herself and just doesn’t really think highly of herself at all sooooo yeah-

It was the fourth time this month. The fourth argument that could’ve and should’ve ended differently.

You’d come out of your room to find San off at practice or on some work related schedule, spend the entire day outside trying to break a horrible cycle in your mind, just to disappear again once he returned home. It was frustrating you both and causing a serious strain in your relationship.

On San’s side, he couldn’t understand why it was that you would fight against him trying to get you to come out of your room when you spent the entire day alone. Then there was his frustration when you would complain about never seeing him and yet would disappear and avoid him when he was available. To San, it didn’t make any sense. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and support you, but it seemed as though you were determined to shut him out. He watches you storm off to your bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he tries to recall the last time he’d come back from a schedule and had a nice quiet evening that didn’t end in you both screaming at each other. When he can’t, San grabs his jacket and walks out of the apartment with his phone and keys, planning on spending the night at the dorms so that you can have some space to cool off. Once he gets in his car, he quickly dials Hongjoong’s number, pulling out of the parking garage of your complex and letting out all of his frustrations and concerns.

As he drove, San had no way of knowing how much you hated yourself for what was happening between you both.

What San didn’t know was that your depression and anxiety had been spiraling lately due to the pressure that had been placed on your shoulders from not only your work but from being the girlfriend of an idol that had become so famous. He didn’t know that every day you were terrified that, now that his future was so bright and secure, he’d no longer want you. That he’d leave you just like so many before had done, and that he’d realize you were no longer something of use to him. And finally, how you criticize every minute of your life, finding ways that you are failing even when you’ve done nothing but your best. It came to the point that waking up from dreams was physically painful, because you could control a dream and guarantee the people you love never turned their backs on you. San didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know this. Because to know this would mean you would have to tell him. And no one should have to bear this burden but you, and there was always that small part of you that was terrified of having your feelings invalidated.

Your whole life people have toyed with you, accepting your depression only when it was convenient to them and berating you once the curtains fall. Some even went as far as to weaponize your emotions, tearing you down in an argument with something that was the equivalent to the beating heart in your chest. Yes they would apologize and you would eventually forgive them because people make mistakes. But the thing about words is that once they leave someone’s mouth, the damage is already done and there’s no amount of remorse or forgiveness that can repair it. That’s where you are now.

You slam the door shut, leaving all the lights in your room turned off, your head pounding after the screaming match you and San had just finished (rather, you ran out on and barricaded the door so he wouldn’t see you cry) and your face stained with tears. Not a sound left you as you curled up on the bed, biting your fist as a punishment for your body's betrayal of emotions. All it would take was one minute of silence and the entire apartment would be able to hear how you were feeling. In all honesty, you didn’t want San to see you cry. Because in your mind, you didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one who picked a fight. You're the one who made unfair accusations, using his career and passions as weapons against him. You were the one that hurt him in the same ways that had been done to you, falsely claiming that it was to “beat him to it and strike first.”

The front door slams shut, and you work quickly. You unbarricade the door and peek out, making sure no one is there. Dashing across the living space, you reach the spare bedroom and lock the door, not seeing the need for such extreme measures as earlier. You then sit with your back to the door, listening for the sign of San’s safe return from the store. Your butt has just about gone numb when this occurs, the front door shutting softly alerting you instantly. You rise from your position, albeit a little slowly due to your cramped muscles, and shuffle to the bed. A knock sounds, and a decision has to be made.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake. Can you come to bed? You and I both know that neither of us can sleep alone anymore.” San mumbles through the door. You hear shuffling, and you hold your breath thinking he might unlock the door. You’re not sure though, whether you’re holding your breath in hope or fear. But all you hear is a thud, indicating San sitting down. “Look, we don’t have to talk. You don’t even need to look at me, it just feels better for both of us if I’m holding you through the night, because at the end of the day, we still love each other, right?”

San’s cheeks are marked with tear streaks, eyes red and puffy as he waits for any sign of confirmation from you. He loves you more than anything else, so much so that he’d give up everything for you, and needed to hear that you still loved him as well. He holds his breath, hands covering his face while he waits for you to show him a sign that you’re even listening. That you’re even there.

You tip-toe over to the door, gently crouching down in front of it and rest your fingertips lightly on the wood, near where his shoulder is supposed to be. It’s cold and unyielding, but this is the bravest you’ll ever be. You hear a sigh on the other side, almost as if he can sense your presence.

“You know, you don’t have to keep it all in. From the first moment I saw you, I knew that there was so much going on in your life that it’d take time to get you to trust me. And I still want that. I want to know what’s going on in your life again. I want to hold you as you're crying again. And I want to repay you for all the times you’ve helped me.” San whispers, his voice showing how much of a toll this has taken on him. “I know a lot has changed, I travel a lot, and it’s harder for us to go anywhere without me being recognized. But I promise you that my feelings for you, the amount of love I feel for you, it’s all still there. If anything, I love you even more now than before. I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I want to keep fighting for us and I just need you to reach out to me, show me you want this too. Open the door, even if it’s just a crack, and let me help heal those open wounds. Yes there will be scars and yes it will take time, but I’m willing to wait.”

At this point you have tears streaming down your face as you withdraw your hand. You don’t move though, despite your broken mind willing you to do so, you stay rooted in your spot. Sniffles break through the other side, showing how much San is hurting. You feel as though there’s a war going on inside of you, your heart begging you to open the door and stop this madness, but your mind resolute on keeping this wall up.

“I. Can’t.” you croak out, bringing your trembling hand to your lips and nibbling your thumbnail as you rise slowly. “They were right, I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Who told you that?” San questions, confusion swirling in his head as he struggles to better understand where this was coming from. Standing, San presses his hands to the door, trying to open it only to find it locked. “Love, talk to me.”

“All I’ve been doing is hurting you, and I’m sorry. ” You whimper, your mind screaming at you to shut-up and not give away anything while your heart, your very being, is begging to be set free and allow him back in. “I, I love you, San.” And with that you rise, walking towards the bathroom attached to the room. You close the door, locking it and turning to the mirror to see your disheveled state. Tears stain your cheeks, your eyes have bags under them, and your hair is greasy and a mess from the lack of effort on your part to take care of yourself.

Thoughts swirl and distort your reflection, harsh words clouding your mind. Some of the words surface from your past, some are from deep within you stemming from your lack of forgiveness for yourself. You don’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. You don’t deserve him caring for you. You’re toxic. You do nothing but hurt him. Toxic. Toxic.

You start screaming, starting in your gut and ripping out through your mouth, scaring the shit out of San who begins pounding on the door. You hear him calling out to you, but it’s muffled in your head as you continue to sob and scream at your reflection, running your hands through your hair before tugging on it out of frustration. The longer you look at yourself, the worse the feeling in your gut gets as the harsh words continue to tear you apart, worsening with each passing moment. With one last scream you pull your arm back and punch the mirror, desperate to feel something other than the all consuming self-hatred. And it works.

There’s a crack on the mirror with droplets of blood in the center. You bring your trembling hand into view, noticing your knuckles slightly bloodied and cut. The pain replaces all of the noise in your head, if only for a moment, and you become entranced by it. Raising your fist again, you punch the mirror once, twice, three more times before stopping to look at your handy work. The crack has grown and your hand is bleeding steadily, a couple of pieces of glass stuck in your knuckles. You’re ashamed of what and who you’ve become and raise your fist again when the door breaks down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” San shouts, restraining your flailing and screaming form as tears stream down your face. Four pairs of hands are pulling you out of the bathroom, with San’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulls you on the bed. He immediately starts shushing you, whispering into your hair as he wraps his legs around you as well, restricting you so the others can clean you up and call an ambulance if need be. At this point though, he doesn’t need to as you’ve gone completely limp, sobbing into his neck loudly as the emotions you’ve kept hidden flood out in a wave that swallows you whole. “Shh baby, it’s okay. We’re here now and we’re not leaving you. I’ve got you, we’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is trembling, absolutely terrified by what he’s just experienced. It’s lucky that Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa arrived when they did or he might have been too late, having planned on coming to help San piece back together your relationship. It took Yunho and Seonghwa to break down the doors, and all four of them carried you out of the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or them.

Soon, you run out of energy and are left whimpering and quivering in San’s hold, slowly coming to your senses as you hear running water, hushed murmurs, and the cabinet mirror (or what’s left of it) being opened in search of something. When the realization sets in that San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho have seen you at your worst, your chest tightens and your breathing becomes irregular which are the first signs of a panic attack. Something San was familiar with but hadn’t seen happen in some time.

“No no no no.” San repeats, noticing the changes in your behavior and looking towards the bathroom. “Hongjoong! It’s getting worse!”

Immediately, footsteps can be heard heading in your direction, and a gentle face appears in the corner of your eye. Hongjoong slowly reaches forward, grasping the hand that had begun curling in on itself to the point of almost drawing blood and pulling it away from your chest.

“Sweetie, grab my hand and squeeze that instead. You won’t hurt me, I swear.” Hongjoong whispers, slowly working his nimble fingers between your clenched ones. It comes as a surprise to him when, instead of resisting, your hand flies open into a rigid position. “Shh… it’s okay sweet-heart. How about this. Follow this.”

Your hand is placed on a firm and warm chest, a slight bump hitting your palm and drawing your attention to the pattern. It’s his heartbeat. Hongjoong’s pulse creates a rhythm in your head, distracting you from your fears and disdain towards yourself momentarily while Seonghwa and Yunho both return to the room, one holding medical supplies and the other holding a bowl with warm water and a towel. Crouching in front of you, Seonghwa notices the hand on Hongjoong’s chest is the one that’s injured, glancing at San who is fighting back tears as he strokes your hair.

“Y/n-ah. We have to clean your hand. Put your hand on San’s chest, follow his heartbeat.” Seonghwa says in a firm yet kind tone. At this point, you’ve lost almost all self-awareness, too exhausted to fight anyone as you nod partially, removing your hand from Hongjoong’s chest to place on San’s. “No sweetie. The other hand.” Seonghwa instructs, a heartbroken smile crossing his face at the sight of you behaving like a toddler who skipped their nap. You look confused, bringing your hand to your face to inspect it, finding the streaks of blood and bits of glass as a few tears trickle down your face.

You’re not sure how long it takes for Seonghwa to properly clean your hands, or when you got changed into one of San’s shirts that fits like a dress, but as you’re lied down on the bed with San, who’s watching you intently to make sure any slight changes on your face are caught immediately, you find yourself in an almost numbed mind-frame. Too exhausted and confused to comprehend anything around you.

Your eyes slowly close, the occasional tear slipping out only to be swiped gently away by San. San, the last thing you see before you fall into a dreamless sleep. And you are blissfully unaware of what’s to come in the morning.

As you snore softly in San’s grasp, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Yunho leaves the room to clean up the mess that has been left behind with Seonghwa following closely behind, most likely to comfort the younger boy. Hongjoong reaches forward to brush hair out your eyes and slowly strokes your cheek. Who knew such a small body could take this much pain? he wonders to himself, not even beginning to understand what caused you to struggle so much and break down so devastatingly. And that’s the only way to describe your attack. Devastating.

Like a tsunami, you receded from social outings and even your true love San, and once they realized what was happening and why you’d “changed” the wave had already hit. But his main question was voiced by San.

“Hyung.” San rasps out, looking up at Hongjoong with tears streaming down his face. “Why-or how did this happen? What caused this? What are we-what am I supposed to do?”

San’s breathing becomes labored, almost as if the weight of the situation has sat fully on his chest. He chokes on a sob, looking at you in your angelic state while pressing a gentle and wet kiss to the top of your head while crying. He clutches you to his chest, rocking slightly and burying his face in your head. Hongjoong panics, thinking he’ll wake you but settles once realizing how exhausted you must be. “Why would she keep this from me?”

“San-ah, I honestly don’t have the answer to that.” Hongjoong mumbles, holding his own tears back with a few deep breaths before looking at the pair of you. He honestly considered Ateez his family, and you became his little sister that he felt he needed to protect from the world. If only he’d realized sooner how much damage the world had already done to you. “But I do know one thing. Now more than ever, she needs us.”

San looks at his hyung and leader, absolutely wrecked from the storm of emotions that flowed between you two. “How?” he croaks out.

“I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the storm hasn’t gone and that this is only the beginning of our journey.” Hongjoong places a hand on your cheek and his other on San’s hand, squeezing slightly in hopes of reassuring the younger boy. “I see how much you need her San. And how much she needs you. She’s scared San. More so than any of us right now. Which is why we have to stay with her no matter what. No matter what she might say or do to scare us off, we have to fight through it all and show her we are here for her. Because if we don’t.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks, revealing his true emotions and the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. “We might lose her forever.”

San sits quietly, shaking slightly from the silent tears that are being shed and pulling you closer to his chest if that was even possible, crying himself into a slumber much like you did moments prior. Hongjoong rises, tucking both of you in like he would an upset child, and walking into the bathroom. The scene that awaits him is what finally breaks his own dam of tears, collapsing next to Seonghwa and Yunho who are both crouched down. They’ve hunched over, scrubbing the white tiles of your blood and throwing glass shards away in a paper bag. Upon noticing Hongjoong, Yunho drops what’s in his hands, embracing his leader and best friend. His tears fall as well, the sight of someone as strong as Hongjoong breaking down terrifying him.

