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lady-lauren · 3 years ago

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Part III

Nymphetamine: marriage of the words nymphomania and amphetamine; an unhealthy, beast-like addiction to one female in particular.

║Part I ║Part II║Masterlist║

↣ pairing: alpha!katuski x omega!reader

↣ word count: 9.5k

↣ notes: final chapter

↣ warnings: a/b/o dynamics, prime dynamics (prime alphas/omegas; stronger, more dangerous variants), enemies to lovers, villain!katsuki, some yandere tones, captivity, corruption, breeding, mention of having babies, heats, ruts, knots, mating, claiming, bonding, possessive actions, clawing, biting, choking, belly-bulges, bruising, blood, too much fucking purring, a lot of praise, some degradation, hair pulling, size difference, creampies and cum galore

↣ summary: As you look at yourself in the mirror, it’s as if you’re staring at a stranger. Same pretty face, same makeup you’ve perfected over the years. But it’s not just you anymore in the reflection. It’s him, your alpha, what he’s made you into, looking right through you.

Katsuki’s been working at you, washing away any and every thought of being a hero. Instead he’s been filling the cracks with him, with ideas of babies, of a future with him and only him, right by his side, open and proud, despite his brutality. Tonight is just the first step, a test to show just how perfect you are on his arm. A hero turned villain, all in the name of love.

Falling in love is a slippery slope. You’re teetering on the edge, though, wondering if you should just jump and let him catch you.

Because what Alpha wants, Alpha gets.

“Sit still, princess.”

You’re shifting in his lap, nervously clearing your throat at this absurdity.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, turning your face away from the camera, “this is far more uncomfortable than you think it is.”

He takes your jaw between two fingers, forcing you to look back at the very patient beta woman who is crouched in the floor, repositioning and finding the light for her lens.

“Just stop squirming. And cover your fucking tits.”

Obeying, you pull your arm up higher, hand grabbing at his tattooed shoulder. You press your thighs together as well, keeping your body curved so the only last image burned into the camera will be of your naked silhouette draped over your alpha’s lap.

Fucking ridiculous.

But what Alpha wants, Alpha gets.

And he buys a canvas print that’s 60 x 80, a giant, blinding portrait with the hues of your naked skin against his. It hangs in his favorite penthouse living room, the alpha king with his omega queen lording over the space most often called home.

It’s a purposeful, political statement. Because Katsuki Bakugou is finally presenting his mate to the world he abides over.

There was no discussion, no debate. Though he was kind enough to give you a week’s notice about his plans. Fifty business associates due to arrive on Saturday at seven, a party stated to be in celebration of a recent acquisition to his empire. Though you know that’s a farce; it’s just a chance for Katsuki to parade his recently acquired mate around like a piece of untouchable art.

Not that you mind, you’ve been chomping at the bit to have social interaction.

You’ve belonged to your alpha for nearly three months now, the scars on your shoulder having healed nicely, perfectly shaped to Katsuki’s sharp smile.

But now that the night has come, you’ve found yourself in a fit of anxiety.

It’s been so long since you’ve been outside of your little mating bubble, felt like forever since you’ve performed the routine of getting ready.

Katsuki can feel your nerves, can even smell the panic on your skin.

“You need help or some shit?” His hands are in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe to his bathroom, black bowtie nestled just perfectly at the base of his neck.

You blink up at him from your seat at the vanity, toying with the mascara between your fingers.

“No, because painting my face means something entirely different to you.”

“Better watch the sarcasm tonight, princess.”

Something pumps in your chest, an intuition straight from him to you. He knows you use sarcasm as a barrier, as a shield from the other emotions stirring around in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing to be nervous about, alright?”

You try to take his words to heart, you really do. But as you look at yourself in the mirror, it’s as if you’re staring at a stranger. Same pretty face, same makeup you’ve perfected over the years. But it’s not just you anymore in the reflection. It’s him, your alpha, what he’s made you into, looking right through you.

Months of being with him and only him were intentional.

Tonight is just the first step, a test to show just how perfect you are on his arm. A hero turned villain, all in the name of love.

Because you know it’s love on his end, you can hear how much he means it just from the tune of his purrs.

Everything inside of you, every single instinct, is screaming at you to love him, too. But you’ve determined he still has to prove his worth. He might have filled empty spaces in your life, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned what he desires most. He has you, physically, but emotionally you’re still debating.

Falling in love is a slippery slope. You’re teetering on the edge, though, wondering if you should just jump and let him catch you.

“How much time do I have?”

He checks his phone, “No one’s due to arrive for at least another two hours.”

“Then what’s got you dressed up so soon, huh?”

“Figured you’d enjoy the monkey suit.”

As you eye him up and down, you determine that you do. Katsuki’s always been handsome, painfully so, but the designer, specially-tailored tuxedo enhances his charms. The satin peak lapels catch the light just right, and his pocket square is cut from the same cloth as your dress. How the hell they have enough fabric to cover all his muscles, you’ll never know. But you dare to say he looks exceptionally dapper, timeless. Sharp jaw and keen, crimson eyes make him fit to sit on the cover of a magazine.

“I don’t have to tell you how handsome you are, do I?”

“Nah, I know I’m fucking hot.”

Katsuki moves behind you, leaning down to kiss and suck at the column of your neck.

Such a simple action, but the proximity of his lips to the apex of your claiming has you moaning.

“Oh, Alpha,” you coo, hand threading through unruly blonde hair to keep him where you want him.

“Fuck, you smell better than any perfume.”

His scent spikes, bleeding into yours.

You breathe in deeply, steadying yourself in the smell and feel of him.

You’ve never been in a room full of people without your scent suppressors, not in all the time you’ve presented as an omega. You’ve always been hidden in plain sight, sugary scent nullified by hard working hormones in little pink pills. But tonight you’ll be exposed, on display.

“Calm down, little one,” he purrs, big hands pulling you up and away from the vanity, “I’ve got you tonight.”

His mouth is on yours before you can stop him, tongue slipping between your lips.

He feels good against you; a wall of warm, solid muscle beneath the clean press of his clothes. You melt at his touch, hands drawing his face deeper into yours.

“Katsuki,” you moan as he lifts you onto the cool marble of the spacious bathroom counter, “my lipstick.”

“Don’t fucking care. Got more important things to worry about.”

Thick fingers trace the outline of your curves, plucking at the seams of the simple lingerie he bought for you.

Complaints tumble around in your brain: but your tuxedo, but what if people get here early. They’re all smothered when he whispers your name against your lips, hot and proud.

“Listen to me,” panties are smoothly pulled away from your hips, drawn down your legs, “you’re far more powerful than you think you are.”

You lean back against the mirror, nails slipping against the smooth counter as you try to steady yourself.

The familiar clink of his belt being unbuckled has a shiver running down the length of your spine.

“I know that,” and you do. He’s told you countless times how special, how perfect you are. Confidence has been ingrained in you since your hero courses, since the city started chanting your name. Katsuki’s only boosted your pride, perhaps to a sinful point.

“No, you don’t.”

Those enormous hands of his find your waist and draw you closer to his awaiting cock.

A hum travels down the connection between you, telling you to be quiet, that he knows what you need. You let your head fall back, taking deep breaths as you drown in the scent of him, of the feel of his cockhead smearing through your wet folds.

“Let me show you,” he groans as he breaches that tight, first ring of muscle inside your cunt, “how strong your body is, my little omega.”

Wet flesh parts so willingly, warm and inviting as he slowly pushes his way into your depths. The stretch of him still burns, makes your toes curl and your chest tighten. There’s a totality to him, a fullness that comes when he spreads your legs and buries himself so deeply that his balls kiss the curve of your ass. You moan as your muscles tighten, cinching around his solid, fat cock.

Katsuki’s hungry when he kisses you, sloppy and smearing the shade of your lipstick across your cheeks and his. You’re still taken aback by the sweet taste of him. It’s familiar now, but also fresh, like a fulfilled craving.

His hips don’t move, he keeps you flush against him, backs of your thighs nestled against the downy hairs of his legs. His trousers are spread across his knees, little threads popping at the stretch.

Kisses trail down your neck to your chest, his teeth nipping into the swell of your breast that spills over the cups of your lingerie.

He stays still, seated inside of you where he belongs. The iron grip on your hips keeps you from bucking or squirming.

“Alpha,” his eyes flicker up to your face at his title, “please move.”

“Don’t need to.”

He straightens his back, towering over where you’re perched on the counter.

You helplessly squeeze around his cock, whimpers and protests stuck in the back of your throat.

A heavy hand flexes on your hip before trailing to the valley between your thighs. He pets over your lower tummy, soft, gentle strokes before his thumb presses against your clit.

You’re already swollen, needy. The breadth of his cock leaves your clit so exposed.

“You have no fucking idea how good your pussy is.”

Katsuki’s head drops as he marvels over where your bodies are joined. He takes his time, two fingers sliding right along the edges of where your cunt is parted around him. Your legs squeeze his waist as he teases, fingers wet and sticky as they play with you.

“Love how you drip all over me,” he sucks in a breath as he slowly pulls his cock out of you, admiring how you drag along his length.

You expect a rough shove, a quick thrust back into your body, but it doesn’t come. Katsuki simply, gently, pushes himself back inside of you, spreading your insides like he’s making a home there.

“Alpha,” you attempt to scold him, but your voice comes out in a whine, body shaking as he starts to swirl his thumb over your clit.

“That’s right, say my name,” he smirks at you as his ministrations on your clit make your stomach tighten, “just like that, princess.”

You make a mantra of it, alpha,alpha,alpha, as your body goes numb from the heat of pleasure.

He stays still, just lets you hug his cock, inner muscles fluttering around his girth.

You grit your teeth, head thumping against the mirror. Your nerves are too hot, blinding you with bliss as he continues his assault on your clit. He rolls the swollen nub with expertise; he knows just how to play you, how to make you see and fucking feel colors.

“Fuck,” you hiss, thighs jerking as a thrill tingles down your body, “god feel so full.”

You can feel all of him: hot veins pumping, thick length pressing into all the soft spots inside you, head of his cock twitching every time your muscles convulse.

“And you’re getting nice and fucking tight.”

It nearly hurts, how tight you are. You’re cinched around him like a vice, pulling and sucking at his cock as his thumb flicks your clit in a fast rhythm that makes you delirious.

“P-please, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, sweetheart. Just cum for me. Love how pretty you are when you cum.”

Praise on Katsuki’s tongue feels heavy, hot, like honey dripping down your tits and pooling in your belly.

Too much, it feels like too much, your body coiled tight and ready to erupt. You whimper at the contractions, moan every time you feel him inside you, waiting on you to fall into oblivion.

Katsuki leans closer to you, presses himself somehow even further into your cunt. He kisses your cheek, breaths hot and panting as his fingers put in overtime.

“You can do it, omega. Cum for me, and I’ll cream all over your insides.”

The incentive makes you burst at the seams, the dam to heaven blown wide as you cum. The ecstasy feels neverending, pussy constricting over and over again as the high flows from the depths of your cunt to the top of your head.

Your alpha groans, low and shaky, both hands now crushing your hips as he falls into his own orgasm. There’s an audible squish, a lewd, wet sound as cum spurts into your tight hole, seeping from the snug lips around Katsuki’s cock.

You gasp at the too full feeling, head reeling and body finally settling as you soak in the last remainders of orgasm.

“Good girl, knew you could do it.”

Katsuki smirks as he pulls out of you, gazing at his flushed, spent cock drawing away from your drooling pussy.

He kisses you before you can reply, non-sticky hand cupping just below your jaw to keep your mouth turned to his.

“Had no doubt that perfect little body could milk me like that.”

Pride wells in your chest, makes your cheeks burn with a smile.

“It’s very dangerous to play with my ego like this, Katsuki.”

He only scoffs, quick to wash his hands in the sink and tuck himself back into his pants.

You stand on wobbly legs, wiggling your toes against the tile floor to awaken your numb nerves. Cum trickles down your thigh as you work on fluffing his bowtie. You make sure it’s straight, even take the time to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.

You crave to touch him, it’s something you can no longer help.

“Fix your lipstick and get ready, I’ll be downstairs.” Katsuki thumbs the edge of your mouth before turning to leave the bathroom.

You catch how he stops momentarily before he leaves the threshold, ruby red eyes flashing at you over his shoulder, “And do not wash me out of you.”

“I knew this was about scenting me!” you yell after him, laughter bubbling in your throat, “So fucking territorial.”

As you begin to work on making yourself presentable, you hear an echo of something as he leaves the bedroom, a little jest of “you’re just as possessive.”

He’s right, you know he is. You’re just not prepared for how true his statement is about to be.

The air is humming around him when Katsuki watches you descend the stairs.

Your dress is perfect, he knew it would be. He knows your body like the back of his hand, having memorized, touched, and kissed every inch of you. The fabric hugs every single curve, and the neckline puts your claiming mark on a splendid display.

Sometimes he really does pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“God I smell like sex,” your lip curls as you say it.

“Oh shut up, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

You weren’t wrong about him wanting to scent you. Even with a portrait of you sitting in his lap hanging on the wall and the lines of his canines buried into your skin, he doesn’t want there to ever be any doubt that you’re his.

But earlier was about more than that. You’ve been skittish as hell all day, all pent up with nerves and anxiousness about having people in your home. He wanted to give you a reminder that you have just as much power over him as he does you. You’re just as strong as he is. He’s as much yours as you are his.

And he can see that pride glowing on your face, feel it singing in his chest for you.

He keeps you close, keeps you busy as the hired staff starts to trickle in and prepare hors d'oeuvres. You’re keen on tasting each kind as the food gets set out on serving platters, fluttering around like you’re getting comfortable.

But, as he expected, a few familiar faces pop up at the front door a half hour early.

He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t waiting for this moment, that he wasn’t excited to see the look of pure shock on faces at just who his mate is.

Kirishima’s is absolutely priceless.

Your back is turned when the red headed alpha waltzes through the front door, but even still he recognizes you.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Music to Katsuki’s ears.

His right hand man is frozen in place, cock-eyed bowtie matching the confused tilt in his head.

“Dude, it’s her? She’s your omega? B-but I checked all the records, even from U.A.—”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty hair. They don’t put priceless info like prime omega into unclassified shit.”

You’re more calm about it all, slinking up next to your alpha with a smile on your face.

“Long time no—”

“Yo, people think you’re, like, dead,” Kiri cuts you off, red eyes blazing.

“Well,” you side-eye Katsuki, the champagne flute in your hand absently bubbling, “here I am, alive and in the flesh.”

Before any retort can be made, a high pitched squeal sounds from behind Kirishima’s broad shoulders. Mina arrives right on his coattails, her gold dress flowing like it’s caught in the wind.

“I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I fucking called it!”

Her arms are around you before you can think to put up any defense, the alpha pinkette practically knocking you over from her forceful hug.

“I told everyone you weren’t gone! Even asked Alpha here if you were his little mate in hiding.”

All you know to do is laugh, give a fake smile and help-me-eyes to Katsuki. And something sour tints your scent, just a quick spike that only he can catch.

He dutifully removes Mina from you, growling to make a point as he grabs at one of her strong arms.

“Oh, sorry, sorry, you probably don’t like another alpha all up on your woman.”

“He most certainly does not,” you tug your dress back into perfect place, “but it’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Mina.”

You look between the three of them, clearing your throat before heading back toward the kitchen for some much needed space.

Katsuki knew this would be a lot for you, seeing old friends especially. You’ve been working against the three of them for years, once even came close to arresting Hair-For-Brains at a shipment yard when some underling narced on one of Katsuki’s covert drug operations.

“I told you fuckers,” he sneers at both of the alphas, “not to overwhelm her.”

“Well it would’ve been nice to have a heads-up that your mate is a hero,” Mina snorts, hands going to her hips, “not to mention your old crush from school.”

He leaves that alone, telling both Mina and Kiri to greet people as they arrive so he doesn’t have to.

The sounds of more people flittering in greet his ears as he makes his way to you, jovial laughs and feet upon his newly polished floor. But all he focuses on is trying to hear the little murmur that threads you to him, trying to discern just what feelings are floating around in your chest.

Katsuki finds you in the kitchen, nails tapping on an empty glass.

You turn to him rather quickly, darling smile back on your face.

“Before you say anything, I’m fine. Really. I just…strangers are fine right now, but it's....”

“Pinky is a lot, I know. She literally has not calmed down in a fucking decade.”

“Did she say I was your crush?”

That stops him dead in his tracks, has him running a hand down his face in exasperation. Of course you heard that, of course you did. But that was a long time ago, long before he changed career paths and long before he grew the fuck up.

But you’re still smiling, genuine and so, so charming.

And there’s no point in lying, he knows you can practically smell a lie on him now.

“And what about it?”

“Nothing,” you grab the edge of the kitchen island, pushing out your breasts with a deep breath before laughing to yourself, “just kinda cute, that’s all.”

God he’s not used to this, not used to the little flirtations and the bedroom eyes outside of the bedroom. In the rush of taking you, you’d both flown right past this stage of courting. Sure, you’ve had pillow talk and intimate conversations, but this...this feels like a first date and it makes his skin crawl.

He’s too old for shit like this. Already too committed to you as his mate to deal with the you know, I had a crush on you in school talk.

“It was biology giving me the hint that you were under my nose.”

“Mhmmm maybe,” you hold your hand out like you want him, and he obliges, grunting as you pull him closer, “could explain why I had a crush on you too.”

“Everyone had a crush on me, even fucking Deku.”

You poke him in the chest, “Better watch the sarcasm tonight, Alpha.”

He hates how you do that, how you always find a way to use his words against him.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“We don’t have to. Just nice to know you thought I was pretty even before you learned what I am.”

The jumbled sounds of people are filling the penthouse, bouncing off the walls and ringing all around the two of you. You’re the people of the hour, still tucked away from eager eyes.

Your head cocks toward the path to the living area, signaling to him that it’s time, time to go face the music and lie in the bed you’ve both made. But he catches your arm as you start to move, fingers soft and petting against your skin.

“It was...it is more than that. More than just you being pretty.”

“Well now that conversation is something I’d like to have later. But come on, this stupid party of yours is waiting.”

Katsuki can practically feel the wall you put up when you start to mingle in the growing crowd. You don a persona, just like he does, that well-known hero’s grin and politeness written all over you. You don’t even flinch as you look straight into the eyes and shake the hand of Re-Destro.

You do the same with every criminal he’s become associated with, falling into the role of Dynamight’s mate as easily as he knew you would.

Figureheads of the underworld and their mates of the greatest stature dine all around the pair of you. Glasses of fine champagne clink as platters of food from all corners of the world travel high on silver pedestals. Conversations that mean everything and nothing rage on.

Katsuki’s caught up in playing his own role, of keeping his proud shoulders high and ears pertly tuned to the conversations all around. He listens to the whispers, the oohs and aahs just at the sight of you on his arm.

He makes sure to catch the salacious chatter around that fucking ridiculous portriat he commissioned of the two of you as well. It’s overboard, he knows it, but he loves it; a derisory, grandiose statement of ownership and partnership.

Mina steals you away, more than once, to parade you around as her gal pal like nothing had ever changed, like she doesn’t oversee the marketing of illegal heat inducers from the top floors of nightclubs.

Everything is as he expected, as he wanted, even when Giran opens his big fat mouth in front of you.

“No wonder Dynamight snuffed out Endeavor a few weeks ago. Had to show the world who’s the new boss,” the slimeball nearly coughs as he laughs, playfully punching at Katsuki’s shoulder, “ain’t that right? Had to get him to stop making all those ‘bring my hero home’ statements on the news.”

The way your smile doesn’t fade is a little alarming, unexpected, like the affirmation doesn’t faze you.

“He was a shit boss. Plus, he was weak compared to my alpha.”

The sideways glance you give him is perceptive, letting him know you already pieced this together by the blood on his hands.

Within a few weeks of pondering, of perhaps being too obsessive about finding out your past, he slid all the information right into place. You could handle your heats alone, sure, but why bother if a prime alpha worked right in front of you? A safe one, a mated but estranged one, one that you didn’t have to worry about sinking his teeth into you like Katsuki did.

Endeavor fit the bill, and it made Katsuki sick to his stomach to think of any man’s hands on you, let alone such an older man. Your boss, who knew exactly what you were the moment he hired you. A fucking snake, who hired you just to fuck the rarest breed.

So Katsuki let prime alpha instincts take over, the kind that encourage crushing bones and tearing flesh. He left Endeavor so bloody that, when the news found him, they thought a high-end Nomu had returned to the city and finished the job. But Katsuki’s world knew what happened and read the message loud and clear.

He’d kill for his mate. He has, and he will again.

And by the look on your face when another woman calls him Alpha, you’re ready to kill for him, too.

“Alllllpha!” Comes Pinky’s singsong voice, black sclera shining as she meanders her way to the pair of you.

The sour smell that he caught earlier rears again, thick like fog around you.

“Stop that,” the severity in your voice makes Mina stumble, “or I’ll rip out your fucking tongue.”

Katsuki grins like he just stole Christmas.

He can tell by the way you blink and straighten your shoulders that you didn’t expect something so forceful to roll out of your mouth.

“Geez, you’re scarier than I remember. Prime omegas really are something else, huh?”

Mina scratches at her neck while she laughs it off, clearly making a mental note to can-it on calling Katsuki his preferred title in your presence.

“I’m...I’m sorry, really, I don’t know—”

“No, no it’s fine! You’ve always had that tough edge about you. Hell you’d be in the top ten if Mt. Lady didn’t pay the commission a big cut of her media income to keep other women out of it.”

There’s a pregnant pause, one where realization smacks you right in the face.

“What?”

You look up at Katsuki, a sharp, clear read of did you know this written across your features.

He merely shrugs, big hand raising to brush the back of your neck, “The world runs on money, princess.”

“And hey, you won the lottery with ole Dynamight here!”

“Yeah,” you reach for him, thumb and forefinger smoothing around the edges of his lapel. Katsuki purrs as low as he can for you, which, by normal standards, is still loud enough to make a few heads turn toward him. “Suppose I did.”

A wave in the crowd catches his attention, Kirishima’s arm raising up to shake a champagne glass insistently.

Right. Katsuki has a speech to make, an explanation to give.

Lips find your forehead without thinking, a murmur of, “listen closely, alright?” before he leaves you alone with Pinky.

Your eyes are trained on your Alpha wayfaring through the expansive penthouse, your feet still stuck in the place he left you behind as fresh champagne flutes are passed all around.

Mina is rambling on next to you, something about how she wants to invest in an athletics brand, but you’ve properly tuned her out.

The voice inside your head is loud, dizzying, a desultory back-and-forth of trying to stay calm and make sense of this very overwhelming world you’ve been a part of.

Katsuki warned you that there was a lot you didn’t seem to understand, even about hero culture, and you’re berating yourself for not catching all the signs in front of your face. How, despite your lengthy, heroic resume, you were never once considered for the top ten, how your agency often gave so much preference to alphas, especially the men, when it came to assignments.

No matter how hard you tried, it was like the doors to true opportunity never budged for you. Always stuck in the same shitty apartment, never getting a raise, never getting a media deal beyond perfume ads or a spot in a beauty commercial. Because those you trusted most, like your boss, knew what you really are. Just an omega plaything. A pretty face, a good lay.

Money and alphas rule the world, quirks and courage be damned.

“Alright, alright, alright! Shut the fuck up, you goddamn extras!”

Katsuki doesn’t even have to clink his glass to get attention, just the sound of his booming voice has everyone hushing and all heads turning.

In the midst of the crowd, it really sets in for you just how large, how formidable your alpha is. He stands nearly a foot taller than everyone else, shoulders so broad that he bumped into faces with very little care on his way to the middle of the room.

Katsuki Bakugou is effortlessly the center of attention, a gravity well of charisma that makes people orbit him like aimless moons.

And he’s sucked you right in, too.

“You all read the stupid emails about how this little shindig was to announce the most recent acquisition to Dynamight LLC. You know, the legal side of shit.”

There’s a jumbled, knowing laughter that echoes across the room.

“Well, some of you are aware that we’ve been...struggling a bit with branding. We want to make sure that we look so fucking pristine that, even when the cops and heroes come a knockin’, no one bats a goddamn eyelash. Money helps, we all fucking know that, but a few months ago I went on a mission to find the best front man—aside from myself—to become the smiling face of this business that no one can say no to.”

Katsuki takes a pause, a quick one to let his speech breathe.

“I had an idea of who to get—well, who to blackmail, if we’re being fucking honest tonight—but then I got lucky enough to stumble upon an even better opportunity. A perfect one, if I do say so myself.”

Oh god.

You aren’t the only one who can read the writing on the wall, all kinds of eyes shifting toward where you stand near the back of the room. Some even turn to focus on the absurd portrait of you that you’ve been purposely avoiding looking at all night.

“Most of you have already met her tonight, but if you haven’t, do say hello to the new face of our organization.”

Katsuki’s champagne glass tips toward you and you want to melt. But you keep that hero’s charade, smiling to hide the fact that you’re eating yourself alive.

“My mate.”

And everyone cheers, takes a drink, all for you.

Your attention zeroes in on Katsuki, who stands so casually as the crowd parts like the sea so everyone can take a look at you. His hand is stuffed in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, canine smile catching the warm, lemony glow of the party haze. Vermillion eyes cut through you, though, vivid and acute as always.

And, somehow, catching Katsuki’s impassioned gaze is the most comforting moment you’ve had in a crowd of people in all your life.

Apprehension drips away, replaced by ambient satisfaction.

Beside Katsuki is where you belong.

Partygoers linger for far too long, too excited by the prospect of a goddamn hero becoming the smiling face of their mafia-esque operations. Because who wouldn’t trust a hero?

By the time your penthouse is empty, and reeking of a mob of alphas, your social battery is bottoming out.

Your mate gives you plenty of space to just breathe when the silence sets in. He elects to take a much needed drink and slowly unpiece his tuxedo while you perform your nightly routine in the bathroom.

There’s too many scents lingering on your skin, in your hair. So you scrub dutifully in the shower, spend a little extra time just standing under the heated water. How you reacted to Mina haunts you, sends a chill of embarrassment down your spine.

