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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hey steph!! This might be a specific ask but could u like recommend me some fic thats like slow burn, unresolved sexual tension, and some bottomlock. And please please please let it be long so that it hits the sweet spot of satisfying your fic needs but also not stupidly long. Also I love your blog

Hi Lovely!!

AHHHH I’m glad you enjoy!! I try my best, LOL.

AHH I’ve SO MANY slow burn fics, it’s ridiculous, and I do have separate lists for bottomlock, so I can direct you to those.... BUT I DON’T HAVE A LIST FOR MY U.S.T. FICS YES. So can I do that??? Please??? ANY EXCUSE TO START A NEW LIST :| Hee hee. Forgive me???

AND as per usual, all my fics are in word-count order, so you can start at the bottom and work your way up, hee hee. CHEERS!

As usual, add your own, friends!!

First, here’s the lists you asked for:

Love Confessions / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. (Fluff Version)

Falling In Love / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. || [MOBILE POST] (April 2019)

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 5 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. / Falling in Love Pt. 3 (Nov. 2019)

Slow Burn / Dev Rel. Pt. 4 (Apr 2020)

Bottomlock (April 2019)

Bottomlock Pt 2

And now, check out my UST/URT list :)

UNRESOLVED SEXUAL / ROMANTIC TENSION

The Other Shoe by thewaitwasworthitlove - (NR, 1,053 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst, URT, Post-TSo3) - Sherlock realizes how deep in love he has fallen for John. Only Sherlock Holmes would manage to be more shattered than crystal dropped on concrete.

Clarity by socomessnow (thoughtfulwishing) (NR, 1,283 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Tarmac Scene, Stream of Consciousness, URT, First Person Present Tense, Implied/Referenced Drug Use) - During-and-post-HLV piece tracking Sherlock’s thought process from his phone call with Mycroft to his return to the airfield. Part 1 of Rifts

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Love Hurts by Grac3 (T, 2,215 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Pining Sherlock, One-Sided Pining / URT, Sherlock / John Whump, Angst, Ambiguous Ending) – In a world where someone's physical injuries manifest themselves on the person who is in love with them, John didn't think that there would ever be anyone who was willing to risk falling in love with him - until he got shot on a case, and it didn't hurt. Unrequited Johnlock.

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

There's Something Living in These Lines by teahigh (orphan_account) (M, 4,676 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Love Letters, Angst, Mutual Pining, UST / URT, Dirty Talk) – Two men, complete opposites in almost every way, who speak only in letters and pages torn from books.

You Can't Always Get What You Want by hubblegleeflower (E, 4,804 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Sexual Tension, UST / RST, First Time) – John wants. He always has, but now that he's living with Sherlock again, it's all he can do to hold it back. And Sherlock isn't helping...

Wasted Hours by songlin (E, 4,973 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || O!John/A!Sherlock, Pining, UST, Angst & Porn) – John is respectful. John keeps his distance. He doesn’t look at Sherlock when Sherlock decides trousers are for dull people. He doesn’t breathe in and savor it when Sherlock flings himself onto the couch first thing in the morning, wafting alpha scent, dressing gown settling around him in a cloud of blue silk. He doesn’t linger when he’s piecing Sherlock back together after a fight, even though he’s half-dressed and beautiful and right there. He can ignore it. He can control it.

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things by cyerus (M, 5,581 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood Crossover || Humour / Crack, Jealous Sherlock, Sexual Magnet John, Captain John, UST / RST, Three Continents Watson) – The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father. Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

No Light, No Light (in your bright blue eyes) by orphan_account (G, 5,915 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Songfic, Mutual Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension, UST/URT) – Relates to both Sherlock's and John's feelings for each other and highlights select moments of hurt and inner turmoil starting from right before the fall all the way to HLV.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3/TAB, Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV, Sherlock’s Pyjamas, Rimming, Wanking) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

Alone On the Water by Mad_Lori (G, 7,725 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, UST/URT, Angst, Euthanasia, Love Confessions) – Sherlock Holmes never expected to live a long life, but he never imagined that it would end like this.

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w., 2 Ch. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John's identity tags around his wrist.

Ravish Me by amalnahurriyeh (E, 10,025 w., 1 Ch. || UST / RST, Makeup / Lipstick, Sympathetic Sally, Experiments, Pining John, First Kiss, Face Fucking / BJ’s, Cuddling) – Sherlock is experimenting with patterns of wear on lipstick in daily encounters. John is going to go insane.

Their Great Reward by BeautifulFiction (T, 10,095 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Fluff) – Boxing day, in John's opinions, is the worst day of the year. Christmas is over, the tree is wilting and stripped of gifts, and there's a week of dead-time until the clean slate of the new year. However the combination of a blizzard, a power-cut and Sherlock might just make it a day to remember.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (E, 10,669 w., 1 Ch. || UST/RST, For an Experiment) – John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times.

I'm content as we are (but) by inqui (The_Circus) (E, 13,086 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, UST/RST, Pining, Victor Trevor, Minor Whump, First Kiss / Time, Misunderstandings) – In which John Watson sees something unusual, becomes jealous, and makes too much of a small thing as an old friend of Sherlock's shows up in the middle of a case.

Say For Me, Love by MirabileLectu (T, 13,147 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Drama, Pining John, Victor Trevor) – If you had asked John this morning what the result of his quiet afternoon at home would be, discovering a truth about Sherlock's past startling enough to shift the foundations of their friendship would not have been his first guess. So naturally, that was what was bound to happen.

Barricade by stitchy (M, 14,127 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix It, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending, UST, Mary’s Not Nice, First Time, Pining Sherlock, Time Skip Filler, Drunkenness) – Sherlock has been struggling to keep his feelings at bay for everyone's sake. Part 1 of Barricade

Second Chance by SilentAuror (E, 15,816 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Post-Divorce, Friends to Lovers, UST, Romance) – Now that John's divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that...

Anytime by SilentAuror (E, 17,995 w., 1 Ch. || UST, Porn With Feels, POV Sherlock, Romance, UST/URT, Happy Ending, Drunken Endeavours) – Sherlock blinks and attempts to focus. There is a little too much vodka in his veins at the moment and it’s having an unfortunate effect on his brain and retinas both. There are two Johns sitting across from him, and both of them are frowning at him. “You’re drunk,” the Johns tell him. Sherlock blinks some more. “Says the man with Mrs Hudson’s doily on his head.”

John Watson doesn't have a Boyfriend by naughtyspirit (E, 18,932 w., 7 Ch. || UST / URT, Fluff & Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – John's date has gone very well. Sherlock requires tea. John wishes he hadn't resolved that their relationship was strictly hands off and isn't about to address it. Unless he has to. Smut, fluff and shower time for a naked John Watson.

For you, there's only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w., 7 Ch. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock's part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there's only John.

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

Brief Conversations with the Woman by May_Shepard (E, 21,906 w., 20 Ch. || Pining, Love Fairy Irene, Filler Fic, UST/URT, Drug Use, Clueless Sherlock, Relationship Advice, Angst w/ Happy Ending) – Sherlock has a puzzle to solve, and his name is John Watson.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w., 4 Ch. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Masturbation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock's case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he's pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (E, 35,353 w., 7 Ch. || Humour and Angst, Post-TRF, Fake Relationship, UST / RST, Friends to Lovers, Jealous John) – Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody's happy.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

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.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #ust fics #urt fics #babyyoushouldseemeinacrown

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howtoeatworms · 4 years ago

Text

Fairy Tail: The Celestial Journey

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

It’s been one month since the war with tartaros. Magnolia has been busy rebuilding and with help from the generous amount of jewel the king has given to all those affected, almost a quarter of the town has been rebuilt.

The guild on the other hand was rebuilt in under five days thanks to the insane workload Erza forced on everyone. The craziest thing wasn’t even that. The master thought of disbanding the guild, the idea almost gave me a heart attack, But I’m glad Master changed his mind after he realized how sad everyone would be if that happened.

Everyone seems to be going back to their daily routines but some wounds are too deep to heal. It’s just not the same even now. But I’m sure things will get better soon.

I love you mama. I will talk again soon.

Lucy then put the finishing touches on the letter and put it away for safekeeping inside one of her top cabinets opposite her bed.

After having a nice warm shower Lucy was having a hard time deciding what to wear.

“I know, He can help me. Open! Gate of the little dog! Plue!” Lucy chanted as she pointed her key in the air.

In a puff of smoke what looked like to be a short, carrot nosed dog puffed into existence.

“Hmm. I haven’t worn this one in a long time, what do you think Plue?” She asked her little celestial spirit. The small little creature walked over to over a dozen outfits sitting on her bed and pointed to a blue and white outfit.

Lucy looked at the outfit Plue had chosen and gave him a big hug saying; “I knew you could help me. Thank you Plue.” Shortly after in another puff of smoke the spirit was gone.

Lucy was walking down the road to the newly rebuilt guild hall wearing a blue shirt, a short, white skirt, long brown leggings and a black sleeve with her hair tied into a long ponytail.

Before she knew it Lucy was already at the guild hall. She pushed the doors open to find the usual scenes. People drinking merrily, some checking the request board and fiends chatting.

Lucy went to sit down at an empty table right near the entrance. She smiled at all the commotion around her. Thinking of better times.

“Oh Lucy! It’s so nice to see you at the guild again. You haven’t been here for weeks.” Mirajane said as she walked over to lucy’s table.

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.” Lucy murmured looking down at the table.

“Is there anything I can order for you, Lucy?” Mirajane asked.

Lucy murmured “No thanks, mira.”

“Well, if you need anything just call.” Mirajane said as she walked off to serve another person.

Lucy looked around the guild for Natsu and Happy hoping that they could go on a mission together.

“It’s just been so long.” She said to herself. Suddenly, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

“Erza! We’ve been waiting 30 minutes for our beer and it’s still not here! You’re a worse waitress than Kinana!” Wakaba shouted in a semi drunken state.

“Uh, bud I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Macao replied to his long-time friend.

Just hearing the remarks by Wakaba, Erza rushed over to the table where he was seated, and like a tiger killing its prey Erza instantly jumped Wakaba.