Seonghwa wipes the few stray tears before rising, quickly finishing the task of cleaning before ushering the two broken boys out of the room. He sits Hongjoon and Yunho down, pulling out a paper and pen and titling it “Y/n’s Healing.”

“We’ll make a plan, and take this journey one step at a time. Until Y/n’s finally healed.” Seonghwa states, immediately writing steps and plans he’s already come up with in his head. And so the journey begins.

#ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #san x reader #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa x reader #yunho angst #jeong yunho angst #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #tw: depression #tw: self harm

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whitehotharlots · 3 years ago

Text

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris. Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City. I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago. In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her. The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class. "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later. "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend. Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two. Cops came in and pulled him out of class. Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody. From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris. No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing. This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search. The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy. He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment.

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab. Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie.

It was his first offense. He was 16.

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad. He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework. She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he? They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his.

What really fucked with him was rehab. It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time: he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions. Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie. Yes, he said, he was an addict. Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic." His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday? Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of? Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right? No? Well you see right there that's a part of the problem. Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own. No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out.

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend. All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4. It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays. The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it. 'When would you go to church?' he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems. One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful. Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work. But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed. Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy.

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough. If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake. During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back. Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence.

"It's not the drugs: it's the high," the man said. He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius. He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense. And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him. The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room. His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked. Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer. Chris kept looking down. His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness. Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat. If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad. But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up. Now."

He did. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face. Soak it up. Take it all in. Done? Give you another second. Okay, now you're done. This, people, is what failure looks like. Some of you will see it again, right here. This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face. It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes. By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him. Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows. Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet. And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines. His mom was making time with the addicts. This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence. He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view. He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back. All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car. All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made. Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him. Really, wow. Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen, it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met. "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him. Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high. What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times. Vicodin, right. Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire. That's right. Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot. Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day. Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth. His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?" Stepfather laughed. Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth. Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd. People clapped a little bit. Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red. A stack of certificates sat on the table up front. The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance. He looked all business. There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again. Arrested in front of his parents.

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it. That's all it was. Nothing to get too upset about. Still—gotta stay calm. If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high.

"Well," the overseer began. Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat. He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut. When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful. Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either. Talked about his wife and kids all the time. This was an act. He had measured out this persona for himself. This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself. Pot fucks up the way you think about things. How long had it been since they sat down? How long since he'd been scared by the cops? When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking. Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces. Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends. The selfishness might end here. The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here. But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long. Wanted people to clap for him. They did. Then they finished. He continued. His tone was different. He had sounded like he was reading off a card. Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon. Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh. Okay. That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day. He wasn't even here. Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah.

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative. He didn't come. But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come… but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned. He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings. The air shifted around Chris. It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance. The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it. Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him. In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear. He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process.

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized. He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage. When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her. He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen: because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it. What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison. That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time. And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction. That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course. You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together. On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else. They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all. No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise. That had two positives: one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him. Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching. That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction. Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block. He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something. His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings. Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit. He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid. He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody. He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair. This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things. More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive. Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try. At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it. That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me. I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed. This made him a blast to hang out with. This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family. My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach. Most of her friends soon followed suit. He was left behind. As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around. Not by much. He still drinks far too much. But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student.

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

Note

If you're (still) taking prompts for the One Bed Bingo, I feel like 'and they collapsed in it, exhausted' & 'and it was the best sleep of their lives' have intense codywan vibes. Feel free to pick one, both, but someone please let the boys sleep.

THEY DESERVE TO SLEEP. This ended up being a bit more on the gen side, really, though there are some pre-Codywan feelings. Set during the Clone Wars, around one year into the war. I ALSO used “in the middle of a snowstorm” with some adaptations (a three-fer!) Card and fic below:

Bhyilk was a miserable world for a number of reasons. First and foremost was, of course, the cold. It ate right through their armor and the layers they’d piled on beneath. Cody had already been informed by the medics about every possible risk associated with frostbite.

None of them were to remove their helmets while they were in the open air. They were ordered to stay dry. And to conserve heat as much as possible. While moving and fighting, that wasn’t a difficult order to follow.

But they had to bunk down, eventually. They didn’t get a chance to for almost three days. Before that, it was just fighting and marching and struggling to climb the side of a kriffing glacier, for some logic-forsaken reason.

Cody was moving in a daze, by the time they finally were allowed to stop. He’d passed beyond exhaustion, into some space beyond, where everything felt clear and sharp.

They ended up setting up a camp on the windswept and barren waste of a glacier. The ice was old; it had almost turned to grey, or perhaps always had been grey, but it gave the entire expanse a rotten look. The fact that the ice groaned under them, sometimes, didn’t help matters.

But really, the eerie sounds and the bleak locale were secondary concerns. The cold stood alone as the primary worry. Cody ordered troopers to bunk together - they all needed sleep, they couldn’t go any longer without it, not even with the adaptations given to them by the Kaminoans - to seal their shelters as best they could and to let their body heat warm the spaces.

It was the standard cold-weather strategy. They ran hot, by design. Put enough of them in a small enough sealed space, and the temperatures would climb to a level that was, at least, survivable, if not pleasant.

He felt confident that none of his brothers would lose fingers or toes through the night - barring any truly bad decision making from a shiny, which was always a risk - and held onto that thought as he crossed the camp.

Cody knew his brothers would follow orders and stay warm. He wished, with a sigh, that he could say the same about his General.

Obi-Wan had his own tent and it was fair-sized. Too large to warm easily, ostensibly because he needed room to set up holo transmission equipment, needed room to discuss their strategies for the coming day with his officers. Ostensibly, the large size made sense.

Cody ducked through into the tent and found the air inside almost colder than the air outside, impossibly. Obi-Wan was sitting on his cot, still in full cold-weather gear, holding a cup of something in his hands. It might have been tea. It didn’t look hot.

Nothing looked hot at the moment. Cody shook his head. He was so kriffing tired.

“Commander,” Obi-Wan said, voice muffled by the wrap around his face. “Something wrong?”

Cody knew Jedi could survive things his brothers couldn’t. Perhaps Obi-Wan could lay here, in the frigid tent, on his freezing bed, and still have all his extremities in the morning. But Cody didn’t want to find out. He exhaled, “Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan stiffened, the movement barely noticeable with all the layers he was wearing, but Cody had learned how to read him well, over the last year. He set aside his cup and stood, asking, “What’s the situation?”

“It’s out here,” Cody said, the feel of...not a lie, but something deliberately not the truth odd and disconcerting on his tongue. “You’d better come and see.”

Obi-Wan murmured something under his breath. It could have been a curse, but he followed Cody out of the tent without hesitation, across the ice, and directly into Cody’s tent. It was smaller than Obi-Wan’s, smaller, even, than many of the tents given to his brothers. He, too, was expected to bunk down alone. A privilege of rank, most of the time.

He had a little stove radiating heat in the corner, already. Unlike the stove in Obi-Wan’s tent, it was actually having an effect in the smaller space. Stepping in out of the cold felt like a shock of almost painful warmth, though he knew the air inside was still below freezing.

“Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, standing there with ice crystals melting off of his clothes, eyes hidden behind his goggles. “What’s going on?”

“One of the men is going to freeze to death, sir,” Cody said, shrugging off his outermost layer. Exhaustion from tramping and fighting and struggling through the ice and snow ate further away at him. He knew sheer weariness was partially to blame for - for all of this. For everything he was doing.

Exhaustion affected the body like alcohol, eventually. Get tired enough and the world got…simple.

Things felt very simple when Obi-Wan stiffened and said, “Who? Where is he? We should--”

“He’s right here, sir,” Cody cut in, “but don’t worry, we got to him in time. Come here.”

Obi-Wan stood stock still for a moment, and then asked, sounding almost as tired as Cody felt, “What?”

Cody sighed. He arranged his outer coat over the cot. His eyes burned behind his helmet. “You can’t stay by yourself in these temperatures. You’ll be a frozen slab in the morning. We have cold weather procedures for a reason, and--”

“I appreciate your concern,” Obi-Wan started, shaking his head a little, “but I’ll be fine, I assure you, you don’t need to put yourself to any trouble on my account, I am--”

“I’ll also be a frozen slab in the morning,” Cody cut in, because he’d learned a lot of things about his General in the last year, including how to work around his stubborn insistence on sacrificing himself given the barest hint of an opportunity, “if I can’t adhere to cold weather procedures.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, or, at least, Cody thought he did. It was hard to tell much with the goggles in the way. Obi-Wan asked, finally, “What are these cold weather procedures, then?”

Cody exhaled, relief tickling around the heaviness in his head. That was as good as capitulation, and he knew it. “We seal the tent,” he said, and stepped around Obi-Wan to do so, “let the stove warm the air as much as possible, and share such warmth as we can.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for another long beat. He said, as Cody straightened, “Surely it would be more effective for you to carry out these procedures with some of the others.”

“Surely,” Cody agreed, with a snort, “but there’s different regs for the command class.” It was….not exactly a lie. But not exactly the truth. There were plenty of different regs he had to adhere to, but no one was going to care if he went and bunked down with Crys, Waxer, or Boil.

But if he did, Obi-Wan was going to lay in his bunk and freeze all night long, and that was unacceptable.

Obi-Wan sounded like he was trying to work his way through a difficult logic puzzle when he spoke again. The exhaustion must have been getting to him, too. “You’ll be alone, then? If I go back to my tent?”

“You’ve got it, sir,” Cody said, without remorse. With both of them in the tent, the entry sealed, and the stove going, the temps were climbing above freezing, according to his HUD. That was a relief, at least. He dared to reach up and take his helmet off. “So, what do you say? Shall we not freeze to death together?”

Obi-Wan stood for a beat and then nodded, jerkily. He reached up and shoved back the hood he wore, revealing flattened, limp hair and skin tinged red and chapped around the edges of his goggles, which he also lifted away, pulling down the covering over his mouth. “I suppose I can sleep over by the wall, if you have a spare--”

“You sleep in the bunk, sir,” Cody cut in, nudging him towards it.

“But--”

“We both do,” Cody continued, shedding another coat, putting it over the cot. “Keeps us warmer.”

Obi-Wan blinked at him, dark-circles under his eyes, his lips so chapped it looked painful. Cody swallowed and said, “I’ve seen you bunk down with Skywalker, sir. This is just like that.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Obi-Wan said, and Cody almost laughed, and knew, then, that he was far too tired to continue the conversation. He unhooked his chest and backplates and set them aside, left on the rest of his armor, and sat down on the bunk.

“You’re going to help me stay alive,” he said, sliding his legs under all the heavy layers on the cot. “I think I can forgive you for the imposition. Take off your outer layers. Pile them on top. And come here.”

Obi-Wan frowned and said, “I know how to survive in the cold,” but agreeably slid off his heavy outer coat and the layer beneath. He wasn’t even shivering, though the temperature in the tent was still far too cold. Compared to outside, it felt like a sauna.

Cody said, “Get in, so I can cover up.”

And in any other situation, he’d have been delighted to have his General crawl into his bunk. But he felt too heavy-limbed to even think about that as Obi-Wan crawled down onto the bunk. They had no choice but to press close, murmuring soft apologies and suggestions as they settled together, their bodies curved together to take up the least amount of space.

Cody pulled the blankets and coats across them both, and felt guilty about pressing his cold nose against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, but Obi-Wan didn’t complain about it, or even try to squirm away.

He meant to murmur an apology, but they’d been going for days in the brutal, demanding cold, and he was finally laying down, finally starting to feel warm, and between one blink and the next he was just...gone.

Exhaustion always demanded repayment, at some point. Cody gave up trying to resist paying the toll.

He slept hard and deep and woke only at the sound of someone calling his name. It took a long, disorienting moment to rise to consciousness. He felt...warm, he realized. And exceptionally heavy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever slept so well or woken up and felt so...pleasant, which was a strange thing to realize while on a planet that seemed specifically designed to kill them all.

He cracked an eye open, vaguely aware that someone was still calling for him.

His first view of the world was full of Obi-Wan’s beard.

Cody frowned, thoughtfully, trying to take stock as his mind slowly came up to speed. He’d gone to bed with the General, a decision that seemed incredibly ill-thought-through in the light of dawn. But he’d done it, so he’d just have to deal with the fall-out.

They’d shifted during the night. He was currently sprawled across Obi-Wan’s chest, laying mostly on top of his General, who was, apparently, still asleep. Which was for the best, since Cody had a leg slotted between Obi-Wan’s and--

Well. It was for the best that he’d kept most of his armor on. There was no way Obi-Wan would have been able to tell the state Cody was in, not with his codpiece in the way. That was...something, he considered, shaking his head and shifting up.

The movement dislodged some of the blankets, letting cooler air slide down around them, and Obi-Wan groaned unhappily, eyes cracking open. “Morning,” Cody said, feeling… almost happy despite himself. He shoved that emotion away, along with the realization that he’d slept hard and so much better than he could recall ever managing to sleep before.