Fucking instincts.

Or was it Katsuki who made you so possessive?

When you leave your steamy sanctuary, wrapped in a towel and ready to climb into bed, you find Katsuki in one of his plush chairs. He’s naked—always naked, so proud of himself and the body he’s sculpted, just waiting for you.

“C’mere.”

You notice a white box on the side table, but you reel in your curiosity in favor of climbing into his lap.

“You did so good tonight, little one.” Thick arms wrap you in a warm hug, pressing you into his chest as his nose buries into clean, dry hair at the crown of your head.

“So did you.”

“Yeah, you like my little speech?”

Sitting back on his thighs, you move to touch him, gentle strokes over his jaw and down his neck.

“It was a bit surprising, but…yeah, I liked it.”

He gives you a lazy grin, eyes soft as he admires you.

“So you were the one who took those files, hm? On Deku? Guess you swiped mine, too.”

“To be real fucking honest, I wasn’t going in there for yours. But, couldn’t help myself. Blame it on my school-boy crush.”

You lean in to kiss him, only to have him duck away as he outstretches an arm to grab for the box on the table.

“Speaking of which,” he clears his throat, shoving the package between the two of you, “I got you something. Put it on.”

“Put it...what is this?”

Shuffling off his lap, you drop the soft towel into the floor so both hands can work at peeling away flimsy cardboard and tissue paper.

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me, Katsuki.”

The familiar fabric unfurls in your hands, still smells just like you did before you went off your heat suppressors.

“My hero costume? What, do you want me to wear this for promotional shit?”

“Nah, I want to fuck you in it.”

You pull the spandex of your costume over your body, limbs and fingers acting on muscle memory you thought you’d forgotten. It feels strange to be back in your old suit, even though it once felt like a second skin, a barrier between you and the world.

Katsuki watches you the way a housecat eyes a swinging toy. Scarlet eyes flicker over every movement you make, memorizing motions and admiring flesh.

By the time you pull on the last zipper, his hands squeeze into your hips, cock hard and waiting between his legs.

“God you have no idea how many times I looked at you in this,” he tests the elasticity of the threads, fingers plucking and pulling as a purr builds low in his chest, “and wanted to rip it off you and fuck you raw.”

He positions you between his knees, leaning forward to brush his face against the side of your breast. A sharp canine drags along the edge of your costume, catching the fabric but not ripping it.

“Gonna smother you in my scent, tear this stupid tease of a costume to shreds.”

A mixture of breathy moans and laughs sound from you, your hands carding through his hair as your body begins to heat and slick begins to drip.

“Before you go and ruin it, I might as well give you a little show, right?”

He gives a curious, albeit frustrated, grunt. His cock is twitching against his stomach, red and swollen and aching to be inside you.

Slowly, you drop to your knees before him in an instinctive bow, nails nipping into the solid muscle of his spread thighs.

A ping of satisfaction hits your chest as you smell his arousal, feel his desires traveling down that mated thread that ties you to him.

You’ve admired his cock plenty of times, even had the pleasure of dreaming about it, but nothing compares to having the apex of your lust throbbing right before your face. To call a dick beautiful sounds strange, but you can’t think of another fitting adjective. Because Katsuki, in all his naked, powerful glory, is beautiful. His cock is proud, fat, latticed with thick veins that you know the paths of by heart. And his balls are heavy, almost perfectly round and massive—perfect for breeding.

“You gonna sit there and fucking stare or suck your alpha’s cock?”

Katsuki has an arm propped behind his head, his bicep bulging and the muscles along his side rippling as he smirks down at you.

With a deep inhale, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, fingers lost in blonde curls as your lips kiss the pre-cum from his head, letting it smear over your lips.

Fuck he tastes like you.

Sweetness has mixed into his spice, results of your mating coating your mouth.

Your tongue snakes out for a richer taste as you begin to kiss down the expanse of his length. Your ears perk as you hear him purr with amusement, a smile tugging at your cheeks as you continue to lather silken skin in wet kisses.

“I like you between my legs, omega,” his tone is playful, “can’t fucking wait to have you sucking my cock every day at the office.”

A breathy gasp leaves your lips at his promise. Your tongue flattens against him, licking over pumping veins as you continue to wet him.

From between his legs, everything about him feels somehow mightier. Huge, brawny legs cage you in and an expansive, tattooed chest is heaving with controlled breaths and purrs. You run your tongue along the underside, following a long, hot vein to the weeping tip of his cock. How does he ever fit inside you?

His hand comes down to the back of your head, fingers flexing against your hair, urging you to take his twitching cock into your mouth. You follow his silent command, a muffled groan stuck in your throat as you dip his head between your lips. Little by little, you take more of him in, allowing a moment to breathe and push the head of his cock into your cheek. He gives another appeased grunt, so you repeat the motion, nudging his cock against the warm suppleness of your cheek.

But your alpha wants more. He’s greedy like that.

He puts pressure on your head, pressing your mouth back into place and farther down his thick cock. Your eyes close as you focus on taking as much of him as you can, opening your jaw and bobbing your head, tongue keeping him wet enough to continually slide up and down his vast length. Some actions feel instinctual, others feel intentional, your mind only half lost to lust brewing in your belly.

Quickly, his grunts become cadenced and continuous, as he responds to every deep plunge of your mouth against him. You moan along with him, feeling so satisfied to be the catalyst for his pleasure. You love being his, you love making him go wild.

And he is going wild; he feels restrained, like he’s flexing his toned stomach to keep from ramming his impressive cock into the back of your throat.

He smells feral, primal, richer than normal, as if his caramel scent is burning.

You dare to increase your pace, moaning harder, more gutterly, wanting the vibrations to ripple down his cock and tingle in his balls. He feels it, his grip tightening into your hair at the sensations of your sweet mouth sucking him in. Saliva dribbles to the base of his cock, and you encircle what length of him you can’t get into your mouth with your fingers, using your spit as lubricant to pump his cock in your palm.

“Unzip the front of your little costume. Wanna watch your tits bounce as you suck me off.”

You’re not sure if he groans at the sight of your breasts spilling out, or because you’ve come to obey him so easily.

He can’t take his eyes off of you, you can feel them cutting holes into the back of your head, scouring over your tits. His perfect little mate slurping up his cock as if feeling his head brush the back of your throat will make you cum on the spot.

“Fuck you’ve got such a good mouth on you.”

Katsuki observes you for what feels like hours, both your minds lost to the tight suck of your lips. You’re so diligent, so determined to please him, that the hand behind his head begins to rip into the chair cushion.

His dick repeatedly brushing down the back of your throat has his balls tightening, sweat forming on his brow as electric pleasure makes him twitch in your mouth. His instincts are to grab your head and take control, to slam his hips up into your tight little mouth and watch your throat bulge from the intrusion of his cock— but you’re all too aware of how much satisfaction he feels to see you, the omega who fought him, sucking him down all on your own.

“Such a good fucking g-girl,” he stutters as you choke on his cock, hand now fisting in your hair to draw you back, “too fucking good.”

Spit drools from the corners of your lips as you sit back, panting and eyes nearly going cross at the sight of the sloppy, glistening cock bobbing in front of your mouth.

He fists his cock as he stands before you, head tilting toward the bed, “Get on your back and spread your legs.”

Apparently, you don’t follow his orders quick enough. Big hands snatch you up, fingers mean against your ribs as he tosses you onto the mattress like a rag doll.

“Alpha!” you squeak his name and it makes him growl, shoulders rolling like a predator’s as he crawls overtop of you.

“Never gonna get tired of hearing you call me that.”

He paws at your naked tits, tweaking your nipples until your back arches. His touch always feels like fire, like his quirk is simmering just below his skin, ready to burst.

“More,” you spread your legs wide over his thighs as he sits back on his knees, “f-feels good, so good when you…”

“Oh I know you fucking love it when I play with your tits, princess.”

Katsuki makes a show of his statement, pinching both of your nipples just hard enough to make ecstasy heat your nerves like a molten syrup. He grins as he teases your breasts, rough hands grabbing at the fat as his thumbs work your peaks until they’re swollen.

Your fingers twist into the sheets when his head dips down to your chest, tongue flat and hot as he places kitten licks over your nipples.

“F-fuck, fuck, purr, Kat—”

His chest and throat rumble with a deafening purr, vibrations spreading over your sensitive tits.

Eagerly, his mouth engulfs one of your nipples, sucking and biting and groaning and purring. He repeats the action to your other breast, a cheshire grin making one of his canines graze your skin.

“Look at you,” he palms your tits as he sits back, playing with their weight, “this makes you so fucking wet, can even see it through your costume.”

You prop onto your elbows, mouth falling agape at the sight of your slick darkening the material stretched thin over your spread legs.

A heavy hand trails down your body, his thumb expertly finding your clothed clit. He swirls over it, the pressure of your costume and his finger making your eyes close in pleasure. He circles your bud a few times, purring with contentment as he watches more of your slick leak out and stain the colors he’s admired you in for years.

“Tear it,” you almost don’t recognize your voice.

“Oh yeah?” he continues to tease over your aching clit, “Little hero wants me, a villain, to rip apart her costume and fuck her stupid?”

You can’t stop the weight of surrealism that blankets your mind and body.

A smirk creeps across your face, one that mimics his, “God yes, want my alpha to stuff me full of cum and breed me.”

It’s like a loss of innocence when his strong fingers dig into spandex and polyester, all too easily shredding the barrier of your costume. The fabric tears with a shrill rip, the sound ringing in your ears. He makes a hole between your legs to reveal your eager, messy cunt.

Katsuki slaps the head of his cock against your wet folds, quick bursts of bliss rippling over your nerves.

“Poor, poor, omega. Never had a good fuck until I found you.”

Your head nods in agreement, emotions bubbling to where he can feel them and know you mean it. No one can ever fuck you like he can, your perfect mate, who’s taken and molded you to fill every dark desire.

He smears his cockhead through your slick, teasing your clit before settling at your tight hole.

“I think it’s about time I bred you properly. Stuffed a baby into that pretty belly.”

Instincts have never felt more satisfied by words, by the push of his cock into your heated depths. He snaps his hips against you, seats himself so deep inside your cunt he can see the outline of his cock in your tummy even through the layer of your costume.

You scream for him as he repeats the motion—his fat cock feels hot, too hot, like it’s searing into your walls and spreading you open.

“Oh, alpha,” you lose your breath at his next thrust, the force of him knocking the air from your lungs.

Katsuki lets out a growl you haven’t heard in months; it’s animalistic, laced with a tinge of something brutal.

You can smell it, too, the precipice of danger, of rut.

It feels like you're both falling over the edge of ecstasy as he grips your hips, keeps plunging his cock in and out of you so rapidly that it’s hard to breathe, hard to think. Your entire body is shaking, jostling, being moved by the force of his lust. Your nipples ache as pleasure slithers through every nerve in your body, culling hormones and pheromones to react to him.

Your head is going fuzzy, his cock feels like it’s bobbing in your throat. You’re drowning in him, in the sound of his skin slapping against yours, his thick cock making your wet pussy squish and suck around him.

An all too-familiar reaction curls in your womb. But it doesn’t feel like the twisting knife it normally does; it feels like fingers swirling in silk, like wind stroking flames.

Katsuki is pulling a heat cycle from you like he’s calling you home.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you need more of him, crave the comfort of his mouth.

You press your hips down roughly as you sit up into his lap, arms tangling around his broad shoulders. He kisses you deeply and without thought, messy and wet and hungry. One of his growls is caught in the back of your mouth, swallowed down and savored. You keep your mouth against his until it becomes too hot, too hard to breathe between the rocking of your bodies.

You bury your nose into the scent glands at his neck and find them honeyed and swollen.

His pace quickens, balls bouncing against your ass he thrusts up into you, nails clawing at the back of your costume until threads begin to pop.

Your body falls into the rhythm, the perpetual give and take of your cunt sliding over his length.

But your mind is somewhere else—it’s caught between your teeth.

Canines are aching like they never have before, your mouth opening and closing with every push of him inside you. An instinct is itching, bubbling under your tongue.

“A-Ah-Alpha, I need, please.”

The thread between you, the tie that binds between your heart and his, speaks for you when you can’t.

“My body is yours, omega.”

You lose yourself, wholly and completely, when your teeth sink into the delicate flesh between his shoulder and neck.

Tears well in your eyes at the overwhelming fulfillment of marking him, claiming him. Your mouth doesn’t sink as deeply into his skin as his did yours, but it will still scar. Your mark will stay, forever. In the exact spot that he carved himself into your body, you etch your name into his.

Katsuki roars as blood, as red as his eyes, drips over the dark ink of his tattoos, trickles into the river of corded muscle down his back.

Your claiming sends him over the edge, straight into rut, makes his cock swell as he curses and continues to barrell into your body.

The wave of his pheromones crashes into you and draws an orgasm from your cunt, one so unexpected that it makes your teeth tear more deeply into his tender flesh. You cry out against him, pussy pulsating and convulsing around his thickness like you’re begging him to explode with you.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he stills for a moment, presses a thumb on your cheek like he’s trying to release your jaw, “you’re going to bite me in half.”

You whimper as you finally release him, mouth sore as you sit back and try to blink yourself to life in the wake of your oncoming heat.

“I’m,” he wipes the blood from your mouth for you, purring as he lays you onto your back, cock still lodged in your cunt, “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t be. Love when you can’t control yourself like that.”

He continues to purr and pet over you, gently rocking his hips as your heat spreads from your womb, slowly taking over your mind.

“Such a perfect mate,” he kisses the mark he placed on you, breathes in the influx of your scent, “I tell you I want babies and you go into heat.”

“Oh p-please. It’s your fucking rut.”

You did this, you tell him silently, your fucking instincts.

And he purrs knowingly, palms spreading over your clothed thighs as he bends you back. His thighs cage you in, keeping you folded in half so his cock can slip deeper and deeper, make you feel more full than you ever thought you could be.

Rather quickly, his rut kicks so hard in his gut that gentle can no longer be an option.

You can hear his instincts, hear the thump of breed omega, my omega, knot omega as if it was being spoken into your ears.

“Please,” your claw at his arms, kiss at his lips, “want your babies s-so bad, alpha.”

Katsuki slowly withdraws himself from the vice of your cunt, only to shove his cock so deep inside of you that it feels as if he has set your body alight with magic. You are held in place by his mating press, allowing him to begin a brutal speed. Your ass bounces forcefully against his thighs, sore breasts jostling with every thrust. He becomes heedless, impaling you with reckless abandon, eager to feel and see your belly swell from the onslaught of his cock.

“God you smell so fucking ripe,” he groans, blonde hair sticking to his forehead.

“N-need your knot, please, please!”

Your heat has never felt so sweet, so satiated, brought on with your mate’s cock already kissing your womb. But it’s also never felt so frantic, so needy and desperate for the promise of babies, of what your dynamic was made to create.

“Gonna fill you up with so much cum, omega,” he’s panting, the scent of heat and his own blood making him lose his sensibilities, “knot you over and over until you’re pregnant. Give you a baby that looks like your alpha.”

His powerful words are promises against your cheek, vestiges upon your skin. You can only nod, the rough plowing of his cock into your core leaving you more breathless than before. You can feel your orgasm nearing, cunt sucking, spreading, begging for the breadth of his knot.

Your slick is drooling around his cock, pooling in the sheets, cunt so wet that every time his cock assails your depths, you are met with the delightful sound of drenched, prime bodies meeting one another in animalistic rut.

“You need to be bred, can fucking smell it on you, smell how bad you want it.”

Keeping his pace, he draws one of his hands to your face, fingers snatching your jaw so your eyes stay locked onto him.

“Watch me. Be with me.”

“I—” instincts curl around your words, drowning them, “yours.”

“That’s right, omega. You’re mine. All mine to breed and fuck.”

Every hard thrust of his cock has you cooing, moaning, screaming at the intense waves of euphoria that stem from where his cock mets your womb. Over, and over, and over again, he pushes into you, draws out of you, rocks your body. His thighs around yours and his fingers digging into your cheeks are the only things keeping your sanity from floundering away to the onslaught of heat.

You are so utterly lost, yet so wholly encompassed by him, by his burning, candied scent, by the weight of his body against yours. Your exposed breasts slide against his chest, nipples pebbling as they brush against his downy hair. You’re so small, helpless against him, and it’s exhilarating. You feel free, unbridled and open in the arms of your alpha.

Free to be an omega, free to be owned.

Your body is wrecked with tremors as he continues his ruthless assault, sweat beading at the nape of his neck, dripping onto your skin, soaking into your ruined costume. He’s so close, so painfully close, cock throbbing, his rigorous alpha pace becoming unsettled as he feels your hands on his arms, feels the breaths of alpha-myalpha against his lips.

“Love this sweet little body, love you.”

He doesn’t even recognize the admission, too enraptured by rut to catch his tongue.

“Love you,” you echo back, so adrift in heat and hormones you no longer care.

Katsuki calls out your name, over, and over, reminding himself who he is with, “Cum for me. For your alpha. Need you—”

His voice strangles as your cunt cinches.

Orgasmic bliss makes your vision go dark, makes your body spasm and suck his cock so deeply that the swell of his knot makes you feel more stuffed than ever before. It’s as if you found purpose, found heaven, cum filling your tight pussy like a searing promise, his cock thumping deep inside your womb.

Your alpha’s knot keeps you plugged, keeps you cresting over the euphoric edge until you feel numb.

Katsuki purrs to stir you, loud just how you like it.

It takes a few moments for you to feel like you can breathe again, your alpha’s inhuman strength finally laxing upon your ruined body. He rolls to his side, cradling you with him, both of you groaning as your weight shifts on his bulging knot.

His mouth finds yours again, lips tender and now so familiar and welcoming. Loving hands trace over your body, skimming over your tender breasts and clawing at the remains of your costume; the remains of your heroism.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, every beat echoing inside your rib cage as you finally calm down.

“You alright, princess?”

You moan as your inner muscles flex around his knot, “You can’t make throwing me into heat unexpectedly a habit.”

He only huffs, shifting so he can poke at his shoulder, blood tinting his skin.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” And you feel oh-so-satisfied that it does.

“I didn’t bite you this fucking hard,” he hisses when he fingers one of your canine indentions, “kinda fucking hot, though.”

“I’ll need you to finish ripping my stupid costume off once your knot goes down.”

Katsuki smirks, pinching at the fabric with a triumph you can feel in your chest.

Yawning, you snuggle against the home you’ve made of his pectorals, heat still humming in you like electricity.

“Go to sleep. My body is going to want babies again in about two hours.”

His big hand soothes down your back, tries to pull you even closer.

“And you’re sure you want babies?”

Glancing up at him, your fingers trace his jaw, finding the seriousness etched into the hard rubies of his eyes. You cup his cheek in reassurance, purring.

“Katsuki, I want everything.”

You want it all. Your fingers in every pot, your name on every tongue. You want what he has, you want the world. Everything he can give, everything you can take.

Because you’re his, and he is yours.

The mating bond between you sings. Your alpha grins, full of charm and love that only he can give. And you match his smile, a perfect mirror to his desires.

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 12 [AO3 Link]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, References to Depression/Anxiety/Eating Disorders/Alcohol Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers/Hockey, Team Bonding, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Top Bucky Barnes, Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunications, Requited Unrequited Love, Slight Jealousy

<< Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Overall Masterpost

December 2013

Steve

After Bucky had opened up a bit about his holidays, Steve knew right away that he was determined to make Bucky smile this Christmas.

He’s never held back any stories about his own upbringing, sharing memories of his mom pretty freely. There will always be a dull ache, a hole in his heart, that never goes away, but she had been terminally ill for a while. Together, they made the most of their time, and she never wavered once. He’d gotten the tattoo for her, just before she passed, as if to show her that he’d always carry her with him. It’s the only tattoo he has. The only one he wanted.

But for Steve, it had only ever been just him and his mother. His heart breaks for Bucky, losing his whole family in one fell swoop, thinking how cruel that truly was.

Bucky, who is so lively and wears such a devastating smile everyday, when something like that would break most people.

When Bucky makes no move to pull away, Steve presses a kiss to his temple, his thumb idly stroking across Bucky’s shoulder.

“That’s them,” Bucky says in a voice so small that Steve’s not sure he even hears it right, the words completely random to him.

Bucky shifts then, so he can get his right arm out from between them, and brings his hand up to where Steve’s is, at his left shoulder. Bucky runs his forefinger over one of the clusters of stars across his shoulder – four lines from a trapezoidal shape. “This is my mom. Virgo.”

Oh.

The realization hits Steve like a freight train. The four constellations on Bucky’s shoulder – the family he’s lost: his mom, his dad, his sister…

“My dad,” Bucky continues, clearing his throat a bit as his finger moves to the long, slim tattoo next. “Taurus.”

“Becs. Such a Capricorn,” Bucky huffs with a bit of a sad laugh as he traces the closed tattoo, in a near triangular-heart shape. “I never really believed all that horoscope stuff, you know? But I wanted to have them with me, and my artist had suggested looking into some symbolism… just – I went down a rabbit hole.”

“They’re really beautiful, Buck,” he assures. And they are. The constellations may be simple in design, but the artist had done a beautiful job of incorporating colours that reminded Steve of space. “S’like you got a whole galaxy here.”

He keeps running his thumb along Bucky’s shoulder where the tattoos sit. Bucky had purposely skipped over the fourth one, but if Steve had to guess, it would be for whatever astrological sign Bucky is.

“Yeah, I’m happy with how it turned out,” Bucky gushed, a little light returning to his voice. “And when I read about ‘em, they were all pretty spot on, which made me kinda laugh and it just… seemed right.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, hoping Bucky doesn’t shut down on him again. “How so?”

“The one I’m gonna remember forever is the one for Becs. Capricorns are ambitious, determined, strong… Loyal and supportive of their loved ones. Pragmatic. Relentless.” Bucky snorts at the last word, his lips twitching in a smile. “That was Becs to a T. But they all made sense. Or, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to fall for something. Believe in something.”

Steve hums softly, turning Bucky’s words over in his mind as his fingers trace along the last constellation.

“They’re all Earth signs,” Bucky continues, as if focusing his attention on astrology will help keep his emotions in line. “Means they all get along with each other. I’m the only Water sign.”

There’s an unspoken sadness to the line, as if Bucky thinks of himself as an outsider in his own family, and it makes Steve wrap around him that much tighter.

“Which sign are you?” Steve asks, in an attempt to keep Bucky talking.

“...Pisces,” Bucky answers, lacking the enthusiasm he had for the other signs. “Most days I just feel like a fish outta water.”

—

December starts off with a new teammate, an overtime loss, a win, another overtime loss and a giant snow storm.

Valeri Nichushkin, who had been selected by the Stars in the first round that year, had been struggling with injury during camp and had only just been taken off the injury list to join them. They’d joked that he sure had some timing, coming out with the snow.

It was then that Steve found out Bucky knew how to speak Russian. Nichushkin lights up at this fact, almost as brightly as Steve. Almost.

Bucky was a bit shy about it, stumbling a few times, but Nichushkin appreciated it nonetheless, that much was obvious.

“Does he wish he waited ‘til it was warmer to travel with us?” Morita jokes as they step off the plane in Canada.

Bucky and Nichushkin go back and forth a bit before Bucky laughs. “He says it’s colder in Russia, you wimp!”

The guys laugh around him, and Steve tugs his jacket across himself tighter.

Toronto was cold. It had been 2°C/35.6°F that day, calling for beanies and scarves atop their game day suits. Bucky had looked adorable with his nose a little red from the winds, and Steve had to nearly bite his tongue off to stop himself from saying anything.

They didn’t win, but Nichushkin gets his first point in the form of an assist. He’s still proud of them – they couldn’t have done anything differently. Sometimes, you give it your all and play a near perfect game but you get outplayed.

Between the force of Nazem Kadri, the skill of Phil Kessel and the annoying relentlessness of James Van Riemsdyk in front of the net, it was hard fought. Still, at least they picked up one out of the possible two points for just bringing it into overtime.

After the loss, the team was tired, but Fury and Coulson had announced that instead of staying for the night like they’d originally planned, they would be trying to head home instead.

“Because of the major storm moving in, we expect travel to be delayed, so best to try and get ahead of it now. We know you’re tired, but it’s gonna beat sleeping at the airport tomorrow, trust me,” Coulson announces, in his no-nonsense voice.

Steve tries not to groan at the thought, watching his team struggle to do the same.

“Now hit the showers, and we’ll see you back on the bus.” With a nod, Coulson leaves the dressing room and then the groaning starts.

Steve hears Ward from across the room. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I ain’t sleepin’ in an airport,” Clint announces, popping up from the bench to snag a shower first.

Steve listens as Bucky speaks with Nichushkin, explaining their predicament.

“No fun,” Nichushkin says in heavily accented English. Bucky huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s right, pal. No fun at all.” Bucky proceeds to speak a few more words in Russian, and Nichushkin nods, stripping down for a shower as well.

Steve sees in that moment, a crystal clear image of Bucky being an older brother – watching over his sister, guiding her, joking with her, and his heart aches.

Bucky

His muscles were protesting every step after that game. The idea of flying instead of taking an ice bath and then face planting into a bed was absolutely horrific, but he always does his best to stay positive for Steve. Team morale is nearly always at the top of Steve’s priority list and if there’s one less person for him to worry about, Bucky figures it helps. So he sucks it up, slaps a smile on his face and pretends like he doesn’t want to collapse on the floor right then and there.

They pile onto the bus, and the airport seems a million miles away. Half the team already looks asleep (or dead, it’s hard to tell right now). Steve takes the lead, since he usually takes the window seat, and Bucky just shuffles along behind him.

There’s jokes made about how Valeri has imprinted on him like a dukling, but the truth is that Bucky… enjoys it. He likes being able to support someone, even if it’s been ages since he’s conversed in Russian. It makes him miss his mom, and he could swear the tattoo on his shoulder tingles, like a reminder of what he’s lost.

Valeri takes a seat across the aisle, beside Dugan who’s already passed out against the window.