“If it’s alcohol you want then it’s alcohol you’ll get!” Erza said as she started to force down a whole barrel of alcohol down his throat.

Lucy watched on in confusion and worry, glad to be sitting a few tables back.

“Erza being a waitress is a pretty scary thing.” Lucy nervously thought to herself.

Getting tired of sitting around Lucy got up from her seat and walked over to the request board.

“Even if I can’t go on missions with Natsu and Happy, I still need to pay rent.”

Lucy scanned the request board looking for a job suitable for both herself and her spirits. Unfortunately, she could only find dangerous jobs that would require a three-person team.

Suddenly a familiar flying, blue cat flew into the guild hall and grabbed a handful of flyers.

Lucy looked up above in surprise. “Happy it’s you! I haven’t seen you and Natsu in ages. How has he been?”

Happy looked down to see Lucy staring up at him. “I can’t talk now, Lucy! Got work to do!”

Lucy murmured, looking at the floor. “Of course, you do.”

Hours later, Lucy was working on the finishing touches on another two pages of her novel. Feeling tired, she stretched her arms and decided it was time to go to bed.

Lucy signed, lying in bed. “I spent a whole day at the guild and I didn’t even get a single job, and Rent is coming up soon too. Maybe tomorrow I might find something.”

As Lucy slept in her bed, a dream started to form in her mind.

“Puny human, no mortal can stand up to the might of the four Celestial Gods.”

“I don’t care! I need to do this so I can save my family.”

“Draco! Deal with this pest for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A hulking monster appeared as if out of nowhere, standing down Natsu.

“So, you’re the Celestial god everyone’s been talking about, huh?” Natsu said in a sarcastic tone.

“Natsu! Get away, you’ll die!” Lucy screamed at the top of her lungs.

The creature simply attacked, paying no attention to Lucy’s words.

“Celestial God Dragon… Roar!”

In a split second a wave of fire that felt as hot as the sun engulfed Natsu, and a split second later there was nothing left but ash.

Suddenly Lucy shot awake, she looked around, realizing she was safe in her own bed.

“It was just a dream, then?”

Lucy realized her body was shaking in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Natsu…”

Lucy was sitting by the bar, drinking a coffee to try to keep herself awake. She didn’t get much sleep after she awoke from her nightmare.

“Oi Lucy! Watcha doing?” Natsu said as he draped his arm around lucy’s neck and chest, a little too close for comfort.

Lucy turned around and saw Natsu. “Natsu, it’s been so long. What have you been doing?”

Natsu looked Lucy in her eyes and said; “Oh nothing! Just missions and stuff. I need to get stronger and stronger!”

Lucy’s face lit up, and an idea popped into her head. “Since you’re here, how about we go on a mission together?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Happy! Find a flyer for Lucy and us.” Natsu yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Aye sir!” Happy replied.

A large shard of ice suddenly shot through the air and hit Natsu in the head.

“What the hell was that?” Natsu yelled.

“Hey, flame brain! Leave a few jobs for the rest of us will ya!” Gray yelled.

“Huh?” Natsu grunted.

“You’re taking all the damn jobs in the guild, soon enough there won’t be any left.” Gray replied.

Natsu jumped up from his seat and yelled; “Ya got a problem with that, popsicle man!”

Gray was starting to get visibly annoyed at Natsu’s ignorance. “You know I do, weren’t you listening, dumbass.”

Natsu then suddenly punched Gray and the force of the impact destroyed a table.

“Oh, it’s on now, Natsu!” Gray yelled.

Soon enough the entire guild was their battleground, getting other wizards caught up in their brawl.

Lucy looked at them both and murmured; “They never learn, do they?”

“I feel so tired.” Lucy said as she started to yawn. “I think I’ll just rest here for a bit, Mira.”

“Don’t sleep too long.” Mira replied.

Lucy started to drift off to sleep, the guild’s noise acting as a lullaby to her.

Lucy suddenly found herself in a very familiar place. It was her father’s old mansion. She started to stroll through the lovely garden out front when suddenly she was pulled away and dragged into a terrible memory.

It was raining.

Everyone was dressed in black.

Suddenly, Lucy knew what the memory was.

It was her mother’s funeral. When Lucy looked around, she realized she was her child like self again. Small and defenseless. The wails of pain and agony were a chorus of tears Lucy wished she never had to remember again.

Then, suddenly, the dream changed. Lucy was standing in shallow water, now an adult again.

“Fix the keys… the land of the spirits.”

Lucy heard a familiar voice.

“Who are you? Why do you sound like my…”?

A figure appeared in the distance. Lucy ran to it. It was Layla.

“Mum?” Lucy murmured.

The figure turned its head to reveal a half rotting corpse, a small smile etched on its face.

“AAAHHH!!”

Lucy suddenly shot awake and her scream stopped the guild, as if everyone was frozen.

Natsu and Gray stopped fighting, Erza stopped eating her cake, all to look at Lucy.

Natsu ran over to Lucy as fast as he could, with Happy flying behind him, he ran over to the stool Lucy was sitting on.

“Mama?” Lucy said as she looked at Natsu, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oi Lucy! Are you alright?” Natsu asked, shocked at her scream.

Lucy looked at Natsu and Happy.

She murmured; “I’m fine, I just… had a dream.

“You had us all worried sick. Are you sure you’ll alright?” Natsu questioned.

“I’m fine, really I am.” Lucy said.

Happy was floating above Lucy’s head. “Was it about tasty fish?”

Lucy slightly laughed. “No happy, it’s not about tasty fish.”

“Oh! I betcha it was about Fighting.” Natsu yelled.

“No, fish!” happy replied.

“Fighting!”

“Fish!”

Lucy walked over to master, who was sitting on one of the tables nearby.

“I’m sorry master. I’m sorry everyone. I didn’t mean to worry you all.” Lucy said sadly.

Makarov looked at Lucy with a worried look.

“There’s no need to worry, my child. We all have bad days, but the important thing is to always remember that tomorrow will be better. So, keep your head held high, for that is the Fairy Tail way.” Makarov said.

Lucy looked at the ground, not able to look master in the face. Whether that was out of shame or cowardice she didn’t know.

Moments after Makarov’s talk the guild started to liven up again, becoming its old rowdy self.

“I think I need to go home.” Lucy said.

Makarov watched Lucy walk out of the guild with concern plastered on his face. Lucy looked like she was in a haze.

Lucy barely made it home to her apartment. Walking home in a daze.

As soon Lucy entered her home, she started to undress.

“I need a hot shower… I’ll fell bet…”

She suddenly collapsed on the floor.

Lucy awoke in the same void of shallow water as before. She saw the same thing parading around as her mother.

“Who are you? Answer me! Lucy shouted nervously at the figure.

The figure moved and as it turned its head, Lucy anticipated the horrific figure from earlier. But it never came. All she saw was the beautiful face of her mother.

“Lucy, I have not seen you in years. You have grown so much since I last saw you.” Layla said.

“I don’t understand any of this, what’s going on?” Lucy asked her mother.

Layla looked at Lucy with sadness on her face.

I have been trying to contact you, I have a mission for you, a way to save Aquarius.

Lucy was shocked, she couldn’t believe what she heard.

“Let me explain, my daughter.” Layla said.

“In the northern continent, in ancient times a meteor hit and devastated the landscape, however since that day, that place has become a wellspring of power for celestial spirit wizards. Go to the celestial steppe and you will find a blacksmith that can fix any key, even celestial keys.” Layla Stated.

Lucy tried to run closer to her mother but no matter how close she got Layla would always be out of reach. “How do you know all this? Can I even trust you?”

Layla looked at her daughter with sad eyes.

“Of course, you can trust me, I’m your mother. All will be explained soon, just know that I love you, lucky Lucy.” Layla smiled and then disappeared.

Lucy woke up from her dream, determined to make it a reality.

“I’ll be with you soon, Aquarius. Just hold on a little more.” Said Lucy.

The next day Happy and Natsu were standing by the request board in the guild. They had found the perfect job for Lucy.

“I’m sure Lucy would loooove this one!” Happy yelled, with the flyer in his paws.

“I wouldn’t miss seeing Lucy looking like that for the world.” Natsu said as he grinned mischievously.

Natsu ran out the guild’s doors as fast as he could with Happy flying not far too behind.

“Hey Lucy! Me and Happy found a job that you’d really like. It pays well.” Natsu Yelled outside Lucy’s apartment window. The flyer moving in the wind.

There was a silence for a moment.

“Is Lucy not home?” happy asked.

“Nah, she’s just ignoring me. Watch.” Natsu said as he jumped from the ground to the window sill outside Lucy’s window.

Natsu pulled the wooden frame up and hoped inside, with happy flying in after him.

“She’s not here.” Said Happy, looking around.

“Well, she’s gotta be. Let’s have a look around.” Natsu told Happy.

“She’s not in here.” Happy said as he lifted up the lid for a cookie jar.

Natsu grinned. “I know where you are. I’m coming in!” Natsu ripped the shower curtain off its rod expecting to see a naked Lucy.

“Huh, she’s not even here?”

Happy flew right into Natsu’s arms with tears in his eyes. “I looked around everywhere and Lucy isn’t here. Is she okay?”

“I dunno, bud.” Natsu replied. “But something is wrong.”

“Master!”

Natsu burst through the guild hall as loud as a bull and ran up to Makarov, who was sitting on the bar top.

“What is it my boy.” Makarov asked.

Everyone looked at Natsu in confusion. Breathing heavily from running to the guild, Natsu and Happy were trying to regain their breath. “It’s…Lucy…she’s… gone!”

“Hmm, what do you mean by that Natsu.” Makarov said.

“Lucy was here and then she was gone and I can’t find her anywhere.” Natsu said quickly, panicking.

“Calm down first Natsu.” Erza replied, who was standing to the right of Makarov.

After waiting a minute for Natsu to catch his breath, he finally spoke;

“I went to Lucy’s place to tell her me and Happy had a job for her to do, But I couldn’t find her anywhere. Then we looked around Magnola hoping to find her scent, but nothing. It’s like she just disappeared.”