And then whoever had been shouting at the door finally got impatient, and started jerking the flap open, and Cody swore, and braced for the next emergency.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #codywan #well pre-codywan #AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED #clone wars era fic #snuggling for warmth #exhaustion

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

Text

New Light

masterlist

pairing - kai parker x fem!human!reader

type - angst, fluff

note - so this is like sometime during season 6. im rewatching the series but i haven't got to season 6 yet (im rewatching it so when i write and include situations and plots from the show, i can be correct w the timeline lol.), so sorry if some of the info and timeline is incorrect. i did a little research to try and get the timeline right though. enjoy! oh! and also i made bonnie and enzo already get together since ik they get together in like season 8

summary - kai tries to make you fall for him

warnings - mild language, suggestive language, make out scene

————

*gif isn’t mine*

Kai watched you as you moved around the kitchen, making dinner for your friends and you. You were in the Salvatore Boarding House, the place you lived in after having your home destroyed by Klaus Mikaelson. The Salvatore brothers adopted you into their home. You had been friends with them for the past few years, so it wasn’t surprising you moved in. You already spent more than half your time here anyways.

Tonight you were having a dinner party, planned by your friends and you to just relax and forget about every crazy thing that had and was happening in your life. Granted, something crazy was probably gonna happen, interrupting the relaxing night, but you held onto hope to have one normal night. Like how you used to before all the supernatural stuff.

One thing kept the hope from staying, though. It was Kai Parker. The insane witch who was ruining everything for you and your friends over the past few months. Stefan had decided to invite him over, make nice with him so you all would have him on your side. You sided with Stefan to not be in a fight with your best friend, but you deeply hated the thought of Kai sitting with you. Eating dinner, staring at you like a creepy stalker, probably plotting your death. Good thing was, though, Elena and Caroline were at the house, helping you. Everyone knew that if you were alone with Kai, you would probably kill him. Bonnie, sadly, was with Stefan and Damon, working out a plan to kill and/or get him back into the prison world.

You were in the kitchen alone at the moment, Kai was sitting at the island table, staring at you. He had a smug look on his face, resting his chin on his palm and leaning on the counter. He never tore his eyes away from you. It made you want to gouge his eyes out. To try and ignore him, you put on music and focused on the dinner you were making.

You sang the lyrics to ‘Since U Been Gone’ by Kelly Clarkson quietly. You moved your body to the beat, chopping up onions.

“You have a beautiful singing voice,” Kai said.

You rolled your eyes, huffing and ignoring him.

“You know, I can sing, too. I used to love singing in the car with my family,” Kai said.

“Before you slaughtered them?” You remarked.

Kai frowned at you, pain shooting through his heart. You continued making steak, turning on the stove and letting it heat up. Elena and Caroline finally came back into the kitchen with ice cream and alcohol. You snatched the bourbon from Caroline’s hand, getting out a cup and pouring yourself a drink.

“Can I have some?” Kai asked.

You nodded, not looking at him. You poured him a glass, walking over and setting it in front of him. His hand reached out to grab the glass, making contact with your hand. His fingers brushed against yours. You felt your skin tingle and goosebumps arose on your arm. Kai noticed and smirked.

“Cold?” He asked.

You glared at him and pulled back your arm immediately. “No.”

Kai chuckled, knowing you lied. He could sense you had feelings for him, even if you never would admit it. He just needed to make you see him differently so those feelings would surface.

You went back to ignoring him, which only fueld his pining for you more.

Elena and Caroline went over to you with the steaks.

“You know, Mr. Socio is in love with you,” Caroline said.

“He's not in love with me. He just likes to chase people and get them comfortable, then hurt them. Since I’m the only one not with a boy who can protect me, with you having Stefan and Damon, Caroline having Tyler and Klaus at her beckoning call, and Bonnie having Enzo, he has chosen me to haunt and stalk,” you said.

Elena looked back at Kai, who was looking at you still. Elena turned her attention towards you, again.

“I hate Kai as much as the next person, but he really looks like he has actual feelings for you. You should give him a chance.”

You scoffed, not believing what you were hearing. “Did you forget that he almost killed Bonnie and your beloved Damon to the prison world? He slaughtered his siblings and father without any remorse. Not to mention, he's an annoying prick.”

Elena laughed, “I used to think about that with Damon. But look at me now, I’m in love with him.”

“Yeah, but Damon isn’t a bad person, he just does bad things. Plus, I have seen the way he looks at you and treats you, he is every girl’s dream. Not to mention, he’s a pretty attractive guy. Kai isn’t like that. I mean, yeah, he’s hot, but he’s not the type of person I, or anyone, would want to date,” you explained and took a sip of bourbon.

Caroline smirked, “So, you are attracted to him.”

“No. You can say someone is attractive but not have any romantic feelings,” you shrugged.

In your mind, though, a little voice in your head told you that you did have feelings for him. You ignored the voice, not wanting to try and battle with your feelings.

“Sure, Y/n. The more you deny it, the worse your feelings will get,” Elena teased.

You rolled your eyes, flipping the steaks. Oil popped off the pan and hit your wrist. You squealed in pain, holding your wrist.

Elena hurriedly got you a cold washcloth and pressed it on your wrist.

“Thanks, El,” you smiled. “Mind taking care of the steaks? I have to keep a cold compress for a little.”

“Not at all. Care, can you get the sundae bar ready?” Elena asked, taking the tongs you used to turn the steak over. Caroline nodded, going over to the cabinets to get ice cream toppings out.

You went over to the living room, slumping on the couch and grabbing the remote. You turned on ‘Gilmore Girls’. You kept the cold compress on your wrist.

You felt the couch sink on your left. You didn't bother to look over, already knowing who it was. You two didn’t even sit in silence for 10 seconds before Kai started talking.

“Rory and Jess should’ve stayed together. Dean’s too soft,” Kai commented while watching the tv.

“Jess is bad for her. He's smart, but he still has no future. Dean really loves Rory and she threw that away,” you argued.

“True, but Jess loves her, too, just in a different way. Dean is so mellow. Jess is fun, exciting, dangerous. Kind of like Damon. That’s why Elena chose Damon instead of Stefan, right? Because he made her feel things that Stefan could never make her feel, which she liked better,” Kai stated.

You glared at him. “She didn’t choose him just because of that.��

“No, she chose him because of that. You choose someone because the way they make you feel, that's how love works,” Kai said, turning his attention towards you.

You felt his burning stare. You decided to turn to him, looking into his dark blue eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you sighed.

Kai smiled. His smile made you feel giddy and warm inside. You pushed those feelings away, piling more denial and hate in your mind towards him.

“You have those feelings towards me, too,” Kai smirked.

You peeled your eyes away from him, ignoring him once again.

“Don’t deny it, Y/n. I can see it on your face. I can feel it,” Kai teased, scooting closer.

“Kai, stop,” you muttered.

He got so close to you, you felt his breath on your cheek. Your heart rate picked up and you found it hot and hard to breathe. Heat went down south between your thighs and goosebumps formed on your neck.

“You like me, Y/n. I can hear you breathing heavy and you heart beating fast. I can smell your arousal between your legs,” Kai said, putting his hand on yours.

You pulled your hand away. “I said cut the shit, Kai. You’re making me uncomfortable,” you lied.

Kai’s eyes softened and he moved away immediately. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“You just what, Kai? Think you can use your witchy powers with me to make me fall in love with you? News flash, psycho, I’m not dumb,” you scoffed and stood up.

“I didn’t try to use my powers, I swear. But I can use my powers to heal your burn,” Kai suggested.

“No, I don’t want your help,” you shook your head.

“Get off your high horse and let me help you, Y/n. That burn will take a few days to heal and it'll hurt when you shower or brush something against it. Please, Y/n, I want to help you,” Kai pleaded.

You looked at him. His eyes showed honesty. You sighed in defeat and sat back down on the couch. You moved close to him, your thighs touching. Kai took the cloth off of your burn and held your arm gently. The same, lovey-dovey feelings came back. This time, you didn't fight it as hard, letting yourself enjoy not having to keep up your walls.

“I’m so mean to you, why are you helping me?” You asked.

“Because I like and care about you. I don’t like seeing the people I care about hurt,” he answered.

He put his free hand over your burn. The burn disappeared by skin forming over it.

“Really? If you cared about me, you’d leave me alone,” you chuckled.

“I can’t when I gotta get on your good side. With you and your friends plotting my death, I need an ally,” Kai said.

Your distaste for him surfaced again. You pulled your hand away once the burn was healed.

“That’s why I hate you. See, you don’t actually care about me. I knew it. Don’t sit or talk to me during dinner,” you spat and strutted over to the kitchen.

Dinner was ready, thank the heavens. Damon, Stefan, and Bonnie came into the house on cue.

“Bon!” You exclaimed, running over and hugging her.

“Hey! Dinner smells good,” Bonnie smiled and hugged you back. You pulled away and laughed, “Elena and Caroline made it. I got burned.”

“You okay? I can heal you,” Bonnie said.

“No, uh, Kai healed me already,” you said sheepishly.

“You let that lunatic touch you?” Damon asked.

“He was there and asked. He was being nice, but then he turned into a dick again,” you explained.

“Well, at least you’re not still hurt. C’mon, let’s go and eat. I'm starving,” Stefan said.

You all went to the kitchen, seeing the meal Elena and Caroline prepared set out on the table.

“Hey, babe,” Damon smiled and went over to Elena. He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

You looked at them longingly. You wanted what they had. So in love, nothing else mattering in the world but each other. You sat down in between Stefan and Caroline. You cut a piece of steak for yourself and got some mashed potatoes and green beans.

“This is so good, guys. Thanks for inviting me over,” Kai said with a mouthful of steak and mashed potatoes.

“Our pleasure. Mind eating with a closed mouth?” Stefan remarked.

You chuckled at Stefan’s comment while Kai frowned.

“So, what were you three doing while us four were here?” Kai said, gesturing to Damon, Stefan, and Bonnie with his fork.

“None of your business,” Bonnie said.

“Aw, c’mon. We’re friends now,” Kai teased.

“You’ll find out soon,” Damon smiled at him.

Kai frowned again and ate his food in silence.

“Do you guys want some blood to go with your wine?” Caroline asked.

“Yes!” Damon smiled. Caroline got up to get a few blood bags.

All of you except Kai made conversation. While you were talking and laughing, Kai looked at you. He knew his comment earlier got you two on the wrong foot again. He racked his brain with ways he could get on your good side, get you to agree with going on a date with him. He likes you, he really does, he just doesn’t know how to show those feelings without getting rude and angry. He was willing to try for you, though. After a few hours of talking with everyone, people started to excuse themselves to leave.

“I’ll see you later, Bon and Care,” you smiled and hugged your two best friends.

“See you! Have fun with Kai, I think he plans on staying,” Caroline smiled.

“I actually am going to leave, too,” Kai butted into your conversation.

Your heart sank slightly. Since calming down from being angry, your attitude towards him softened. In the back of your mind, you didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay, to pester you, to talk to him, to sit down and have him make you feel the way you did on the couch. You wanted to sit down and enjoy his company. But on the surface, you couldn’t care less.

“But, I want to talk to Y/n before I leave,” Kai said.

Bonnie and Caroline looked between you two quizzically. They smiled and let you two be alone in the kitchen.

You walked to the liquor cabinet, grabbing two glasses and vodka. Kai followed you and sat down in his seat at the island table.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked as you poured him a glass of vodka. You grabbed your glass and went to sit next to him.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said and looked into your eyes. He took the glass without tearing his eyes away from you.

“You apologizing? Who has you possessed,” you laughed looked around jokingly.

Kai smiled with you as you brought your attention back on him.

“No, this is just me. I know what I said earlier about just wanting you as an ally was wrong. I mean, yes, I want you as an ally, I want all of you as an ally, but I still like you. A lot. And I care about you a lot, too,” Kai spoke.

You took a sip of vodka, sighing. “I accept and appreciate your apology, Kai. But, I don’t like you, not like that anyways, I-”

Kai interrupted you by taking your hand in his. “Y/n, I know I pushed earlier and made you uncomfortable, and I apologize for that, too, but I know that's not true. The look in your eyes when you look at me when you let your guard down is not a look regular friends give each other.”

Your eyes focused on his hand on yours for a few minutes, and looked back up to his face. Butterflies filled your stomach again and his words tugged at your heart strings. Your walls started to come down and as hard as you fought to keep them up, you couldn’t. Kai was getting to you and deep down, you knew he was right. That you cared for him the same way he cared about you.

But then you remembered that he was the enemy. He took your best friend away from you, wrecked havoc on this town, and killed his parent in cold blood. You couldn’t take the chance of getting hurt. So, you pulled your hand away slowly from his, standing up and downing the rest of your drink.

“I admit, I may have some feelings for you. Deep down inside, but I can’t take the chance, Kai. I’m sorry. Thank you for apologizing and not ruining dinner. I’ll see you later,” you gave him an apology of your own.

You started to walk away, but Kai put his hand on your arm. He spun you around and your lips met his. Your eyes widened as Kai kissed you. You tried to fight back from not kissing him, but as his arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you in, you melted against him and kissed him back.