Bucky tries to stretch while he still can, wiggling in his seat until it’s bearable, and before he even leans back, Steve is out like a light. Bucky saves Steve’s phone, precariously balanced in his semi-opened hand, placing it on the seat between Steve’s legs instead. He folds up his own sweater to tuck between Steve’s head and the window.

When Steve rouses, he simply makes a soft shushing noise, and Steve rests his head like he was meant to. Something in Bucky’s heart twists with the realization that Steve’s letting Bucky take care of him.

Bucky just never realized how much he wanted to.

—

Coulson had been right, of course. Even as they landed, they could see the storm moving in with the skies sheet-white and wind howling.

“Is it as cold as Russia yet?!” Morita hollers as he tucks his chin down, blinking in the winds.

Bucky can’t even manage a laugh, the air cold enough to dry out his mouth in a second. He’s not new to bad winters, and even though there’s ice and sleet, it’s not the worst he’s been in. Shouldering his bag, he twitches his nose and walks with Steve, trying not to think about how adorable a hulking man like Steve can be as the pompom of his beanie bobs with each step.

“Aren’t you from Boston?” Bucky teases with a soft elbow bump.

“I ain’t ever been good with the cold,” Steve replies with a shiver. “Here I thought Dallas was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows.”

Bucky smirks as Steve tries his remote car starter the moment they’re in the parking lot. When they’re in the pre-warmed vehicle, Steve takes his hat off, shaking the loose snow off of it, flicking his hair of the built up condensation.Bucky does the same, his hair having gathered significantly more snow in it.

Steve chuckles at him, and Bucky just smiles back.

“It’s good to be home,” Steve says, pulling out of the lot.

Home.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees easily.

–

Practice gets cancelled the next morning as the conditions worsened overnight, and Bucky finds himself a little lost, if he’s honest.

He stays in bed for a while, stretching out. His body carries that pleasant ache from last game, but also the stiffness of travelling right after. Eventually, he drags himself out of bed only because his stomach rumbles, and he has his late start to the day.

He texts Steve, just to bother him and ask what he’s going to do now that his routine is broken, and then makes himself a cup of coffee and an omelet.

There’s no text back from Steve after he’s done breakfast, which leaves Bucky having to resist the urge to just bang on Steve’s door and demand attention.

They’re not –

They’re not anything. They’re friends, good friends at that, who… just occasionally get each other off. Yeah.

Steve already has to deal with him every single day, surely Bucky can entertain himself for just one day without him.

As if the universe had heard his turmoil, he gets a text from Valeri asking him a bit more about the city. Bucky looks out the window. The blanket of sleet and flurries falling down aren’t exactly inviting. He tells Valeri this, after talking a bit more about his favourite places so far. He tells him about the best times to go shopping and the most random coffee shops to go into where it’s quieter.

“Coffee close?”

“Yeah – you wanna go? I can show you.”

“If you not scare of cold like team.”

Bucky smiles at the text, and tells Valeri that he’ll be at his place soon. The nice thing was that Valeri, like most of the team, lived nearby, so it only takes a few moments for him to shower, dress and hop in his car to go pick up his teammate.

It feels weird to be the one driving, and he realizes how much he wants to be to Valeri what Steve was for him when he first arrived. The city had felt so much warmer when Steve had offered all these things – offered to stay by Bucky’s side – and made him feel less alone.

Valeri is already waiting outside his building when Bucky pulls up, and despite the snow along his tuque and shoulders, he’s smiling widely, waving as Bucky stops.

It’s easy with Valeri. There’s an understanding of being new to the team, new to the city, and for Valeri, new to the language. Bucky explains that his mother had been Russian, and had been adamant on teaching him since he was in the womb, but he hasn’t had anyone to practice with in some time. Valeri either doesn’t notice the past tense, or doesn’t want to pry, but Bucky is grateful either way.

They reach an unspoken sort of compromise, where Bucky will speak in Russian if he wants to, and Valeri responds only in English. He tries not to give that feeling of longing the spotlight right now, trying to associate this only with the fond memories he has of his family.

Valeri talks about his time in the KHL, about moving from Chelyabinsk to Moscow, and about how he nearly missed his chance at the NHL. Thankfully, the two-year contract he signed with Dynamo Moscow had been terminated conditionally, giving him the chance to play in the League, or return to Dynamo if he failed to make the NHL team.

Bucky watches Valeri’s face light up when he talks about how the Stars took a chance on him, how blown away he was to be selected in the first round, even if it was tenth overall. Even though Bucky’s only three years older, he sees the kid in Valeri – that childlike excitement from “making it in the big leagues”.

He’d almost had that. If it hadn’t followed so closely after his family’s death, he’s sure he would have felt that way too. Listening to Valeri’s story though, almost feels like sharing that moment with him, reliving it himself.

“But pick you second! And you win Cup!” Valeri says, in that excited tone that Bucky wants to surround himself with. It’s infectious, and it makes Bucky smile in return.

“Yeah, and we’re gonna do it again,” Bucky replies with a grin.

“Yes, we win,” Valeri agrees.

After loitering in the coffee shop for a good amount of time, he thinks of something. Checking on his phone, he smiles when he finds what he wants. ‘Wanna get outta the cold for real?”

Steve

He’d slept in way past what he had intended. Groaning as he stretches, he checks his phone and takes a minute to respond to Bucky before doing anything else.

He’s not really sure what he’ll do with the day. The first thought he’d had was to, of course, see if Bucky wanted to do something, but thankfully his brain is just awake enough for him to reign in the urge. The last thing he wants is to suffocate Bucky and the delicate balance they have.

He tries not to look at the empty space around him in bed, tries not to think about how Bucky belongs here and how good he’d look wrapped around Steve in the morning.

Stop.

Bucky doesn’t reply, and Steve thinks nothing of it, until he’s just clicking around on Instagram. He hadn’t quite connected that nicha43 was Valeri, but it all falls into place when he sees the caption, the location, the verified symbol.

[Image: An instagram photo posted by username nicha34, tagged Russian Banya with he caption: Bucky “Best Guy” Barnes]

He has no idea where they even are, but searches it out of curiosity.

A Russian banya (ба́ня) has a special room, where a large amount of hot steam is created with the help of water and hot air. A classic Russian banya is heated with firewood, but modern versions might use electric heat as well. Inside the banya, which is usually built of wood, there are wide wooden benches along the walls. They are built up one above the other like steps. You can sit or lay on the benches. The higher up the bench the hotter the air is. Once someone has warmed up well enough, he or she leaves the steam room (it is called the парна́я in Russian) and dips into a pool of cold water. You can also pour water over yourself from a tub (уша́т), while in Siberia it's common to walk right out of the steam room and jump into the snow.

A sauna. Steve is well aware that saunas are popular amongst them, the steam helping relax their overworked muscles, so it seems like nothing.

Except the fact that Bucky is sitting somewhere in the city, with nothing but a towel, skin glistening with sweat, and it’s with Valeri Nichushkin.

Steve definitely hadn’t thought of being jealous, but now he supposes that Valeri and Bucky had gotten along right off the bat. There was an obvious connection the moment the first word of Russian left Bucky’s mouth.

His mind wanders off, thinking a little too hard about how well they go together. Valeri, a little taller and Bucky, a little wider, both with lopsided smirks when they feel playful.

After who knows how long, he looks back to his phone, forgetting what he’d been doing.

Friends go to the banya with a special purpose in mind. It’s considered that the banya atmosphere brings people closer together, allowing them to communicate and interact on a more common level. Russians don't spend all their time in the parnaya (парна́я is a room with hot wet steam). During a break they walk out to another room which is called predbannik (предба́нник is a room before the steam room). Usually, that room has a large long table and a few benches. In the predbannik, people take a break from the hot temperature and relax, drink aroma tea or special herbal tea, have conversations about life and share their ideas or beliefs to each other.

Steve closes the page, swipes all of his app closed, and forgets to like Valeri’s picture like he probably should’ve.

#stucky #stevebucky #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #hey now you're an all star #author is terrible at updating on Tumblr #bucky barnes #steve rogers #au

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toiletwipes · 3 years ago

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and i'd give up forever to touch you

chapter eight. saturday, wait.

Summary: Will is waking up and smelling the roses, coming to grip and accepting that you're a huge comfort to him, though you seem to be in the middle of your own silent debacle.

ao3. ~1.7k. masterlist.

---

he wasn’t awake but he wasn’t asleep. in that middle part where it’s a floating feeling, as if you’re being lowered back into your bed after a night of flying dreams. not that he dreamt of flying, most dreams were incoherent and oftentimes, forgotten.

but he comes to as he tunes into the sounds of the waking world. a radio playing in the background, dishes clattering amongst other things, a soft voice humming, and feet shuffling against the wooden floorboards. and rolling in the soft, warm blanket, he finds himself reaching out beside him, looking for something, or someone, as his arm meets an almost cold space. as if someone had been long gone. taking a sniff, he doesn’t recognize the smell on the blankets or pillows and he begrudgingly opens the first eye, twitching till both of them are open fully.

it’s your bedroom, and the light is peaking in through the corner but your door is closed, as if someone had closed it after leaving him alone.

closing his eyes, he takes the moment to just cherish the way his bones melt in your mattress, sinking into the welcomed feeling.

and as the moment slows down and time seems to stop, he hears the front door slam and rosie’s voice echoing against the walls. “you won’t believe the shit that i had to go through this morning, guys.” guys? his curiosity peaked and then, as he looked the camera on your dresser in the eye and then the one tucked by the clutter in the corner, he decides he has to get up.

it was just the three of them when they got home- when they got here, wasn’t it? they hadn’t picked anyone else up, you were exhausted by the time you two entered the dorm.

had rosie invited someone over in the time you were gone? or, seeing as she just arrived, had she invited someone before she left? questions running through his head without so much as an answer for any of them, he tries to leave your bed before he’s shackled to the damn mattress with doubt.

tripping over his own shoes, he fumbles with getting a hold on anything before breathing heavily, and attempting to control it.

when he feels like he’s failed, he kicks the shoes away from him and out of the way, feet scuffling against the floor as he pulls the door open slowly, as if he didn’t want to be discovered leaving the room.

also failed at that.

“morning, will, you’re just in time for breakfast!” you cut off whatever rosie was ranting about, smiling at him as you wash some dishes from cooking whatever it was. seemed to be eggs and sausage and the bag of questionables rosie was holding in her tight hold, anger unknowingly festering.

rosie absently pulls out a chair next to him and waves him a hello.

he wants to tell his heart not to go wild at her actions but it’s already racing ahead, sitting himself next to the one girl he wants and tries to pay attention. and then someone sneezes behind him.

twisting his neck, he finds jared from the other day, curled under the thinnest blanket they had available, and his hair fashionably disheveled. not unlike how most actors wake up in a movie, he notes, as he turns back around with a wave of his own, acknowledging him.

jared. when did he get here?

“-so i’m telling this woman, who by the way has a tattoo of that baby from cloudy with a chance of meatballs on her wrist, you can’t just eat in here, this is the dressing room. and she has the audacity to tell me i’m not an employee so i don’t “have any authority” well, you should’ve seen her face when i brought the manager back there. they almost called the police because she was refusing to stop eating there. you should’ve seen it.” rosie finishes her story up as you begin to serve everyone, saving yourself for last as you lean against the counter, watching the two seated with careful eyes.

will swallows the first bite down with relative ease, and so do the bites that follow, eyes taking glances to rosie, who’s looking at her phone. and when he finishes, he moves to go wash it, ending up next to you, and you, you’re not even bothered, shoving an elbow in between his ribs as you give me a playful smile.

“hey, jared, don’t forget, we have to go pick up your mother!” rosie turns around to remind said college student, who groans and turns to smush his face into the couch, as if the couch absorbing him will save him from such a horror.

“why did she have to come visit now? it’s been barely a month!” will blinks, has it really? he turns to you as if asking you will confirm it, but you seem just as taken aback. both of you seemed to have lost time, but rosie seems confident in her time.

“yes, now get ready, i won’t wait for you, i do have to stream today,” she tells him as she swings off the seat, grabbing one of his surprisingly toned arms, and yanking on it.

he immediately whines, rubbing at his shoulder as he tried to bat her away, but she’s getting him on his feet, pushing him towards her room as she rolled her eyes. grabbing her keys, she tossed a hand up, waving as she passed them by, “i’ll be right back.”

silence sits for a few minutes as you two process what happened. and then he feels a burning gaze he doesn’t know if he wants to meet.

will swallows down something, not any of the egg or sausage, and turns to your prodding eyes, almost as if you’re looking for something inside of him, not particularly at him.

then pulling back, and turning around to wash your own dish, you bite your lips as if you mean to say something. but you end up putting your dish up and then turn to him with a smile he didn’t recognize, asking him if he didn’t mind doing homework with you.

and, well, he was in the same boat, but he didn’t exactly have his computer.

“my, my uh laptop is back at home, but otherwise i wouldn’t mind!” he answers, mind too scrambled from rosie next to him that he doesn’t know if they make any sense, and you nod.

“did you want to pick it up or did you want to be dropped off, or we could also go somewhere else entirely, just- it’s too early for me to make decisions,” you smile as you walk over to the couch, slipping some slippers on as he almost follows you, brain still ticking at a slow speed.

but he ends up making a decision, and as much as it’s a bad one, he can’t help but want to be back in his home and you make it yours like you’ve done everywhere you’ve been.

rubbing his palms as he thinks on it make him realize how sweaty they’ve gotten, so he pats them on his pants as he begins to speak, “well- what if we did our work at my place? i mean it would be much easier to do so, don’t you think?” he says, as if you were planning to decline his kind offer.

it lifts the edges of your eyes in your smile a little as you accept, moving past him with a mumbled sorry as you head back to your room, pulling out a backpack from behind the door. you grin as he gets his shoes, and as you two descend the stairs, you pass rosie and he notices the distinct smell on her and the smile she gives you two is different from the one five minutes ago.

“without me?” you joke as you call from the bottom of the second floor and she only laughs, and he knows. after all, it wasn’t that unfamiliar of a smell.

and then you’re running down the steps to the bottom floor and happily striding to your car, unlocking it and giving him a sliver of your smile, of your happiness.

though you don't see it getting in the car, he smiles to himself.

“to your apartment?” you say as you tuck your backpack in the back seat and he nods, leaning into the seat as you peeled out of the lot, turning the radio on as the sun slowly makes its way up into the sky.

the time passes by fast enough that he finds himself wondering if he had any trash in there as he was unlocking the door. it turns out not that dirty and you immediately sit yourself on the couch, pulling out your computer and asking for the wifi password.

and getting his laptop was the easy part. it’s taking the seat beside you, angling his body sideways as his laptop sits on his lap, unsure what will happen. he had closed it on the footage of you. with the sound on.

trying to breathe a regular amount, he opens it and immediately hits the mute button, watching as the screen lights up with the mute on and the image of your bedroom with rumpled blankets on them. just how you left them.

exiting the program, he pulls his classes up and internally screams at how much his professors hate him. and the time slips you two, typing fills the room and when it hits noon and you put your computer to the side, you ask where the bathroom is.

the real mess is in his room and he wonders if it's too much to ask to drive you to piss elsewhere, and that’s when he abandons all thoughts and just leads you through his bedroom, apologizing for the mess, and thanking whoever is in charge that it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

sitting on his bed with his hands in his pockets, he wonders how much longer he’ll be glued to his computer till the workload diminishes completely when you open the door. you wipe your wet hands on the cloth on the sink counter when you turn completely to him.

“hey, will, can i ask you something?” you speak, and though you sound out of the blue, like you didn’t know that you were speaking yourself until you heard your voice, he nods, watching you and feeling like nothing bad could happen right now.

you were probably going to say that you’ve clogged the toilet with a huge shit, or something-

“do you like rosie?”

holy shit.

...

taglist: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @marinaloveswomen @roygbivvie @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0 @comonlokbut2 @lurkey-lurker

#c: simpbur #simpbur #simpbur x you #simpbur x reader #simpbur x y/n #mcyt au #au: band #au: college

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pandajaye · 4 years ago

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Todoroki Family Ties (Part 7)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki

Warnings: child missing, dangerous criminals, mention of child murder, family abandonment

Enji and Ivy searched the entire property but Shoto was no where to be found. They called the police, Officer Tsukauchi alerted AllMight and Eraserhead and they were helping find him too. Even with them here, they were careful to keep quiet about the missing child of a Pro Hero. You never know what Villains could be looking for him too. The worst part of it was, the reason they needed pro hero help was because Shoto was the least dangerous person they were searching for today. The news reported that someone dangerous was out on the run and that only made Ivy’s heart sink lower. They figured they were fine since it was a private residence and Shoto was with a nanny, but she was gone too.

“We’re working hard to find him and the missing nanny, ma’am. I hate that this happened on the same day that a criminal broke out of jail. Is there any more information that you can give us about the boy or the woman?”

Tsukauchi must have been in a lot of situations where he had to show calmness towards civilians. His soft voice gave her a sense of peace, it was small but any was good.

“I-I.... I don’t know too much about her. She seems good with the kids. We just recently hired her last week and she’s been an angel. She has a very kind attitude for an older woman with a tattoo.”

“A tattoo? What did it look like? Can you describe it for me?”

Ivy thought hard about the image that was located on the woman’s hand. Enji didn’t agree with it but Ivy convinced him that since she wa so child friendly, the tattoo shouldn’t matter.

“It was a thin black circle with a cherry blossom inside. There was an ‘X’ on the right side of the circle. It was kind of wrinkled a long with her hand but I still thought it looked pretty cool.”

One of the officers that was standing in front of her drawing the description of the tattoo nodded to Tsukauchi. When he looked back at her, she could tell there was more of a hardness to his face. He turned to Enji and Allmight who had been standing next to them to observe.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to just speak to you two alone for a minute.”

They looked at each other before taking a step into the kitchen, away from where Ivy could hear.

“I’m afraid that the nanny may be involved in the disappearance of the boy. The tattoo that Mrs. Todoroki had described matched the same image of another womanms tattoo. They’re believe to be apart of a gang of Villains called the Withered Blossoms. Any crime scene these women have been apart of usually have young men unconscious or dead but with the appearance of someone who is old. Their victims also are left with no money. Apparently they use the youth from their victims to stay alive. There’s no telling how long they’ve been on this earth but we’ve managed to mostly keep them in jail. I’m not sure what they would want Shoto for. Either his youth, or ransom, but I know that we’ll do whatever it takes get him back and those women in maximum security prison.”

Toshinori thanked Mr. Tsukauchi before turning to look at Enji. His gaze was stuck on the ground, thinking about everything that was just explained. He was never one to really show emotion when anyone other than his family was around. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d even get a response, Toshi tried his best to communicate with Enji.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find your son. Everything will be fine.”

Enji scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Who said I was worried? I know he’ll be okay. He’s a damn Todoroki, of course he’ll be okay.”

Toshi shook his head. He could see the worry on his face. It was written in his furrowed brows. The angry wrinkles on his face. No matter how he tried to hide it, this bothered him deeply.

“It’s not bad to have feelings. Your child is out in the big world and could be in danger. It looks more suspicious not showing worry.”

Enji sighed angrily and looked at Toshi. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was speaking some sense. He didn’t know why he was such a hard ass all the time. There was just a lot of frustration and rage inside of him. The expression on his face softened but he looked away from Toshi.

“You’re right. I’m very upset. That’s.... my youngest out there. He could be scared. He could be hurt. Or.... o-or....”

“Hey. We’re not going to think like that, alright? They’re doing everything they can, looking under every rock for these villains and your son. I have no doubt that we’ll get some good news soon.”

Toshi gave him a nod of reassurance and Enji returned it. They may not get along always but he was glad to have Toshi here to comfort him and Ivy.

Especially Ivy....

This family.... Enji.... the kids.... they meant a lot to her. She was the first person in her family to be born quirkless. They hoped she would grow up and eventually gain one, but, unfortunately, it never happened. When she was in high school, she came home that day to her bags packed and thrown out of the door. They constantly hounded her for not being able to become a pro hero so that she could make them rich. Since she seemed to give no value in their eyes, she was kicked out and forced to live on her own.

After years of hard work, she graduated high school, college, got a job, and did pretty good. All on her own. She met Enji when she was fired and found a job at his agency. Apparently his assistant before her couldn’t handle his explosive temper. The difference between her and Ivy was that she could afford to quit, but Ivy was barely making it and this paycheck could change everything for her.

It was hard. There was almost constant intimidation. The atmosphere of every meeting had tension and no one was brave enough to disturb it. And it only got worse after the incident with Rei Todoroki pouring hot water over her son’s face. There were many rumors that floated around. Even when the truth about Enji putting her in a mental hospital came out, everyone said it was a cover up and that he actually murdered her. Luckily, the world continued to go around.

The agency was fine but it was obvious that Enji wasn’t. There was an aggressiveness and darkness to him that no one had ever seen before. Everyone was afraid to speak to him outside of business but Ivy figured that maybe that’s what he was missing. Someone needed to check on him and something inside of her said that it should be her. It was her character flaw. Even though she’d been through so much, she always felt as if it was her job to take care of the beasts of the world. In her mind, all they needed was love and kindness.

One day, she gathered the courage to talk to him and see how he was doing. When she opened the door to his office, the lights were off. He was just sitting in his chair but facing towards the window. That morning he walked in a nice suit but not the jacket was on the back of his chair and his tie was loosened. He was just sitting there, his head leaning against his hand like he was just done with everything.

“Hello? Mr. Endeavor?”

“What is it?

“I-I wanted to talk about something. Are you busy?”

He sighed and dropped his hand, turning to look at her and permit her to enter before turning back to the outside world.

“Come in.”

She hurried in and closed the door behind her, quietly making her way over to the front of his desk.

“I wanted to check on you.... see how you were doing lately. I’m really worried about you, sir. You haven’t burned as brightly as you used to, so I’m here if you want to talk about anything. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you in anyway, sir.”

When he didn’t respond, she walked to be in his line of sight. He looked so tired. There were bags under his eyes and a sad frown that looked as if it’s been there forever and would never leave. It broke her heart to see him so depressed. She decided to leave. He probably was being nice by not telling her to get out immediately.

“I hope your day gets better, sir...”

Ivy only took a single step before she was stopped, her small wrist in his large hand. When she looked at him, there were streaks of tears on his cheeks.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him and hugged her waist. She could feel him trembling.

“S-She’s gone.... she’s gone.... a-and it’s m-my fault-t.”

Enji’s grip on her tightened and she started to relax. He needed her in that moment and it was necessary that she was there for him.

“It’s going to be okay, sir. It’s going to be alright.”

They talked for a long time. He avoided questions about Rei but she didn’t mind. There were lots of emotions in the room. Maybe it was the sudden opportunity to be vulnerable or how she comes off as a trustworthy person, but he was quick to let her in. He admitted that this was one of the very few times that he made a connection with someone at work. He really appreciated her bravery and that she wanted to actually talk to him.

This was the beginning of their relationship. From coworkers to friends to friends to lovers. Oh how sweet it sounds. Even if it wasn’t always sweet, especially after they were married. So quickly at that. However, it was obvious that they were soulmates. The conflicts weren’t because of her, it was his toxicity. A toxicity that healed when they were together, it heals slowly, but progress is progress.

Now here they were. Enji holding Ivy as her emotions were trying to control themselves. That’s when they got the call from Toshinori. Ivy put her phone on speaker so Enji could hear too.

“We’ve found Shoto and the criminal. We’re bringing your boy home.”

A huge weight felt lifted off of the couple’s shoulders. Enji held onto Ivy as she cried into his chest. Since his hands were preoccupied with holding her, he couldn’t quickly wipe the tears out of his eyes and instead just lowered his face to kiss the top of Ivy’s head.

Shoto was back home within a few hours after an interrogation with the police. The woman had never mentioned anything about what he would be used for, she lured him with the lie that she would take him to see Rei. It made Enji and Ivy furious to find out that someone would make up such a terrible lie to kidnap a child and he vowed to find the rest of the group so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

After dinner, and putting the kids to bed, Enji received a phone call from a number he didn’t immediately recognize and excused himself to go outside to answer it.

“We need to talk about Natsuo and Fuyumi soon. I believe it’s time that they come home.”

He recognized the voice immediately. Rei’s mother. The current guardian of his other two children.

#todoroki family ties #bnha au #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #endeavor #enji #dabi #touya #shoto #todoroki #endeavor x black!reader #endeavor x reader #enji x black!reader #enji x reader #enji todoroki #touya todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha #mha

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jeonqquk · 4 years ago

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tattooing | jjh

Pairing- Jaehyun X Reader

Genre/ Tags- fluff, crack, bi jaehyun, lucas royally fucks up, tattooing

Age rating- 13+

Word count- 2.6k words

Summary- Tattooing doesn’t go as planned.

POV- Third person

Your whining wasn’t gonna get you anywhere, you were well aware of the fact. But you supposed that you might as well give it a shot. The ‘it’ here being the fact that you really wanted Jaehyun to get a tattoo. It wasn’t that you wanted to somehow blackmail Jae into getting a tattoo. Oh god, no. You’d never want that. It was just that you had always been fond of tattoos, the meaningful ones, not the totally unnecessary, really weird looking, out of the world ones. Jaehyun with a tattoo would be fucking hot though, that was just a plus point- not the main reason as to why you wanted him to get one.

You were thinking a sweet quote or something, but that would only be possible of he was willing to get one.

“Jae, baby, what do you think about getting a tattoo?” your boyfriend of 3 years sighs, rubbing his hand on your knee that had been placed on his thigh. “I don’t know..maybe later. Why are you so intent on me getting a tattoo though?” he wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively or whatever, and you look at him in confusion, trying your level best to stop the blood threatening to creep up your cheeks. You clear your throat and reply simply “I feel like a tattoo would be beautiful. Just permanently inked onto your skin. It should be something purposeful though. I don’t want you going bald and tattooing a zipper on your scalp.”