“Well, this is troubling.” The master said.

“This is not like Lucy at all. She can be clumsy but she wouldn’t just leave like that.” Erza said.

“Could this be an enemy targeting Lucy?” Juvia chimed in.

“It’s a possibility. After what we went through fighting Tartaros I wouldn’t be shocked if someone wanted revenge.” Gray pondered.

For a moment Makarov closed his eyes and meditated on the news.

“We’ll send out a search party to look for Lucy. Natsu, Gray, Erza, Juvia and Wendy, you all will form a search party and look for Lucy. Also, we will use your telepathy, Warren to try and locate her as well.” Master Makarov announced.

Natsu was grinding his teeth and had his fists clenched, an aura of anger surrounding him.

“Don’t worry Lucy, we’ll get you back for sure. You can count on it.”

It was one whole week after Lucy disappeared and everyone was low on spirits. The guild was as busy as ever, but it had a tinge of sadness in the air.

One whole week of searching all over Fiore and nothing showed up, not even a single hint.

Suddenly a strange, fat woman walked in the guild hall wearing Lucy’s old outfits with a wagon filled with boxes of clothes and other items.

“Isn’t that the landlady Lucy rented from?” Gray asked, pointing to the guild’s doors.

“The Landlady, why would she be here? Erza questioned.

“Is this the place where Lucy Heartfilia works?” The woman yelled.

“Yes, why?” Gray Asked.

“That brat went up and left, not even paying the rent she owes me, she left all her crap at my apartment too, So I’m dumping it here.” The woman ranted.

Natsu walked up to the landlady, looking at her with disgust. “Lucy always paid her rent on time. She always panicked about getting kicked out. This isn’t like her.”

“Well, your friend doesn’t give a crap anymore, that’s for sure.” The landlady said as she pushed all of Lucy’s belongings off the wagon and onto the floor.

Natsu stood there, clenching his fists in anger.

As the landlady started to walk out the door, she threw a letter on the ground.

“Oh, and she left this too.”

“A letter?” Natsu said as he picked it up and opened it.

Natsu couldn’t believe what he read. His hands started to shake.

“Natsu, please read aloud the letter, for all of us.” Erza said.

Dear Natsu.

“It saddens me to say this but, I’m leaving on a journey, one that is more important to me than you could ever imagine. I don’t know how long I will be gone; it could be a month or it could be a year or two.

I wish I could have stayed in the guild longer, but don’t worry, I will always be in your hearts and I will always be a member of Fairy Tail.

If you’re reading this, Natsu, then it means that I have already crossed the borders of Fiore. I will be sending this letter to my apartment, so if you ever break in be sure to read it.

Sincerely,

Lucy.

A horse drawn carriage pulled up to a stop on near the edge of a mountain. The driver rubbing his cold hands together to try to heat them.

“I’m sorry miss, but this is as far as I can take you. The blizzard is just too strong.”

A slender, young woman jumped out of the carriage and said; “It’s okay, thank you for taking me this far.” She threw a bag filled with jewel to the driver.

“Nice doing business with ya!” The driver said as he directed his horse the way they came.

Lucy fixed her scarf closer to her neck for warmth. She looked off over into the distance, everything was a flurry of white.

“I’ve finally made it to the northern continent. It looks like my journey starts now.”

#fairy tail: the celestial journey #the celestial journey #fanfic #fairy tail fanfic #nalu #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #chapter 1 #chapter 1: The Journey Begins #juvia lockser #gray fullbuster

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

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Okay so this isn’t my original idea but remember that one post where it was like one soulmate is killing their other soulmate to stay immortal but their soulmate keeps on being reborn or just doesn’t stay dead for long??

If that’s too confusing basically can you do a continuation of your own prompt there the villain is the immortal, not the hero. (Prompt 41?44? I don’t remember oops)

I don't think I know that post, but if you still want me to write it and you can find it, feel free to send another ask! For now, I'll just fill the prompt!

******

“But- but I killed you.” Hero swore he couldn’t breathe. Villain wasn’t supposed to be in front of him right now. He- he was supposed to be in the morgue or wherever they kept and processed dead bodies. He was supposed to be dead. This had to be some kind of trick. Maybe there was a part of Hero’s mind that felt guilty for killing Villain, and now he was hallucinating. “I watched you die. I- I checked your pulse. You’re dead.”

Villain huffed and rolled his eyes. “Why is this always such a surprise to everyone?” He took two steps forward, watching with boredom as Hero flinched back, shielding his eyes. “You need me to pinch you? Convince you I’m right in front of you?”

“Not real,” Hero muttered. “Not real, not real, not. real. It’s in my head. It’s just in my head.”

Tossing his head back, Villain sighed. “Most of your little crew in the past at least tried to swing at me, finish the job. Some of them actually achieved killing me for a second time. I was impressed! Much more exciting than what you’re doing right now.” Hero kept muttering. Villain asked, “You really think you’re imagining me still? What’s it gonna take? Do I need to jab you in the gut? Would that help?”

Maybe I’d deserve that, Hero thought, continuing to consider the concept of guilt. What Hero was really curious about right now was, How is this so real? He acknowledged it was all fake, but he didn’t think his brain was capable of creating such a realistic version of Villain. The look, the voice, the condescending tone, everything was drawn up to a T. It shouldn’t have been possible, especially after a whole week of Villain’s death.

“Alright, this is getting old. I want to try something new since I haven’t had this reaction before. You really shouldn’t be a hero if you go into shock this easily.”

The image in front of Hero was moving closer. Villain was pulling something out from behind him. Hero already knew what it would be; Villain always kept handheld weapons back there in case his powers- whatever those were, Hero never knew- were unsuccessful. Usually it was throwing knives. This time it- Hero swallowed.

“You remember this. Good.” Villain nodded. “I figured you would, given how you stabbed me with it- rude.”

Now Hero had the sense to stand from his seated and shaking position. As a change, he was now in a standing and shaking position. This was becoming real to him- too real.

“Okay. What I’m thinking is that I clean this blade- a very pretty one by the way; love the chromatic look…I’m going to go over to that sink, and I’m going to clean this.” Villain made his way to Hero’s kitchen, turning on the sink like he said he would. He began scrubbing with the pad of his thumb. “I have two reasons for this: one, there are other victims’ blood on it now- from the morgue; they were about to cremate me if you can believe it. Props to you; that was my first time ever being in one of those places. And, two, because I want this to play out for you as it did for me- it was clean before you stabbed me with it; it should be clean before I stab you with it.” Villain turned with the blade now clear of any blood.

Hero couldn’t move, but he didn’t need to, did he? Because this was all his imagination, all his guilty conscious. Nothing else.

“You aren’t going to do anything to protect yourself,” Villain observed aloud. “You’re just going to stand there shaking like a rotting leaf stuck in a tree during October. Fine, then. Might as well take this to my advantage.”

Unable to move or think for himself, Hero was easily taken by Villain. All the while, Hero continued to believe this was a hallucination. Villain absolutely could not be alive because that meant- that meant he could…No. Villain can’t- can’t come back to life.

Hero knew for a fact he killed Villain. When he bled out, Hero listened to the silence of his opponent’s chest, watched its stillness. He. Was. Dead. It was that solidity in Hero’s mind that made him deny the obvious fact in front of him. Because it was impossible to become…undead. It just wasn’t possible. And since it was impossible, the person standing in front of Hero, talking to someone or something else in the room was fake- was a ghost in Hero’s head.

“-tired of this game. It’s becoming boring, but I found some entertainment for myself, and I think it can become a lesson to you. See…”

A red light was in front of Hero’s face. He looked, blinking slowly, beyond the red light to Villain. Hero didn’t quite understand where he was, or what his mind was conjuring up at the moment. He felt so tired because of his current insanity, and so it didn’t matter much what his location was.

“I think this can serve as a lesson to you- not that I care to help you, but it gives me an excuse to torture a poor soul.”

Hero blinked again. The red light belonged to a camera, he realized. Villain- or Ghost Villain- was recording him and talking to whoever was watching on the camera. In all reality, Hero figured it was he who was recording himself. Maybe he was even talking- he didn’t know. He was likely telling his base leader about how he was losing his mind and thought he was in a cellar-like room with Villain.

“I’m going to screw this back on the tripod, and then, I’ll show you what happens when you guys keep sending your men to kill me. It doesn’t work, alright? And I’m tired of dying.”

The chromatic knife was lowered in front of Hero’s eyes. He didn’t startle at it, but, as it was lowered out of his vision and Villain’s amused grin replaced it, he felt worry. Worry turned to searing pain in Hero’s leg and he let out a blood-curdling scream, grasping at the cold ground, fingers curling into fists that grasped onto nothing. The same pain magnified again as the knife came into sight once again- this time half coloured with red.

It’s real, it dawned on Hero as he finally looked down to find a hole in his leg. “A-augh!” It was throbbing and he swore he could feel his blood pulsing out of the wound. His stomach twisted with his pain and he turned to his right as to not throw up on himself.

What made the pain in Hero’s leg worse was the fact that his muscles were clenched. He couldn’t relax them no matter how hard he tried and that only meant the throb was everlasting.

The knife made its strike again- this time down the arm opposite of Hero’s now-injured leg. He hollered again, writhing and crying in anguish. “Stop! Stop it!” Quieter, he repeated to himself, “It hurts. It hurts, it hurts.”

For once his body protested as he eyed Villain in front of him. His good leg twitched like it was ready to assist in springing on and tackling Villain to the ground. But the controlled side of Hero’s mind told him it’d only make him hurt worse. Not to mention, he might land on the blade and therefore kill himself. Wait. “You’re- you’re going t-to kill…kill me.”

Villain paused, tilting his head almost curiously at Hero. “That was the plan originally, but then you fell to cowardice, and that was boring.” As he spoke, Hero could feel his limbs jumping, spasming. “So, now we’re doing something else. Kinda like it, actually. Centuries have gone by, and I never actually took my time with any of you. For once, I am seeing the true and utter fear I felt when I died for my first time.” Villain continued, “I could have been such a great person, you know? I would have been a perfect good guy, unable to die and all. But instead of seeing that vision, I was seen as a threat to humanity. They began hunting me, trying to figure out how to put me down for good. I decided to fit their little role, though.”