As your lips moved with his for the first few moments, you closed your eyes and behind your eyelids, your brain exploded. You could see colors as your lips moved with his, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His lips tasted like vodka and chocolate ice cream. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his hair. His tongue swiped on the bottom of your lip and you opened your mouth. Your tongues met and you moaned softly in his mouth, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

You pulled away, needing air. Kai opened his eyes, a big, content smile resting on his lips.

“And friends don’t kiss friends like that. So please, give me a chance. Let me show you I’m different than what you think. Let me show you me in a new light. I can change for you. I want to change. Don’t deny what we have, Y/n.”

You stared into his eyes, knowing you couldn’t deny your feelings any longer. You gave him a small, sweet smile and nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll give you a chance. Prove me wrong, Parker.”

Kai took his hands off your waist, first pumping the air. “I will, I promise.”

————

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#kai parker imagine #kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagines #tvd #the vampires diaries #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #chris wood x reader #chris wood #kai parker imagine smut #kai parker smut

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melzula · 4 years ago

Text

The Throne

part three

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

summary: Koa greatly underestimates the Princess, but he’s not giving up just yet...

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The air of dawn is frigid and cold, yet the subtle trembling of your body is not from the chilly climate. The sun has yet to rise and your people are still asleep, the mutiny is just a few hours away, and you find that after hours of tossing and turning it’s better to begin your preparation for the battle ahead than worry yourself to death any longer. Your regular dress has been exchanged for an outfit much more suitable for fighting, your crown replaced by a water tribe emblem pin secured neatly in your hair, and though you normally choose to wear gloves to keep your scars hidden you opt out of using them today. Your wounds are a reminder of your resilience and your strength, and those two attributes are things you’ll desperately need today if you hope to defeat Koa once and for all.

“Princess,” Sokka’s voice whispers from outside your door accompanied by a gentle knock, “my dad and his warriors are here. I kept them out of sight like you asked.”

“I’ll be right out,” comes your quiet reply, and without a moment to waste you follow the boy out of the palace and into the courtyard towards the one blind spot from the watch tower where two of Koa’s guards wait on duty. Just as Sokka said, Hakoda and his men stand waiting and at the ready for the chaos that is to ensue when Koa attempts to over throw you and your mother. The small village Chief bows respectfully in your presence but you wave off the action with a smile.

“There’s no need for formality,” you assure him. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for agreeing to help me.”

“There’s no end in sight to the struggles our village faces with Koa in charge. You have your father’s spirit, Princess, and I know for a fact that there is no one more capable than you to rule our tribe. We will do everything in our power to put an end to his reign one and for all,” Hakoda vows earnestly. “Just say the word and we’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” you utter softly, eyes watering at the mention of your father— would it be terrible of you to admit that you struggle placing his face in your head? You could really use some of Iroh’s famous advice right now...

“You should get back inside,” Sokka says, “if anyone spots you out here this early in the morning they might get suspicious.”

“You’re probably right,” you nod, and without another word the water tribe boy escorts you back into the palace and into your room.

“You have everything you need?” Sokka asks, peering around the room before resting his gaze upon the small pile of unopened letters on your dresser. The red of the Fire Nation insignia is a stark contrast to the soft hues of blue that line your bedroom.

“I have all the evidence together, Kai agreed to speak out against his father, and Hakoda can tell everyone about the neglect the smaller tribes have been facing thanks to Hakoda. Katara is in charge of keeping my mother safe and I’m ready to fight if I have to. Everything is ready.”

“You know, it’s still not too late to make a last minute call to Zuko,” Sokka notes casually only for you to give him a pointed look.

“Sokka...

“I’m just saying, if I were your boyfriend I’d want to know about the fact that there’s someone out there threatening the girl I love.”

“Why bring him into it now when it’s almost over? No calling Zuko,” you reiterate firmly. “And afterward if he wants to be mad at me for keeping it a secret from him then he can; I’ll be able to sleep soundly at night knowing I did it for his own good.”

“I doubt Zuko’s sleeping soundly,” Sokka mutters to himself, his eyes never leaving the stack of scrolls.

For a water bender, you’re very stubborn.

~~~

The steady beat of the soldier’s drums draws the people of your village towards the palace grounds and brings their attention to Koa who stands before the palace door. Mother’s hold their children to their chests and the merchants quickly begin to pack up their goods at the sight of the army of guards that stand before the man. He is confident and sure, heart pounding with anticipation and giddiness as he prepares to take his “rightful” place on the throne. Your father is gone, your mother is weak, and he’s turned your own guards against you; there’s no way for you to save yourself now.

“Princess!” Koa bellows. “Show yourself!”

Everyone watches with baited breath as you emerge from the palace with Sokka right behind you, face stoic and head held high with dignity and grace as you confront your opposers. His eyes glance briefly at your scars before returning back to you, his grin never falters, and neither of you break from each other’s gaze.

“What is the meaning of this?” You ask with feigned obliviousness.

“On behalf of the Southern Water Tribe, I am relieving you and your mother of your duty. No longer will you be leader of a tribe you do not deserve and no longer will you continue to fail your people,” Koa announces for all to hear.

“Do you really speak for everyone?” You retort with a raised brow, and Koa falters slightly at your surprisingly calm demeanor. He expected more of a reaction from someone who was mere seconds away from losing their throne. “Chief Hakoda, please step forward.”

Koa’s eyes widen at the sight of the man who appears from the shadows and joins you on the steps, small gasps and uneasy glances exchanged between those part of the royal tribe as well as Koa’s own guards.

“My name is Hakoda, and I am from one of the smaller outer villages. For years our village has suffered from dwindling numbers and resources as a result of the war. Koa promised us aid, he promised us food and assistance in rebuilding our village, yet we have not received one single thing he has promised us. We were cut off from the rest of the southern water tribe as were the rest of the outer villages the moment he took on the title of chieftain. Everything he has promised you is a lie. Koa is not fit to rule our tribe.”

Quiet murmurs and hushed whispers sound throughout the crowd, and you hold back a smug smile at the anger that flashes across Koa’s face. He wasn’t the only one willing to fight dirty, and he was a fool for believing you’d give up the throne that easily. One thing was certain: Koa had no idea just who he was dealing with.

“Please, I’ve done everything I can to help your people. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to properly use your resources,” Koa spits, but he can sense the tension arising from his men, some who come from the same village as Hakoda.

“I knew of your plan to stage this mutiny against me, and I know of your plan to invade the north,” you retaliate with a stern glare. The faces of his soldiers as well as Koa’s own face pales at your words, and gasps sound throughout the crowd.

“You can’t prove that!”

“I can,” Sokka says firmly. “I went to that secret meeting and heard all about your plans to invade our sister tribe. You don’t care about anything unless it has to do with power.”

“Are you really going to believe these children over me? The man who served as advisor all these years and took care of your needs?!”

“You said every man was expendable.”

“You have no proof!”

“Actually, she does,” a voice pipes up from the crowd, and Koa watches on in horror as his own son joins your side and hands over his journal. “My father keeps all his thoughts and plans in this book, and you can find everything you need to know about him in those pages.”

“Kai?! What are you doing?!” Koa demands only for his son to look away guiltily.

“What you’re doing isn’t right dad, it has to stop.”

“You little water rat,” Koa seethes, “you’ve turned my own son against me! Attack her!”

At the sound of those words Sokka, Hakoda, and his warriors create a wall around you, weapons at the ready to defend you. However, with a small shake of your head their defenses are lowered.

“You don’t want to fight each other. We’re brothers and sisters, this isn’t the way. There can be no era of rebuilding if there is no peace. Koa promised you great things, but he doesn’t care about you the way a leader should. I know you don’t think I’m ready to lead, but I promise you I will do everything in my power to rebuild the Southern Water Tribe and bring it back to its rightful glory. All you have to do is trust me.”

The air is thick with tense silence as your people exchange quiet glances with one another, both you and Koa watching on with baited breath, but then one of the men slowly removes his helmet before tossing it to the ground and lowering onto one knee. His eyes meet your own in quiet remorse and you smile faintly in appreciation, eyes beginning to water at the meaningful gesture. To Koa’s dismay many of the other men follow suit until only a handful of his followers remain.

“No... no! You fools! Get up! Don’t let her trick you!”

“Your reign is over Koa,” you announce for all to hear. “You will be removed from the palace and tried for your acts of treason against the water tribes. It’s over.”

“Not yet,” Koa vows, eyes narrowing at your figure with rage and hatred. You have too much of your father’s spirit in you, something that he loathes more than anything.

A sudden blast of snow is shot in all directions, blocking your view and prompting Sokka to quickly pull you close and shield you with his body. Disoriented and startled, no one is able to detect Koa’s quick exit, and when the smoke clears the man is gone.

“Should we go after him?” One of Hakoda’s men asks, but you simply shake your head.

“He has nowhere to run,” you say, your gaze far off and distant as you look towards the horizon. “He’ll be back...”

~~~

Things are slowly but surely starting to get back on track and you can’t complain. After Koa’s disappearance you were left with his remaining men, and despite the fact that they’d been so willing to betray you you were able to forgive them with ease. They were desperate, lost, and looked to someone they thought they could trust to help them; how could you fault them for wanting better? You felt it would be too cruel to throw them in jail or punish them, so instead you came up with the agreement that they would help rebuild and deliver supplies to the outer villages in desperate need of care. Your mother was back on the throne and in change, and you both had agreed that Hakoda would serve as your new advisor. Yes, everything was shaping up nicely for your tribe and you couldn’t be happier.

You’re late for dinner, this much you know, but you’re too engrossed in the new plans Hakoda has sent you in regards to new structures for the outer tribes that will strengthen their defenses to get up now. Katara and Sokka are probably waiting for you, enjoying their time home before they must return and resume their work on the Restoration Movement, but you doubt they’ll mind if you’re a little late— well, Sokka won’t mind as long as he can still eat in your absence.

With your back to the door, you hear a gentle knock and call out a quiet “come in,” as you assume it must be Katara or Sokka calling you to dinner, but the harsh slam of the door immediately has you on your feet. A shadowy figure stands before you, and you waste no time pulling the water from the air and shooting sharp blasts of ice towards the intruder with your fists. They are fast, agilely dogging your attacks and barrel rolling out of the way before tossing sharp darts in your direction. The wall of ice you form manages to block most of them, but one needle strays and nicks your arm. You cry out in pain, and when you attempt to raise your arms to bend you find that you can’t move at all. It’s as if your body slowly begins to shut down before finally your knees give out and you collapse to the floor.

“N-No,” you gasp out, trying to move but to no avail.

“Shishu spit darts. Hard to come by in the water tribe, but I have my ways,” the sinister voices says, and your heart immediately drops to your stomach at the familiar tone.

“Koa...”

“Did you miss me, Princess?” He smirks, slowly removing his hood before towering over you. “I told you it wasn’t over yet. I’d never let myself lose to the likes of you.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whisper in a trembling voice, adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins at the sight of the sharp dagger in his hand.

“When your father died in battle it removed a great weight from my shoulders. I wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer, and I knew your mother would be too feeble minded to fight my suggestions of temporary placement on the throne. But you... my, you were just too stubborn for your own good. I had hoped you’d stay in the Fire Nation with Prince Zuko, but when you returned it made things much more complicated. You see, I underestimated you the first time. But now, with you helpless at my feet, I’m going to take care of you once and for all.”

The dagger raises and you shut your eyes tight in preparation for your death, but the blade never comes. Instead, the weapon is knocked out from Koa’s grasp by a very familiar boomerang.

“Get away from her!” Sokka cries fiercely. He attempts to charge at the man, but Koa is quick and manages to evade Sokka’s grasp before running out into the hallway. “Guards, stop him!”

You watch from the corner of your eye as a group of men rush past your doorway in pursuit of Koa, oblivious to Sokka’s movements as he scoops you up off the ground and rushes you to his sister in hopes that she can somehow heal you of the poison.

“How did you know he was here?” You manage to ask him.

“I didn’t. Katara sent me to come get you for dinner because she knew if I didn’t you’d spend all night looking over those plans my dad sent you,” Sokka says seriously. “Y/n, you we’re almost killed!”

“I’m sorry...”

Sokka, realizing the harshness of his tone, lets out a small sigh. “It’s not your fault, but I have to put my foot down here. We obviously can’t fight Koa on our own anymore, we have to get help.”

“Sokka, what are you saying?” You utter uneasily, reluctant to hear the answer you know is coming.

“We have to tell Zuko about Koa.”

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis--with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#oh boy #a bit anticlimactic but trust me it pays off #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #sokka #sokka x reader #hakoda #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #fire lilies #the throne

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spideymarvelws · 4 years ago

Text

one true love.

Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.

Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.

A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.

Word Count : 1.8k

...

The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine.

In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.

Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.

Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.

“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”

Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.

But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.

It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.

Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.

Before he saw you.

For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.

And he destined for you to be his.

The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.

The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.

He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.

Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.

The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck.

It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.

But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.

Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much.

Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.

The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.

Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.

But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.

He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.

Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive.

It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest.

He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.

“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”

As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise.

Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.

Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.

“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.

“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.

“You answer first,” you said quickly.

“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.

“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.

“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”

Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.

But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.

“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle.