A snort is heard from him “Don’t worry, I’m not going bald. Although it’s a very tempting idea.” Rolling your eyes at his lame comment, you sit up and move over to cuddle closer to him on the couch. He wraps his left arm around you “Why don’t you get a tatto Y/n?” he questions and you look up at him in mild shock. Well, you could get a tattoo. You are of legal age and stuff but the thought had never crossed your mind. You don’t know why.

“....I could...” Jaehyun smiles, his dimples popping out and you can’t help but mirror the sweet action. “So why don’t you? We’re not even doing anything and I know for a fact that you have a lot of designs saved on your Pinterest board. Even if they were for me, you can try finding one that suits you too.”

Suddenly feeling giddy, you quickly grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it, clicking on the app you needed. As you find the board, you see that you’ve gained 18 followers in the time span of 2 weeks. Huh.

As you scroll through the pins of small intricate designs that could be engraved onto a finger or hand, Jaehyun points out one that looked like watercolour art and was in the form of a small flower with red petals. It did look quite cute, to be honest. “Hmm, this does look nice. Won’t it look good on my collarbone?” Jaehyun nods in agreement “I was thinking that too.” Smiling up at him, you look into his eyes “Well, should I get this?” Your boyfriend chuckles at your excitement, and pats your head in adoration. “I know that you’re excited, sweetie. But don’t you wanna try looking at other designs before deciding?” Humming, you scroll a bit more as Jaehyun reads a novel. But you don’t find anything that captures your attention a lot. Sure the sweet quotes, couple tattoos and nature-related designs are great ideas for a tattoo but you were set on the one with the rose.

Jaehyun coos when you tell him that, squishing your cheeks and telling you that the two of you could go to a shop tomorrow and get design inked onto your collarbone forever.

It’s 9:28 am when you wake up from your slumber and turn to give Jaehyun who looks like he had also woken up just a few minutes ago a peck on his lips. His dimples are visible as he smiles and greets you. The two of you get up and freshen up before you’re sitting at the dining table to eat blueberry pancakes.

The clock shows that it’s 10:30 am by the time you two leave the house and head for the tattoo store you had researched last night. It takes 15 minutes to reach said shop and Jaehyun parks the car before looking at you with concern evident on his face. “Y/n, you are sure about this right?” Smiling fondly at his worry, you keep your hand on his cheek “I’m sure Jae. Don’t worry.” One kiss is enough to relax him and you pull away before you get too carried away and end up dirtying his car again. Oops.

You enter the cosy shop hand-in-hand with Jaehyun and see someone sitting at the reception wearing an oversized blue shirt. Definitely not the vibes you had expected to get from a fucking tattoo parlour but oh well. You had expected everyone to be intimidating and were ready to hide behind Jaehyun as soon as you entered. But it seems as if that wasn’t happening because all you had deciphered from the shop called Inkphoric was that it was built in a way not to scare the people who had gathered the courage to even stop foot in it.

The receptionist, she said her name was Nara, leads you both to a room in a corridor. Your hands are sweaty and thankfully she allows Jaehyun to go inside as well. When you’re seated on the chair comfortably, Jaehyun grabs a stool to sit beside you and you wait for the tattoo artist. The wait isn’t long because a minute later, a man who looks about your age is walking towards you all. His all black get-up matches the tattoos littering his arms and he also seems to have a piercing in his right ear, a silver dangling.

“Hello, I’m Lucas. I’ll be tattooing…” he introduces himself and looks between the two of you, silently asking which one of you he would be tattooing. Honestly, you would have expected him to at least know who he would be drawing on but quickly brush the thought off as you greet him, telling him that you would be the one getting the art onto her skin. He smiles cutely and nods, and you look at Jaehyun, his comforting smile relaxing your tense body.

Nara talks to Lucas for a minute or so and then walks off, shooting you an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her.

“So what is it that I’ll be tattooing onto you, ma’am?” Lucas speaks and you show him the image of the flower. Jaehyun is holding your left hand in his, the warmth seeping throughout your entire body and you’re grateful for Jae’s beautiful ability of being able to calm you down in only a matter of seconds- no matter how serious the situation would be.

“Oh, that’s very pretty.” “Thank you.” you smile at him, and he prepares his stuff. You’re pulling down the hem of your shirt slightly and exposing part of your left collarbone, where you want your collarbone.

Lucas says that he’s tracing the design out first and you wait patiently.

“Now, don’t be scared. It’s gonna hurt at first, especially at the bone but it will soon go away. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand.” he instructs and gives you an encouraging look as Jaehyun moves to your right to give Lucas space, his large hand completely enclosing yours.

“Okay, here goes…” the sound of the gun whirring to life fills the room that has tattoo designs filling the wall.

“Fuck!” your voice pierces through the air and you jolt from the sudden pain. It felt as if someone was impaling you with a sword- which was partly true- but they were doing it continuously. Jaehyun is shocked from your sudden movement and struggles to catch you in his arms. Lucas quickly tears the gun away from your neck and you whimper out, the pain searing through your entire being and Jaehyun tries shushing you, his attempts all going in vain.

Shitshitshit. This is torture. It’s only the first touch of the needle against your skin and you’re already this close to crying. How the fuck do people get those huge ass tattoos?! Trying your best to calm down and ignore the pain spreading throughout your entire being, you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand hard enough for it to pain but you don’t really care at this point, the throbbing of your collarbone enough to send you flying. He’s stood up from the stool by now, standing behind you.

“Okay..sorry sorry, you can continue.” you whisper out and clamp your lips shut so as to not let out any more weird noises. You’re sweating by the time Lucas gets the gun closer to you and bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood when the feeling of the needle pressing against your skin fills you up again.

Holy heck, I can’t do this.

Your face is an accurate representation of agony, your entire body tensing as Lucas tattoos your collarbone with his long hair slightly brushing against your neck. You try leaning your head back and lean against Jaehyun. He’s whispering soft comforting words as countless profanities leave your mouth and you feel sad for Lucas, having to hear the shit you were spewing.

“It’s alright, baby. Just think about other things, happy things.” your boyfriend pecks your cheek and hugs you lightly, trying not to disturb Lucas.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale inh-

“I think I just popped a boner.”

You gasp. Lucas chokes. He moves. You shriek.

“Ah, shit!” the gun’s needle scraped against your skin, it was all so sudden. The pain suddenly shoots throughout your entire body, tears filling your eyes. Nononono.

“Jesus! It’s paining too much!” you’re sobbing by now, Lucas is frantic and Jaehyun..well..he is burning. He’s too busy regretting all his choices to even notice what’s happening around him. Jaehyun bends down to fix his problem and emerges 5 minutes later, when you’re still twisting in torment. Everything is red, your lip being abused by your teeth in order to calm down.

“Y/n! Ma’am! I’m so sorry! Shit, no!” Lucas apologises and sprints over to get a cloth to wipe something you feel trickling down your chest now. Blood. You’re bleeding.

Writhing in agony in your seat, you clench your hands as if that would somehow reduce the sting, and pant, trying to relax. Your eyes are widened at an attempt of keeping it all in but the throbbing just doesn’t seem to dissipate.

Oh God…

Lucas is now carefully dabbing at the source of blood with panic written clearly all on his face. You look at Jaehyun through the ache to see that he is now coming back to reality and upon seeing your state, a gasp tears his throat and he’s looking at you with his eyes widened.

The distress prevents you from speaking properly but you manage to call out, “J-Jaehy..Jaehyun.” Said man is desperately looking between your blood gushing out and your face twisted in discomfort. He figures it out and as soon as he does, takes your whimpering form into his, murmuring endless apologies and if you could, you would stop him from saying that but the sting is still there, only lessening a tad bit.

It’s hell, trying to clean the blood away and getting it sorted out. You cried a bit during the process as well but you were perfectly entitled to do that, the gun had pierced your skin quite deep when Lucas had jolted upon hearing what Jae suddenly said.

30 minutes later, you’re hiccupping slightly and trying to breathe normally after the mad incident. Surprisingly, no one had come in during that time and you were thankful for that, not having wanted anybody to see the mess that had been caused because of Jaehyun’s unexpected confession. Speaking of which, you wince and turn around to look at him and when his eyes meet yours, ask him what he meant “What was that about you popping a boner?” the incredulity just hit you now and you wait for his response impatiently.

“Nothing babe...just forget it. I’m so sorry for saying it so randomly, though. I should’ve thought before speaking. I’m so careless.” the look on his face melts and you are about to pull him into your chest when you realise that you can’t.

The pain has subsided by now, it’s bearable and you turn to look at Lucas who- when he catches your gaze- immediately walks over to you and starts speaking. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! That was so sudden and I messed up your tattoo. It’s all my fault, please forgive me if possible.” he looks scared, and you understand why. He probably thinks you’ll sue him or something but you weren’t planning on doing anything of the sort. “It’s alright Lucas. I’m also not gonna tell anyone. We’ll just tell everyone that as soon as the gun touched me, I chickened out and told you to stop.” you keep your hand on his head that’s bowed and he looks up. There are tears brimming his eyes and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or the fact that he genuinely feels terrible for what he did. It really wasn’t his fault anywhere though. You didn’t understand why he was so stressed.

“I’m sorry Lucas, I just said something stupid without even thinking before. You don’t need to take nay of the blame.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room and Lucas’ features relax a little before he smiles forcefully. “Well, if your cuts get better, then maybe I can continue the design?” he jokes and you laugh along, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be coming here again. Your first tattoo and this had happened.

“So do you wanna tell me about that boner-popping now? Lucas isn’t even here.” you’re sitting at the dining table, having just finished your dinner with empty bowls of pasta in front of each of you. Jaehyun shifts slightly in his seat and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable, although you don’t understand why- the reason couldn’t have been that bad. As soon as you start to backtrack, Jaehyun’s voice is heard.

“Well..just..you know when you were getting the tattoo?” you nod slightly “Lucas was just, his black clothes..and he was bending over and I don’t know. You were whimpering..” “So the scene was too hot and you popped a boner?” you complete his sentence and he meekly nods before you’re howling with laughter, almost falling iff the chair and forgetting about the pain around your collarbone. The bisexual in Jaehyun was showing and he was afraid to admit it, you don’t now why. He had told you about this when you started dating, and you were totally fine with it, because you knew that he wouldn’t cheat on you.

“Hey..” your boyfriend half-heartedly attempts to stop you but you’re too far gone to realise that he may be feeling bad. When your laughing fit is over, though, you look at him for any trace of sadness but are relieved to see that he’s only blushing lightly, his dimples showing when he smiles.

“So, do you wanna get a tattoo now?” the answer is obvious, given the fact that today did not go as planned. You’re surprised when he answers.

“I don’t think so. My body is a shrine and a tattoo will take away its chastity.”

“Shrine indeed.”

Ty for reading! Yes lmao ik the ending is weird asf, as is the entire story, but nvm

Feedback is always appreciated!

this was supposed to be a drabble for jae’s birthday 😭excuse the typos they’re terrible and i’m literally the most impatient living being you’ll ever encounter

also, the shop name lmao i just got it from google- not creative i know

Tagging: @neoculturedtrash , @jeongjeffrey , @orange-lemon-cross , @nanasimp , @bluejaem

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jeffrey #nct #nct 127 #tattoo #reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #nct ff #nct 127 ff #jaehyun ff #jae ff #jaehyun fluff #jae fluff #y/n #neo culture technology #jaehyun jung #please excuse the shitty header

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blahkugo · 4 years ago

Note

SUUUUUUNNYYYYYYYYYYY HOLY HELL CONGRATULATIONS!! This is awesome! Your writing is so fucking phenomenal, and you deserve every follower and more!! For the event *cough* TanakaRyū? In an, oof, dangerous professions au? 👀🥊🏹🏂🤺🧗🏎🚀🔫🧨 I’m unsure how many more dangerous emojis there are but lol. Have a wonderful day!! Xxxxxx congrats again!

CLAUDIAAA I LOVE YOU!! your writing is absolutely phenomenal and your compliments make my heart HURT ♡ enjoy your tanaka baby, i had so much fun writing it!!

-ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TANAKA RYŪ」

— street fighter! au

— warnings: 18+ smut, blood kink, tanaka being a merciless tease<3

⤏ okay, okay: i know this is a ‘dangerous profession au’ and not an underground one, but this just makes the most sense for tanaka

⤏ ryū is all bark and no bite, but it doesn’t stop him from pretending he’s got the muscle to back the mouth

⤏ this is precisely why i think he’d be the perfect fit for an underground street fighter. think, ‘fight club’ mixed with ufc

⤏ he’s the epitome of a shit talker, never stops goading his opponents even when they’ve got him two seconds away from losing consciousness; he doesn’t know how to shut his mouth, even though he’s always losing

⤏ even so, he’s got a knack for being the crowd‘s #1. his grin never wavers, his fists never go down. he fights until his last breath, and that’s why he’s everyone’s favorite underdog

⤏ the fights are illegal, betting pools made in shady abandoned subways and grimy basements, but the man really has no other choice

⤏ see, he was initially better known for brazilian jiu-jitsu; in fact, he was an extremely famous fighter that won the hearts of people around the world

⤏ but he got too cocky; feeling invincible under the shroud of fame, he began to spiral

⤏ and 1 tragic run in with the police later, his public image was destroyed; so, he reluctantly decided to trade in grapples and chokeholds for bruised knuckles and bloody teeth

⤏ though he simply does it to survive, he can’t deny that the thrill of the match sends blood pumping through his veins, keeps him feeling alive and present

⤏ to make some extra cash, you decide to act as impromptu ring girl— and ryū is utterly infatuated upon first sight

⤏ honestly, you were a bit afraid at first. here’s this heavily tattooed, gruff looking man with a shaved head hitting you with an onslaught of attention every time you walk into the room. what are you supposed to think?

⤏ though you quickly realize he’s a sweetheart underneath that tough appearance, it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes at every dramatic come-on. and trust me, there’s a lot of them

⤏ he flirts relentlessly, will say anything and everything that crosses his mind. it’s sweet, maybe, but mostly embarrassing. you never really take him seriously anyways; every comment is paired with a sly smirk and booming laugh

⤏ one day, he proposes a bet. if he wins, he gets to take you out. of course, he never wins, so why not humor the man?

⤏ yeah, you guessed it: he loses

⤏ but watching him fight this time, you found something in your perception of ryū shift...

As everyone files out of the dingy basement, you find yourself lagging behind, eyes trained of the man crouching in the makeshift ring. You’re unsure what possesses you as you make your way over to him, clean towel in hand. He’s a flirt— a persistent one at that— but watching him fight today, you realize there’s a certain elegance to losing with dignity. His smile, though bloodied, never once wavered, his bandaged knuckles never once dropped.

When he notices you approaching, he rubs his wounded nose; it does nothing but smudge crimson over his stained bandages, a bright red warning sign begging you to keep away. You never listen. Kneeling next to him, you blurt out the question running through your mind,

“Why do you fight so hard if you lose every time?”

Instead of his usual quick retorts or coy banter, he flashes you that same toothy grin and relaxed brows he bares to opponents and friends alike. Carefree, nonchalant, happy— even with the unseemly purple bruises forming on his cheekbones.

As always, it’s utterly infectious, and before you know it, you’re grinning right back at him.

“Do you want to hear the deep answer or the honest truth?” His words seem teasing, but they hold a sobriety you’ve never quite witnessed on Tanaka. He shifts his jaw, making room for you to wipe at his injuries with the clean rag.

“Both,” you prod, curiosity overtaking you as you have your first serious conversation with the sly boxer.

“Would it be completely pathetic if I said it makes me feel alive?” His smile wavers a bit, as though he’s revealed something deeply intimate, a concept he’s grappled a million times over in his head. You simply nod, allowing him to speak freely. “Every bruise is a reminder that I’m not dead,” his voice falters, “like I would be if I was still on the streets.”

The severity of his confession shakes you, reminds you that most of the members at the underground club don’t come from preppy private schools or trust funds. They’re here to make a living— to survive.

“And the honest truth?” You don’t bother with consolation, don’t believe pity or faux reassurance would satisfy Tanaka anyways.

“I think I look pretty damn cool in the ring,” his eyes bore into yours, smirk back in full force as he regains his usual composure. Forever a flirt. Have his eyes always been that stormy gray?

“Want to hear my honest truth?” He nods, gaze bordering on ravenous as he awaits your admission. “I think you do too.”

It’s as though the words have a physical effect on the tired boxer; he immediately puffs his chest up, his head is held just a bit higher. The words, quite possibly your first ever compliment towards him, instill a newfound confidence that you’re only used to seeing when he’s poking fun.

“Ha! Always knew you found me irresistible,” he raises battered fingers towards your jaw, pulling it between them and grazing at your cheeks. He’s probably smearing blood all over you and typically, you’d push him away— but tonight everything feels different.

Perhaps it’s the low fluorescent lighting or the charged silence filling the empty room. Maybe it’s his attitude. Any which way, there’s a magnetism in the air that pulls you to him, tugs at your heartstrings and urges you to care for the underdog.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” lips puckering, you do your best to remain stoic, to no avail. His eyes bore into yours, darkening by the second. Though the moment becomes infused with tension, you refuse to drop your gaze, instead attempting to shift back into the comfortable banter you and Ryū share. “Who said anything about being irresis—”

He doesn’t allow you a moment to finish your sentence, yanking your face to his. He tongues you with a fervor, lithe fingers wrapping across the back of your head to tug you impossibly closer. Sweat, the sharp tang of metal, and even something a bit minty— the flavor of his mouth spreads through you, clouds your head with greed, and intoxicates you in such a way that your only thought is of wanting more.

When you finally pull away, flushed and breathless, Ryū notices the kiss has split his wound once again. Deep red drips across his soft lips, down his chin, and dribbles onto his knee. But it seems he’s been stupefied, utterly amazed by this unforeseen turn of events; his thumb inches towards the blood, but he doesn’t seem to care to clean it all up. So, you figure you’ll take matters into your own hands.

“Let me,” you offer, bringing his rugged fingers towards your mouth. Licking a long stripe from wrist to thumb, you never once break eye contact as you peer up at him through thick lashes. He’s unable to do anything but watch, enchanted by your wet tongue lapping at his digits.

Gradually, your lips travel upwards, kissing and suckling at bruised knuckles, making sure to soothe over every gash, every groove of pained flesh. The hair on his arms rises, a throaty groan caught in his throat. Heat and heat and so much heat— the warmth in your stomach, across his cheeks and the tips of his ears— flows freely, intertwining.

It doesn’t matter that the enormous room is empty, or that the air is chilled outside; the ring is filled with a feverish longing, a craving for touch you never even realized was there. Not until you reach his defined collarbones, teeth grazing at his skin.

As soon as your mouth sucks at the sweet spot on his neck, a switch flips in him. Before you know it, you’re on your back; Ryū’s body looms over yours, his knee pressed between your legs. His hands roam, loosely tied bandages traveling your waist, dashing beneath your top and over your taut stomach.

Though his touch is gentle, a ghost of a breath, it sends your nerves into a frenzy. Slowly, slowly, ever-so slowly, slender fingers toy at your breasts, squeezing and circling your hardened nipples. A bite at your neck, a wet lick to soothe the burn; he’s teasing, even now, as you mewl and writhe for more.

And yet again, you’re flipped, this time onto hands and knees. You’re nothing more than a rag doll to the hearty boxer, a feathery thing to the man who lifts almost twice your weight daily. Your back meets solid muscle as he cages you between him and the ring’s chilled floor.

He wastes no time tugging your shorts and panties down, drifting his palms over the globes of your ass, and squeezing. But still, he never touches your cunny. And God, does it ache for it.

“You’re still teasing,” you pant, arms reaching behind you to tap at his bicep.

“Maybe,” a finger slips towards your cunt, brushes across the sopping slit and onto your clit, “Wanna hear you beg for it.”

His answer stuns you, so unlike the buoyant man that fawns over you day after day. It’s a pleasant change, to say the least.

“Ryū,” your whine echoes through the vacant room, “can’t.” There’s no way in hell you’ll be begging for him.

“Can’t,” his voice is raspy, teeming with desire, “or won’t?” He inches a digit in, stopping just short of a second knuckle, while the other rubs at your swollen bundle of nerves. You stifle a groan when he begins nipping the shell of your ear, but as soon as he begins his movements, he stills once again.

“F-fine,” whimpering, you admit defeat, “fuck, please.”

“You can tap out if it gets too much,” he chuckles under his breath.

And then, finally, he’s pumping into you again, stretching you once more; one finger, then another, his thumb drawing cruel circles at your clit. It’s shameful, immoral even, the way you plead and moan with every push into you. Curling his fingers, he dips further into your doughy walls, pushing against a spot that you swear has you seeing God. And his name, it leaves your lips like a prayer, over and over— a sinner at confession.

You search for something, anything, to grasp at. But the floor is smooth, the ring’s ropes just a hair too far for you to pull at. So, you settle for wrapping a hand around the arm that pushes into your lower back, your other rapping, fingernails scratching, at the mat below you.

“I said you could tap,” another deep pump into you elicits a lengthy mewl, “but I didn’t say I would listen.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘᠂ ⚘ ᠃

#blah blah blah 1k #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyuu!! smut #ryunosuke x reader #MY LOVE FOR CLAUDIA? THISISTHEEASIESTTHING #1k.event

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thecl0wnwars · 4 years ago

Text

Safe

(GN reader x Maul)

anxiety tw

grief/loss tw

brief self harm tw

slight blood tw

ptsd tw

pls read at your own risk, you’re responsible for what media you consume

In honour of my anxiety getting sososo much worse, I present to you: an angsty/fluffy imagine where the reader suffers from anxiety in the months after whilst trying to grapple with a close friends death and Maul comforts them to the best of his abilities, enjoy x

prompts: “you’re not alone. i’m here”, “take a deep breath”, “you don’t have to go through this alone”, “you’re safe”

“Everyone’s dismissed.” With a wave of his tattooed scarlet and black hand there’s the sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor and mumbling voices lost on my ringing ears as a mixture of the Shadow Collective and Death Watch members begin to filter out of the meeting room after another long mission debrief. The last of them are rising from the table and as they grow out of earshot I see Maul slump over, façade beginning to slip. He exhales listlessly from his seat at the head of the slab of stone, head tilted in my direction. To his right, my usual seat is empty, and to his left, Savage leans down slightly to talk to him, whispered words not quite reaching my ears from my place at the opposite end of the table. Maul hums in recognition as his brother speaks, but he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention as I feel a pair eyes burning into the side of my face again, piercing me desperately.

I came in late to the meeting, ignoring the pitying looks from those around the table and the unflinching gold of my fiancé’s stare that had, on multiple occasions, broken away from the presentation and crossed the room to me and then to the empty seat on his right with a barely contained anxiety as he spoke throughout the conference, eyes unwavering in their attempt to gain my attention. My mind had been elsewhere though, stare pinned to the table before me as I worked myself through my racing thoughts. Physically, I was in Mandalore, mentally, I was back there.

I flinch at the awful memory, eyelids fluttering shut as scenes of my close friends death just a few months prior begin to play over in my head once more like a film stuck on replay. I should’ve been there, they’re dead because of me.

Inhaling sharply, I desperately try to push back the mental images of them lifeless, desperate to picture them any other way: smiling with their arm slung over my shoulder, sitting opposite me on the bed of their childhood home while we do our homework, laughing till they cried at a silly inside joke of ours, small pudgy fingers clinging to mine on our first day of school: determined to be together forever. So much for ’forever’ I think. It's no use, any memories I have of them are now brutalised. All I can picture is their face in my hands, slick with sweat, a dribble of ruby blood trickling from the corner of their mouth as they use the last of their strength to sputter out half-words I’m still unable to make sense of even now, almost a whole two months after the ordeal. I can still hear them though, crystal clear like they’re here with me now, voice raspy and broken and quickly beginning to blur out the sound of a chair harshly scraping against the marble floor and metal feet clambering against tile. I clench my now clammy hands into fists over the table, fingernails forming half-moon indents into the smooth skin of my palms as I screw my eyes shut and try to mask the memory of my hands covered in their blood - pressing against the gaping wounds in their torso - with the pain of my nails now breaking skin. It’s what I deserve, I think, I couldn’t even save them, couldn’t even hear their last words. My fault, my fault, my fault.

I’m acutely aware of the sound of my heartbeat stuck in my throat, thrumming at too fast a pace against my throbbing chest. I lift my bleeding hands to either side of my face, a gasp leaving my parted lips as I hunch over – curling into myself protectively, ”Not this again,” I whimper aloud. This is my third panic attack since this week, three out of the countless others I’ve endured these past few months. You’d think that would mean that by now I’d be used to it, that I’d be able to control them, but if anything, they’ve just gotten worse and worse.

“My fault, my fault, my fault.”

“Y/N!”

My eyes spring open at the sound my name being shouted, y/e/c orbs blinking to find the same stone expanse of the table staring back at me, and then a red hand slips into my field of vision, dipping to press against my sternum as it pushes me upright again. Maul.

I’m vaguely aware of my back softly hitting the splat of the chair behind me, eyelids blinking open and closed, and with each flutter releases a trickle a salty tears I hadn’t realised I’d been holding in until now. The conference room is empty, Savage nowhere to be seen, and my chair has been turned to face Maul as his lean figure hunches over in front of me protectively. I begin to relax into my seat once again at his presence, breathing in shaky bursts as I feel his hands slide from my front to my grasp at my still-clenched fists. Warm and steady fingers then begin to work apart my vice-like grip, unravelling my shaking appendages from my battered palms as his patiently flattens each hand and then interlaces them with his own. As he does this, I find myself angling into him, his familiar touch grounding me momentarily. Amongst the havoc of my mind he offers me a temporary calm, a safe haven. I never want him to stop touching me. Lately he’s the only thing keeping my steady when all I want to do is fall apart.

“‘M sorry,” I eventually mumble out, still breathless.

He audibly gulps and then crouches until our faces are level, resting the expanse of his forehead against the clammy skin of my own, humming at me as I shudder and our foreheads clatter together a moment. “Y/N, darling,” his voice is like honey, pleading as his lips press a gentle kiss to the tip my nose. “Take a deep breath,” he continues, his own fanning across my flushed face as he coos at me.