What Villain did and said next shocked Hero. “Go on, try it.” Villain held the blade handle out to Hero on the ground. “Take it. I’ll let you kill me again, and then you can leave.”

“You’re lying. That’s- that’s a stupid th-thing to- to offer. Why would you l-let me kuh-kill you, then let- let me go?”

Villain shrugged. “Something new. I want to live something different this time. I told you many times that few have killed me twice- and the ones who did it were killed as soon as I could find them. I want to see how far you can go if I give you a month’s head start.”

“You- you want to hunt me.”

“I do. Seeing as you did it to me, I think it’s fair.” He jutted the handle out to Hero again as an offer. When Hero took it, Villain said, “I know I took out your dominant arm out, but- well, I have confidence you’ll do just fine if it means you get to kill me again.” Villain tapped at his chest, right where his heart was located. “Go on. I know you want to.”

Hero considered this for a moment, staring at the knife- at the knife with his blood on it now instead of Villain’s. Did he ever question why his organization was going after Villain? Not really. He just knew Villain murdered every single man Leader sent out. Maybe it was self-defence, in which case Hero shouldn’t have been going after Villain like he was, shouldn’t have killed him like he already did once and was being given the opportunity to once again.

But now was different. Now, Villain really was sadistic- assuming he wasn’t before. Villain, if he was any sort of a healthy and sane man, would have had Hero jailed for trying, and succeeding, in killing him. Or, if he was afraid of the authorities taking him in for being- ahem- unkillable, then he would have only kept Hero locked up. Villain wouldn’t have had Hero in a cellar room, stabbing and slashing at him while a camera recorded it all. If Villain ever was good, that morality was stripped from him now, and that meant Hero needed to take this chance at life. Maybe he could go back to his base and demand answers. Because based off what Villain told, they knew he was immortal, and they never told Hero- or Hero’s previous teammates, who were now ‘mysteriously’ dead.

Without another word, or even a warning glance, Hero weighed the knife in his left hand, gripped the handle, and slashed at Villain’s throat. As he laid dying, Hero searched for the key on Villain’s person, and left.

#request fill #writing request #hero x villain #immortal villain #immortal whumper #mislead hero #the ending wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be but it's fine lol #hero x villain story

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Note

Domestic fluff, with mechanic, silver fox, soft Tony married to professor Peter. Throw in any other trope we're both obsessed with lol

The Way You Hold Me

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature Notes: Holy. It has been a hot minute since I’ve put fingers to keyboard. I’m so stoked that S’s prompt is the one to pull me out of my slump. I’m a sucker for silver fox Tony & finally couldn’t resist. This is pure, tooth-rotting fluff, so I hope you’re up for some sweetness! Word Count: ~5K Warnings: There’s a bit of smexy in there, but it’s not that detailed. The rest is just indulgence of the love-dovey kind.

Read on AO3 here

To say that Tony was hooked from the very start would’ve been a huge understatement.

Despite never laying eyes on Professor Peter Parker, Tony found himself completely overwhelmed with that obsessive sort of feeling he got when things sparked his interest. The words in their email exchanges were more than enough to draw him in – he could openly admit that strong character and a whip smart brain totally got him going. If his witty words and bright ideas weren’t enough, a quick Google search put the final nail in the coffin. Big brains and immense beauty – who was he to deny the attractiveness in that situation?

When the opportunity presented itself, Tony navigated his way around NYU’s campus, practically jumping on the chance to finally meet the notorious Professor Parker in person. He made his way leisurely through throngs of students until he found the not so surprisingly crowded lecture hall. If professors were as attractive as Professor Parker during his school days, he might’ve paid a bit more attention. Unlike most classes, each student seemed to be completely entranced by the information – or the man at the front of the room presenting it.

Tony rarely got the chance to observe someone else while working – most people that knew about his shop knew about his impeccable brains and talent; which meant a lot of the spectating happened while he worked. Flipping the norm on its head proved to be incredibly delightful – Peter Parker could hold the entire room’s attention without even trying. And man did he know his shit! He spoke about mechanics and fluid dynamics like they were extended pieces of himself, not convoluted theories riddled with mathematical explanations. If he weren’t already taking giant leaps towards infatuation, the time spent watching the professor lecture surely would send him spiraling in that direction.

For a brief instant toward the end of his lecture, Tony caught Professor Parker looking at him. Their eyes met and held for what felt like eons, the other man’s cocoa colored irises were stunning and seemed to become more so the longer Tony looked. A moment of recognition flashed in those deep eyes before he turned back to the class and continued to talk about fluid pumps like nothing happened.

By the end of the lecture, Tony knew a couple of things with absolute certainty – Peter Parker was the most gorgeous person (in every single way) on the planet, and he would do absolutely anything necessary to find a place for him in his life. Though he was getting ahead of himself, Tony could feel the rightness of the situation down to his very core – there weren’t many people who could spark a reaction in him, let alone one that moved him to action. He forced himself to calm down as a flood of students started to pile out of the room, each one looking at him with a mix of suspicion and appreciation – he forewent the hat that morning, so his longer salt and pepper hair stood proudly on display. Even he knew the appeal of that silver fox look.

A soft throat clearing brought Tony back from his contemplative state – he blinked a few times to orient himself before turning towards the noise.

Bright eyes on him had him once again stopping in his tracks; Peter Parker the man looked totally different than the lecturer standing in front of him only moments before. The owlish, almost nerdy look was replaced with a soft smirk and clear, knowing eyes. “Tony Stark, as I live and breathe. I would’ve happily met you at my office.” Peter didn’t seem to blink as he spoke, those eyes following every one of Tony’s minuet movements.

Tony knew in that instant – he wasn’t the only genius predator in that room.

Running a hand through long strands, Tony shifted his feet just enough to lean against one of the chairs closest to him. “I thought I’d catch you in your natural habitat. Even I know professors are never in their offices,” Tony remarked, his words light and just the slightest bit flirty. “Seeing you in action is much more informative than any meeting in your office would’ve been, anyway.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a face splitting smile, the whites of his teeth showing through the stretch of soft lips. “You’re an actions speak louder than words guy – I like that.”

Grinning, Tony closed the distance between them, his feet carrying him in a manner that he never experienced before. It was as if the inches that separated them were causing physical pain, like if he didn’t get within touching distance that instant, Tony might actually combust. Now toe to toe, Tony stuck his hand out to shake, a daring look on his face. “Actions are the only thing that count in this muddled world, Professor Parker.”

And just like that, a bond developed between them. Aside from working on the research they cultivated over the past few months, Tony found himself seeking Peter’s company out as much as possible. For a little while, he made up lame work-related excuses – Peter was insanely dedicated to their joint academic pursuits and gladly came whenever Tony posed a question. As time trickled on, the questions and requests became increasingly less academic and much more personal. Instead of meeting at the campus library, Tony brought Peter to the big office he kept in the shop or the sanctuary of his kitchen. Slowly but surely, topics moved from engine parts to hobbies and ambitions. Much like the rebuild of a classic car, their steps towards something else were filled with anticipation and an overall feeling of contentment.

Instead of infatuation, Tony started to recognize the floaty feeling as love – the active process of falling into it much less frightening than he initially figured. Despite what the forty-nine-year-old knew about his previous “loves”, Tony found himself learning something new about the topic on a daily basis. Never before did he find someone’s coffee making ritual as endearing as the repetitional process that Peter went through. For the first time in his life, Tony understood what it meant to love every part of a person, not just a few individual pieces that made up the whole.

When they finally took the step towards realizing their love for each other, Tony jumped in headfirst. Being the ridiculously professional academic that he was, Peter didn’t want to mix any sort of business with pleasure, so they waited what felt like several long months to even think about anything other than friendship. Throughout those months, Tony wore out fantasy after delicious fantasy about what having Peter next to him would be like – how his ink-stained hands would feel on bare skin, how plush lips would press against his own. In all the ways, Tony tried to picture Peter as his.

Yet, nothing he pictured even came close.

The first time Peter kissed him, Tony was utterly unprepared for it. Upon their article being published, Tony and Peter planned to celebrate with a home cooked meal in Tony’s surprisingly well stocked kitchen. Throughout their time together, cooking dinner and hanging around the kitchen’s island with a glass of wine in hand became second nature to them – the whole ritual like a deep breath of fresh air after the long days both men waded through on a constant basis. Yet, this time, Tony could feel a crackle in the air – whether it was wishful thinking or fact, he wasn’t quite sure.

As they moved around each other seamlessly, Tony felt himself relaxing in a way that only happened when Peter was around. Instead of anxiety and a never-ending slew of thoughts, a clear head and empty spaces opened up around him. The comfort in Peter’s presence lulled him into a state that, until meeting the man, Tony didn’t know he could achieve. Which is why he was thrown off guard when a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm. Setting down the knife he’d been masterfully chopping vegetables with, he turned his body in Peter’s direction, the touch on his bare skin producing a sensation that sent tingles down to the very tips of his toes.

“What’s up – “ Tony started to say before the softest lips were pressing against his own. Whatever question he wanted to ask flew from his mind, the pressure of warmth and the delicate feeling of getting what he wanted, finally, overtook him. Leaning into the kiss, Tony tilted his head and returned it to the best of his ability – chances like this didn’t come by often and he sure as hell wasn’t one to let them pass him by. His own hand moved restlessly until it found the curve of Peter’s hip; the fingers there dug into jean and fabric and the slightest hint of what could only be warm, smooth skin.

Though it felt like just a second, Tony’s chest was heaving when they finally pulled away from each other. Without much thought, he renewed the grip on Peter’s hip and brought him back in for another kiss, the pressing issue of a lack of oxygen not even registering. Behind closed eyelids, he only saw, felt, and wanted the divine press of lip against lip – if he could live in this singular moment, all would be right in the world.