The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.

“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”

Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.

The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.

“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”

You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”

Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”

Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.

Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”

“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”

...

--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰

Taglist: @jadegill @joyleenl @ietss

#peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x gn!reader #dark!peter parker x dark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #yandere!peter parker

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

Text

My Little Pet

YA’LL THOUGHT YOU WERE GETTING SHIGGY FLUFF?! NOPE!!!!

I just thought of this while i was reading yandere shigaraki things. I’ll get to more requests later but god damn i can’t ignore this insufferable urge.

Yandere Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, yandere shiggy, dark themes, violence, abuse, degradation, suicide, implied noncon, like this has absolutely no happiness

A/N: Warning this shit gets hella dark, this is way darker then the ‘Dead to Me’ fic i wrote awhile ago. Please note that this may trigger some people so please read at your own risk.

~~~

You sat in the room that held you captive as you shivered in fear. Your hands were the only thing that consoled you as you wrap your arms around your self as if to feel the warmth of a hug. Tears streaming down your eyes as your body was sore.

The man know as Tomura Shigaraki had kidnapped you, saying how he was so in love with you. How could you have loved someone you never met? His reasoning made absolutely no sense but you guess in the mind of a villain nothing ever made sense. Of course you thought that it couldn’t get any worse when he had kidnapped you but how wrong you were.

He would punish you for the littlest of things. Didn’t say hi to him? That earned you a slap. Didn’t wear the clothes he wanted you to wear even if he didn’t tell you he wanted you to wear them? No food for you for the rest of the day. Fallen asleep when he didn’t say you could? Beaten to a pulp.

His punishments were cruel and harsh, no remorse in his eyes while doing it. You had begged him to stop on multiple occasions but that only got you beaten harder. So you just took it, no tears no noise. Nothing to get him mad at you for. The worse one was not to long ago when you were brought to death’s door step.

~~~

1 months ago

You hadn’t had a glass of water in two days, your voice so hoarse that it hurt to talk. You sat in the corner of your room, looking like a broken doll rather then a person. You sat there looking at the cold wooden floors underneath you, not bothering to lift your head up when you heard the once locked door open.

“My player 2, how are you today finally learn your lesson on not being a brat?” His voice sent shivers down your body as all you could do was stare at the floor, your throat refusing to say words.

“Aw come on, no need to ignore me, i was just doing whats best for you!” The giddiness in his voice sparked a fire in your soul. Your mind racing, forcing you to see red. The words in your throat came up on what you truly felt about your captor, it was too late to take back what you said. But you didn’t care, dying seemed better then living with this monstrosity.

“WHAT”S BEST FOR ME?! YOU KIDNAPPED ME! NOW YOU THINK I LOVE YOU?! YOU A COMPLETE FUCKING IDIOT TO THINK I’D EVER LIKE YOU! BEATING ME? NOT LETTING ME GET FOOD OR WATER! TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME?! I WILL NEVER LOVE YOU TOMURA SHIGARAKI!” Your words cut like knives slicing into his skin, before he could do any rational thinking his hand reached out for you but you ducked just in time. You try to run only for your hair to get yanked back and fall head first onto the ground, making you vision grow blurry.

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as a foot collided with your ribs. You hurried and curled up into a fetal position on to have another kick to your spine, you screamed out in pain as more kicks landed on your ribs and stomach.

Tears no falling from your eyes as you felt a sharp pain in your nose, blood rushing down your face as you heard the sickening crack. Your hands rushed to cover up you face as the blows kept landing.

A hand grabs a fistful of hair before another grabs your hand as you let out another scream of agonizing pain, another crack pained your skin but this time it wasn’t a broken bone.

Shigaraki looked at your arm seeing his quirk eat at your skin slowly but surely crawling up your arm. He throws your head down to the ground before rushing over to your decaying arm. Your screaming only caused more pain to your throat. You looked down only to see Shigaraki take out a knife from his pocket.

Your screams no longer heard as you started to gag on the bile and blood arising in your throat. Your hand no longer existed as Shigaraki frantically severed your arm just below the elbow. Enough to stop the decay. But it wasn’t enough to stop the blood loss.

Your eyes soon grew heavy as your skin grew ever so pale. Life slowly fading from your eyes as the whole room grew blurry. You shut your eyes only hearing screaming coming from a frantic voice, four fingers grabbing each of your shoulders as they shook you back in forth screaming at you to ‘stop faking it.’

Your mind went black after that.

~~~

Present

After your voice was permanently damaged from what happened that day, Shigaraki had given you water everyday. No matter how much he deemed ‘you don’t deserve it’.

You had no idea what he was trying to do, did he truly think the water was going to bring back your voice? New flash for him, it wasn’t. Now thanks to him you hand no left arm, no voice and no reason to live. It was hard to think about how you life turned to this.

You, a once lively and bubbly person with a great outlook on life no dreaded each passing day. Your eyes once full of life now rendered lifeless as if someone didn’t see you breathing they probably would have believed you were dead.

“Player 2?” The sound of a cracked voice entered your ears. Bile erupted in your throat at the thought of seeing him again. You were entirely repulsed by him. He was only putting on this sad facade to get your sympathy. That’s what he always did. No matter how many times he said he was sorry you knew better then to believe him. No matter how much he cried and begged for you to talk to him or to just look at him, you still never gave in.

You heard the creaky door open as a pair of red shoes came in your eye sight. Sniffing was the next thing you heard as a thud fell to the floor. you wanted to see what it was but your eyes could only stare at the piece of glass across the room.

“Please my player 2, talk to me, look at me.....please...” His voice rang in your ears, if you were naive you would have thought that he was actually sorry. Your eyes refused to look at him, missing the broken look in his eyes.

Shigaraki sobbed onto the floor his tears making a puddle for him to see he reflection. He hated what he saw, a little boy who’s hurt another person he loved. Images flashed through his head, his father. Oh god his father. What would his mother think if she saw him like this?

He looked at you as his sobbing became uncontrollable. He looked at you no longer seeing the person he fell in love with, only seeing an empty shell of a human. But no matter how much he tried to convey his feelings of guilt for what he’s done to you, it always turns into anger. Which is exactly what happened everytime.

“Stupid bitch just look at me! I give you everything you could ever what and you ignore me?! Your a good for nothing cock slut who’s only purpose is to satisfy me!” Shigaraki turned around and slammed the door behind him. He walked away angrily before realizing his mistake. He clenched his fists together. He turned around quickly the try and apologize but Kurogiri had snagged him away before he could.