I nod, eyes sliding shut again as I attempt to zero in on his voice, squeezing his hands while I try to replace the feeling of blood and flesh and cavernous wounds I know I can’t mend with the familiar security of my lovers palms. Despite this, more tears begin to helplessly leak from the corners of my eyes, heavy and trailing down my cheeks now like streams of water as a broken sob finds its way up my throat and escapes my parted lips, “I-I can’t stop! I can’t stop seeing them, hearing them. I-” my next words lost as my breath hitches in my throat, aching as I begin to gasp for air that simply evades me once more. Panic sets in again, adrenaline pumping through my veins as the sound of my dead friends last whimpers fills my ears.

I’m brought back only by the sound of Maul’s voice breaking through once again, “I know, I know,” he murmurs down at me, tone pained as he lifts his lips to my forehead and presses an urgent kiss into my heated skin. “I am sorry, my starlight. You do not deserve this pain.”

I choke again, furiously shaking my head. He’s wrong. I do deserve this pain. My closest friend, the person I’ve known all my life, who knows me better than me, is dead. Gone. Forced out of existence. I could’ve stopped it, helped them. I should have. We were supposed to be there for each other. “It hurts.” I gasp, my body trembling as another broken wail leave my lips. I’m there again, my throat tightening as I begin to blur the lines between the sweat from my hands and the blood I spent hours scrubbing off after that mission on that ride back to Mandalore without them.

I barely register his fingers squeezing mine, still clinging to me as he pulls away slightly to look at me again, “Breathe, darling,” he urges, a note of panic in his voice. But it’s like I’ve forgotten how, the air robbed from my lungs for what feels like a eternity, for a moment I’m sure I’ll suffocate and die. Just like them. Dead. Gone. My fault, my fault, my fault-

“Y/N.” My eyes snap open again, chest still heaving as my fiancé’s saffron eyes abruptly replace the images of blood and death. He hadn’t yelled, barely even spoke loud enough to create an echo across the room, its his tone of voice that drags me back to reality again, agonised at the sight of me and full of distress. “I’m here,” he murmurs, “I am here. Let me help you, my love.”

I gulp, eyelids once again falling closed a moment as I work on steadying my rapid breathing, swallowing away the lump in my throat. My heart still thrums persistently in my chest but the pain of suffocation eases as I realise: I’m not dying. All the while, Maul peppers my face with lingering kisses, whispering loving, calming words into my feverish skin.

A long moment passes before I finally open my eyes again, lifting my gaze to see that he’s already watching me, intense stare scanning my face for anymore signs of hysteria and panic. “I’m OK,” I eventually speak, squeezing his fingers reassuringly as I then untangle my hands from his, wiping the sweat from my palms onto the legs of my pants. “I-I’m sorry,” I begin, only to be cut off as he brings his hands to cup either side of my face, calloused skin tenderly stroking away tears and angling my face so we’re eye to eye once more. We lock gazes, his laced with an ever-present concern, a juxtaposition to his calm and grounding expression. “You have nothing to apologise for, you did nothing wrong. It’s not your fault.”

In spite of his confident reassurance I sigh dejectedly, my stare beginning to trail away from him. They should still be here, would still be here, if I had only gotten to them sooner.

“It is not your fault,” he repeats as if reading my mind, this time with more force, calloused thumbs rubbing against my cheeks to regain my attention. “Not your fault. You did everything you could. And it’s hard, I know it’s hard, but you do not have to do this alone. I won’t let you.”

“They should still be here,” I utter at last, voice coarse and raspy with emotion. But they’re not. I exhale shakily, opening my mouth and closing again as words begin fail me. They’ve always been here, it’s always been me and them, and now it’s just me... and Maul. I flicker my gaze back up to him and sigh, melting to putty in his embrace. I’d be a mess without him.

Mumbling another apology that he brushes off, I lift my hands find the back of his neck and pull him into me. Our foreheads gently bump together, eyes slotting closed as my lips find his, my mouth pressing against his own with a feverish want. His kiss is a welcome distraction from the now faint ringing in my ears and my still racing thoughts. I sigh into it, putting all the words that I can’t bring myself to utter and all the feelings I can’t even begin to find the words for into our locked embrace, quickly going dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls away after a moment longer, both of us pausing to catch our breaths. As I shakily inhale, I lift my eyes to see his are still closed, forehead glued to mine as a temporary calm begins to set in, “I’m here,” he mumbles into the small gap between our lips. “I love you, and I’m here,” he continues his mantra, pulling me into him again. I’m carefully lifted from my spot, cradled into the security of his arms as he takes a seat on the chair I’d just occupied. “You’re safe,” the words flitter from his lips again like a promise, and as I bury my head into the crook of his neck, I think I believe him. For the first time in weeks I know: I don’t need to carry the burden of my loss on my own anymore, I’m safe.

please note that not everyone’s experiences with anxiety and ptsd are the same! the way that i’ve written this imagine is loosely based off of how i’ve experienced some of my panic attacks and ptsd so please refrain from making any shitty comments xxx

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tiriansjewel · 4 years ago

Text

find it here on Spotify!

lyric explanations below the cut! (click images for better quality)

1. The 1 by Taylor Swift

“But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one”

As we start the playlist, Luke and Alex are taking a wistful look back on their relationship in the 90s now that they’ve moved on to other people.

2. Coming Clean by Green Day

“Seventeen and strung out on confusion

Trapped inside a roll of disillusion

I found out what it takes to be a man

Now mom and dad will never understand”

Back in the 90s, both Luke and Alex are coming to terms with their sexualities.

3. Smells Like Teen Spirit

“With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us”

Sunset Curve were working towards popularity right at the height of the grunge scene, and I would assume that both Luke and Alex heard quite a bit of this song as teenagers.

4. Now or Never by Sunset Curve

“Keep dreaming like we'll live forever

But live it like it's now or never”

How could I not include Sunset Curve’s own song? They like living in the moment, and that includes their love lives.

5. Everlong by the Foo Fighters

“And I wonder

If everything could ever feel this real forever

If anything could ever be this good again

The only thing I'll ever ask of you

You've got to promise not to stop when I say when”

When you go through adolescence, you crave intimacy with other people. This song exemplifies what Luke and Alex want from each other- to be able to feel, and to be able to experience those feelings on a deeper level.

6. Ocean Size by Jane’s Addiction

“Wish I was ocean size

They cannot move you, man

No one tries

No one pulls you

Out from your hole

Like a tooth aching a jawbone”

Jane’s Addiction was another LA rock band of this time period, and these lyrics about wanting to be powerful like the ocean and having to leave your home really remind me of Luke.

7. All Apologies by Nirvana

“What else should I be?

All apologies

What else should I say?

Everyone is gay”

This song is Kurt Cobain ironically apologizing for his cynical attitude, including the line “everyone is gay” to mock homophobes. It reminds me of Alex- he doesn’t want to be “married and buried”; he is rebelling against his parents’ definition of a correct lifestyle.

8. Freaking Out The Neighborhood by Max DeMarco

“And I know it's no fun

When your first son

Gets up to no good

Starts freaking out the neighborhood”

Emily Patterson and Alex’s mom were probably both pretty appalled by their sons effectively joining the counterculture. At this point, both Luke and Alex are starting to express themselves more, comfortable in who they are and what they want.

9. Hangout With You by Diners

“All I want

Is to talk with you now

And I know that you've got time

You are constantly on my mind

Yes I know that you've got time

To hang out with me

Tonight”

Luke has begun to realize that he likes Alex, and in true Luke fashion, can’t stop thinking about it.

10. Affection by Between Friends

“I'm laying on the floor

We're drinking 'cause we're bored

Oh, I'm looking for affection in all the wrong places

And we'll keep falling on each other to fill the empty spaces”

One night, it all comes out- their feelings and desires- and they decide to begin some kind of friends with benefits type of situation. This song feels like it’s from Luke’s perspective to me.

11. gold rush by Taylor Swift

“What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

At dinner parties

I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town

We wandered 'round had never

Seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea

'Cause you know it could never be”

Luke is a magnetic person, attracting everyone, and Alex finds him beautiful. He is in awe of him, but he’s also scared about having feelings he doesn’t know how to handle. This song kind of shows Alex’s internal monologue.

12. Can We Kiss Forever? by Kina

“I tried to reach you, I can't hide

How strong's the feeling when we dive

I crossed the ocean of my mind

My wounds are healing with the salt

All my senses intensified

Whenever you and I, we dive”

This song describes their first kiss, obscured from the world, in my mind. Plus, there’s ocean metaphors. You can’t go wrong with that.

13. 18 by Anarbor

“So if you wanna piss off your parents

Date me to scare them

Show them you're all grown up

If long hair and tattoos are what attract you

Baby, then you're in luck

And I know it's just a phase

You're not in love with me

You wanna piss off your parents, baby

That's alright with me”

Luke knows Alex isn’t in love with him, but they both want to try new things. Bonus points for this song having references to frayed parent-child relationships.

14. Boys Will Be Boys by Miles McKenna

“That graduation day, it never came for you and me

Couple drop-out kids, a shotgun wedding's all we need

Sorry, Mom, Sorry, Dad

Better luck next time

A couple packs a day, pierced nose and tattoos on our legs

No strangers to pretend, we've always been too proud to beg

Sorry, Mom, Sorry, Dad

Better luck next time

Boys will be boys”

This song referencing a “couple of drop out kids” just going with the flow made me think of how Sunset Curve probably never would have finished high school.

15. Just Like You by Three Days Grace

“You thought you were there to guide me, you were only in my way

You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you

I could be mean

I could be angry

You know I could be just like you.”

Both Luke and Alex have tons of resentment for their parents, obviously.

16. Sunstroke by Less Than Jake

“We've all been living proof

That time won't wait or choose

We know it ticks on without me and you

And I can't have both sides

Letting go or holding tight

I'm burning bright tonight”

This song about being stubborn and time not waiting really reminded me of Luke, plus the foreshadowing of them becoming ghosts and adapting to a whole new world.

17. Saint Bernard by Lincoln

“Saint Calvin told me not to worry about you

But he's got his own things to deal with

There's really just one thing that we have in common

Neither of us will be missed”

This song just made me think about Alex and his Catholic guilt.

18. Bedroom Hymns by Florence and the Machine

“This is a good a place to fall as any

We'll build our altar here

Make me your Maria

I'm already on my knees

You had Jesus on your breath

And I caught Him in mine

Sweating out confessions

The undone and the divine

This is his body, this is his love

Such selfish prayers and I can't get enough, oh”

Part 2 of Alex and his Catholic guilt. Their relationship has become more carnal, and this song maybe gives a little of Alex’s perspective into that time.

19. Church by Fall Out Boy

“And if death is the last appointment

Then we're all just sitting in the waiting room

I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom

If you were church, yeah

I'd get on my knees”

Here ends the trilogy of songs with religious references. This song is heady and sensual and also includes some nice foreshadowing of their deaths.

20. Bros by Wolf Alice

“Shake your hair, have some fun

Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone

Oh, I'm so lucky, you are my best friend

Oh, there's no one, there's no one who knows me like you do

Are your lights still on?

I'll keep you safe

If you keep me strong”

Here’s another song from Luke’s perspective- talking about forgetting mothers, being best friends, and keeping Alex safe, as long as Alex keeps him strong.

21. Slip Away by Perfume Genius

“Don't look back, I want to break free

If you'll never see 'em coming You'll never have to hide

Take my hand, take my everything

If we only got a moment

Give it to me now

They'll never break the shape we take

Baby, let all them voices slip away”

Alex struggles with losing his family over his sexuality, and Luke helps him through it.

22. Make Out In My Car by Sufjan Stevens

“I'm not trying to

Go to bed with you

I just wanna make out in my car

And though I'm dying to

Fall in love with you

I just wanna make out in my car”

Another great song about just wanting to exist with someone, about wanting touch and feel and create. They don’t want to fall in love, they just want to be.

23. I Exist I Exist I Exist by Flatsound

“I remember the way you shook

Its a shame that we're not soul mates

Because if i didn't know better

I'd say this feels pretty good

How could i be scared?

When i stretch and feel that you're there

So shut your mouth

Because these words will speak themselves

I can feel them in these blankets

And they're surrounding your figure

Embraced in the quilts

And i cant help but think

You're my missing puzzle piece”

This song is so beautiful- with references to helping a partner through anxiety, and being just like ones mother... a lot of this dynamic in my mind is Luke and Alex reminding each other that they exist, that life is wide and bright, that they’re alive. This gives a window into Luke’s inner feelings as well.

24. Come on, Mess Me Up by Cub Sport

“I found comfort, I fell in love with avoiding problems

But I want this, you know I want this

So come on, mess me up

And you can break me, if you'll still take me

Ruin me, if you'll let me be one of the ones you say you won't forget”

At some point, they become more reckless about their feelings, a little less level headed about their arrangement. Intimacy is an escape.

25. Please Never Fall In Love Again by Ollie MN

“This is what it's like to be lovers

You and me need never be lonely again

Spin with me endlessly or at least until the end

Please never fall in love again”

As usually happens with these arrangements, feelings are caught. Luke and Alex consider making things more serious.

26. Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow

“Batteries drain, I get the memo

I think that I might have to let you go

So can I call you tonight?

I'm trying to make up my mind

Just how I feel

Could you tell me what's real?”

The end of their relationship is near, and Alex is unsure. You can decide if this takes place before or after they die.

27. Wicked Game by Chris Isaak

“I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you”

Eventually these relationships all start to feel like games, don’t they?

28. Perfect by The Smashing Pumpkins

“So far I still know who you are

But now I wonder who I was

Angel, you know it's not the end

We'll always be good friends”

Another song about the end of a relationship, and finding yourself again. There’s a bit of resentment there, but they are learning to be friends again.

29. Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy

“Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight

Let the fire breathe me back to life

Baby you were my picket fence

I miss missing you, now and then”

They’ve gotten over each other and become friends again, but are still nostalgic for the past. Bonus points for references about coming back to life.

30. Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day

“For what it's worth

It was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable

But in the end it's right

I hope you had the time of your life”

Ah yes, the song everyone uses to commemorate bittersweet ends- it’s the perfect clincher for this playlist.

I hope you all enjoy listening!

#julie and the phantoms #lalex #jatp #luke patterson #alex mercer #jatp playlist #luke/alex #playlist #my edit

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writers-thoughts09 · 4 years ago

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True Mind, True Heart

Act 1 Chapter 2 (Part 2)

Title: True Mind, True Heart: Act 1 Chapter 2 (Part 2) About 5.2k words Pairing: Zuko x OC (slow burn baby, it’s lowkey but high key my favorite type of story) Rating: PG with 13 mixed in there. Warnings: PTSD/ Anxiety attack, mean Zuko, ummmm fighting? A/N: Wassup I’m back again with part 2. I’m gonna go back later and fix this whole thing, but in the mean I hope you all enjoy it~ Also if you remember from chapter 1 Chan is the little boy Lila mentions in her journal.

At the revelation, Lila’s world slowed and all she could feel was her heart and her blood rushing through her veins.

“This child, no older than twelve, was the one Fire Lord Ozai sent his son to find?”

If they took Aang back to the Fire Nation, she’d be a witness and an indirect helper in the capture and death of the Avatar. She knew this already but..a child? She wasn’t prepared to see a kid proclaim to be the Avatar. Now, if they didn’t capture him, then no one would be free of this banishment. The conflict she initially felt doubled as the weight of what she learned pressed down on her. Lila’s heart constricted and she heaved a wheezing breath, her good eye watching the brawl between Aang and Prince Zuko ensue. Flashes of villagers from her hometown fighting off men in red attacked Lila’s memories. An image of a little boy named Chan who lived next to her when they were kids played before her eyes. Aang was doing the same thing Chan was, defending himself against fire nation soldiers, but unfortunately, Chan didn’t last long…

A pained gasp tore from her mouth, chapped lips parting. Pain stabbed at Lila’s chest. Continuous stabs of pain. Her chest began hurting so much so to the point she thought she was literally going to die. Now for some reason, it felt like her uniform was two sizes too tight. In order to try and alleviate some of the discomfort Lila arched her back to loosen the tightness around her chest but to no avail. Her red uniformed body sunk in a heap on the floor of the ship as her legs gave out, feeling weak like jelly. The only thing giving her a semblance of stability were tan hands that squeezed the ship’s railing. She squeezed so hard they paled a shade or two as metal bit into her calloused fingers. Short streams of air puffed from her lips, her breath fogging from the cold as memories of old plagued her. Their invisible arms wound around her stomach, chest, throat, and mouth. Choking her. The girl in red. Red uniforms. Screams. Lila knew what was happening. It was nothing new, but it was still scary each time it happened. She could feel her body temperature rising. The heat of her skin contrasting with the chills she felt, too. The warmth pooling specifically beneath her underarms, cheeks, and the back of her neck.

Not wanting to lose control of herself the petite girl mentally walked herself through her panic, “Okay, okay, okay, I’m on a ship, I’m holding onto the side of the ship. I’m here in the south pole, uncle Iroh is sleeping in his room.” Her breath shuddered as Lila raggedly gasped out, “One, two, three, four, five, six…” up to ten as she did her best to calm herself down. It felt like forever but soon enough the taut feeling in her chest subsided along with the temperature rise that suddenly assaulted her. Letting out a sigh, she leaned her cheek onto the crook of her shoulder and closed her eyes for a much needed moment. After a minute or so Lila shakily brought herself up from the floor and a spell of dizziness abruptly overtook her trembling limbs. Hands that still grasped the railing tightly reminded her of where she was while she collected herself.

Soon enough the ramp lifted from the snowy ground and the ship began pulling away from the freshly terrorized tribe.

A warm hand gently tugged on Lila’s shoulder and she whipped around like a feral fire fox, eyes wide and haunches tensed, only to relax once she realized who grabbed her. Uncle Iroh. The old man stood before her with his usual calming presence, although he still looked tired from his nap. Iroh observed her sweaty disheveled appearance, and concern welled up in him, rightly so. Not only was her hair falling out of her usual well-kept bun, he also caught her picking herself up from the floor when he came out on deck a few moments ago.

“Come, it seems my nephew has finally succeeded in his quest. We’re going home.”

Goading her with an encouraging grin, Lila could only nod, the happiness and relief she was supposed to feel evaded her all together as she followed behind him. “By the way, your hair looks nice when it’s out from that stifling bun you always wear,” Iroh added, wanting to make Lila smile. Appreciative of his efforts, she knew what he was trying to do so she gave a weak quirk of her lips in return. Prince Zuko’s guards and a few other men crowded around the bald teenager and Aang as one of the firebender’s roughly tied the Avatar’s wrists behind his back. Iroh stopped and stood beside his nephew and Lila stood a little bit away from Iroh, uncomfortable with the treatment Aang was receiving. Risking a glance at the kid she was surprised to see him already looking at her, puzzlement darting across his childish features when he saw noticed her red-rimmed eyes. Though at the same time, he held a bit of curiosity too, she didn’t look mean to Aang, and she’s been crying, but his attention was brought back to Prince Zuko when the Prince arrogantly began to mock him.

“This staff will make an excellent gift for my father. I suppose you wouldn’t know of fathers, being raised by monks.”

Seeing as how the Avatar didn’t bite the bate to argue back, Prince Zuko then ordered his guards to take the Avatar to the prison hold before shoving Aang’s staff into Iroh’s hands, telling him to take it to his room. Lila’s breath hitched when the men roughly pushed the kid to start walking below deck, her eye never leaving his kiddish frame, until uncle Iroh interrupted and handed the staff to her asking, “Hey, do you mind taking this to his quarters for me?” Before walking back to his room without waiting for a reply. Lila looked down at the intricately crafted wood in her hands, guilt, which she tried to push away, ate away at her before she looked back up. Once again, her eye caught Aang second’s before he was forced below deck, looking at her with that same expression she couldn’t decipher.

Inside the Prince’s room, her lips were sealed shut this time, she had no words after what transpired today. Prince Zuko was quiet too, only pointing to where he wanted the staff placed. When she turned to leave he stopped her, ordering her to help him untie his armor. Lila was quiet in doing that too as she quickly untied all the straps. Her hands trembled not quite in fear but fading adrenaline as the need to be far away from him bubbled within her being .

“Aang’s life will grant him his honor back and the end of this banishment,” Lila thought, “but at what cost?”

Finished with the task that was ordered, Lila left his room in a hurry and with a heavy heart as she closed the door behind her. Far enough from the Prince, she walked as if she were in a trance, the sound of her pants rubbing together was the only thing she could hear outside of her head. Mind muddled with colliding thoughts of not wanting to be a part of this quest any longer consumed her. She could handle the poor treatment of everyone around her and tolerate a life of banishment, but she didn’t think she could handle seeing the death of a child. Even on the main deck when the brisk wind mussed up her curls she was still in a daze until a body rammed right into her sending Lila tumbling to the ground.

Before she could even let out a groan of pain, a childish voice that failed to sound truly threatening asked, “Where is my glider?”

Her curly head shot up in surprise, the Avatar himself stood over her.

“W-what?” With how hard Aang ran into her, Lila felt disoriented as she tried to process what he said.

“No time to talk! You tell me where my glider is, and I’ll help you escape with me; you seem like a nice lady!”

“But you just told me not to talk-” Lila stammered out before being cut off again.

Aang, whose hands were still bound behind him, awkwardly leaned down and pulled her up so fast all she heard was wind graze her ears as she tried to right herself. Barely holding onto her wits-end Aang was already running at an inhumanly break-neck speed, dragging Lila behind him as he ran back into the tower she just left. If it wasn’t for Aang’s hold on her Lila would’ve never maintained his speed, she would’ve fallen face first by now. On the first floor of the dim command tower, the tattooed boy turned a corner swinging the dumbfounded servant girl with him and skidded to a stop with her slamming into his back. The kid barely even moved. In front of them, stood a hand-full of shipmates that blocked the rest of the hallway. Just like Lila, they too were taken aback at the sudden appearance of the Avatar and their servant girl.

Looking at the Avatar, who was a few inches shorter than her, he seemed just as chipper as he was on the penguin when he asked, “You haven’t seen my staff around, have you?” With her hand still clasped with his, the boy gently squeezed it and whispered, “Jump on my back.”

A little budding sprout of hope sparked in Lila when she realized this boy was serious in helping her escape. So without a moment to waste she wrapped her arms around his chest as Aang hoisted her up, his wrists supporting the underside of her ample thighs and launched forward. Before the men could even move to apprehend them Aang tightened his hold on Lila, whispering a quick, “Hold on,” and ran up the wall of the corridor. Using his momentum and the air around him he sprinted across the top of the roof, down the other side of the metal walls in a corkscrew fashion, and repeated this until he bobbed and weaved each crewmate that stood in their way. All the while Lila shoved her face into Aang’s shoulder, squeezed her legs around his waist, as stifled her screeches when he ran up the walls.

After he blew passed the men with abnormal ease he yelled a “Thanks anyway,” leaving them to look back at the pair with gaping mouths and faces of disbelief. Lila held the same reaction as she too couldn’t believe the abilities this kid possessed, while holding someone too!

“Okay, as much as I think you’re nice, I’m going to need you to help me out here, I have no idea where I’m going.”

The Avatar turned down another corridor and Lila immediately spotted a short cut that’d lead them to one of the floors near the Prince’s room.

“The ladder, right there near the end of the hall,” She whispered.

The young servant girl could feel Aang bend the air around them, manipulating it to propel himself farther into the hallway, and without using any part of his body jumped up the ladder into another corridor on the second floor. This time one of Prince Zuko’s imperial firebenders blocked their path and he was ready for the duo.

A large blast of fire hurtled at the both of them, its burning embers reflecting in their eyes. Stiffening in Aang’s grasp Lila froze, her fear of fire flaring up, but the boy who held her was already two steps ahead of the firebender. Graceful and limber, in one large leap the kid jumped over the stream of fire, dodging its heat, and the bender himself, cutting the distance between them and their exit. Seconds before landing Aang used the sharp edges of the man’s helmet when he jumped to severe the rope binding his wrists. Luckily Lila was still hanging on tight, so she didn’t fall when he repositioned his arms and grasped the back of her knees. But she did scream a little too loudly in his ear, though he decided that was okay, he did just flip across the expanse of the corridor.

Again, Aang didn’t slow down and booked it up a couple of stairways Lila usually used to get to Prince Zuko’s room. Praying that in the cover of confusion and chaos the Avatar was creating for everyone, the Prince wouldn’t be in his room.

“Sorry for scaring you, it was the fastest way to get away from him,” Aang apologized, tip-toeing carefully now that they were on Prince Zuko’s floor. Gingerly, Aang squatted as Lila clumsily clambered off his back.

“It’s okay, we’re close,” She whispered, her insides tingling with nerves. The paranoia of being caught with the Avatar, aiding his escape, had her on edge. Lila knew doing this would put her in a world of trouble with the Prince.

Though she pushed on and led the way down the hall with Aang trailing behind opening and closing every the door he passed. Every squeak the doors made didn’t help in calming her down, scared the noise would give away their location.

“You know,” Aang started his voice a tad bit too loud making Lila jump. He gave her a sheepish smile when she turned quietly telling him to lower his voice in case anyone was nearby.

“Sorry,” he quipped back, “but this isn’t a trap right? A plan to capture me all over again?” Grey eyes narrowing in slight suspicion. To Aang, she didn’t look or act nearly as menacing as the other people on this ship, and now that he was walking beside her...yeah not evil; but he couldn’t be sure.

Answering right away Lila softly began, “No, I’m only a servant on this ship. If this were a trap I’m sure you’d be able to escape on your own easily.”

A boyish giggle sounded from behind her, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Why are you helping me though?”

The boy’s naivety and innocence unconsciously cracked a smile from Lila, “Well you didn’t give me much of a choice, considering you dragged me along,” to which Aang nodded in thoughful agreement, “but honestly, I don’t think I could live with being involved in the capture of a twelve-year-old looking kid.”