It was Peter who finally broke away, the redness in his cheeks sending a rush of some unnamed feeling down the length of Tony’s limbs. It felt electric, like shockwaves traveling across the surface of his skin. Sucking in a breath, Tony forced himself to look up and take in the melted chocolate of Peter’s stunning eyes. The black of his pupil practically overran the rich, dark brown, yet the color stood out even more because of that. The compulsion to reach out and touch Peter’s face rushed through him – the thought of more of that warm skin under his hands completely entrancing. Instead, he dug his fingers further into Peter’s hip, the bottom of his shirt riding up with ever clenching gesture.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Months, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his words still colored by the slightest pant of breath. The touch of his hand shifted up his arm, those long fingers settling on the naked skin on the back of Tony’s neck like they belonged there (they did). Slight callouses on the palm of Peter’s hand reminded him of the depth of the professor’s knowledge and experience – the roughness there spoke of words written with restless hands and technical brilliance brought about by steady, knowledgeable limbs. Unable to resist, Tony leaned into the touch, his entire being tuned in to the warm caress.

Leaning forward slightly, Tony brushed the tip of his nose against Peter’s, a soft sigh leaving his lips. So many times, he thought about this very moment and the reality of it couldn’t possibly be predicted – everything about Peter seemed like a surprise; every second they spent together another adventure, another excitement added to the list of things to LOVE about Professor Parker. The answering gasp of air against his lips had Tony pressing forward again, their lips meeting in a barely there caress.

“Now you don’t ever have to stop,” Tony finally managed to drag his lips away from Peter’s to mumble. “In fact – I hope you don’t. I really, really, really hope.”

Luckily, Peter hadn’t planned to. For weeks after that night, they flirted through shared time in the kitchen, and teased each other throughout tv show binges and candlelit dinners. No matter what they did, Tony ended the night with a writhing Peter Parker on his lap. With every second spent together, Tony tried to absorb everything he could about the man – how his hands felt gripping around his neck, the way his thighs flexed and clenched with the subtle roll of his hips – hell, even the way the taste in his mouth changed when things went from gentle and tame to overtly arousing. Many times, he wished he were a better writer – the ache Tony felt to document his findings was entirely too overwhelming.

Little by little, they crept towards what could only be considered to be something serious. There was no longer the pretense of academic pursuits to stop them from stepping out into the New York night life together – their dates took on a whole new nature when Tony realized just how well Professor Parker could clean up. It only took one night of Peter’s well-tailored ass dancing against him to know that demanding outings exactly like that one was absolutely necessary for his survival – and ever growing libido

Said libido spent a long time in self-induced isolation and took the magic of Peter Parker to reignite whatever passion seemed to be lacking earlier in his life. Up until the supple curves of his favorite professor sat in the palms of his hands, Tony struggled with the ease of intimacy – his brain ran a mile a minute and couldn’t often slow down enough to thoroughly enjoy the greatness of human contact. Yet, when Peter held him, touched him – something happened; the rest of the world sort of faded away, everything narrowed down to the lightest stroke and talented caress.

And despite the wild flame that seared between them, it still took four months of heavy petting and sleepovers on the couch after too much making out to finally fall into bed together. Tony knew – with every piece of himself – that the second he gave himself to Peter, there was no going back. Whatever addiction he willingly cultivated during their time together teetered on a precarious edge between not enough and too much. Physical intimacy would smash that cliff in half, leaving Tony with an inability to separate himself from the overwhelming feelings Peter made him feel.

Yet, when the moment finally came, every second of it felt righter than Tony thought possible. They didn’t tumble into the room in a tattered state of “can’t wait” and “right now”. Instead, Tony slowly unwrapped the present that a jean-clad Peter Parker presented. His lips mapped the route from a delightfully long neck to cut shoulders, then down from nipple to nipple, and lower – the soft hair leading down to lean hips and a gorgeous cock got more attention than either of them anticipated.

Between the dizzy effect of Peter’s moans and the effort to remember each of Peter’s moans, Tony almost forgot how he found himself two fingers deep in the tightest ass he could recall feeling. His cock, which brushed teasingly against Peter’s thigh, twitched with anticipation with every thrust – the tight clench around them was going to feel spectacular around his incredibly touch starved dick.

Clearing his mind of the more heady thoughts, Tony worked a third finger into Peter’s tight heat – the ability to control himself was slowly crumbling, each second that passed felt like one too many – the need to satiate his overwhelming craving hit him in the chest from one touch to the next.

Long fingers gripped his forearm, forcing his attention away from the pulse and stretch of the warm tightness around him. Tony looked up, his eyes seeking Peter’s without thought.

“I’m ready, Tony. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait – don’t make me.” Peter’s grip tightened as each word slipped from his lips.

Sucking in much needed air, Tony moved until he could comply – his entire body thrummed with anticipation, his ability to wait seemed to fly out the window in that moment, too. He shifted to pull the bedside table drawer open, but he was stopped again by the hand still clutching his forearm.

“Just you, Tony.”

They locked eyes again, a silent conversation happening between them before Tony nodded, the outstretched hand finding Peter’s hip, instead. With the other, he uncapped the lube and poured a good amount straight on his heat-flushed cock, the cold of it pulling a pulse from him, a small bead of precum forming at the tip. Tony forced himself to take in a deep breath, the touch of his hand as he spread the sticky substance over sensitive skin reminding him how close he actually was. It wouldn’t do to finally be getting what he wanted and not last – he wanted, craved, desired the best of the best for Peter – with him, even.

Another quick shift had him pinning Peter on the bed below him, the forearm of his right arm pressed tightly against Peter’s shoulder – there wasn’t any space between them. When he finally pushed in, Tony let out a noise he never heard before – especially from himself. The moan radiated around the room, wrapping both him and Peter up in the delicacy of pure pleasure and steady connection. “Fuck, Pete – “ Tony couldn’t help but babble, his entire core clenching as he finally, finally bottomed out.

For all the time spent anticipating, Tony didn’t have any sort of word or feeling to describe what being connected to Peter was like. His strong thighs wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, the muscles squeezing with every thrust – almost like he dreaded the slide out just as much as Tony. The tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every cleverly angled shift of his hips, the feeling on both ends bringing a new sense of bliss to the situation.

Though he tried to keep his shit together, Tony felt the coil in his stomach spin up uncontrollably, the inevitable end racing towards him without any of his permission. Picking up his pace, Tony untangled their joint limbs just enough to slip his hand between them, his work roughened fingers wrapped tightly around Peter’s cock to time his tight strokes with the movement of his hips.

The wet feeling of Peter’s release splashing against his fingers pulled Tony over the edge, the loud breaths and drawn out moans of the other’s orgasm a tantalizing soundtrack to his overwhelming peak.

He couldn’t remember losing the ability to hold himself up, but moments later, he resurfaced to find his chest pressed tightly against Peter’s with sweaty fingers brushing through his long, graying locks.

“Wow.” Tony whispered after a while, his nose finding its way to the crook of Peter’s neck. He pressed soft kisses and took in long, deep breaths – Peter’s normal scent was something more now, the undertones of it carrying the slightest hint of the cinnamon Tony himself carried around. A slow smile pulled across his lips at the thought – they were both forever changed now, each one another integral piece of the other.

Instead of answering, Peter tightened his grip around Tony, his soft lips pressing kiss after kiss against skin still slicked with sweat.

A while later, they tumbled out of bed and cleaned up in the shower, both men unwilling to put more space between them than necessary after such a powerful experience. Tony reveled in his ability to touch and caress as he washed hot water warmed skin, and then later when Peter crawled into his arms and settled against his chest under the plushness of soft sheets. He let the contentment of it carry him to the cusp of sleep.

Right before he let his eyes close, Tony felt a kiss pressed to the side of his neck and Peter moving impossibly closer. “I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbled against his skin, the sleepiness in his voice making the words sound so fucking special.

Blinking, Tony tightened his hold, his fingers running in smooth patterns up and then back down the length of Peter’s back. “I love you, too. So much.”

----

Eight months later, Tony found himself right back where things started; his eyes took in the entirety of the lecture hall with fond affection. He got to campus a little earlier than usual, his excitement at getting to see Peter too much for him to handle back at the shop. Instead of fretting in the car, he stretched his long legs in a walk across campus. By instinct, or maybe nostalgic intervention, Tony got to Peter’s building without thought – he shook his head at himself, but walked through the doors, anyway. Sucking in the familiar smell that Peter brought back to the apartment every day, Tony kept walking until he was able to take a seat at the back of the overfull amphitheater.

Despite not making any noise as he walked in, Peter glanced up at him, the softest smile slipping across his lips as their eyes connected. A warm feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach – the all too familiar burn of love flaring up inside him at the look.

Never missing a beat, Peter continued through the last part of his lecture like Tony wasn’t even there. Bright whiskey colored eyes watched with fascination, the smile on his face growing with each passing minute. For a long time, Tony’s own intelligence made him feel like a social outcast – there weren’t too many of his peers that could even come close to his level of understanding. Peter, though – his brain worked in a way that Tony not only found interesting, but also wanted to know and explore in the same way he did his own. The rare treat of getting to see it in work made his heart slam in his chest – Peter was damn sexy when flawlessly controlling the classroom.

Unlike most of the students around him, Tony let out the slightest sigh of disappointment at the end of Peter’s presentation – he would’ve gladly skipped their dinner plans to hear Peter wax poetic about diesel; despite the oddity of it, Tony found Peter’s display of knowledge distractingly intriguing.

Tony went against the flow of students leaving the lecture hall to get to his boyfriend at the front of the room, a happy smile on his face as he did. When close enough to reach out and touch, Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, using his leverage to pull him into his arms. Planting a fleeting kiss on soft lips, Tony held Peter tightly to him, his eyes closing from the sensation. He would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for a soft chorus of ‘awes’ that sounded from the back of the room.

“Ms. Pesto, class is over.” Peter leaned back into Tony’s hands on his back to speak to the culprit, a smirk pulling across his face. “Shut the door behind you when you go.”

Grinning, Tony leaned in to press a longer, more intense kiss on already swollen lips. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you’re teaching?” The question was broken up by soft kisses to Peter’s lips, cheek, and chin.