~~~

As you heard Shigaraki’s footsteps fade away you quickly crawl over to the broken shard of glass, a tiny shimmer of light hit it making it shine. A smile quickly washed over your face before tears of happiness left your eyes as you slowly brought the sharp glass to your chest.

~~~

After about an hour of being lectured by Kurogiri, Shigaraki was set free and the first thing he did was go to check up on you.

He took a deep breath before opening the door, his head peeking out to find you only to have his heart shatter as he found you in a different corner of the room, blood pooling around your body.

He raced over towards your body laying you gently on the ground as he tried to figure out what was wrong. His eyes trailed to a shinny piece of glass, covered in a deep red.

His head snapped back to you looking up and down and saw your shirt was covered in the red liquid. His hands grab at your shirt decaying it to try and find where the wound was only to be presented with a heart stopping conclusion.

You had stabbed yourself in the chest.

“No no no, please stop god damnit!” Shigaraki’s hands covered the wound over your chest refusing to believe you had done this. His hands slither up to your neck trying to find a pulse, anything that proved you were alive.

He found nothing.

“No...” His arms slither around your waist bringing your lifeless body closer to him, your face close to his as tears formed in his eyes. His arms were shaking as your blood stained his shirt. His eyes focused on your pale face.

“Please don’t leave me...I promise I’ll be better..” He whispered as he put his forehead on yours, tears falling from his eyes only to land on your cheeks. He prayed for your answer, to hear your angelic voice once more, the silence was suffocating Shigaraki alive as the pressure in his heart felt like he was going to explode.

He looked at your face your eyelashes collecting his tears as he pressed his lips to your cold ones. Your warm lips are all but a fading memory as the image of you now burned into his skull and would for as long as he lived.

His arms pulled you closer as your body was ice cold. He took one good look at you which only caused his heart to break further.

Bruised and broken was the best way he could describe it. Bruises from his tantrums cover your body as he looks at your left arm.

He let out a scream of undeniable pain as he felt his world stop. You were the only things that kept him sane. His only sort of light in this cold world.

And now you were gone.

#mha tomura #tomura shiragaki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #mha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #tomura shigaraki x reader #this shit is so fucked up #please read at your own risk

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Still, I Rise

Summary: Damn teenagers and their angst.

Author's Note: Back with another chapter, if you didn’t already know it I will be revealing our mystery character from the last chapter LOL please put down the bats and weapons (jk take them out it’s hilarious!) With this chapter we are getting closer to the “climax” and I am so excited to write the fun chapters I have planned ahead, one scene that I am really looking forward to writing is the camping trip, I had so much plans and events that I wanted to see that didn’t because TVN woke up and chose basic, we hate to see it. I can’t wait to rewrite history honestly also can’t wait to just move to onto regular schmegular teen problems, I swearrrrrrr.

"Don't you dare embarrass me this time. You aren't ugly why can't you get these damn little rich brats to like you? Are you truly this useless? Don't come home if you can't make this one fall for you!"

Those had been his father's final words right before his hand split his lower lip open with a razor sharp blow that made his head whip in recoil. His father's footsteps faded as he walked away leaving him crumpled on the ground, anger and embarrassment raging in his blood. He hadn't chosen this life at all, never wanted to be a bargaining chip for that despicable man. First with Eun Dan Oh and now this new girl, Kang Sujin.

She'd initially stood him up and he had felt foolish sitting in the lavish restaurant by himself, checking his phone but no calls or messages arrived.

His father had been livid that night, more vicious than usual his stepmother's weak screams served as the soundtrack for his brutal beating. Why couldn’t she just be quiet? Did it make her feel better when she acted as if she actually gave a shit about him? His brother coming into his room after with those pathetic weeping eyes and a bandage had only made him angrier, he shoved him away slamming the door in his face, refusing his help. He didn't need anyone, nobody could save him from his horrible fate.

It hadn't taken much research to find out her school and on impulse he'd gone there without her knowledge, watching from afar at first. A tiny girl with short hair framing her face had ran giggling into a taller girl with long dark hair and a classically beautiful face, they walked side by side smiling and laughing and that's when he'd heard her call out , "Sujin we should get something to eat!"

It wasn't love at first sight or anything ridiculous and disgustingly romantic like that, but he felt a connection to the girl for some inconceivable reason as if they were kindred spirits or something, maybe it was the remnant of a bruise he saw on her wrist hidden beneath her sweater.

It seemed they had more in common then he had initially believed, it was a grim similarity.

He'd gone home feeling less burdened than before, and his father's smile had been terrifying when he'd told him that he would work hard to win the girl over, only because he knew how quickly that smile could evaporate and his father could become the monster he was accustomed to. He tried not to flinch as the older man clapped him on the shoulder, his body already in fight or flight mode.

His father had merely smirked at his apparent fear.

Bastard.

So he'd taken to following the other girl around, she was going to be his fiancé anyway so he saw nothing wrong with it. And that was how he learned about the other boy, a tall slender boy who looked like someone that would grace an idol magazine cover. They were together more often than he liked, and it seemed more than platonic if the glances and subtle touches were a sign.

He wasn't jealous per se, but this would be a roadblock in his plan that he couldn't afford. He was getting used to not being beaten.

The day he'd followed them to the hospital presented another challenge for him, he hated hospitals and what they represented with every fiber of his being. He'd spent too much time in them growing up and then again for a girl who couldn't care less about him, she was another reminder that he wasn't worthy of love. He had thought he loved her but still hurt her whenever she disobeyed him, he knew he was no better than his father.

Unexpectedly Sujin had burst through the hospital doors, surprising him and forcing him to hide lest she spot him, peeking out from his hiding place behind a tree he saw her distraught and near tears running the opposite direction. He stood in shock merely watching and waiting to see if the unknown boy would follow her, but thankfully he never came.

Pushing down his own wariness and discomfort he walked into the hospital immediately feeling a cold chill on his skin, he refused to call it trauma that made it sound like something was wrong with him. He was fine and he could do this.

Thankfully the nurses were too busy and nobody noticed him walking by and he froze when he spotted another man who was capable of making him flinch. Doctor Kang, he looked anything but approachable in his gleaming white lab coat and he remembered watching the man laugh with his father as they both sold their children without remorse. Instinctively he hid watching the man glare into a hospital room, he almost feared for whomever was the recipient of the ice cold gaze.

Minutes melted by before the doctor finally walked away, his steps clipped and echoing on the linoleum floors and he finally let out a sigh of relief when the other man disappeared around the corner.

Stealthily he rounded the corner and took the doctor's abandoned spot, peeking into the room through the small window in the door. It was that boy again, the idol wannabe but this time he wasn't alone there was a young girl with a bouquet in her arms and a older woman lovingly patting him on his cheeks.

His mother.

A loving one, at that.

His blood seared watching the domestic scene, jealousy ripping through him like a tornado. There was no way he was letting this asshole have Sujin too, he already had too much. More than he, Baekyung would ever have.

The motorcycle roars under her thighs as they whip down the road. It only serves to remind her of the first time she was on a bike with another boy, his cologne and the scent of leather infiltrating her senses and making her heart jump through hoops. This time she feels nothing but annoyance and extreme frustration, barely holding onto the stranger in front of her as she leans forward to yell above the engine, "Pullover!"

She knows he heard her based on the immediate tension in his body but he continues to ride ignoring her request demand. With a grunt she grabs onto his waist only to bodily drag them to the side not caring if they both crash at this point she cannot stand another second on this bike with him, instantly he straightens them before skidding to the side and finally pulling the brakes bringing the motorcycle to a halt, the moment the bike stops she hops off in a frenzy.

Thrusting the bottom piece of his helmet up he screams at her, "Are you insane? You could have hurt us!"

She bares her teeth at him, ready to unleash her full anger on him now without an audience.

"Who the fuck are you? And why did you come to my school?" She bellows glaring poisonously at the strange idiot who had single handedly upended her day.

Moving calmer than she's feeling, he dismounts finally pulling his helmet off and then squeezing it under his arm looking down at her.

With a condescending look he stares at her, "You know exactly who I am, don't play dumb it's beneath you."

He's right. She does know who he is although she had never seen him or known his name, she had truly thought she could ignore him and he would disappear. Just like with her father that was proving to be an erroneous dream that would never come true.

"But I'll formally introduce myself since we are going to be engaged soon after all, Baekyung. You can call me oppa though."

Engaged soon.

Her head spins from his words, she feels terror shift over her like a thick suffocating blanket.

"You don't even know me. Why would you even agree to this?" She stares at him in disbelief, at a loss to his acquiesce to their tragic fate.

The look in his eyes haunt her, it's like staring in a mirror and gazing back at the person she was months ago. Somehow without her knowledge or consent she'd changed, grown even and therefore started believing that her life was just that, hers.

"You act like we have a choice. Don't be stupid, we have to just do as we're told. It's easier this way for everyone." He repeats those words that she herself had uttered to Seojun not so long ago, a sense of deja vu washes over her.

"How is letting ourselves be used easier? Don't you have your own dreams or aspirations? Isn't there someone you actually like?" She knows the error of her argument immediately as she says it, his eyes narrow into thin enraged slits and she can practically feel the anger vibrating off him.

"Don't pretend to care about me. This is about you and your little boyfriend," he spits the word like acid and immediately she remembers those chilling words he had whispered in her eyes earlier, "Do you think he'll be safe?" That was all it had taken for her to go with him, he couldn't get hurt she wouldn't allow that to happen ever. She had no idea what those ominous words meant and how this boy could pose a threat to Seojun but she knew she had to hear him out and protect Seojun anyway she possibly could.

"He's not the only one you should be worried about." The smug bastard continues with a humorless grin on his face and suddenly the dots connect, her father outside of Ms. Han's hospital room and that calculating look on his face. Her stomach drops.

"Leave them out of it!" She screams embarrassed at the urgent plea in her voice but she can't help it, she's so scared more than she's ever been for herself.

"Well that all depends on you doesn't it? Your dear father will have no reason to do anything to them if you listen like a good daughter and date me as expected."

She stands frozen once again feeling helpless, it kills her inside all her growth slipping down the drain in a matter of seconds.

"Why are you doing this?"

He stills at her question, his cold mask dropping and leaving something numb and unreadable in its place. It feels familiar to her, she awaits his answer with bated breath.

"I want to live, even if I have no control over it. I'd rather be alive."

Thunder clashes above them, the previously sunny day shifting into a gray dark distortion, heavy storm clouds ominously loom above them and the first raindrops land perfectly on her cheeks, crying the tears that she refuses to let fall. She has no more left to cry.

Confusion is an understatement to express Su-ah's true feelings following the mysterious boy on the motorcycle, when she finally gets Sujin on the phone the other girl is quiet and mumbling, evading all her questions and as soon as she mentions Seojun, Sujin shuts down hastily ending their conversation with some nonsensical excuse.

That was not going to be the end, Sujin might want to play dumb about the true nature of their relationship but she wasn't part of the circus. She was no clown, she had eyes and it was clear that they liked each other and it was only growing the more time they spent together. She wouldn't let her best friend sabotage something that could be great for her, she deserved happiness and Seojun made her happy. So it was truly that simple.

Stomping up the slight incline to school, she huffs and puffs determined. She was going to talk some sense into the other girl.

Those thoughts come crashing all around her when she sees Sujin coming out of a car, a car that she has never seen before and her questions are answered when the boy from yesterday steps out after her. Every eye in a ten mile radius is watching them, captivated by this new school scandal. Girls already squealing and giggling, envious of Sujin and doing very little to hide their true feelings.

“Why is he with her? She isn’t even that pretty. He should be with me.”

The lies people told themselves to sleep at nights, sad.

Accidentally knocking the gossiping girl to the side with a rough shoulder check, ignoring her dramatic cry she sprints the rest of the way, once again pushing through the crowd to get to Sujin.

Immediately their eyes lock and she begs Sujin for a answers, What happened? Why are you doing this? What’s going?, she flinches at the cold emotionless stare she gets in response. She watches in dismay as the tall boy bends down as if to hug Sujin and that's when a loud grumble fills the air, she turns around to the all too familiar sight of Seojun on his motorcycle. He revs the handle bar causing the crowd to part like the Red Sea, then he rides slowly until he's right next to Sujin bike inches away from touching her.

With a practiced motion he tugs off his helmet, those sloping feline eyes already on Sujin in a hard stare.

The tension is insurmountable and cloying and Su-ah watches transfixed before Sujin breaks the impasse, tugging her bookbag over her shoulder she stomps into the school without a word to either boys. But then the interloping boy calls out, “Have a good day. Princess,” and Sujin stops immediately at the word, turning around with a ferocious look in her eyes, “Don’t call me that. My name is Kang Sujin to you. That’s all.” Su-ah sees the way that Sujin’s eyes almost subconsciously seek out a certain cat eyed boy and feels like she misses an entire conversation between the two before Sujin finally walks away.

The mysterious boy glares at her retreating back before shooting a cold glare at Seojun and then promptly hopping back into his car, the backseat as he's chauffeured away.

"Oh my god! That was so hot! Princess?”

"Who is that? Does Kang Sujin have a boyfriend? Wow, she’s mean to her boyfriend too. What a bitch.”

Why do you think Seojun looked so angry?"

"Maybe he's worried about losing his bad boy title!"

The crowd erupts around them in loud voices, all curious about what they've witnessed and already creating rumors to appease their curiosity. Suddenly a loud motorcycle screech causes them all to jump silence falling over the crowd before Seojun rides away, the tight clench in his jaw visible even from her distance.

Lunch is a step above awkward, bordering into painful. The easy conversation that used to be a staple of the table is all but decimated, instead everyone eats quietly chilled by the cold air permeating from both Seojun and Sujin. They only speak when spoken to and avoid all eye contact, especially each others. It's painful to be a witness to and she notes regretfully that neither are eating home made lunch today, opting for the school lunch instead.

Sujin had never officially told her but she knew that they were making food for each other, their smiles watching the other eat made it too obvious.

This was serious. Looking at them now they looked like complete strangers, everyone was too nervous to question the elephant in the room. Everyone except poor Chorong.

"Why is everyone was so awkward today? What did you two fight or something? Why do we all have to suffer because of your lover's quarrel? Just kiss and make up already."

The table all looked on with opened mouths except Suho and herself who both looked worried instead.

And people thought she was slow, how had they all not realized what was happening? It was clear as day.

She flinches at his well-meaning words that are evidently not well received by either teen, watching them both glare at the table unmoving and the silence drags out painfully before Seojun breaks the stalemate. Standing without preamble he glares at Chorong before placing the stare on Sujin, it does nothing to change her unaffected stare. With a loud sigh he stomps away, despite his friends dismayed shouts of his name.

She continues to eat her lunch, watching Sujin in her peripheral.

She looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulder and Su-ah for the first time in their friendship has no idea what to do.

But when they all start to funnel out of the cafeteria she follows the other girl anyway, tugging her into an enclave where they are hidden from the rest of their classmates Sujin cries out at the sudden jerk but loses her defensive stance when she realizes it’s just her.

“What?”

“What’s going on? Why are you letting that punk bring you to school and why are you and Han Seojun acting like you broke up before you even started officially dating? Sujin-ah, please tell me what’s going on.” She pleads latching onto the other girl’s arm peering up at her with puppy dog eyes, they have never failed her before.

“I can’t tell you yet, I’m sorry.”