“Yup, I was right! You aren’t like the rest of the people here,” Aang happily declared before asking, “why are you here though?” as he haphazardly yanked open another door. However, this door he opened was Iroh’s, and Lila tensely held her breath. Painstakingly slow, Aang closed the door whispering out a prolonged sorry before dashing ahead of Lila, right past the open door of Prince Zuko’s room.

Wait, opened door? No, she was sure she closed the door behind her when she left his room- No.

“Aang wait! The Prince-” The boy didn’t hear her, too busy backtracking toward the room he shot past. Which was the room that held-

“My staff!”

The metal door slammed closed with a loud band immediately after Aang rushed in, his naivety striking again. Soon enough Lila could heard the commotion of fighting. The roaring sounds of Prince Zuko’s fire blasts along with Aang’s airbending could be heard loud clear from where she was standing. Rushing to the door Lila goes to open it, forgetting her injured hand, but retracts just as quickly and cries out a pained yelp when she grabbed the hot cogwheel. Prince Zuko’s fire was heating up everything in his room as he fought, including the metal door. Cradling the finger with her cloth tied around it Lila called out, “Aang are you okay?”

Inside the room, Zuko’s eyes widen at the sound of the feminine voice then narrow into angry slits once he recognized it was his servant girl, “Why that traitorous little-”

“I’m okay!” Aang yelled back, effortlessly evading another one of Prince Zuko’s attacks.

Helplessly Lila looked around the corridor, it felt like her heart was going to burst if Aang didn’t hurry up. Like an answered prayer, not too long after, the door swung open as Aang grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the room down the hallway. Lila could hear Aang pant slightly. He looked sweaty and his hand felt clammy, but he still managed to successfully get his staff which was clenched in his other hand.

“Quick, Lila,” he heaved, “where do I go now?” Stuttering, the girl struggled to recall the ship’s design for a moment; she was sure Prince Zuko was going to chase them soon and knowing that prevented her from thinking clearly.

Forcefully pushing herself, it hit her, “Up ahead there’s another ladder with a hatch above it, like the one we jumped through on the first floor! This one here is usually closed but it leads to the bridge of the ship,” Lila rushed out in one breath, panting as they ran.

Aang looked back at her in confusion and she realized he didn’t know what a bridge was so she clarified, “It’s the room where the helmsman, or the captain, steers the ship. We can get out through the observation deck there.”

Nodding his head, Aang picks up the pace once they neared the ladder at the end of the corridor. Thinking it’d be easier to climb with Lila on his back he skids to a stop in front of her and crouches down right as Lila stumbles into him.

He steadies her hastily, making sure she has her arms and legs wrapped around him as he climbs up the ladder, preparing his glider for their escape. Once he reached the top Lila grabs the cogwheel of the hatch above them. Her arms strained at first, but once she felt the metal slack and turn she twisted it as fast as she could. When they heard the hatch unlock Aang sent a blast of air pushing it open then quickly airbended them up from the last ladder step and into the bride.

“Straight ahead,” Lila directed.

Without stopping Aang runs through the room, ignoring the helmsman, toward the balcony of the observation deck. Both Lila and Aang smile once they felt the southern air greet them, Lila had never been happier to feel the cold than right now. Freedom was at their fingertips. Swiftly like a fire ferret, Aang opens the glider and throws it over the balcony catching the air current as he jumps right after it with Lila on his back. The girl would’ve closed her eyes and screamed when Aang launched himself over the railing, had she not seen the open air.

Although time didn’t stop, she still feasted upon the sight that laid before her; committing everything she saw to memory. From the height that Aang jumped from, Lila could see the icy blue expanse of the southern pole around her. The gradually darkening sky, the sun that was holding onto the horizon with its fingertips, the same one that was begging to be admired earlier. The blue and white glacier walls surrounding them, and the waters below. It was beautiful, Aang kept his word and helped her taste the sweet flavor of freedom, and Lila wanted to see more.

Just when Aang grabbed the glider a sudden fierce shout of desperation broke Lila from her reverie as a weight closed around Aang’s ankle, pulling them down. Looking back she saw the Prince holding onto Aang glaring at the both of them. The Avatar grunted, trying with all his might to keep them afloat but the combined weight of the three proved to be too much of a strain on the glider as they all fell from mid-air. Lila gasped her scream stuck in her throat, butterflies erupted from her stomach and her heart dropped from free falling, though her eye remained on the view above her.

The trio hit the deck hard tumbling over each other. Aang for sure bruised his bottom and his tailbone. Prince Zuko hurt his stomach. The side of Lila’s face and shoulder slammed into the floor. Pain bursting through the seams. The three of them groaned laying still for a moment. Though when they fell Prince Zuko ended up breaking Lila’s fall without realizing it, because she ended up sprawled atop his back. She could feel the blood rushing to the side of her face, her temple down to her chin was hot to the touch.

Lila had no time to gather herself the pain too great to ignore. For Prince Zuko he was already on his knees growling, inadvertently rolling Lila off of him, barely registering that she was even on him as he rose to his feet. Too fueled with determination and anger in getting Aang back in his clutches. Zuko promised to himself a long time ago that he would not lose his shot at going home. Aang was already on his feet taking a defensive stand with Zuko utilizing an offensive one.

Grabbing onto her shoulder the young girl wobbles to her feet and sways for a second as a wave of nausea hits her. Lila did her best to ignore the pain, which she was losing that battle, groaning to herself. Sparing a glance at her Aang silently asks if she’s okay to which she discreetly nods her head yes. With Zuko and Aang about to square off for round two, Lila closed her eyes, her blind one aching from the fall, attempting to concentrate on calling the water beneath them.

Once again she couldn’t feel anything, the nerves and adrenaline from all that’s happened blocking her, until she hears a loud growling in the distance,

“What is that?” Zuko exclaims, his mouth parting in disbelief.

Looking over his shoulder behind him, Aang sees, “Appa!”

All three of them look up to the sky to see a huge six-legged sky bison soaring through the air. Lila hears that same girl from the village calling out to the Avatar along with the boy that fought the Prince. Relief fills Lila knowing that aid has come. Aang quickly turns back to Zuko who shot a fireball and utilizes his glider and the air to dispels his attack. Though Aang didn’t expect the ferocity of the Prince’s fire, pushing him into the side of the ship, almost knocking him overboard. Frustration wells up in Lila, fear tickling her spine and holding her feet down, forcing her to watch Aang fend off the Prince. Lila gasped when a stream of fire knocked the staff from Aang. Even while dodging and avoiding Prince Zuko’s moves, he was unavoidably pushed to perch on the edge of the ship’s railing, arms flailing to keep from falling. Breaking the paralysis on her body, Lila yells, “Aang!” Stretches her hand out and runs toward the kid after the Prince fires three more shots from his hands and feet. Trying to call on the water below but to no avail, she, unfortunately, doesn’t reach the kid in time. The fireballs knock Aang off-balance finally pushing him overboard seconds before Lila reaches the railing.

She lets out an ear-shattering, “No!” In anguish, having been forced to see the young Avatar plummet into the water and disappear beneath its liquidy surface. At the same time, the girl from the water tribe hysterically screams, “Aang! No!” The sky bison named Appa coming closer to the ship.

At that moment, with Lila desperately searching the waters over the side of the ship, her lack of sight frustrating her along with her bending not coming to her; Zuko rounds on her. Fury raining on his visage at her mutinous betrayal. He should’ve seen it coming the second she started asking him what he was going to do! With everyone distracted, the water tribe girl on the bison screaming for the Avatar and his servant looking over the railing, he makes up his mind .

Suddenly, before Lila’s eye, the water begins to ripple and lap at the side of the ship, a vortex swirling in the middle of the sea. Just then as the swirling began to intensify, out of the whirlpool, Aang shoots up from the depths of the ocean, bending the water up encasing his body from the waist down. Suspended in the air higher than the command tower, Lila, Zuko, and his crewmates that filed onto the deck looked up in wonder – on Lila’s part – and fear.

With Aang at the center of this enormously tall waterspout, Lila breathes “Amazing,” taking in his glowing eyes and arrow tattoos, it was just like the beam of light they saw from before! “He truly is the Avatar”.

Then Aang shots down from the sky, landing on the ship deck, still glowing, and bends the water into a circle. Barricading him from everyone that surrounded him with Lila unintentionally being a part of that ‘everyone’. With him in the center of it, he then releases the watery circle barricade and expands it outward blasting Prince Zuko and his men away from him. The majority of them went flying off the ship but Prince Zuko manages to save himself from the fall by grabbing the chain of the ship's anchor. Lila was whipped into the wall of the command tower, pain exploding through her already injured shoulder, and now her back. Falling to her stomach, the girl groans, every movement she made hurt. Unconsciousness batted at her body, her ears ringing, the voices around her sounded muddled, like her head was behind held underwater. As her body began to shut down against her will, she tried fighting the feeling when she saw the furry beast, Appa, land on deck, the two water tribe kids jump off the bison. Once she saw them lift the weary twelve-year-old, knowing he was safe now, Lila mentally waved her white flag and gave into the darkness.

However, Aang notices Lila’s limp body, remembering the promise he made with her.

“Katara we have to get that girl!” Pulling from her hold, wobbling a little, he runs toward Lila with Katara following behind. Sliding on his knees to close the space between him and the fallen girl, as gently as he could Aang tugs her onto her back and gasps. The whole right side of her face was bruising up and her body jerked when he touched her shoulder.

With a small groan, Lila weakly opens her eyes, the water tribe girl and Aang leaning over her. She sees the girl, Katara she recalls, recoil at the pale color of her right eye as Aang worriedly calls her attention.

“Hey, I’m so sorry for knocking you out but I need you to get up, we have to go!”

“N-No,” Lila whimpers, “there’s no time. You and your friends need to get out of here before it’s too late.”

“Stop! Don’t say that, I promised I’d help you escape if you helped me. You held your end of the bargain now let me pay mine.”

Lila lets a laugh gurgle from her throat, repeating what she told him earlier, “Again, you didn’t give me much of a choice, but thank you, Aang.” A sharp pain travels along her shoulder making the girl bit back a groan before adding, “You let me experience what freedom looks like.”

“I can carry you,” Katara offered, but once more Lila shakes her head no.

“No time, take Aang and leave.”

The said boy opened his mouth to argue again but Lila stopped him with a smile. As pained and banged up as she looked, Aang saw the sincerity in her face. She nodded at him mouthing the word, “go,” before nodding off into the land of darkness again. With a heavy heart, Aang shuts his eyes before he turns and holds Katara's hand as they race back to Appa, clambering onto the saddle on the beast’s back.

After the Avatar and his friends fly away Iroh emerges from the tower, his eyes ladled with sleep. Despite just waking up, Iroh knows he didn’t just imagine a sky bison flying overhead and looks up in confusion until he notices Lila unconscious on the floor and his nephew struggling to pull himself back onto the ship. Rushing to Prince Zuko’s aid, he pulls the boy up who was growling and snarling in anger,

“Shoot them down!” The prince barks, rushing to the middle of the deck in unison with uncle Iroh, the both of them launching a massive bolt of fire at the Avatar and his companions. Katara and her brother look back in horror at the encroaching fire until Aang jumps from his spot on Appa’s head to the back of the saddle, and with his staff, the boy musters up the energy surrounding him and swings the staff with all his might. Aang airbends a gale of wind so strong it sent the fireball, made from the combined powers of Prince Zuko and Iroh, right into a nearby ice wall cliff. The Prince’s plan backfires immediately as a huge amount of snow from the cliff falls like an avalanche onto their ship. Aang, Katara, and Sokka laughing in triumph at their clever escape.

Ice was everywhere, it covered the expanse of the fore-deck and half of the mid-deck, the Prince knew that they’d for sure his ship was heavily damaged and needed to go to the nearest harbor for ship reparations. A growl bubbling from his lips.

“Good news for the Fire Lord,” Iroh quipped light-heartedly, “The nation’s greatest threat is just a little kid.”

“That kid, Uncle, just did this,” snapped his nephew. Motioning to the snow buried ship before turning toward Iroh. “I won’t underestimate him again. Dig this ship out and follow them!” Prince Zuko ordered but stopped when he saw half his men were incapacitated by frozen water, the remaining shipmates melting the ice with their firebending. “That water tribe girl,” he concluded.

Speaking of girl, the Prince sees his traitorous servant lying motionless in a heap of red clothes by the tower wall. Anger floods his veins as he stalks over to her, Iroh warily following after his nephew. Towering over her, Prince Zuko raises his heel and rouses her with his boot, roughly shaking her injured shoulder. Iroh was about to grab his nephew and demand what he was doing to his friend until they heard Lila whimper. Before she could even open her eyes the Prince was already grabbing her shirt and pulling her up by her sleeves.

“You are in a world of trouble!” He spits.

Now fully alarmed Iroh demands, “What could she have possibly done? Let her go!”

Wave upon wave of nausea beats against Lila, the black dots slowly disappearing as she weakly lifts her head. Rage-filled eyes glare down into her, she didn’t need to be reminded of what she chose to do, everything was fresh in her mind.

Prince Zuko sneers down at the quivering girl, the mere sight of her and what she did brought him to an even higher level of vexation.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Uncle? This servant has truly lost sight of where she belongs and thought it’d be funny to try and help the Avatar escape.” He venomously spits before calling two of his men, one of them being Lieutenant Jee. Coming up on either side of the girl, the Prince shoves her into their arms, a gasp tearing from her lips at his rough handling.

“Take her to one of the holding cells!” He orders. Iroh’s lips part in stunned silence, but even he knew he couldn’t change his nephew's mind.

Lila looks at the Prince in surprise although she knew she shouldn’t be, she knew the consequences she’d face the second she decided to help the Avatar. Her betrayal would lead to her punishment, but she knew she couldn’t let the fire nation get a hold of the Avatar. Her heels dug into the floor when the men began pulling her away, her arms trying to jerk out of the men’s hold in a feeble attempt to get away. However, the Prince suddenly ordered them to stop.

Slowly and meticulously Lila listens to Prince Zuko’s footsteps as he rounds on her. With him so close her chest involuntarily begins to heave when he breaks through her personal space, leaning in close to her face. He takes a moment to examine her. The tremor of her hands, the panting of her breath, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Last but not least the shiftiness of her eye, her blind one closed, as she struggles to hold his stare. “Defense mechanism,” he thought.

“Funny,” he begins, “when you were looking for the Avatar in the water I was wondering if I should punish you or not. Even back in my quarters, when you spoke without permission, I was considering it. You were doing so well, staying off my bad side. A model servant, probably the best I’ve ever seen. You even managed to befriend my Uncle. Then you go and stab me and all of my men, your crew mates in the back. Even my Uncle,” Lila’s nervous gaze was about to shift to Iroh but Prince Zuko blocked her as he circled in front of her like a sea lion. “Ah ah ah. Don’t look at him.” His voice was uncharacteristically silky and velvety. Her eye following his every move, apprehension visible in her demeanor. Lila had no idea what he was going to do, she let out a shaky breath, the crisp air fogging up, and Prince Zuko heard it, “You were so bold when helping the Avatar, what happened?”

Then his knowing stare flickered to the cloth tied around her pointer finger and back to her eye before he pulled the cloth free and held it mockingly up to her face before hissing, “Try covering your eye now.”

Finito. I quickly double checked it, I’m gonna go back and edit this more later on. BUt I hope it was entertaining~~ Be blessed.

Taglist (If i missed anyone of if you want to be tagged let me know:))

@bangtanboyswriting123 @agentsofblinks @lilmou5ie @eury-dice3 @shephard17895 @duh-dobrik @yourlivewire @luleck @oraclebirds @eridanuswave @bucky-blogs

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merigreenleaf · 4 years ago

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Unexpected Inspiration Character Backstory: The Twins’ Past

The crisp snow crunched under Etri's feet in a sickening way reminiscent of the rough gravel floor of the Sanctuary's acolyte quarter. His skin burned every time he sunk into a knee-high drift, the pain a constant reminder of the flames that waited for him should they be caught. His fingers were numb under thin gloves meant for concealment, not warmth, and his robe was nigh-useless outside the cavern city. It had been cold underground-- every day of his life had been spent shivering-- but nothing had prepared him for this overwhelming numbness spreading through his body. If he couldn't find shelter soon, it wouldn't matter that they had escaped. They would die anyway.

-Excerpt from “Stuck With You”

As their lingering accents and pale features can attest, Sol and Etri weren't originally from Concordia. They come from Montglace, a place far to the north where the population lives in a single city deep below the mountainous snow and ice. At one time, long ago, people lived on the surface, but this was so long ago that the rest of the world mostly assumes the population of Montglace died out, if they're reminded of its existence at all. Possibly this would have been for the best, considering what Montglace has become. The twins do not have a happy backstory.

Montglacian culture is dominated by a dual religious order of light and shadow; the twins were born into and raised by the Sanctuary of Shadow. Within the carved stone walls of the temples, there is no concept of family and children never know who their parents or possible siblings are. Being identical twins granted Etri and Sol some insight, although it took years for them to work this out. While Etri was delivering a message for one of the high ranking priestesses, he came across a mirror for the first time in his life. It was then that it made sense why people had always called him by the wrong name-- he looked identical to one of the other boys. Since their language has no word for brother or twin, the closest they could come up with was "person who looks like me," but this was enough for them to realize the other was important.

[More]

Etri's shadow magic manifested soon after this and he was allowed a small room of his own. This offered a little more security from the dangers of the temple, but it meant that it was harder to sneak around to spend time with Sol. In working out a way to do this safely, Etri discovered that his magic could turn his body into a shadow, much like the elementals the priest/esses controlled. This brought its own kind of danger in keeping it secret, but Etri has always been careful. He made sure that they were never caught together and when Sol began showing signs of light magic, Etri made sure no one else found out. If this was discovered, Sol would have been sent to the Sanctuary of Light and it would have been unlikely the two would see each other again. Sol played dumb, which was easy when the priest/esses never guessed he could have light magic and instead only tested his control over shadow elementals. To this day, shadows still terrify Sol.

Only one other person knew the truth about Sol having magic and he took it to the grave... but I'm getting ahead of myself. Sol fell in love with another boy in the temple and this needed just as much care to avoid detection since any kind of relationship was forbidden. Knowing how important this boy was to Sol, Etri took a risk and befriended him. Etri tried his hardest to keep both of them out of trouble, but this wasn't an easy task. Sol had a tendency to become easily distracted and not notice a threat until too late. Pierre constantly talked back to his superiors and made himself a target all too often, usually as he tried to divert someone's attention long enough for Sol to get away. Pierre always stood his ground, refusing to be quiet and accept life as it was in the temple. He hated the Sanctuary and while he and Etri were able to give Sol happiness as best they could, both hated seeing him scared so much of the time. There had to be a way out, even if leaving was forbidden. So the three made plans for Sol and Pierre to sneak out of the city and out of the mountain. Etri disliked the idea of losing the people he cared about, but he knew they would have a better chance of escaping if he stayed behind to distract or try to stop anyone who followed them. With his ability to shift into a shadow and avoid being seen, he had a level of protection the other two did not.

Their plan almost worked. At the last moment, their escape was discovered, and both were locked up. Etri tried so hard to break them out, but couldn't succeed before Sol and Pierre were dragged out to the surface of the mountain with Etri following close behind in shadow form. With no witnesses around, the three knew the type of punishment the priest/esses had in mind. What was essentially an elemental firefight went down. Etri, doing the best he could with magic that had never been fully trained, blocked the elementals long enough to give Pierre time to summon shadows of his own to use against the light elementals. Sol, absolutely terrified of everything happening, lost control over his magic. He flared hot and bright like a small sun, which took out a portion of the elementals before he fainted. This was a losing battle and the other two knew it. Pierre urged Etri to get away with Sol, then used every ounce of his strength to buy them time. Etri, in turn, threw all he could into wrapping his magic around the other two to try to shadow them to safety, but he wasn't strong enough. He was able to grab his twin-- just barely-- and pull him away before Pierre drained his own magic dry.

The twins got away and made their way south into Galanvoth and eventually into Concordia. It wasn't easy and they struggled at first, both in terms of controlling their magic and with life in general. As Sol grew more confident with his magic, he decided to change his name as a way of claiming his power for himself and also to get rid of the birth name that reminded him too much of his past. He earned what income he could through his skill in fixing and inventing things while Etri stole what else they needed to survive. This, though, is a story for another day. Seven years have passed since they fled Montlgace and both have grown up and found happiness. They now have safety, security, and friends in their carnival troupe. When they meet Blythe and later Adair and Dray, they gain a family they never had in anyone but each other. Forever at the back of both of their minds, though, is guilt and regret that they weren't able to save Pierre, too.

————————–

This is the next (and possibly last, although I might do secondary characters later) in the series of backstory moodboards I’m doing about the dorks. I have one for Blythe here, one for Addy here, two for Dray here and here, and one for Rosalie & Camille here.

This was made for @homesteadchronicles theme of “mountains” although I started it weeks ago for a theme that might have been “desperation”-- it took me that long to iron out their backstory because I realized I’d broken it as I’ve been outlining the trilogy. Also I swear I’m still writing comedic/lighthearted fantasy despite how depressing this post is. The twins most definitely had the hardest childhood, but it improved drastically after this low point as teenagers, I promise!

(For the moodboard, most pictures are pretty straightforward, but I’ll explain a few. The pictures represent them in this point of their past-- Etri is naturally blond, believe it or not lol. I liked the heart shape of the guy breathing fire because that’s so very Sol. The necklace represents the one Sol made for Pierre; he put some of his magic into it so it served to protect Pierre a little while they were living in the temple. While Pierre was telling Etri to leave, he passed the necklace back because it was the only thing he could give Sol to remember him by. The crescent moon tattoo on Etri’s side represents the branding he was given when his magic manifested; everyone in the Sanctuaries is branded when they develop magic. In case you can’t see the images, like if tumblr isn’t letting you click them bigger, Sol’s quote thing says “Play Dumb! Not That Dumb!” and Etri’s says “Always have an escape plan.”)

Tagging my series tag list. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list and please definitely tag me in writing things you share, too!

@homesteadchronicles @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @oceanwriter @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @muffindragon227 @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @dreameronthewind @shadow-maker @pen-for-sword @loopyhoopywrites @emptymanuscript @madmoonink @perringwrites @megan-cutler @elliot-orion @thatwriternamedvolk @indecentpause @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @siarven @musicismymoirail @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @worldbuildingwren @hiddswritingrefs @cay--scribbles @focusdumbass @enasroterfaden @missrobinswritings @joshuaorrizonte @zofiehelen @kainablue @kalis-scribbles @inspirited-goddess

#death warning #which is the first and probably only time you'll ever see this on a post of mine #writing #writeblr #moodboard #character moodboard #character backstory #character aesthetics #fantasy series #unexpected inspiration series #Unexpected Inspiration aesthetic #UI POV: Etri #UI POV: Sol #this is definitely the most depressing thing I've ever written #someday I'll go back and write a novella about Dray's past #I most definitely will never write one about the twins lol

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wavesmp3 · 5 years ago

Text

lie to me

pairing: chwe hansol x reader genre: soulmate au + angst warnings: drug usage + major character death wc: 3.2k

synopsis: in a world where the name of your soulmate is written like a tattoo on your wrist and you stop aging at 23 until you meet them a/n: a prequel to Room 18a and an extension of this prompt response from svtwritenight (i also listened to ribs by lorde on repeat while writing this and was inspired by I’ll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson in terms of writing style)

he sees you for the first time in the line of a coffee shop he’s never been to before. you sit alone. not on your phone. not doing anything. you stare into the abyss of your mug. yet you stare so intensely hansol thinks the mug must hold galaxies or the answer to all the mysteries to life or something insane and spectacular to hold your attention the way it does.

hansol wonders how the entire cafe doesn’t stop to stare at you staring at your mug cause hansol—well, he can’t take his eyes off you.

he inhales—

and by the time he exhales he’s seated in front of you with a cold cup of iced coffee in his hand. he’s not sure what possessed him to be so bold, to be so forward.

“um… hi?” you say to the boy who sits in front of you. (his clothes are odd. a too big tie dye shirt and a beanie. you’re taken aback by how pretty he is. too pretty. you sit a little more guarded)

hansol thinks your voice sounds like honey. he thinks your voice, just like the rest of you, is a trap luring him to his own demise. he couldn’t care less.

hansol chuckles awkwardly and shakes his head. “hi, um, what’s your- what’s your name?” he finally sputters out.

you tell him. and hansol’s eardrums burst from the name that leaves your lips except that it comes out as a small, incoherent sigh. he looks down at his hands. your name isn’t the one tattooed on his wrist. you are not the one he’s destined to be with. you are not the one he’ll grow old with. for as long as he knows you, he’ll stay stuck at 23. and he’s devastated. absolutely, completely crushed. like garlic under the side of a knife. like the remnants of a spice crushed in a mortar, stuck to the bottom of the pestle.

but then your arm drops, and your sleeve rises a little. and hansol can clearly see the letters of his name taking up the small space of your wrist. he looks back up at you.

“so then, what’s your name?” you ask as hansol comes to the soul crushing realization that he isn’t the only hansol in the world. and that he isn’t your hansol.

he decides he doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

“vernon,” he lies, “the name’s vernon.”

(hansol doesn’t catch the way you sigh in relief)

“well, this is kind of awkward,” he mutters, still looking at his hands. he chuckles again. it’s another lame attempt to fill the silence. it doesn’t work.

you tilt your head slightly. he can tell you’re still looking at him, and out of the corner of his eye he can tell you’re smiling. he has to stop himself from staring at the way your lips turn up. “why?”

he chuckles. awkwardly. again. he thinks you must be getting tired of the sound. (if he had asked, you would’ve said—well, you aren’t really sure what exactly you would’ve said, but you wouldn’t have been able to admit just how much you enjoyed the sound of his awkward chuckles)

“i, uh…”

“don’t get shy now, vernon.” you mutter into your mug. the fake name stings hansol’s ears.

“i sorta thought that you were my, uhm,” he hesitates, hiding his hands beneath the table, “my soulmate.”

you laugh. his face flushes.