Peter shook his head in answer, a slight giggle falling from his lips. “You neglected to share that interesting piece of information.” Then, “what’s your favorite part? The way my brain works, or how good I look in these pants?”

Tony let his hands run more firmly over Peter’s ass at the comment, his pupils dilating with a sudden rush of arousal. “Most definitely all of the above,” Tony whispered, his fingers digging into the meat of a delightfully thick glute. “You’re my favorite part.”

There weren’t any more words shared between them for a few minutes, the solid weight and press of lip against lip the only thing existing in those moments. Peter forced them apart when the door opened again and a colleague started to descend the stairs. Reading the room, Tony forced himself to calm down and grabbed Peter’s bag from the desk, shouldering it before reaching out to grab Peter’s hand.

Throughout the rest of the night, Tony couldn’t stop the thoughts of how right and perfect things were – Peter drove him crazy with want, but even more importantly, love and adoring affection. For the first time in his entire life, Tony understood what it was like looking at the rest of forever. Popping the question entered his mind a few months ago, just the idea of it made him absolutely weak at the knees. Though he hadn’t given much thought to marriage before, Tony could picture it clearly with Peter – they already did so much give and take with each other, the next step just made sense.

He started to seriously think about it a couple of weeks later when Happy, one of his senior mechanics, brought up a jeweler he frequently bought things from for his own wife. “He does the best work,” Happy said, his hands already busy digging into his coveralls to snag a card from his wallet. “Tell him I sent you – he’ll hook you up.”

The card sat in his grease-covered hands reverently, the small piece of cardstock another piece to the next step with his most favorite human.

Horace, who turned out to be a gifted jeweler and a joy to be around, got him settled with a gorgeous damascus steel ring, the contrasting light and dark metals melding together to tangibly personify Tony and Peter. It was strong, yet delicate – the stunning beauty of it mellow and completely overwhelming. Walking out of the store with it made Tony feel fulfilled – with it soon, he hoped to make Peter his for the rest of his life.

Of course, things never went the way Tony initially planned them to go. He carried the black velvet box with him for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. Tony knew, despite the pulsing nerves, that Peter would say yes – they were meant to be, he couldn’t be the only one that felt that way. Not when, only after a little more than a year of being together, Peter felt like home. More than anything else in his entire life, Peter felt right.

After a string of long days in the shop, Tony was finishing up his last car of the day when Peter came storming through the side door. The slightly worrying tone of Peter’s voice when he uttered Tony’s name had him standing up too quickly, the hood he was working under smacking him in the back of the head with a dull thud. A slight whimper left his lips, his anxiousness not enough to stop the slight throb of pain.

“Pete, what’s up?” Tony asked, his voice only a little tight in his attempt to keep his slowly building panic to a minimum. They left the house that morning with a stolen make out session and a slight unwillingness to say goodbye – what could’ve possibly gone wrong between then and now? Rubbing the back of his head, Tony finally straightened himself completely, his attention totally on Peter.

His jaw dropped a second later when Peter thrust the very box he’d been worrying over between them, his eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about this? I left some research on the passenger seat of my car and when I went to grab it, I found this suspicious black box on the seat. What is it, Tony?”

Peter’s eyes were wide, the look on his face telling Tony that Peter didn’t look, despite knowing exactly what resided within the box without the need to peek. Sucking in a quick breath, Tony snatched the box out of Peter’s hands, his knee hitting the floor a second later. That very instant was as good a time as any, he figured.

Pulling the lid of the box open, Tony used his free hand to grab Peter’s, his fingers gripping tightly. “It’s kind of fitting that I find the perfect moment in one of my fuck ups. You make all of the weird pieces of me feel so normal – like they fit, despite being totally obscure. No one, in my entire life, ever made me feel as complete as you do. I should have known that asking you to be mine forever would be as unconventional as I am. Will you be my husband, Pete? I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Instead of answering, Peter grabbed the grimy edges of his coveralls and pulled him up from the floor. His arms wound tightly around Tony’s neck, the space between their bodies getting narrowed down to nothing, the ring box stuck between them. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, spit-sticky tongues sliding together in an instant. Peter kissed Tony’s breath away, the two only pulling back when the risk of passing out ran too high.

“Yeah, I’ll be your husband,” Peter mumbled breathlessly, the pants of his breath making the words even more impactful.

A face splitting grin lit up Tony’s face, his cheeks straining with the effort. He wordlessly put a bit of distance between them, the space just enough to grab Peter’s left hand and slip the ring down his third finger. The juxtaposition of grease and pale skin and shiny metal stood out as he admired the perfect fit of forever’s promise, both on Peter’s finger and in the bond between them.

Leaning back into his new fiancé, Tony pulled Peter into him, their lips finding each other without fail. The perfectly imperfect thing that existed between them thrummed with new life. As they kissed, Tony succumbed to the pleasant ache of being completely consumed by Peter and all of the feelings that always threatened to overcome him. Peter had his back – and would for the rest of their lives. Their love deserved every overwhelming feeling Peter played muse to.

#goindownshipping #starker #peter parker/tony stark #bobbie writes #the way you hold me

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kaeyasaki · 4 years ago

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new game! ship your mutuals and assign them a au

sorry this took me so long, i’m a slow typer sometimes 😿

@amourdite semi x venus — idol!au — semis a celeb and venus is his hot pinterest model gf, nobody knows anything about her because semi is super protective over his private life, but there’s pictures of them everywhere and they always come out good,, semi is always asked questions about venus but he always answers so vaguely and never gives any hints, it’s not so much for her own safety because venus can handle herself, but it’s more so to do with the fact he doesn’t want anyone else sliding into her dms and taking her away from him because not only is venus his twin flame, but she’s also the main source of his song inspo

@omisluvr kiyoomi x mina — model!au — they meet on set and at first mina doesn’t want to work with kiyoomi because he seems super uptight and hard to work with, but they end up getting along really well after kinda finds out kiyoomi only look agitated because the clothes he’s been assigned to wear are uncomfortable,, the two go on to be well known together and end up signing to the same agency where they become a well known duo and two of the highest paid and sought after models in the country,, they’d do so many shoots and interviews and slowly force us all to accept the fact that this is their world and we’re truly just living in it

@kzukens kenma x myra — roommate!au — myra’s already told me this concept but i’m totally obsessed,, kenma would be so picky about picking a roommate for college, he’d choose myra because he’d know them from school and the two of them would’ve been pretty good friends,, things would start off slow, but slowly as they fall into a more domestic lifestyle, they’d both start acting more as a couple and kenma would decide this is the way he wants to live long term minus the college apartment,, final year before graduation and he’s mustering up the courage to ask myra to move in with him permanently where the two of them live together and grow old aw

@churochuu iwaizumi x chuu — bestfriends to lovers — this is more of a troupe than an au, but seeing and chuu and iwa are basically canon in my head, i see the two of them as bestfriends who are completely oblivious to each other’s feelings and it’s PAINFUL for onlookers to watch cause they already act like a couple but they deny dating !! one day, the two of them would be walking home from their own practices and oikawa would ditch iwa to encourage him to confess to chuu to which he would (awkwardly but it fits him) and when the two of them come in the next day as an official couple, everyone is more than relieved

@ats4mu oikawa x jae — socialmedia!au — oikawa and jae woukd definitely have mutuals and start playfully flirting under each other’s posts and start getting friendly with each other,, people would start to speculate a relationship between the two of them, but neither oikawa or jae would admit to it because the two of them love messing with the media and reading the dumb tabloid conspiracy theories that come up under their names,, eventually the two of them would announce themselves as a couple after a good few months of harmless flirting and from then on their instagram feeds are nothing less that immaculate

@sunasbabie sachiro x chloe — school!au — see chloe used to be a cheerleader and she’s always telling me these insane accidents and events that happened when she’d practice and stuff,, so cliche but i can imagine her as a schools cheerleader and sachrio would definitely take a liking to her but not just because of how pretty she is, but because she’s so funny and definitely easy to be around,, he had a stressful time when it came to staying at a consistent standard and expectation so chloe would definitely hype him up before games and keep him at ease, they’d end up dating by the end of the second term after getting to know each other more and sachrio would always find comfort and value in her cheering for him during games

@s9turn kuroo x hanna — enemies to lovers — both the type to constantly receive high grades in their classes and they’d constantly be compared to each other,, kuroo would definitely make studies a competition and insist he does it efffortlessly because he knows hanna puts in effort and makes pretty notes, he only riles her up to get attention for her though,, they’d 100% end up stuck next to each other as seat mates for the year where kuroo would be forced to accept that hanna is just sexy and intelligent and she does it as effortlessly as him, hesitant and more of a slow burn romance, but of course they’re gonna end up together as soon as kuroo stops being so stupid and admits he doesn’t hate hanna for her high scores but rather likes that she’s able to keep up with his intellectual conversations and stupid banter

@bellesowl atsumu x isa — fakedating!au — atsumu is tight about who he really lets into his private life and nobody in the media counts, so when his pr team suggest him fake dating someone to try and throw the media off his case a little he runs to isa to ask for a favour because he refuses to use just any old instagram model with weeks worth of dm requests rotting in his inbox,, isa would def insist she wants something in return but of course she forgets about this because when the two of them have to get into their act it flows too naturally to be fake,, after a while the media lay off atsumu’s back and he begrudgingly tells isa they can plan their break up now but obviously the two of them are genuinely in love at this point where they confess this and end up dating for real

@sunakissses suna x val — exes to lovers — these two are twin flames for sure but something dumb like schedules probably got in the way of their relationship the first time,, they stayed on good terms as friends and it’s frustrating to see them be friendly because it’s clear to everyone they’ve still got love and time for each other,, slow burner but slowly the two of them start to see that they have so much unfinished business with each other but of course they’re oblivious to how to other one feels,, it’ll take time but eventually the two of them spontaneously confess they’re still in love with one another where the nations fav couple reunite and all is right with the world once again

this was actually really fun to do, i’d love to do more with other mutuals sometime because i have so much to say about all my mutuals and their selfships (i know hanna doesn’t selfship with tetsu but i saw the opportunity to push this agenda 😼) sorry if you weren’t included in this one, wbk my brains forever short circuiting but i’d love to do this again sometime <3

#🌜night shift #✉️milamail #h/anna if u see this i’m sorry #i’ll tag u in some o/ikawa stuff soon i promise 😹🙏🏼

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fandomfanfics12 · 5 years ago

Text

Home Lives With You-Part 5

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 5/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: Again this is kind of long lol, hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest as they made their way to the living room. It had to be the hospital bill, that’s what had done this. he should’ve been better at concealing his wounds, he’d let his guard down in that moment with Tony and Steve. He was having a panic attack and they had been comforting him and he’d let his guard down. Dammit. How was it that Peter could get himself kicked out of the first good home that he was sent to? How had he been such an idiot? Tony sat down on the couch, Steve beside him and they both stared at him.