There’s a first time for everything and she frowns at Sujin feeling like there is a mountain between them. She can’t help the hurt that she feels knowing the other girl doesn’t trust her enough to tell her what’s going on. She thought they had moved past all the secrets and hiding but obviously she was wrong.

“I really am sorry. But I will tell you everything soon enough.”

She releases Sujin’s arm, ready to walk away. She hates being in the dark. But before she can walk away, she feels Sujin hand on the bottom of her sweater tugging her backwards, she looks back with a perplexed glare.

“Do you trust me?”

She stares at Sujin and the soft tilt of her head as she asks the question, and her answer is easy, although she has no idea what’s going on and none of this makes any sense to her she doesn’t have to think about that answer.

"You shouldn't do this to him. It's too cruel." Suho expects a biting retort or even a call for him to mind this damn business, so he's shocked breathless when instead the other girl smiles at him, a tiny almost indecipherable thing that makes her lips thinner.

"You two have come a long way." Sujin responds unexpectedly shaking her head and walking over to the couch, before beckoning him over too.

He stares feeling suspicious but ultimately he follows, curiosity winning.

"I think I'm ready." Sujin expels a deep breath, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. Before he can ask her what exactly she's ready for she continues, "I want to tell your father what happened if you really think he'll help me."

He's too late to swallow the strangled gasp that escapes from his lungs and he leans back in surprise. He wants to continue his conversation about Seojun but he’s scared to do anything to make the other girl retreat or change her mind now. That conversation will have to wait for another day.

Sorry Seojun.

"Are you sure? You're really ready to do this?"

There's a long pause and he watches a myriad of emotions run across Sujin's usually expressionless face until something that looks suspiciously like hope blossoms making her glow brighter than the sun.

"Yes. I want to try living just for me."

Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he pulls out his cellphone sending his father a message.

Please come over.

It only takes seconds but it feels like an eternity before his father replies, he smiles at the message.

On my way.

He stands up to put the kettle on the fire, he knows that tonight will be a long night and he needs something to keep his hands occupied.

When his doorbell rings he's shocked when Sujin stands up looking at him with a serene gaze, "I'll get it." He only nods at her in reply, watching as she greets his father and man recovers quickly at the unexpected visitor, smiling warmly at Sujin before pulling her into a warm embrace.

Even more surprisingly Sujin doesn't flinch, allowing herself to be wrapped up.

His father embraces him as well, patting him on the back and again on the head when they break apart. He can feel Sujin's eyes on them and he moves away guiltily. Now isn’t the time to rub his burgeoning relationship with his father in her face.

"Have a seat Dad, thank you for coming so quickly."

His father lifts an eyebrow at the sudden serious tone of his voice but he follows his directions nonetheless folding his hands on his lap and looking inquisitively between the two teenagers.

"Is there something you both want to tell me? Perhaps you two are....." His father motions vaguely between them and he stares back not comprehending until his father smiles slyly and Sujin beats him to it, protesting ardently.

"No! No, it's nothing like that. There's someone else...I mean no. That's what what we wanted to talk about."

He raises an eyebrow at Sujin's slip and his father chuckles at her stuttering and the red blaze across her cheeks.

His father waves his arms in appeal, apologetic grin on his face. "Sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you both. I just always hoped you two might one day. A father can dream."

He scoffs at his father, "Give up on that dream she's like family to me. We would never see each other that day."

Sujin nods passionately in agreement and his father shrugs easily, now looking even more curious than before.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

Sujin stills on her spot on the couch, the determination in her bones seeming to melt away with every passing minute. He fears this won't go as planned and he has no idea how to motivate her.

Then a loud vibration rumbles from the couch and it takes Sujin a moment to realize it's her phone, he watches curiously as she looks at the message and then a single tear runs down her round cheek. The determination curls back around her like armor, he watches in amazement as she sits taller turning to look at his father with newfound courage or maybe it wasn’t newfound but suddenly uncovered by whatever she had seen on her phone.

“Suho asked you for help for me. I’m really the one who needs your help.” He can hear the slight quiver and hitches in her words but she gets them all out and instantly she has his father’s undivided attention, he even turns his body to fully face the girl. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, he was worried his father would only be adamant about helping him directly as a way to get closer to him but now he can see that he was wrong about the other man. Genuine concern fills every line and wrinkle of time on his face.

“What is wrong? What do you need help with and why can’t you tell your parents?” It’s a innocent question, and logical too but he fears Sujin’s reaction, when she feels like she is backed into a corner in the past that has led to her lashing out with dagger sharp remarks, he watches with his heart lodged in his throat.

“Because they are the ones hurting me.”

His lungs deflate releasing all the air that was trapped in the sacs, she said the truth without hesitation and he turns to glance at his father watching him process the bomb that she has just dropped on him. His father opens and closes his mouth several times, before finding his voice it is but a whisper when he responds to Sujin.

“That time you needed a doctor.” The statement is directed to Suho and with a sober nod he confirms what his father already knows, with a loud sigh his father sinks into the couch quiet rage on his face. “I should have known, you always seemed so scared of him but I thought it was just his parenting style I never thought...never expected that he would....I should have done something!”

Sujin laughs, it is pained and small but he hears it and immediately turns to look at her, “He sounds just like you like father like son I guess,” Sujin directs that at him and he blushes in memory, he can’t deny the claims. Then she turns back to his father with surprisingly soft eyes, “Don’t blame yourself, just help me now if you can.”

“I will use all of my resources to make sure he spends his life in jail.”

Suho jumps in his seat looking over at Sujin, that is way more than they had ever discussed that was what he truly wanted for the monstrous man but it always seemed like too much to ask for but here was his father saying it as if it was completely plausible.

“Jail? Do you really think he can go to jail? It would be his word against mine, I never took any pictures. I was stupid.” Sujin berates herself, and before he can dismiss the self inflicted insult his father is already moving closer and putting a large hand on her trembling shoulder, only then does he realize how the girl is shaking like a new leaf.

“No, it will be my word against his. I will also get that report from Doctor Kim, that could be used as evidence. You’re just a kid and a victim, I’ll handle this you don’t need to do anything else. You’ve handled enough on your own, we got you now.” His father looks over at him as if waiting for his approval and he moves onto the couch with them both, after a moment’s pause putting his hand on Sujin’s other shoulder.

“We got you.”

Jukyeong glances over nervously at Seojun the aroma of coffee thick in the air as she sweeps up the beans she had clumsily spilled on the ground, she waited for Seojun to playfully scold her as he often did when she messed up at work but the reprimand never came and when she glanced over at him he had been staring longing at his cellphone.

Su-ah had been the first to notice how weird him and Sujin acted around each other and despite not having a lot of experience with relationships, especially those of the romantic kind she could see that they didn’t hate each other as much as Sujin tried to drive the deceptive point home. They were always teasing each other and Seojun found any excuse to be near Sujin and soon he wasn’t the only one, they just seemed to naturally gravitate to each other at times bickering so much it was like they were the only two people in the room.

But all that had come to an abrupt end with the sudden appearance of the boy on the motorcycle, the entire school was in a uproar over him, Baek Kyung, she had heard the other girls whispering his name. On paper he seemed very similar to Han Seojun, same bad boy persona and affinity for motorcycles and glares. But the biggest difference she noticed was Sujin's reaction to them both, she had heard from some gossiping girls how vehemently Sujin had declared that Baek Kyung not call her “princess”, a moniker she had commonly heard Seojun use to refer to the girl. Sujin never stopped him these days, instead rolling her eyes and speeding up to escape from him, he would chase after all calling her the sweet nickname all the way.

When Seojun would use it to refer to her in passing such as, “Are you gonna eat that princess?” Those were times that Sujin didn’t react at all, simply handing him whatever food in her container had caught his eye that she had ignored.

They were casually domestic in a way that they never seemed to realize and she couldn’t help but categorize. Seojun liked Sujin that was becoming clearer and it seemed like the feeling was mutual, even if the girl wasn’t yet ready to admit it.

Which was why this new development came as a complete shock to her, why was Sujin suddenly giving her attention to someone else?

“Did you guys have a fight? Just tell her you’re sorry.” She offers out of the blue, and Seojun turns to her with a puzzled look drying a mug with a cloth, “What are you talking about now clumsy?”

Thankfully the shop is empty, she quirks at eyebrow at him folding her arm when he continues to play dumb.

“Sujin. You guys clearly had a fight, you’re both so hot tempered. Her temper is probably worst than yours though so just apologize okay? It’s better than fighting.”

He stares at her with a blank face before turning away, rubbing firmer at the mug in his hands and she worries for its safety.

“Why should I apologize when she’s the one who’s with another guy? Don’t worry about me, I will be fine. Clearly this was one-sided. She doesn’t like me.”

She openly laughs at him now, looking at him like he has two heads. “What are you talking about? If she didn’t like you then why did she follow you to your mom’s hospital? She tried to be all sneaky but Chorong told us everything. Plus she always gets jealous when other girls give you food at school and don’t think we don’t all know that you guys make food for each other!”

He whips around looking at her with huge eyes, “Wait you all knew? So when I said that someone special made it for me? You knew?”

She smiles brightly, “Yep. It wasn’t subtle at all.”

He sighs in annoyance, turning away to hide the pink on his face.

“I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She sighs at the boy’s words, knowing that this fight might go on longer than it needs to and she wishes she could just shake some sense into both of them, why were they choosing to suffer like this?

Damn teenagers and their angst.

Grumbling she goes to take a customer’s order, glancing over at Seojun with a final sad smile.

Hopefully they can figure this out without falling apart.

Time seems to move slower than usual today and he almost pumps a fist in triumph when he sees that it’s finally eight and they are free to leave.

“Do you want to me to walk you to the bus stop?” He offers Jukyeong out of politeness but she shakes her head no, telling him that she is going to meet with her older sister for dinner running out before him and hailing a cab, he smiles at the sight that’s one girl who loves to eat.

Turning off the lights in the shop, he turns over the “open” sign and locks the door behind him. The cool spring night air brushes against his cheeks and he makes his way to his motorcycle, mounting in one motion and sighing as it purrs to life before he speeds off his destination already in mind. He bobs and weaves through traffic, smirking at idiot drivers who blare their horns at him when he inches too close to their precious car but even they are not enough to rain on his parade.

When he finally arrives, he bounces off the bike throwing the helmet onto the handlebar carelessly before bounding over to the figure he sees waiting.

He can’t help the smile that tugs against his lips, ultimately setting it free as the figure turns around at the sound of his boot stomping on the ground.

“Did you wait long?” He asks moving closer until he can feel the heat wafting off the body in front of him.

“No, I only just got here too. Why are you smiling like that? You look deranged.”

He smiles wider, feeling mischievous after what a certain klutz had revealed to him with a smirk he leans closer to her, grinning harder when she leans back looking at him with a confused glare.

“I heard from a certain birdie that you followed me to the hospital and that you get jealous when other girls give me food. Is that true princess?”

Sujin growls at him, shoving his shoulder hard before stomping away to the park bench. He eagerly follows after her, throwing his arm over her shoulder smiling at her wearing yet another one of his sweaters, this time a black one that reaches the bottom of her knees and completely hides whatever she is wearing underneath. She looks equally sexy as adorable and it makes his blood boil in a way he has been trying harder and harder to suppress around her.

“I knew you would try to milk the situation. This isn’t why I told you everything.”

He smiles recalling what Sujin is referring to.

Just a day go.....

He stares angrily at his phone in utter disbelief that she would have the gall to call him after what had just happened. She had left on another boy’s motorcycle even though he had asked her not to, he didn’t know what was going on but seeing her leave like that, he wished he knew how to turn off all his feelings for her. No other human should have this kind of power or control over him but here he was ready to burst because she had picked someone else over him.

“What do you want?” He barks out answering the call with a hard press of his finger and immediately he starts to lose some of his fire when he hears her soft staggered breaths on the other line.

“Seojun, can you meet me somewhere?”

He wants to say no, to bitterly hang up on her and tell her that he has someone new too but that would be a lie and he desperately wants to see her and hold her and find out why she decided to rip his heart out and stomp on it.

Feeling pathethic he answers her with a sigh, “Where are you?”

Songnisan park. It’s not too far from their school and he hangs up without answering hopping on his bike and riding to her. Maybe it’s stupid but he can’t turn his back on her just yet, he still wants to hear her out even if she’s going to break his heart.

By the time he reaches the park it’s raining, pouring down in sheets despite the warm weather and he immediately sees Sujin sitting under the downpour while other park goers are running and using picnic blankets as makeshift umbrellas.

The scenes feels all too familiar and he wonders if this will be their end? Would life be that poetic to have them end the same way they became?

Sighing he tugs his sweater off, walking quickly to close the gap between them before sitting beside her and thrusting his sweater above both their heads, protecting them from the rain.

She turns to him with a gasp and he realizes how closely they are sitting beside each other, he can feel her breath when she exhales and it washes over in an intoxicating breeze. He has to forcibly put some distance between them before he does something that he knows he shouldn’t, especially not now.

“My father knows about us. He saw me at the hospital and I’m scared he saw your mother and sister too. I don’t think I should visit anymore.”

He pauses to process her words and he feels his chest tighten with anger at the mention of that sub-human, if he ever tried to harm a hair on his family’s head that would be the last thing he ever did. But once the rage passes by he thinks of the rest of Sujin’s sentence, my father knows about us.

They were an us.

There was an us for people to know about?

“Us?” He replies stupidly, unable to stop his heart from fluttering.

With a sound of exasperation she looks over at him, “How is that the most important thing that I said?” The pretty blush on her face does not go unnoticed but he responds to her statement staying focused, “My mom was discharged today. They said it was just a scare and nothing serious. He can’t do anything to us, if he tries I’ll kill him.”

He means it, every single word falling from his lips.

He’s not prepared for Sujin to sob and drop her head onto his shoulder, he drops their sweater umbrella at the sudden pleasant weight feeling the rain drench his hair and shirt instantly.

“I’m so happy to hear that. I was so worried about all of you.”

A bubble of happiness explodes in his chest and he’s so close to just letting go of all his anger and holding her, seeing her so worried about his family is almost enough to undo him.

But, he can’t forget the image of her riding off with someone else. His heart will never forget that ache, that indescribable pain.

“So you care about me now? Is that why you left me like that today? Because you care so much?”

He is being petty, he knows that but he can’t stop the jealousy that is fueling him right now. His green eyed monster is raring its ugly head.

“That’s the guy you told me to stand up, remember? That’s the guy my father is trying to sell me to. He’s been following us and he knew about you, he threatened you. I did what I had to, I have to do this until I speak to Suho’s father. I think.....No. I’m ready now. I’m going to tell him everything and ask for his help.”

His heart is pounding erratically in his chest, he can barely hear the rain over the loud thumping of the organ and he can’t believe he ever doubted her, feels guilt twist around him but he pushes that aside to take in everything she has confessed to him, without saying the words she has all but confirmed everything Jukyeong carelessly exposed to him in the coffee shop, she cares about him too enough to want to protect him at any cost. But most importantly she was starting to care about herself, she no longer saw her life as expendable and was willing to ask for help even at the expense of revealing her darkest secret and getting her hopes up.

Fuck she was the bravest person he knew.