“oh, you’re so cute,” you say harmlessly. he can feel the heat dance across his cheeks. you lean towards him.

and suddenly, hansol feels wrong. he feels like he’s done something terrible. he feels like he’s betraying his soulmate by being so attracted to you. he feels like a douche at how the words you’re so cute echoes in his head.

“i should go.” there’s no chuckle this time. he doesn’t like how easily you notice the change in his demeanor. hansol stands up abruptly, his eyes doing their best to stay trained on the floor beneath him. he almost doesn’t notice how you stand up with him. but when he does, hansol’s eyes betray him.

“or,” you pause, you’re eyes looking at the air around him, “you could stay.”

hansol turns his head. as if he’s looking for the camera on a prank show. “but we,” he motions between the two of you, “we aren’t soulmates.”

you shrug. “does that mean we can’t be friends?”

being your friend is the hardest thing hansol’s ever had to do.

and not because you’re hard to get along with.

no, but because hansol’s never quite gotten along with anyone the way he gets along with you.

it’s easy. too easy. the words flow like they’ve been cemented in history. like they’re passages and verses that have been repeated for ages. like they belong in the air between the two of you. he’s already memorized the way you scrunch your nose and tap your knees. and when you laugh at his jokes, he can already hear it playing infinitely in his mind. it feels as if he’s known you forever when you send him funny pictures and text him goodnight. you listen to him when he talks, and he feels more heard when you nod your head then he has his entire life. you dance. you’re not very good but you dance like you’re alive. hansol knows that you are. he’s never met anyone who’s company was so exhilarating yet comforting. someone who made him feel like the best version of himself. there was not a single bone or cell or vein in his body that did not belong with you.

but then you say his name. except you don’t say his name. you say vernon. and he swears every time you say the fake name he gave you the first day you met, his heart is being ripped from his chest. every. single. time.

he wants to forget about his soulmate. erase the name on his wrist and tattoo yours in the empty space. he wishes more than anything that he was the hansol that was destined for you. he wishes more than anything that he could be yours.

he’s not so sure he believes in soulmates anymore. after all, not everyone has a name on their wrist. but more importantly, no soulmate of his could ever compare to you.

“how old are you vernon?” you ask one day as he plays music from the car stereo. the two of you at your spot. hansol likes how you and him have a spot. it’s tucked away in a corner of your city. away from the madness. away from the insanity. and most notably, away from reality. it’s a lookout from the mountains. you can see the entire city from here. hansol feels on top of the world when you bring him here. but he knows it has nothing to do with the elevation.

“23”

you shove his arm playfully. he smiles shyly. “we’re all 23. how old are you actually?”

he waits a moment. “i am 23,” he repeats, you look away suddenly.

“fuck,” you whisper, except the curse doesn’t sound so vulgar coming from your mouth, “you’re so young.”

hansol feels small then. he realizes that despite how easy it’s been to become your friend, he still doesn’t really know you. he’s never seen your place. he doesn’t know what you do for a living. he doesn’t even know your last name. he’s doesn’t know the life you lived before him. hell, he doesn’t know the life you live apart from him. he only knows the ‘you’ you are with him.

“what’s your last name?”

“what?” and when you turn to him, confusion evident in your question, he doesn’t miss the pain evident in your brows. and he realizes another thing in that moment: hansol doesn’t know the hurt you’ve endured before him.

“are you o—“

“take me home.”

so he does.

you call him later that night.

“i’m sorry.” the words emerge from your mouth the second he picks up.

“don’t apologize.” he tells you. you sniffle and that’s when he can tell you’ve been crying. the sound or maybe the thought strikes him across the face. hard. “i’m sorry too.”

you don’t respond. he bites his lip til it bleeds.

“can i ask you something?” he finally asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.

“shoot”

“how old are you?”

you exhale. hansol can almost feel the exhaustion in your voice. “too old vernon, too old.”

he doesn’t ask you to elaborate any further and you don’t. but hansol can’t help the way the phrase ‘too old’ sticks to the side of his mind. he pushes it around, testing it out in the different parts of his head. like a piece of candy he’s still trying to determine the flavor of.

he decides he wants to keep the flavor a mystery.

(that night, he stays on the phone with you until you can’t remember why you were so sad to begin with. he makes you laugh like you’ve never laughed before. until your ribs are tough. until you can basically see his gummy smile. until you want to burn the image in the back of your brain)

hansol’s friends liked to call him hopeless. he isn’t sure why.

but when the words, “we’re just friends,” erupts from your lips like you’ve been holding them back. like they’re not just words. like they’re boundaries.

he understands how hopeless he really is.

hansol knew people could wear their hearts on their sleeves

but he didn’t know how heartbreak could explode from inside him no matter how concealed and hidden and bottled down he kept it. he didn’t know that heartbreak could splatter across his face and soak into his skin. he didn’t know that heartbreak could spill out of the neck of his shirt and slide down his sleeve. that it would trickle past his elbows and drip from his fingertips with a haunting, taunting drip drip drip. he didn’t know that it could pool beneath his feet and drench his socks. and then drip and pool beneath him some more until he was drowning in it.

he didn’t know until the moment it happened.

he didn’t know you would pretend to not hear the dripping.

hansol drowns a little more.

you call him vernon and he hears hopeless.

he doesn’t remember when he realized it but when he does, it changes everything.

you and hansol never hung out in groups. only alone at his place or at your spot above the city. only through the blue and green bubbles of a phone.

and somewhere between the silence of your conversations. he hears how lonely you are.

you’re almost as lonely as he is hopeless.

he doesn’t know how to fix it. he doesn’t know if he should.

it’s like you whisper i’m so alone but it gets lost through the phone lines and comes out as what movie did you watch.

it’s like hansol whispers back i know but it gets tangled between the cables and you hear before sunrise instead.

it’s like you have a whole conversation between the empty spaces. it’s like the two of you got lost in translation.

it’s like hansol doesn’t need to know every single detail about you and your past to know that he loves you and that the words i love you aren’t even close to enough to express just exactly how much he does.

the night you turn off your shoes and take off your phones. the night you want to play nintendo. is the night hansol peels a clementine and gives you half.

(you tell him how your aunt used to say if a boy gives you a clementine your love for him will multiply. he asks if it did. you laugh. the next day he brings you a crate full of clementines. you think he’s the only friend you need. and once he’s gone, you throw away every last clementine)

“what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

he thinks for a moment. “probably cocaine.”

“were you addicted?”

he doesn’t answer. “what about you? what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“i’ve killed people vernon.” you say it gravely.

he laughs. you smile. “but what’s the actual worst thing?”

“it’s this liquid drug. it’s green. my friend jihoon makes it for me.”

hansol inhales, “what’s it feel like?”

you pause. “liquid lighting.”

somehow, he knows exactly what you mean.

then one night, hansol decides he’s had enough.

the two of you are drunk and at your spot. too drunk to drive home. so drunk you’ll have to sleep in the car.

he sits on the roof and you dance on hood. the kind of dance that makes you alive. hansol feels every nerve in his body ignite. by the time the song ends he doesn’t know if he’s laughing or crying.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

you stop dancing. “do what?”

“i can’t be your friend.”

you don’t say anything. but when you do, the question sounds like it comes from the back of throat and the bottom of a pit. you can’t meet his eyes. “did you meet your soulmate?”

he shakes his head. “i met you.” he stands up with you on the hood. getting to know you was like walking into a house he’s known his entire life. he knew all its secrets. he knew memories that weren’t his. he knew the color of every wall. and the feeling of the tile on the floor. he knew all its flaws. which faucets were leaking and which doors had broken locks. he knew what he’d find in the fridge without ever opening it. he knew which candle was lit. he knew the scent. he knew where you bought it. he knew you before he ever got the chance to speak to you. he knew you as if he’s been waiting for you his entire life. as if the essence of you was etched into his soul. he knew you. completely. through and fucking through. like he’s never known anyone else. he waits a beat. and not caring that he said it all in his head, he asks, “do you know me too?”

but really he’s asking do you love me too?

he finds the answer in the kiss you press to his lips.

and hansol knows it sounds cliche. he knows he sounds hopeless. but he swears on his life that fireworks have gone off somewhere in the distance. he swears on his life that he was meant to die in your arms because he swears there’s nowhere else he belongs more. he kisses you like his entire life has built up to this moment. he knows somewhere deep in his intestines that it has. he clings to you and holds onto you like he’ll never let go. he grabs at your body like it’s the only thing he knows. as if the image of you two in each other’s arms could be found in the sky.

(you know what this kiss means. somewhere deep inside you recognize the familiarity of his lips and the feeling in your fingertips. but you pretend you don’t. you hide the realization in the back of your throat)

the way he loved you made him want to be an artist of some sort. he wanted to carve out the image of his love from the depths of a stone and sculpt the contours of his fondness. he wanted to meet you over and over again with watercolors and oils. he wanted to fall in love through the disappearing ink of a pencil. he wanted to write words so powerful, so impactful that they could bring tsunamis to the eyes of a stranger.

the way he loved you made him absolutely positively mad and he loved it. he loved you.

“it drives you crazy,” you tell him, “getting old but not growing old.”

he listens faintly more concerned with tracing the lines on your palms until they create constellations. he kisses each individual star.

“are you listening to me?” you ask him retrieving your hand from inside his and using it to tousle his hair.

“no”

you sigh helplessly. he smiles.

“but,” he starts, “life’s a dream.”

“this dream isn’t so sweet,” you mutter.

“bittersweet?”

you take a long gulp from the vodka bottle. your entire face scrunches with the taste. “bitter.”

he’s not sure whether you’re talking to him or the alcohol.

on the last night, you take him to a club. he pulls out his ID for the bouncer.

(he doesn’t catch the way you stiffen when he does)

but once you’re inside the club, the music so loud hansol can’t hear himself think. you push him to a corner.

“why did you lie to me?” you have to yell to be heard. but the words only hit him like a soft blow. “vernon’s not your name is it?”

he hadn’t realized you saw his ID. he also doesn’t realize you’re crying in this dark light.

you show him your wrist. your tattooed one. “why didn’t you tell me your name is hansol?”

he can’t speak. he can’t move. he can’t take his eyes off you.

“I—“

you start fumbling for his wrist. he tries to keep it from you.

“no, listen. i’m the wrong hansol. i’m not your—“

but he’s too late, you’re already staring at his wrist. you’re already staring at the name printed on him. the name that isn’t yours.

“—soulmate”

hansol hears a familiar drip drip drip. but this time, it isn’t coming from him. the dripping is yours.

you drop his wrist and drop your head. it lands on his chest. he holds you as you shake and cry in the corner of the club. he doesn’t know when he starts crying himself.

but then suddenly you lift your head up and pull out your phone.

“what are you doing?”

“texting jihoon.” your thumb hovers above the keyboard for a moment.

“why?” you act like you don’t hear him.

you talk to someone behind the bar. you dance in the crowd. then you lead him to a room in the back.

he says let’s talk. you say let’s do heroin.

(he doesn’t know where you get the needle from)

he says no. you fall to your knees.

(you don’t try to hide how hard you’re sobbing)

he kneels next to you. you kiss him.

he almost doesn’t feel the needle penetrate his skin.

are you crazy he screams only it gets lost behind his gasping.

you position his head on your lap.

“i’m sorry hansol. i’m so sorry.” your tears drop onto his face and slide off his cheeks. he almost forgets the needle in his arm at the sound of you saying his name.

“what are you—“

you grab his wrist for the second time that night. “i lied to you.” you trace the letters of his soulmate’s name. “this,” you press on the tattoo, “this is my real name.” you meet his eyes. he begins to cry. “you were my soulmate this whole time.”

he can’t breathe. the only thing he can manage to say is—

“what are you doing.”

you take a shallow breath. “surviving.”

he repeats it

surviving.

(you press your lips to his and whisper i love you until his lungs deflate completely. until you hear him open the door. you compose yourself quickly.

“jihoon,” you say once he’s entirely inside the room, “took you long enough.”)

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

Hey Steph, I saw you said you had a Doctor John part 4 ready to copy and paste? I have an insatiable hunger for angst like that and so far in quarantine I’ve gone through the other 3 parts 😂 I need more

Hi Nonny!!!

I DOOOOO!!!! And LOL I’m HONOURED that you read every fic on my other lists, hahahah!! Here you go, enjoy!!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN Pt 4

See also:

Doctor / Caretaker John

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 2

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 3

Sherlock is Sick/Hurt (Sherlock Whump)

Sherlock Whump Pt. 2

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It’s because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock’s kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

Sleepless nights by El loopy (T, 5,467 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares/Insomnia, Panic Attack, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock has a nightmare and John wants to know what it was about. Set during season 1. Three-shot.

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Sherlock’s Sleeping Habits by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 11,424 w., 16 Ch. || Friendship, Sleepy Sherlock, One Shot Collection, Fluff, Domestics) – In which John learns about Sherlock’s sleeping habits. Series of unrelated oneshots featuring the one and only ADORABLE Sleepy!Lock! Fluff abounds.

The Hand You’re Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 12,092 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light Violence, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury, Friendship) – Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world’s only consulting detective will be on his own once again…or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary’s wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn’t exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues – just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John “Five Oceans” Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #doctor john #sherlock whump #my fic recs #Anonymous

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Note

"Did you expect this to turn out better?" for Cat angst!

Okay let’s start out this angst Friday strong! Uhm trigger warnings for mentions of death. It’s angst and gets deep. So uh yeah. Sorry.

Their footsteps are slow, steady...hollow as they bounce off the wood of this hallowed ground. His hair is still soft as she runs her fingers through it, head cradled in her lap as the steps move closer to her. The chains clink as they hold the empty bird cages above her, tears falling in time silently, the sobs having passed long ago. This isn’t real. It can’t be real, her eyes can’t focus on his features as they are, bloodied, bruised...pale. All she can see is the brown eyes that shined when he smiled at the world, his hair a mess when he woke in the morning after having slept with it wet, the lean muscle that held her close or teased her when they found themselves in the kitchen together.

How did they end up here? How did she end up here all alone? The plan was fool proof everything went as planned….and then….it didn’t. The Saint was the first to fall when reinforcements no one anticipated came at them from all sides. She was never meant to run into the battle but she did, watching him stumble to the ground, a hope that if she made it fast enough he could live. Misplaced hope as she had seen the three bullets hit him in places that one could never survive even if he made it to a hospital in time. The distance she made him walk didn’t grant him any more time with her either.

The edge of the battle field was met with words of comfort and reassurance while trying to stop the inevitable. Bandage after bandage was wrapped around him, her hands still working on placing more when she heard a commotion in the middle of the field. She looked up, there in the center was the Sinner, arms held behind his back by three men. He trashed against them his gold earrings flashing in the afternoon sun, dragged to his fate, forced to join like she was. Even after John’s death, one everyone blamed him for, it was still Joseph’s will to bring him into the fold, a fate worse than death for him. Mercy, swift, given as a falsely loyal follower took it upon themselves to shoot him….point blank.

Hesitation rooting her to the ground, eyes wide, as his captors half threw him to the side to yell at their fellow member, her scream silent to her ears, rough and rattling her vocal cords. Her heart pulled to bring him back home like he would have done, overpowering any voice to stay with the love of her life. Lungs burning she made it to him, avoiding the blank gaze his hazel eyes held for the sky, she pulled, lifting him to her back. “I’m here. I got you,” repeated like a prayer as gravity from the hill helped her bring the two of them together once more.

The three of them needed safety and only one place close enough to offer them that. Stretcher attached to her back with Wes lying on it and Rafael clinging to her, his steps faltering holding more of his weight, she walked, leading them to the church.

Back to where it all began.

That same church she sits in now, clinging to the last memory of him, the words he spoke softly, his thumb still trying to wipe her tears when it was obvious the two were going to part. “Tenerte y amarte significa que mi corazón está en paz. Nunca fuimos destinados a igualar las historias que adoramos porque somos nuestro propio romance épico,” his last words to her. The first declaration of love he spoke that she had understood fully after months of only ever putting pieces together. A tear in her chest with each word he spoke, breathing slowing down, heart in shreds. Clinging to him, rocking him, she waited until his last breath to scream out. Deafening in the empty church.

She only let go of him long enough to try and fight off those that came to drag Wes’ body from her. He was to become a display. A warning. She put up a fight, best she could keeping Wes as close as possible, but when it was five against one, she was easily tossed to the side. Her friend, best friend, the older brother she never had, and wanted back, “You just be careful out there. Can’t stand to see you lose.” “Always careful, Cat.” She couldn’t remember if she reminded him that he was loved by her as he had been taken, stolen, to be desecrated.

Alone.

Left to cry and apologize to deaf ears. Back at square one sitting in silence until those footsteps joined her. He finally stood in front of her, tattoos and scars on full display, hair tied back, and yellow glasses that turned his blue eyes green. She pulled Rafael closer to her, gripping as tightly as she could as he kneeled down to meet her eyes. “You can’t have him too,” she whispered, “You’ve already got the one you wanted.”

His breathing was even, she knew his face would have sympathy on it, the same look he gave Catlina when she first found herself in the middle of Montana lost and alone. “My child,” he reached out to her, she pulled back from his touch, his hand falling. “Did you expect this to turn out better?” Yes, “After everything that’s happened to you.”

“It’s not fair,” her voice is soft.

“I know,” she looked up slowly meeting his eyes briefly, “This world has been unfair to you. To us both.” His words were calming, drifting to her ears with a summer breeze guiding them. “Come with me. We can make this world a better place.”

She shook her head, fingers tracing her love’s features, “I’d rather die,” she brushed his curls from his face, “I think I just might.”

“You’re not destined to die yet,” the flame that sparked when he spoke of her destiny, her fate, remained cold now, embers fading. “How many times have you defied death in your life,” she kept her mouth closed, throat closing in on her, “Four times now?”

Catlina was twenty-two the first time, her mother left her behind, admitting that if she couldn’t be cured then she was no longer capable of loving her. Then again three years later, neighbors found her lying on the floor of her living room clutching the picture of her husband, pill bottles tossed to the side. Finally, months ago when she found there was no way out of Eden’s Gate, Catlina threw herself from the bridge. Each time someone was there in just the knick of time, saving her, granting her another chance at life. A life she no longer wanted, if she ever really did.

“This last time, God spoke to me,” I don’t believe in a god, “Showed you running to your friend through the gunfire. So many bullets you missed, knives grazing your clothes and not your skin.” She wanted to cover her ears, stop his false prophecies from reaching her brain. Too late though, her soul tired and saddened let his words sink in, little by little. “And then an image of you below the cross cradling the Saint,” Rafael, her savior. The one she placed all her faith in.

“I don’t want a purpose anymore,” she mumbled under her breath, sobs that had started to form, dissipating.

“I compassionate thee,” a sermon, a prayer, “sorrowing Mary, for that martyrdom which thy generous heart sustained,” she’d been to many services, “in being present with thine agonizing Jesus.” Never once had Joseph quoted this. There was never anything about Mary ever said. Not since she baptised before being married off. The change of her name and her first purpose given to her, “O dear Mother, by thy heart undergoing so severe a martyrdom,” this wasn’t the Mary she knew though, “obtain for me the virtue of temperance, and the gift of counsel.”

Tears fell silently looking up to Joseph curiously, “What are you talking about? You never speak of Mary.”

He held out a scorched thin paper out to her, she took it gingerly looking it over, “Because I misunderstood her purpose.” There was only one line that was complete, “35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” “Luke two, thirty five.”

Catlina shook her head handing it back, “I don’t want this life. I never did.” She looked at Raf’s face, she’d be joining him soon, “Please,” she tried to plead again, “just leave me be.”

“You want to die,” his hand brought her face up to meet his eyes, “and I can help you with that.”

Her chest felt so hollow, and yet….something spoke to her, “How?”

“We bury you with him,” she searched his face for any indication of lies or ill intent. Nothing. “And once he’s been laid to rest next to you, we give you a new life. One where all this pain makes sense, has meaning.” Metaphorical death, that’s all he could offer her. Another fake life, one where she was open to the pain of being hurt again. Catlina was tired of living….tired of being. “You’d never be alone ever again. You’d never live a life feeling lost. Catlina could be free from that life.”

Catlina….that’s who held all this pain. She was the one that was forever destined to end up alone. Always lost. Catlina was the one that wanted to die.

Did she want to die?

“You promise I can give Rafael a proper burial?” Joseph nodded, her mind straying to the horrors that awaited her brother. “I want to bury Wes too,” her eyes met Joseph’s with determination, “He deserves to leave this world loved and cared for.”

There was no hesitation, “Yes,” relief creeping in her chest, “Mary was always a symbol of love and compassion for all people. We should follow suit.”

“I want to oversee it all with my own eyes,” or no deal.

He gave a slow nod, “Of course.” He stood holding his hand out to her, “Come. We must prepare them.” She looked longingly at her heart committing his face to memory, etching it onto her soul. When it finally cemented she inhaled deeply.

Mary gently laid Rafael’s head on the floor, her blue sweater softening the wood below him. She closed her eyes, placing a kiss gently on his forehead, “Till we meet again, amor de mi vida,” she whispered, letting go. Mary looked up to Joseph, placing her hand in his standing, the setting sun silhouetting her frame in golden light. Giving him a small nod Mary followed him out of the church to recover Wes and lay the three of them to rest.

#tw death #tw mention of suicide #I am so sorry this hurts my heart too #I just must have been in a mood a bit #idk but any way #x: top chefs #brotp: red brooks bros #yeah okay I'm glad this is something I'm q'ing so i'll be sleeping while you read it #brains and disaster

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lavendersoft · 5 years ago

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Until I met you.

-Street fighter!Jimin x Reader

1/?

Synopsis: While on a date for their 2nd anniversary, Jimin loses Yoongi while being attacked in an alleyway by a robber. Yoongi sacrificed himself for his lover and Jimin could never forgive himself for not being able to do the same. The survivor’s guilt ate away at him over the months and it definitely didn’t help that he saw Yoongi’s face everywhere. In mirrors, dreams, large crowds, on trains, and even when he closed his eyes. Although, Jimin found a way to cope. He began a rigorous training schedule. Boxing, self-defense classes, Tae Kwon Do, he even started street fighting and got caught up with bad people. Anything and everything. His hands would bleed, his muscles would ache, his bones would break. Jimin was offered multiple full scholarships to prestigious martial arts schools for his talent, all of which Jimin turned down. He didn’t want to make a career out of this, he just didn’t want to be haunted by his dead fiancé. The only time Yoongi won’t haunt every moment of Jimin’s life was when he’s training, as if Yoongi is saying “I won’t rest, nor will I let you rest, until you’re stronger.” Jimin will never lose anyone that he loves again.

Everything felt like a downward spiral,

until he met you.

Warnings: (There’s a lot- and it’s kinda dark, be warned) PTSD, implied schizophrenia (sorta? take that with a grain of salt), PTSD induced delusions/hallucinations, depression, paranoia, night terrors, character death, major angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masochism(?), alcoholism, minor gore, mention of drug abuse, mention of blood, mention of asylums, profanity, Jimin goes through one hell of a mental breakdown.

Author’s notes: super slow burn :/ basically, in which jimin copes with the traumatic incident of his fiancé’s brutal murder by street fighting. this story isn’t yandere but has dark themes.

The air was lifted right out of Jimin’s lungs. Tears were flowing freely, his hands were stained red, he couldn’t even see the golden engagement ring through the thick blood. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own sobs and heartbreak.

“Please... please stay awake. They’re coming, okay? Help’s coming. Just look at me. Look at me, please.”

He’d remembered somewhere that you were supposed to put pressure on wounds this big to stop the bleeding. If only his hands could stop shaking.

Yoongi had stopped responding about two minutes prior to this but Jimin refused to accept his fate. His last words replaying in Jimin’s mind like a mantra.

“Survive. Please, live. I love you.”

Two wallets.

Two fucking wallets with about 150,000 won split between them.

That’s how much his fiancé was murdered for.

Jimin jerks awake in a cold sweat. His bruised fist clamped around his bedsheets, heart rate much higher than it should be. He rises out of the creaking bed to stretch his overly tense muscles.

He can still feel the weight of his deceased boyfriend’s limp body in his arms.

Every day starts like this.

Every morning he’s pulled from the same reoccurring nightmare, then he starts his cold shower.

He can’t even take warm showers anymore, remembering how hot Yoongi insisted on keeping the water temperature when they showered together.

It’s been nine months.

Nine months, two weeks and four days since he lost the love of his life forever.

He hasn’t even taken off the engagement ring. It’s as if it’s glued to his finger now, his hand feels empty without it.

Jimin avoids looking in the mirror at all costs. In fact, he’s gotten rid of most of them in his home. The ones he couldn’t get rid of, he smashed with his bare hands in a fit of rage. The scars on his hands are proof.

How could he look at himself knowing how weak he was?

He scoffs.

Back then... how could I bare to tolerate myself back then? I was so flimsy and weak. Could barely open a fucking jar by myself. Absolutely pathetic.

Jimin’s heart has gotten callous. He is easily provoked and irrational. The takes unnecessary risks and is impulsive.

His therapist said it was “self-sabotage” or something.

Just two weeks ago, Jimin bleached his hair a striking blond, almost white- which burned most of his scalp- just because. And before that, on the nine-month anniversary of his lover’s passing, he went to get a tattoo on a whim. Just because he felt like it. He drinks alcohol for breakfast and has recently taken up smoking. The smell of cigarettes remind him of Yoongi, who also used to smoke.

Jimin liked pain. It was invigorating. He likes feeling things. Feeling has become a rarity, a privilege, a novelty.

Although irritable and easily angered, Jimin is not an unkind person. He gives to charity and volunteers at animal shelters. These things have also made him feel again, because he can feel Yoongi there, the real Yoongi. Yoongi was a huge advocate for human kindness. He used to say it was never justifiable to be a hateful person for no reason at all.

Jimin clings to this principal.

But it’s hard. It’s so hard to act happy when he’s so broken inside. He almost wishes he could just-

“Don’t you dare use me as an excuse to be a miserable person.” Yoongi’s voice rings out from behind him. Jimin screws his eyes shut and covers his ears.

“Go away.”