“sit down Pete.” Tony said and Peter did so slowly, his palms growing sweaty. As selfish as it was, Peter wondered if he’d at least be able to keep the elephant that Morgan had given him, but he knew how unlikely that was. It would go back to their precious and perfect daughter and Peter would go back to the Thompson’s basement, and the world would go back to normal.

“I’m so sorry about the hospital bill, I promise I’ll pay you back.” Please don’t kick me out. Peter put the elephant beside him and sat down on his hands so they wouldn’t see him shaking, wouldn’t show them how much he’d loved it here. How much he’d thought they had maybe potentially cared.

“this isn’t about the bill and I don’t want you to worry about that.” Tony began to dig through his pockets and Peter looked down at the floor, heart hammering inside his chest. But we are going to be sending you back, you’re just too much trouble. we don’t want our perfect daughter exposed to your freakishness. We don’t want her to see such violence at such a young age, maybe we could visit sometime. But they wouldn’t visit, old fosters never do. They just leave the kid to rot, hoping the next family can straighten the child out. Peter thought he was used to this conversation, used to people telling him that they didn’t want him anymore, but he could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he waited for the words.

“What is this?” Peter raised his hand and inhaled sharply to see the tiny lump of soap he’d gotten from school. He’d go to the school nurse once every couple of weeks to get a bar of soap for his “friend”. The nurse most definitely new that there was no friend but knew better than to push for more information.

“Soap sir.” Peter swallowed, the room was starting to spin and he wanted to disappear. He just wanted this part over, wanted to go back upstairs and pretend to pack up his things and then be back at Rhodey’s office. He didn’t want to be here in this moment any more.

“This is dollar store soap.” Tony said and Peter nodded, it wasn’t like the school bought fancy soap that they just gave out to students for free.

“it’s my soap sir.” Peter said and tony rose an unimpressed brow.

“why didn’t you use the bar of soap that was already in the shower?” Peter had seen it and had been tempted, but knew better than to use their things.

“Because that’s your soap sir.” He said and they shared a look.

“did you bring this from the Thompson’s?” Steve asked and Peter nodded, looking away at a picture on the wall. They were at the beach, Morgan on Steve’s shoulders and Tony making a silly face at her. Someone else must have taken the photo.

“It wasn’t their soap sir.” Peter said defensively, he hadn’t stolen anything from them. Hadn’t dared.

“Then where did you get it?”

“School nurse sir.” Peter’s fear was turning into anger, his defence mechanisms kicking in.

“alright well from here on out I want you to use our soap, okay?” Peter’s head whipped towards them and his heart leapt up into his throat.

“you’re not kicking me out?” his voice wobbled and both of their faces softened, relief was washing through Peter.

“of course not, why would you even think that?” Steve asked and Peter let his eyes fall shut.

“I thought with the hospital bills and seeing what I looked like, maybe you wouldn’t want someone like me around Morgan.” Peter admitted and heard one of them inhale sharply.

This kid was going to break Tony Stark-Rogers’ heart. Hearing the crack in his voice, seeing the way his eyes had darted around the room and knowing he’d thought they were going to kick him out through this whole conversation broke Tony’s heart. He took Steve’s hand and squeezed, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Peter we are here for you and we are going to support you. you haven’t scared us away if that’s what you’re worried about.” Tony said and he opened his eyes, tears welled up.

“Really?” Steve and Tony moved in one swift motion to his side, wrapping their arms around him, Tony rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere. I spoke to Rhodey yesterday while you were sleeping and I asked him if we could extend your stay.” At that, Peter stilled in their arms.

“What?”

“You’re going to stay with us for three months, if that’s alright with you?” Peter nodded and joy rushed through the three of them.

“I’d love that sir.” Peter whispered. Tony and Steve squeezed him a little tighter and Peter relaxed in their embrace.

“Great, now why don’t you go upstairs and get changed into some clean clothes and I’ll reheat some dinner while Steve does the washing.” Tony said, pulling back and Peter nodded. They helped him up off of the couch and then Tony made his way to the kitchen. he watched as Peter walked passed, his gangly and too-thin limbs. He wondered how often the kid had gotten a full meal if he had to get soap from the school. Tony made a mental note to put more food on Peter’s plate, just to be safe.

Peter dumped three of his four outfits into the washing basket Steve held in his hands.

“You were wearing that on Thursday, why don’t you change into something else?” Steve asked and Peter looked away, shit.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Steve asked, worry in his voice. He began to ask Peter questions, about whether that had something to do with his injuries but Peter cut him off.

“This is all I have Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter admitted at long last and Steve fell silent for a moment.

“You’ve dumped like three shirts in here.”

“I only have four shirts and two pairs of jeans.” Peter said and Steve’s hands tightened on the basket.

“Oh, okay. Well we can take you shopping for new clothes tomorrow.” Steve’s voice was a notch too high but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t afford new clothes Mr Stark-Rogers.”

“That’s alright, we can pay.” And Steve walked back downstairs before Peter could argue with him. Peter stayed there for a long moment and took a few deep breaths, this family was too nice, too good to be true. They want to keep me. the thought was startling, he didn’t quite believe it. the idea that Steve and Tony could want Peter around was insane. But they had extended his stay, and that meant more to Peter than he’d ever be able to explain.

“Tony he needs new clothes.” Tony’s brain was too distracted by Steve, hair perfectly tousled and washing basket propped on his hip. There was a light stubble from too many days gone by without shaving that Tony was finding irresistibly attractive.

“What?” Tony asked and Steve rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at his lip.

“Peter needs new clothes. He has four t-shirts which are practically held together by a single thread.” Steve put the basket down on the kitchen counter to lift up one of Peter’s shirts and it did look extremely rumpled and worn.

“stop drooling for a minute.” Steve told him, Tony scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Steve rose a brow and Tony sighed, stepping closer and reaching out to touch the material. It was rough, old and scratchy.

“I had planned for a shopping trip this weekend but we were a little busy.” Tony said and Steve nodded, silence filling the space between them. Then there were footsteps coming down the stairs, too heavy to be Morgan’s. Tony handed Steve back the shirt and Steve carried the dirty washing away before Peter entered the room. He offered Tony the smallest of smiles and slid onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

“how are you feeling?” Tony asked and Peter scratched the back of his head.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” Peter asked and it took all of Tony’s might not to last.

“We’re not in the military Peter, of course you can.” Peter nodded, staring down at his hands.

“Tired, hungry and a little stressed.”

“Why stressed?” Tony asked, leaning on the island across from him and Peter looked back up to meet Tony’s eyes.

“I’ve got a lot of homework and I haven’t started any of it and I’m already so far behind in all of my classes because there wasn’t many opportunities to study back at the Thompson’s and-“ Tony reached out and placed his hand over the top of Peter’s, offering him a gentle smile.

“It’s alright Peter, I’ll help you out.” Tony said and Peter’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Tony nodded, hoping that it wasn’t English.

“of course, what subject do you need help with the most right now?” Peter scratched the back of his head, the nerves practically radiated from him.

“Chemistry.” Relief flooded through Tony’s veins. Thank god.

“chemistry is like a second language, why don’t you get your homework after dinner and we can work through some of it tonight?” Tony asked softly and Peter beamed at him.

“Thank you Mr Stark-Rogers.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper. Tony grinned, he had finally upgraded from sir. The oven dinged and Tony turned around, ready to dish up the meal and spend some quality time with Peter.

When Peter woke up the sun was shining through the window and his body was sore. He was curled up on the floor, ribs throbbing and Steve’s face just above his own.

“Pete why are you on the floor?” Steve asked and Peter blinked several times, wishing his vision would clear.

“the bed is yours.” Peter mumbled, sitting up and rolling his shoulders.

“actually me bed is in my room with Tony, this bed is yours.” Peter’s heart leapt up into his throat and his head spun towards Steve.

“really?”

“Yeah Pete.” Steve chuckled and helped Peter up to his feet. He walked over to his phone which was only on twelve percent, the screen was cracked and it was so outdated that the phone had actual buttons. 10:13 was what the time read and Peter’s eyes widened.

“um Mr Stark Rogers?” Peter turned back to Steve who was frowning at Peter’s phone.

“Yeah?”

“is the clock wrong or is it really ten-thirteen?” Peter asked nervously and Steve scratched the back of his head.

“I hope we didn’t overstep our boundaries, but Tony and I thought you could use a day off given the weekend you had.” Peter blinked, a day off?

“oh, what chores do you want me to do today?” Peter asked, Steve shook his head.

“no chores Pete, we’re taking you shopping.” Steve said and Peter tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tony called in sick to work and I don’t have class on Monday’s, even Morgan’s being fake-sick today. We’re going to take you out and get you some proper clothes and some stuff for this room and,” Steve gave a pointed look at his phone. “a real phone that you can use.”

“I have no money, I can’t accept yours either.” Steve shrugged.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs, we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.” Steve said and then exited the room, leaving Peter in nothing more than a stunned silence. He wasted no time going downstairs, Tony had made pancakes and had drenched them in maple syrup and whipped cream. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight of the large stack and he slowly sat down on the stool, glancing at Tony who watched him as he drank for his coffee cup.