Without thinking he tugs her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug before he realizes what he’s doing but by the time he starts to move back she’s already hugging him back, her arms tight around his shoulder and her head in the dip of his neck and it’s too perfect to stop now. Absently he strokes her wet silky smooth hair and when they finally draw apart, the barest amount of space between them he takes another risk, glancing at her eyes pleading and then smiling when she nods, giving him permission even without knowing what he plans to do, simply trusting him, he leans forward and plants a soft butterfly kiss on her forehead, she hisses in response but instead of moving away she latches on to him tighter.

“I’m so proud of you baby.” He kisses her again, firmer this time putting all the love and pride he feels for her in that gentle kiss to her brow.

He expects a lot of things in response to his bold move and the new nickname, a punch, a kick, her loud denial and rejection, he is emotionally prepared for any and all of those reactions, but instead she steals his breath away when she smiles up at him, looking into his eyes and he realizes that she’s looking for permission too and he nods, nervous and anxious to see what she will do.

With a moment’s hesitation she tugs him down and he goes easily, his heart in his chest and he closes his eyes as her face draws closer to him, his heart is pattering now a crazy thundering mess filled to the brim with anticipation.

He feels her plush lips against his cheek, the rain making the skin slick and he hums in encouragement as the kiss lingers before he opens his eyes and immediately they are lost in each other’s eyes and he can feel their faces moving closer as if opposite ends of a magnet and he waits for her to stop them, to push him away and run off but she is just as lost as him, moving closer too and when only centimeters separate their lips, a loud crash of thunder booms high above their heads making them jump apart, both flying to opposite ends of the bench.

“We should...um get out of this rain before we catch a cold.”

The ride home is awkward and he can barely breathe with how tightly she’s holding his waist but he smiles through the rain, taking care to move carefully on the wet streets not wanting to hurt Sujin and then they are in front of Suho’s apartment, much too fast to his disappointment.

They both sit unmoving for a few seconds before Sujin releases his waist from her death grip and gets off the bike.

“Let’s talk over there for a minute.” He states dismounting too and walking over to the scaffold so they can escape the torrential rain for a moment at least.

They stand awkwardly shivering from the cold in their wet clothes, it’s obvious that Sujin is embarrassed about what happened- their kisses-but he can barely contain his joy, if he were alone right now he would be doing backflips.

This day as made a complete 180 turn for the better.

“I have to pretend to date him. We already agreed to come to school tomorrow. He agreed to stop following me if I let him take me to school and go on dates. He has to put on a show for his father too.” She says talking so fast that the words slur together and he wonders absently if she’s nervous? And if so, why? Was she nervous about his reaction?

He nods in understanding, “Okay. I forgot to say it earlier, but thank you for telling me and not leaving me in the dark. I appreciate it.”

That’s the logical part of his response, he knows what it took for Sujin to involve him in her plan and how huge it is that she hadn’t wanted him to misunderstand her feelings and motives. But she’s still the girl that he likes and he can’t help the illogical things that flood his mind too.

“Not on his motorcycle though.”

She looks at him with a deep searching stare and he simply stares back, nonplussed. He knows what he sounds like, a bargaining jealous boyfriend. That’s exactly what he wants to be so he sees no reason to attempt to explain himself, whatever she’s thinking is true and he isn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it. At his unabashed stare she crumples looking away with a barely hidden smile, “Okay. Not on his bike. Even though I never told you that you were allowed to have conditions, this isn’t a negotiation.” She complains but the sting is gone because she has already agreed to his request, he flashes a smile at her.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I will have to act jealous, that shouldn’t be too hard.” He winks at her and this time she does try to punch him, he barely dodges her fist.

Such a violent little thing.

“I never said you had to do anything.”

He shrugs, “It makes sense. I like you so it would only make sense that I would be jealous if I thought you were dating someone else, plus he will probably want to see that too.”

She’s as red as a strawberry as she sprints away from him without another word, waving at him over her shoulder.

He smiles all the way home, before falling into bed after a much needed warm shower, his toes and fingers were like ice chips when he finally got home.

Remembering one more thing, he grabs his phone shooting a quick text message.

Don’t let him call you nicknames. Only Sujin.

Reading it back he determines that the message is a bit too...commanding and if he wants to keep a certain boot out of his ass he better fix it so he swiftly adds:

Please.

Present time....

“I didn't do anything. She just suddenly started telling me how much you adore me and how you can’t live without me and that I should just forgive you and take you back.” He sniffles dramatically watching amused as Sujin rolls her eyes, before angrily pulling out her phone, he laughs suddenly worried for Jukyeong so he snatches the object from her hands, much to her chagrin.

“I might have exaggerated about what she said, a teeny tiny bit.” He demonstrates the small amount with his fingers and she glares at him biting out, “Liar,” before snatching back her phone and stuffing it in her pockets with a grumble.

Getting serious he turns to look at her with anticipation, “How did it go? Were you able to tell him everything?” She is staring out at the horizon, despite him boring a hole in the side of her head begging for eye contact.

“I hesitated. I lost my confidence.”

He can hear the defeat in her voice and without a pause he opens his mouth to comfort her and tell her how strong she is and explain why this is just a minor setback but next time they can go together and if she needs him to he will hold her hand the entire time and give her every last drop of his support and--

“But then I got a message and it gave me courage. So I told him everything and he agreed to help me. He wants to send my dad to jail, not just emancipate me.”

She did it.

She really did it.

He smiles at her wider than the ocean.

“You did it, Sujin.”

She stares at him in palpable shock, he immediately knows why it’s not often he uses her name and he expects her to be happy that he isn’t calling her the nickname she is always dismissing, she’s always so adamant that she is not a princess much less his princess.

“Don’t call me that.” She says finally turning to meet his eyes and he stares back confused because he had only said her name, why was that a problem? Wasn’t that what she had been trying to get him to call her since the first time he dubbed her princess?

“What do you want me to call you then?”

He is truly asking but the look she gives him makes him feel like the dunce in the corner of the room and realization unfurls in his body like a slow moving tsunami and he smiles unbridled at the epiphany.

He hasn’t wanted to get his hopes up by making assumptions about what this is but maybe it’s time that he have some confidence now, he was someone important to her. She had already proved that in so many ways these past days.

Taking her hand in his, he smiles brightly at her.

It’s the first time that he has held her hand, and he can feel the damaged skin in his own smoother hand. His heart aches for only a moment, her hands are just like her they might look bruised and pitiful at first glance but beneath the broken surface lurked unimaginable strength and power and just like the rest of her, they were imperfectly perfect. He never wanted to hold another hand, this was the only one he needed.

“Good job, you did it Princess.”

She smiles up at him, looking gorgeous-heart stoppingly so-and he can’t help the way his chest constricts as if he didn’t know it already he knows it now unequivocally .

He, Han Seojun belongs to Kang Sujin.

#true beauty #bmtl #han seojun #kang sujin #extraordinary you crossover #baekyung #lots of povs #another rollercoaster chapter #junjin #true beauty fix it #true beauty kdrama #I had mini heart attacks writing this

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angsty-omi · 4 years ago

Text

PART 2 OF UNLOCKED EMOTIONS

part 1

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

lowercase intended

warnings: anxiety, cheating, cursing, some semi nsfw scenes and most importantly, pure angst.

it started out simple. toshi would make a plan to go somewhere, and rin would tag a long. she is his girlfriend after all. but you soon started to notice that she was always there. even when your families would have dinner with each other. at some point, you couldn’t take it.

there was this one night where you didn’t even wanna go downstairs because you knew they were there. sitting in your dining chairs, using your silverware, probably making out in the bathroom. you slammed your head on the bed trying to get that image out of your head. stop it y/n. you made an excuse that you were ill, which technically you were lovesick.

it wasn’t surprising that soon you and toshi faded as friends. you needed space even then, your feelings didn’t change at all. instead it was even passionate than before. before, you never felt a sense of urgency in telling him. but now you wanted him more than ever. you needed him. seeing him walking down the halls with her. hand in hand, walking down the hallway and past your locker. your chest was tight. she would stick her tongue out at you, and ushijima never noticed. “what a child,” you thought to yourself. but you couldn’t say anything, she was just trying to gaslight you so you could scream at her and ushijima would have to choose between the two of you.

continuous weeks of her microagressions at you, you learned to let that not bother you. rin noticed and had to up the ante.

during 5th period, you started feeling very anxious out of nowhere. you could feel a pair of eyes laser into you. you had asked permission to go to the restroom and the teacher gave you the hall pass. you immediately rushed to the sink scrubbing your face. repeatedly rinsing.

you looked up to your side and saw her. rin. this startled you. “do you need something?” you asked nicely, secretly about to have a meltdown.

to be quite frank, your meltdowns were rough. it was a period of time where you felt no remorse for anything. no one really knew about this condition, except for your family. it’s not worth mentioning because they’ll think you’re a psychopath and it doesn’t happen quite frequently. it’s only when you’re a ticking bomb, under lots of pressure. like.. like.. right now?

you could feel the symptoms coming and so was rin, she started to come closer to your face.

“y/n, you think i’m an idiot don’t you? you don’t think i see the way you look at him?.” now she was only a few inches away, “god you’re pathetic, you can’t even deny my accusations. you’re in love with someone who’s taken, you fucking whore. you. cant. have. him... it’s truly sad y/n, you even had a head start. all that time was wasted, and all i had to do was to just be in his presence for a day and he fell for me.” she giggled. her high pitched giggle was ringing in your ears.

“stop,” you thought, “please just make it stop.” you’d do anything. meltdown y/n was just not someone to be reckoned with. it’s not a threat, it’s the truth. not five seconds later, your clenched fist met with her eurocentric face. then you were on top of her, not even thinking just doing. just your fists continuously smashing her petite porcelain face. until there was a whole crowd, the teachers finally were aware of the situation.

soon there was an administrator holding you back. angry tears flooding your eyes. you wanted more revenge. hearing her whimpers, you smiled. this. this made you happy. then you were shut back down when you heard someone calming her down. you looked up and saw ushijima. your eyes met. his with much fury, and yours with much sorrow. “how could you do this, y/n? from now on, just leave us alone. don’t even acknowledge me. don’t look our way. don’t even breathe the same air as us.” he threatened with such a serious tone.

the whole reason you hated your meltdowns were not just the no remorse thing, but how after it is finished, the guilt hit you like a truck. leaving you in a serious depressive state. and you were suspended for two weeks. great.

you were trapped in your bedroom. after you got home from that day, your parents immediately grounded you, and took your phone. no contact with the outside world. no contact with ushijima. not like it mattered anyway. sometimes you would think to yourself if he ever thought about you like that. that if he imagined about you the same way you imagined about him. or if he ever wished that it was you next to him down the hallways. being alone with your thoughts was not fun. with no phone to distract you, or school, it was terrifying. every waking moment was lonesome.

it had only been five miserable days.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed a breather, and needed it now. you begged your mom to let you go on a walk, and she gave you the thumbs up. you decided to go to the nearest park.

there were very fond memories of you and ushijima together. the latest one was when they won nationals last year, and you guys celebrated on the swings, with a shot of grocery store rated tequila. very disgusting.

the park was empty. most people would find a playground depressing with no kids. but that’s how you liked it. quiet, but it’s purpose and physical attributes brought joy to people’s face. you decided to take a seat on the swings. dragging your legs back and forth, back and forth. dazed and honestly so mentally tired. you slowly started to doze off.

footsteps. you heard footsteps.

still with your eyes closed, “if i die then i die, i’m too lazy to budge,” you thought to yourself. the footsteps were getting louder. and then you hear a bunch of chains moving next to you.

“killer chains?” you thought. this bitch

no. you were wrong. those were swing chains. someone had sat next to you. still keeping your eyes shut, hoping that the stranger would just leave.

until you heard his voice,

“y/n, why did you do that to rin? how could you hurt her when you know how important she is to me? she told me that you liked me. for years. why didn’t you tell me?”

“why was he talking to me? breathing the same air as me? and also, would that have made a difference if i told you?” you thought.

“i’d be lying if i said i never had feelings for you, but, god y/n i’m dating someone now. i am a faithful man. and you know, if you weren’t just so prideful, and just told me.. maybe things would’ve been different,” he continues, still thinking that you’re sleeping.

your mom called everyone looking for you. obviously you didn’t have your phone and you still weren’t back from your supposed walk. ushijimas parents forced him to go look for you. he, previously, being your best friend knew the top three spots you’d be at.

“but they’re not,” your voice whispered with an icy tone. it was like bitter in your mouth.

his eyes widened like he just saw a ghost. he didn’t want to hear your answer. he wasn’t ready. but it was too late, it was already rolling. “and what do you mean if i wasn’t so prideful? i didn’t tell you because i was looking out for your FUTURE. volleyball is your main priority and you said you wanted to be the best. so tell me why, as your best friend, would i jeopardize that?” you slight raised your voice.

ushijima frowned, “are you seriously telling me what I want? emphasis on the I? do you think you know me or something y/n? who are you to be put into a position where you can decided what or who i want?” raising his voice even louder. “the fact that you would just assume that... bothers me, how you already planned my future... bothers me, how you always try to pry me open... bothers me, WE AREN’T EVEN DATING.” he noted.

you were mortified. “how could you even say that? sorry that i wanted you to feel? instead of being a huge cold hearted douche. i’ve only ever had good intentions and now you’re better with emotions. you even got yourself a girlfriend, ushijima.” you defend, tears swelling up in your eyes.

“oh, so i go by ushijima now? how petty can you seriously be y/n? face the facts i got a girlfriend, and you dropped me like i was nothing,” he snarled.

“what an idiot. can’t he see that it was the complete opposite” you screamed on the inside.

you took a deep inhale, “drop you like you were nothing? are you fucking serious? I WAS FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU, and listen, i did this for myself. seeing you with HER, everyday killed me. i deadass felt like my heart was smashed and stomped on. and it didn’t help that she was always flaunting your guys’ relationship around me. that’s why i stopped... right now, i can’t even look at you, because if i did, i would fall right back into that pit. all this pain, brought because i was in lo—” you got cut off.

by something warm. and it tasted like peppermint. it was soft, but the pressure put on it seemed rough. you were kissing ushiji-toshi. you, y/n, were kissing toshi. his large hand gripped your cheek, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. the kiss was very passionate, like it was something you both craved, but fiery, because you guys were still angry at each other. continuously fighting for dominance, and he beat you. his tongue slipped in. you unexpectedly moaned into the kiss and it was music to his ears. how bittersweet that was, you felt embarassed. he never heard you like that. so desperate. and so needy. he trickled down to your jawline then to your neck. you tugged on his hair out of instinct, and could feel his mouth vibrate against your neck. it was intoxicating for both parties.

he pulled away, and you stayed there frozen.

he then, put his thumb on your lips, and whispered in your ear, “don’t ever say that you loved me, like it was past tense,” before moving back to his side of the swing.

you just kissed your best friend, who had a girlfriend. and no matter how much of a bitch she was, you still felt guilty nonetheless. you guys sat there in silence, still trying to process what just happened. you smiled while looking at the slides. you just couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. you remembered about your parents and how they’re probably worried, and so you got up from the swing and opened your hand out for toshi. “c’mon, let’s go home, it’s wednesday.” you smiled.

a/n; this part i’m so proud of. my best one uet. even tho i only wrote two fics. and this is just wave one. you think this ended on a happy note? lmao okay. stop reading at part 2 if you want a happy ending. don’t force yourself to feel the pain. like, follow, or repub for another part or to see more of me.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima x reader

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