This person- this being- wasn’t Yoongi, that much he knew. If anything, it was a demon. A poltergeist that feeds off Jimin’s suffering. Yoongi would never do that.

This is why everyone around Jimin thinks he’s the sweetest, loveliest, most endearing man they’ve ever met. If only they knew about the unyielding hellfire that burns his very core.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jeon!” Jimin’s sweet voice cuts through the morning air.

He was on his way to his best friend Jungkook’s house to meet before Tae Kwon Do training. The Jeon family owns a martial arts studio and they’ve been training together for months now.

“Oh, good morning Jimin! How are you today?” The nice woman is always so cheerful, Jimin respects that.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. Have you heard from Jungkook? He’s supposed to meet me here.” Jimin hurry’s to catch up with the woman in front of him and takes her groceries off of her arms to carry.

“Yes, actually. He was running a tad late this morning since his class ended late. He should be here soon. Would you mind bringing those up for me?” She gestured to the apartment right above the studio, where the family lives.

“Not at all.”

When Jungkook finally arrives, he brings with him thirty-two excuses as to why he was late.

“I lost my phone.”

“My car ran out of gas.”

“My girlfriend broke up with me.”

Jimin chuckles as he suits up his training gear.

“Dude, if all of those things are true, you really need to get your life together.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jimin’s heart stops when the cold, low growl sounds from behind him again.

“You’re far from qualified to be giving life advice.”

Jimin hides his frown when the oblivious Jungkook punches him on the shoulder playfully.

“Haha! Shut up, dude! Let’s go.” He chides, padding off to the ring.

Jimin’s falters a bit behind, throwing a quick but cautious glance at the bloody image of Yoongi that glares back at him.

“Pathetic.”

“Seriously, dude! You’re way too talented at this to not make some money off of it.”

Jungkook’s been trying to get Jimin to take the scholarship he was offered by a scout that visited their studio not too long ago.

“I don’t know, man. This was just supposed to be a hobby remember?”

Jimin knew better. This was much more than a hobby. It was his anchor. It was his stress reliever. It was keeping him sane.

“Come on. We both know better than that. I see the way your face changes to stone when you fight. You have something. Something real. You could make it in the business!”

“You sound like a mafia boss.”

Jimin smiles as he eats the last of his ramen.

“Ya. I’m serious. If not a professional fighter then at least a coach. I mean, I’m doing it because I wanna be a cop but,” Jungkook sips from his energy drink. “Do you really just want to be a dancer?”

Jimin sighs. Yes. That was his dream before everything happened. He still clings to the idea. Before nine months ago, the idea had seemed just within reach. He’d applied for so many dance and art schools, even getting into a couple.

But after everything, he’d given up. He stopped dancing. He hates music. Even if he tried, his skills wouldn’t be anywhere near the place they were.

He’d totally abandoned his dream.

“Yes. I do.” He lies.

Jungkook shrugs, “Well, if anything, it’s made you a better fighter. Your moves are so fluid, it’s amazing.”

“Careful, you’re getting a crush.” Jimin jabs at him with a chopstick.

“Ugh. Please,” the younger rolls his eyes, “like I could ever. Plus, my girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Oh? I thought you two ‘broke up’, no?”

“Nah. I love her too much.” Jimin finds it cute that Jungkook actually loves his girlfriend. Before, he was a player, only using girls for sex or free food.

“Don’t use girls like toys, Jungkook.” Yoongi would always keep Jungkook in place when he broke another heart.

“Well, this ones on you. Since you lost. Again.” Jimin’s giggle makes Jungkook pout.

“One of these days, I’m gonna beat you, Park Jimin.” Jungkook pouts.

“One of these days.” Jimin reiterates.

Jimin says goodbye to his friend and pushes through the restaurant door. He misses the worried look Jungkook gives him when he turns his back.

The raindrops hit the top of the hood of Jimin’s jacket as he walks down the busy street. He hates being too alone these days. Jungkook really helps keep Jimin grounded, he’s one of the only people that don’t totally annoy him now. He reminds Jimin of all the times Yoongi, Jungkook, Tae, Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and himself would hang out as teens and young adults. Just fooling around without any worry. No cares or responsibilities, young love, parties. That was their lives.

Until nine months ago.

The grief of losing one of the group was detrimental. It seemed like no one was recovering properly, except maybe Jungkook. That’s why Jimin cohered himself to Jungkook, he seemed to be the most stable out of them all.

Namjoon and Tae both landed themselves in jail on multiple occasions for a plethora of reasons.

Hoseok checked himself into a mental asylum for a while. Last Jimin heard, he was abusing drugs of some sort.

And Jin moved across the country, said he wanted to start fresh. But really, he was just doing what Jin did best- running away.

None of them kept contact, except for Jungkook.

The entire carefree, wild group of friends had dissipated into nothing.

He feels his eyebrows furrow into a stern look.

They all left.

“They all left you.” His jaw clenches at the familiar, yet slightly inhuman voice. “They never cared about you. And Jungkook will leave you one day, too. No one is forever.”

Jimin’s turns down an alleyway and stops about halfway through, tears gathered in his eyes.

“No one is forever, but at least they keep moving forward. You’re just stuck.”

Yeah, Jimin truly hates being alone.

The not-so-subtle red neon sign flickers with the bright name of the “club.”

The large metal door makes a shallow sound when Jimin’s taps on it three times. A man wearing all black with sunglasses answers, “Passwo- oh, Jimin-ah. Come on in.”

Jimin nods once to the tall bodyguard as he passes him. The man towers over Jimin in height but the energy around the two doesn’t match. The man takes a small, nervous step back when Jimin starts forward.

Jimin hates how skittish everyone is in this little hole in the wall.

The biggest underground fighting ring in Korea was right next door to Jimin’s apartment, who would have thought. How convenient.

Heads bow as he passes. No one makes eye contact. Some mumble respectful greetings while putting honorifics next to his name, no matter what age or status they have.

He’s basically a king here.

But he doesn’t want the throne.

Jimin’s peers into the crowd and sure enough, sights his dead lover. He just wants this damn demon to leave him alone.

Yoongi never bothers him while he’s fighting or training. It’s like he goes dormant or something. That’s why Jimin keeps doing it. Well, that and because he wants to be strong. Stronger than he’s ever been.

And he is. He’s undefeated in this hellhole. He sort of blanks out when he fights anyone that’s not Jungkook. That’s how he earned the appropriate nickname “Demon”, for good reason. He’s heard from others that’s he’s terrifying when he’s in the ring. Although no one but his manager and couple other higher-ups dare to call him that, and he barely even tolerates that.

The last newcomer that called him that learned through a crushed windpipe to not.

He only does this to pay the bills. Everyone here knows that. It pisses some people off. For some, this was their entire life, what they were raised to do. Born to be fighting machines.

So, naturally, some don’t like Jimin. Especially those who he’s fought and won against. But Jimin couldn’t care less about what these people think about him.

“Manager-nim,” Jimin addresses an older man, somewhere in his forties, “I need you to schedule another Gold for me.”

See, the underground business is one built on ranking.

In the underground street fighting business, fights were categorized by prize earning and rank of the fighters. Gold rank fights could only be scheduled by- and usually for- the highest members, the Elites. The grand prize for a win was seven hundred million won. Only the greatest of the greatest won the prize and thus, earning an elite status (if not an elite already).

Jimin’s won it twice.

“Ya, getting pretty greedy now, are we? You just won it a couple months ago, Kid. Where’d that money go?”

“It’s gone.”

The suited man scoffs, “You need a better budgeting plan, Demon.” Jimin fights the urge to uppercut him.

“Can you do it or not?” Jimin’s patience is already wearing thin and he’s been here for a whole five minutes.

“You know, contrary to what you might believe, I’m not a money machine. The money you win when you fight comes from somewhere. Not only that, I’m not the only Elite that gets to decide. We take a vote.”

“Well vote.”

“Aish.” He growls, “You’re something else. People here are gonna start to think I favor you, and that’s dangerous for the both of us.” He pauses to look Jimin in the eyes, “You know, you have all of the qualifications to make the Elite status. Why don't you do the initiation-”

“Let me know when you have an answer.” Jimin’s made his feelings on the subject clear already. He has no intention of making this a permanent thing. This isn't a lifestyle, this isn't his job. It’s just a way to relieve his stress and make some cash.

With that, Jimin takes his leave, disappearing into the same direction from which he came. He’s truly a mysterious phenomenon.

Jungkook: hey do u wanna meet me and Jiyoo tonight for dinner?

Jimin peers down at his phone in confusion.

Jimin: uh third-wheeling really isn’t my thing lol

Jungkook: no, no we have someone we want you to meet. she’s Jiyoo’s sister and she’s just come home from college.

Jimin groans. This isn’t the first time Jungkook’s tried to set him up since Yoongi passed. He appreciates the sentiment but Jimin doesn’t think he’ll ever love someone like that again. It’s too much to ask for.

Jimin: idk man i’m pretty tired from training today. i think i’m gonna pass.

Jungkook: pretty please?

Ugh.

Jimin shoves a pillow over his face in frustration. He’s never been able to tell the kid no. And besides that- Jimin can feel the beady eyes of the shadowy figure in the corner. No, he doesn’t really want to stay here.

Jimin: fine.

—

The restaurant is filled with all sorts of people. From children to the elderly. Jimin gazes from person to person trying to decipher what kind of person they are. He tries to hinder the negative thoughts from entering his mind about them.

Jungkook’s always late. Always. When Jungkook says “5:30” he really means “6:00.” You’d think after almost a decade of knowing the kid, Jimin would learn.

He fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? Was it because these blind dates never end well? He thinks back to the last blind date Jungkook had set him up with.

Jimin shudders.

He can still hear the innocent girl’s cries as she fled his apartment, heartbroken.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as an arm slings around his shoulder, “Hey, man.”

Jungkook’s bright smile beams at him.

“Hey. Hi, Jiyoo.” He greets the couple as they take their seats.

“Hey, Jiminie.” Jungkook’s girlfriend was super cute, he’ll give her that.

“So..?” He’s confused time see that they came alone.

“Oh, she’s coming. My little sister is always a little late.”

Later than you both?

Jimin stops himself from the bitterness that threatens to erupt again. Not tonight. He’s going to try to be on his best behavior for his friend’s sake.

He’ll save all those pent up emotions for the fight he has scheduled tomorrow.

He vaguely registers the figure that makes its way into his peripheral vision, although he pays it no mind at first.

“Oh, Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Jungkook seems a bit overly excited. What’s all the fuss about? It’s not like-

Oh.

Okay, so she’s, like, really pretty. So what?

“Hi, Jungkook. Nice to see you. Jiyoo!” The girl walks over to embrace her sister tightly, “Oh my God, it feels like it’s been forever.”

After they take their greetings, the woman sits down across from Jimin.

“Hello, you must be Jimin. Jungkook’s told me so much about you. I’m Y/n.”

Okay, so she has the voice of an angel, big deal.

“Um, hi- yeah, I’m Jimin.” He reaches out to take the hand she offers.

“So, Y/n’s a dancer,” Jungkook starts when the food is placed in front of them, “and she’s really good.”

“Not that good.” She blushes.

“Don’t be modest, Y/n. She’s going to a really prestigious dance school on a full scholarship!” Her sister beams.

“Oh? Which one?” Jimin presses. It’s not like he’s interested or anything. Definitely not.

“Global. Global Dance Studio.” She answers.

“Ah. I heard they were good.” Jimin knows more than he let on. That was literally his dream school.

“Yeah, but strict. The training is brutal.” She emphasizes. He knows, he had to go through the same treatment. He hates that he feels a pang of jealousy and resentment towards this person he’s just met.

“I’ve heard.” He finishes as he takes the first bite of his food.

The rest of the hour-long dinner was pretty boring, with Jiyoo and Jungkook mostly taking ahold of the conversation. Although, Jimin will admit that he couldn’t stop glancing back at the beautiful girl across from him.

And he won’t pretend that he didn’t notice her treating him the same.

He was charming and kind, as usual, but he remained on the quiet side of the conversation. Jimin knew that Jungkook could tell he wasn’t being quite as flirty as he usually is with setups like this, from the way that the younger kept trying to tie Jimin in the chit chat.

Jimin stays subtle for the rest of the date.

When the group says their goodbyes, his eyes linger on hers for longer than the rest.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise.” She grins and Jimin feels his heart stop.

And then he leaves. Really, really fast.

That’s not good.

—

#Until I Met You #bts fanfiction #bts #park jimin #min yoongi #yoonmin #jeon jungkook #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jimin #yoongi #jungkook #street fighter! jimin

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mxsmwndr · 5 years ago

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Little Do They Know

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x PJO (crossover)

Summary: Little do they know, the Great War is only the beginning, and the reason behind Voldemort's doings are different than anticipated. Little do they know, there's a whole other world outside of the one of the Greek Gods' and Goddesses', or that of the wizards'. Little do they know, one so called 'son of Athena' can change the all history (or all future), and one Slytherin boy can do just as much. Little do they know, Malcolm Pace doesn't exist, and Draco Malfoy isn't as bad as he seems. Or maybe... he's worse than they could have ever imagined. (Basically in short form, Draco has to choose between Camp, or Hogwarts. If confused, read author's note)

Terms: X

Warnings: None? If you haven't read Percy Jackson or Harry Potter, there may be spoilers... but I think that's it. People are a little OOC, too.

A/N: Okay, so a few things. First off, Draco is 15 instead of 16, and Percabeth/others are 13/12/whatever. The prophecy of the Seven isn't out yet, too, because it was the prophecy that Lucius was supposed to get (and failed to, so therefore Draco takes his place). Lastly, Hogwarts and Camp Halfblood are in the same country--you choose whether it's America or Scotland, or wherever you want, but Draco still has a different accent than Percy/Annabeth. (As requested by @marieskeez , let me know what you think! Sorry it's not completely the request, it I do hope you still enjoy)

Disclaimer: Idea was a request, so I don't own it. I also don't own Draco, Percy, Annabeth or any other characters/scene. Also, the part that describes the Dark Mark is from Wikipedia... or something like that. I did change a few things, though.

Draco hesitantly rose up from where he slept seconds before, the creaky bed below him causing him to flinch, while he tried not to wake any of his siblings.

C'mon, Malfoy. He told himself. You can't hide forever.

And he was right, Draco couldn't hide forever. Some day, they're going to realize that he isn't a son of Athena. That in fact, he isn't even a demigod. And when that day came, Draco didn't want to be there.

Draco opened an old notebook of his siblings', and scribbled a quick farewell after he took off his sweatshirt. He set it onto his bed. Then, he grabbed his packed bag and fled the camp, pushing the dread of his future away.

Draco noticeably shivered as soon as he stepped into the old hotel.

"Are you cold, my love?" A woman's voice asked.

Draco swallowed, "No," he said.

The woman cackled, and stepped into the faint light. "Are you sure?" She asked. Her blood red lips glistened, and her pearly fangs peeked. However, her eyes were still hidden in the shadows of her helmet. But that didn't stop their faint glow.

Draco nodded, scared, like a child. This isn't what Father would have wanted. He told himself.

The woman cocked her head to the side slightly, "Come here, my love." She said.

Draco dragged his feet over to her, and held out his elbow for her to take. The woman did just so, and guided Draco deeper into the Labyrinth, where Voldemort awaited his new tool.

All around, demigods cheered for their victory, hugging each other, clashing swords, and even a few scattered kisses from couples.

Well, most demigods cheered.

Annabeth Chase's happiness was short-lived when she realized what really happened. It meant Luke was dead, and Percy...

Oh, Percy! Annabeth's mind screamed at her. Her grey eyes widened, and she sprinted over to where she saw him last, but somehow missed him.

The mystery of Malcom Pace was still unsolved to Annabeth and Percy, but they knew he wasn't taken from monster.

At least, not a monster they knew of.

Annabeth Chase paced in her cabin, back and forth, back and forth, until interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming.

"Annabeth! I think I got something!" Percy's shouts echoed through Athena's cabin.

Annabeth shot towards him immeaditely, "What?!" She asked him.

Percy bent over his legs, and panted, holding up a finger to signal Annabeth to wait. Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Give me this," she said, snatching the paper out of Percy's hands.

Annabeth's grey eyes scanned the sheet of paper infront of her, while Percy's expression mocked her. Obviously, Annabeth noticed this, so she stuck her tounge out at him, and proceeded to read.

Finally, she asked "What the Hades is a death eater?" While handing Percy back the paper.

"That's the thing, I-I don't know. No one knows. I... haven't you read anything about it in your books?"

Annabeth looked back to her bookshelf, and back at Percy with a frown. "No." She simply said.

Percy squinted at her like she was crazy, but shrugged it off.

Something wasn't right here.

Annabeth must have noticed, because she walked over to her books, and started to scan though them. Percy followed her, and did the same.

Or, he tried to do the same. Dyslexia didn't mix well with ADHD and reading. Especially the reading part.

"Ha!" Annabeth cheered.

"What?" Percy asked, while scrambling over to her.

Annabeth pointed to a symbol on the paper.

"The Dark Mark is the symbol of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It refers both to a magically induced brand that every Death Eater bears on his or her inner left forearm, and to the same symbol summoned in the sky by curse.

"The Mark appears as a glittering green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, which is believed to have been inspired by a Basilisk emerging from the mouth of Salazar Slytherin-- Heir of Slytherin, and founder of Slytherin house.

"The symbol is believed to also may be related to Lord Voldemort, as he is a Parselmouth, and leader of the Death Eaters.

"The original Dark Mark that is tattooed on the forearm is black, while the Dark Mark conjured by spell is green. It is also said that the Dark Mark represents immortality and power, a reasonable symbol for the Dark Lord.

"Inactive Marks appear faint, placed on the inner part of the left forearm. Active ones are jet black.

"As both a sign of loyalty and a way of summoning them, Lord Voldemort placed the Dark Mark brand on his followers' inner left forearms. The full process of Lord Voldemort's allies is unknown, but anonymous sources have claimed that this was done by the Dark Lord pressing finger to any Death Eater's Mark, which turns black immeaditely and delivers a burning sensation. Feeling the burn, the Death Eaters then Apparate to Voldemort's side--"

"What does Apparate mean?"

Annabeth shushed her boyfriend, and kept reading.

"It is unknown whether all Death Eaters feel the burning, or if Voldemort can choose to signal a specific person or people. Well known traitors hhave been rumored to somehow reject their summons.

"The deepness of the Mark's colour is connected to Voldemort's physical health. When Voldemort suffered his first defeat, the Marks on the Death Eaters faded. As he began regaining his strength, the faded marks became clearer, and burnt slightly to some, an eager sign of Voldemort's return. Other sources claim the burn comes suddenly and stings rather sharply.

"Death Eaters could also use it to signal Voldemort by pressing on their Dark Marks, as their lord would do. However, only Voldemort's inner circle is supposedly branded with the Dark Mark, which is considered a great honour among his followers.

"As a signature of their work, Death Eaters can also use an unknown spell create an image of the Dark Mark in the sky. The appearance of the Mark in the sky is the same as the Mark on the forearm, but green. It normally appears where there has been a murder by the hands of Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. Due to the terror Voldemort and his Death Eaters had brought to the world in the First Wizarding War, the Dark Mark being cast over a location brings deep fear to the community, even after Voldemort's downfall.

"The spells used to brand and conjure the Dark Mark were likely invented by Lord Voldemort. He may have based the spell on the Protean Charm."

"Woah," Was all Percy could say.

Annabeth's eyes widened once again, and she scrambled to her feet, taking the book with her.

"Wait!" Percy called after her. "Where ya going?" He sprinted after Annabeth, into the Big House.

"Chiron!" Annabeth shouted, waving her free hand to the centaur. "Chiron," she panted, once she reached him.

Chiron looked down to her, and smiled sweetly. "Yes?"

"It's about Malcolm... the mark on his arm. We-we know what it is! We can--"

Chiron's face grew pale. "Come with me." He said, his eyes flickering to Percy for a minute.

He led them to the beach, and Percy's muscles immediately relaxed.

"Now, I understand you--"

"It's called the Dark Mark!" Annabeth said. Chiron shot her a look, as if to tell her to be quiet. Annabeth winced in apology. "Sorry," she said. "But it's from this guy named Voldemort... we," Annabeth looked to Percy, as if to say 'him and me', "read this book, and it told us something." Annabeth explained, flipping though the pages of her book. "It said that the Voldemort guy has these... followers, named Death Eaters. And they wear the Mark on their arm. It's supposedly set by a spell, but that doesn't make any sense, right? Magic doesn't exist."

Annabeth stopped when she saw Percy, who was talking to a crab. She rolled her eyes, mentally cursing his powers.

"Okay, well that's besides the point! The mark appears--"

"Uh, Annabeth?" Percy called, backing away from the crab infront of him, staring at the darkened sky.

"Black on their arms, but--"

"Annabeth?" Percy asked again.

"Can be spelled into the sky, which will turn it green, and--"

"ANNABETH!" Percy shouted.

Annabeth froze, astonished at Percy's sudden tone of voice. "What!?"

"Look up." Was all the demigod could squeak out.

Annabeth gasped.

There it was, the Dark Mark, in the sky, with people apparating out of the sky.

"Malcolm!" Annabeth squealed, and sprinted towards the horse stables.

"Wha-Annabeth!" Percy shouted while he dashed after her. Chiron just chuckled from behind the two, and trotted after them.

"C'mon, Blackjack." Annabeth said, trying to lure the pegasus out of his stables. Blackjack looked to Percy, Is she for reals? He asked. Percy just shrugged, "It's Malcolm." He said. Blackjack winnied, but followed.

In the air, Percy and Annabeth suddenly didn't feel so confident in themselves. Percy shivered from the cold airs touch, and Annabeth got an 'off feeling' in her gut. (It's called instinct, Annie, but whatever.)

When the couple made it to the Mark in the sky, fear brushed over them. But unfortunately, this was nothing new.

Suddenly, a flash of blond hair flew past the two.

"Malcolm!" They shouted. Startled, Malcolm turned around, but it wasn't Malcolm.

It was Draco.

But of course, they didn't know that.

"What are you doin' here!?" He asked. His voice changed, though. A tad deeper, yes, but it was also his accent.

He was British.

"Malcolm..."

Draco pressed his lips together in an attempted smile, but struggled to hold the expression.

"W-we came to save you," Annabeth mumbled, her eyes drifting towards the Mark on his arm. The Dark Mark.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, Saving? He didn't need saving. He was fine.

"I don't need your help." He simply said, and tried to fly away. Annabeth had other plans, though.

"No, you're not. Come on, Malcolm. Come back to camp with us. You'll be safe--"

Draco's eyes widened, "Safe? Safe?! How can I ever be safe? Annabeth, I'm sorry but you know there's no escaping this."

Percy thought for a moment, and turned to face his friend. "What if there was?" He asked, right as Draco was about to fly away.

"What... what do you mean?"

"I mean, what if you didn't have to fight in... whatever this is. There's gotta be a way out, right?"

"'Fraid not." Draco mumbled.

Annabeth looked down, "No. No, there is a way out!" She suddenly exclaimed. "There is! And here's what we'll do." Draco inched closer to his two friends, and they discussed a plan.

Back at Camp Halfblood, life was no less messier than the usual, but Draco was there to help.

As Draco, too. Not as Malcolm.

After fighting his war, Draco was reluctant to go back to Camp, in fear of what others would think of him. What would they do? What would Chiron do?

The answer was, nothing.

Well, within reason.

When Percabeth and Draco returned to camp, demigods cheered. Again. But this time it wasn't because they won a war.

It was because Draco was back, healthy as ever. He greeted his 'siblings', and friends, but unfortunately, like any other good thing, his joy was short-lived.

"Malcolm!" Chiron said, excited that the demigod returned. Draco flinched, but reluctantly dragged his feet over to the centaur.

"Hey, Chiron," he said, and winced at the sound of his own voice.

"We are so glad to have you back." The centaur said. "But... I've been told that things are different, yes?"

Draco nodded his head.

"Very well. Come with me." Chiron said, and Draco followed, with his head hung low in shame.

"So," Chiron said once they made it into a more private area of the Big House.

"So..." Draco echoed, trying not to burst from emotion. He had finally found a place that loves him for who he is. Not for his mother. Not for his father. Him, for him.

"Look, I'm really, really... sorry." Draco said. "I never meant for anything to go this far, I just... it's so beautiful here, and I actually feel like I belong! But I just, I... I'm sorry." He said again.

Chiron laughed. He actually laughed. "No worries, my child." He said. Draco furrowed his eyebrows.

"What did you just say?"

"I said 'no worries'. Hakuna matata, right?"

"I uh, I have no clue what you're talking about."

Chiron laughed again. "It means 'no worries'." He said with a trace of fondness in his voice. "But anyway, don't fret. Percy and Annabeth told me everything." He paused, and then said: "And I believe you did the right thing."

Now, Draco was more confused than ever. Was Chiron mocking him? Was this a trick? Where's his punishment? Was this it?

Chiron must have noticed, because he smiled sadly at Draco, "I understand your pain," he said. No, Draco thought. No, you don't. No one does.

"But I do believe... you still deserve a second chance?" Chiron said. Although, it sounded more like a question to Draco than a statement.

So, of course he said: "If that's alright, yes."

"Of course." He said. "But I must ask, you're not a real demigod, are you?" He said.

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line, "No." He said. "I am a wizard."

Chiron nodded his head, "And I assume your name isn't Malcolm?"

Draco shook his head. "It's Draco." He mumbled.

Chiron studied the boy, and watched the way his eyes filled with panic. "That settles it, then." He whispered.

Draco heard him, and visibly flinched, expecting some sort of punishment.

"My child," Chiron said. "You don't need to worry anymore."

At that, Draco looked up.

"It will be our little secret."

Draco smiled. "But what will we say when they ask?"

"Hmm, family problems, perhaps?"

Draco nodded his head slowly and sheepishly. I mean, it's only partially a lie.

"Very well, then." Chiron said. "Off you go!"

Draco smiled wider at him, the worry lines across his face suddenly dissapeared, and walked out of the Big House, to find his friends.

But of course, not before thanking the gods.

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