“are you waiting for a countdown or something kid?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head, picking up the knife and fork and digging in to his breakfast. The food was delicious and Peter actually moaned upon his first taste of it. he could feel Tony’s eyes on him, observing him closely but Peter didn’t think about it too hard. Here he was, being offered up actual food and it tasted good. Divinely sweet and insanely mouth-watering. Peter devoured the meal, savouring every last drop and ensuring that there was not even a crumb left on the plate.

“Alright Peter go put some shoes on.” Tony said and Peter nodded. He ran back upstairs and grabbed his four dollar shoes that had come from target and slipped his feet into them. He rushed back downstairs where the Stark-Rogers were waiting for him.

“All set? Good.” They made their way outside, Tony locked the front door and then got into the car where Steve drove the four of them to the mall. Once they were all out of the car, Steve locked it and took hold of Morgan’s hand and they began to make their way inside.

“Shouldn’t I be at school, or you guys at work? We really could just do this another day.” Peter said even though they were already there.

“Nope, this can not wait any longer.” They led Peter to a store full of tech and Peter eyed the heft prices nervously.

“what are we doing here?” he whispered to Tony who just raised a brow.

“which kind of phone do you want?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head.

“I already have a phone sir.”

“Steve described it as something that belonged to a really old grandma.” Tony told him and Peter looked down at the floor.

“So? It still works.” Peter said defiantly but that didn’t seem to matter, because a salesperson was talking to Steve and Steve was telling him that he wanted to get Peter a phone.

“I have the perfect phone, and we got it in a new special edition too.” The man disappeared and then returned with a small box. When he opened it up he pulled out a phone that had a sleek and smooth black screen. But when he turned it over Peter’s brows rose. The smooth back of the phone was red at the top but slowly turned into blue as Peter’s eyes moved down.

“We’ll take it.” Tony said and Peter’s head whipped towards him.

“No sir please! It’s bad enough that you’re losing money because you took the day off, this is way too much!” Peter insisted but it fell on deaf ears as Steve walked away to go fill out the paperwork. Tony was smiling softly, Morgan looked bored but Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest. This was way too much, he’d never be able to pay them back for this.

“Peter it’s fine. Steve and I wouldn’t pay for it if we weren’t okay with it.” Tony pulled out his own phone which was a similar model to the one that he was buying Peter and showed Peter a long list. The first item on the list had a little tick next to it. get Peter a new phone. Before Peter could protest anymore Steve was back, bag in hand and grinning.

“where to next?”

“Well we need to get him some clothes.”

Peter stood in the dressing room wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, a white soft t-shirt and a blue flannel.

“Pete?” Tony asked and Peter opened up the door, Tony grinned and nodded, the basket full of clothes that he’d already insisted on buying and hands full with even more clothes to try on.

“Awesome, we’re getting that too.” Peter shook his head, he really couldn’t accept all of this.

“Mr Stark Rogers we have more than enough.” Peter said because he knew that there was no way he’d be able to talk Tony out of buying the clothes already in the basket. It had taken Peter a while to get into the swing of things when shopping for clothes. He wasn’t sure what he liked or what he looked good in, and had needed to explain to Tony that he had just received the clothes that Flash hadn’t wanted anymore. Tony had already placed an entire wardrobe’s worth of summer clothes in the basket, and now insisted that Peter try on some things for winter time.

“but what about when it gets cold?” Tony asked and Peter glanced at himself in the mirror. His skin looked yellow in this lighting.

“then we can go shopping again, if I’m still around.” Tony froze but nodded. Despite himself, Peter’s heart sank. Just because they’d asked for an extension didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like they were going to adopt him.

“alright we’ll get you some winter clothes later, but we’re buying that outfit you’re in.” Peter nodded and shut the door so he could change back into regular clothes. He had been trying on different outfits for over an hour ad was glad that it was finally over.

“Hey Pete what’s your shoe size?” Tony asked as Peter tugged on a shirt.

“why?”

“Well you can’t keep walking around in those shoes.” Tony said through the door and peter’s eyes darted down to his feet, shoes were expensive though.

“it’s fine.”

“shoe size.” Tony said impatiently and Peter bit his lip. He wanted to let Steve and Tony buy all these things for him, wanted it so badly. But Peter wasn’t there son and he’d done nothing to deserve all this.

“It’s honestly fine Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter said and Tony knocked.

“What’s going through your head kid? We aren’t the Thompson’s and we aren’t going to neglect you. you may think all of this is frivolous or unnecessary but it’s not.” Peter nodded, still not quite believing him.

“11.” Peter said after a long while, finally caving to Tony.

“Great.”

Morgan had been an absolute angel. Steve had been nervous to bring her along shopping today but she loved helping Peter. Steve had told her that Bucky would be coming over on Saturday for dinner and she’d perked up again once she’d started getting bored of clothes shopping. They were now in Target, trying to find some decorations for Peter’s room. Steve was mostly sticking to neutral tones, he wasn’t exactly sure of what colours Peter liked and Steve was going to suggest that they repaint that room. Unless Peter liked the cream colour that it already was. Steve stared down at the clock, lamps and bedding stuff. Steve had grabbed a couple new pillows, a throw blanket and two different duvet covers that he’d thought Peter might like.

“I’m hungry.” Morgan whined as they waited in line.

“Why don’t we get some doughnuts when we’re done here?” Steve asked her and she gave him a big toothy grin.

“Really? Yay!” she clapped and stomped her feet on the ground in excitement. Steve chuckled at her small antics and soon enough he was handing over his card to pay for Peter’s things.

“you know dad, if we got a doughnut machine we could make doughnuts all the time!” she pointed to one in the shop that was on display and Steve shook his head.

“Maybe another time sweetie.” Steve made a mental note to bring it up to Tony for Morgan’s birthday. They always had an ever-growing list for things like birthdays and Christmases. They’d need to make one for Peter now too. They made their way over to the little doughnut shop and Steve kept an eye out for Tony. He’s not going to be happy that we’re doing this. But Tony was nowhere in sight.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan nodded her head.

Tony spotted his tall, blonde and gorgeous husband across the walkway, and it took Tony a moment to understand where Morgan and Steve were going exactly.

“This one seems nice.” Peter said after inspecting the shampoo bottle that Tony had just handed him.

“We’ll come back. Peter you push the trolley.” Peter put the bottle down and followed Tony out of the store, they made their way over to the doughnut shop.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan started to eagerly nod her head.

“Steven Grant Stark Rogers are you buying doughnuts without me?” Steve and Morgan spun, eyes wide and mouths agape and then Steve’s face morphed into a smirk.

“maybe.” Tony crossed his arms and shook his head.

“doughnuts?” Peter asked and the three of them turned to him, his brows furrowed.

“You’ve had a doughnut before, right Pete?” Steve asked and Peter bit his lip.

“No?” Tony gasped extra dramatically, Morgan covered her mouth as if she were going to scream and Steve just rose his brows.

“We’re getting a box Steve.” Tony said and marched up to the counted to order it. he could feel the eyes of his family watching him and Tony couldn’t contain the smile as he ordered the doughnuts. While Peter was still on edge, he’d most definitely relaxed today. Calming down ever so slightly as the day had progressed, resisting a little less each time Tony suggested something for him. Tony was glad he’d taken the day off work to spend this time with Peter, even if Hammer would taunt him about it for the rest of the week.

Doughnuts were officially Peter’s new favourite food. Tony had gotten a variety of flavours but overall, the plain glazed doughnuts were his favourite. He was still stunned by the amount of things that Steve and Tony had bought him, no one had ever done anything like this for Peter before and if he thought about it for too long he would become overwhelmed.

“Peter we were thinking that you’d like to repaint your room, so what colour would you like?” Steve asked as the four of them made their way back to the car. Peter inhaled sharply but shook his head, he couldn’t accept anything more from them.

“I like the colour that it already is.” Peter lied, it wasn’t that the cream was ugly, it just wasn’t what he would have picked for a bedroom.

“liar.” Tony teased and Peter managed a small smile.

“thank you for all that you guys have done, it’s more than I could ever thank you for.” Peter said as they reached the car. He really didn’t have a clue as to how he’d repay them, maybe one day he could come back once he had a job and give them a big fat cheque to make up for all of this. because there was no way they were keeping him, thoughts like that were just too good to be true.

@smallnjh @picklepotatoe14 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine @meyamoadriytu

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frustratedpeach13 · 5 years ago

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4/19/20

Here goes, once again, my failed attempt at keeping a Journal. I have attempted this many times but I always forget or decide it isn’t important. But now. I have nothing to do and an insane amount of thoughts that keep rolling around in my head and don’t let me sleep. I guess I’ll start with my biggest thing first and then go from there.

i smoke pot. a lot. all the time. daily, usually. sometimes i wait till after dinner. for some reason i guess if i do it at night i feel better about it. less guilty. and sometimes i wake up and take a hit. cuz why not? it’s not like its going to make anything worse. and honestly it doesn’t affect anybody else. so i continue. day in and day out. i think it makes me feel more like myself. I don’t have to worry about hings when i’m high. I just am. i stop overthinking everything. i stop reliving every stupid mistake i did in the last 26 years. i just don’t care when i’m high. so maybe i should keep doing that. or maybe i should stop. or maybe i shouldn’t. one thing i do know, is that this is one of those few times where it is my decision. my secret. my thing. the girl that gets secretly high.

i always start too many things at once. and then i drop the ball and then i feel like a loser. for instance today i started a dieting app and i started journeling. if history has any say, by the end of next week i’ll be done with both. they will both be forgotten and left to rot on until i need to delete apps on my phone. or maybe by some miracle by the end of next week i will see some sort of improvement in my brain and i’ll feel better and i’ll continue it for another week. who really knows?

i honestly just wish i knew what i wanted out of life. i’ll have my associates in a month. big whoop. and after that i have to transfer and do all of this other college shit that i hate. i hate class. i hate it all. everyone thinking they’ll get out and then become rich and live a wonderful life. i don’t know why i hate it. maybe because i’ve thought for so long and dreamed for so long that it was my turn to get that life, and then have it taken from me. and to be honest nothing has actually been taken from me. i just always get these ridiculous dreams into my head. i get swept up in romantic stories and ideas and then i’m left alone at the end of the day. daydreaming by myself. wondering why i’m sad and lonely and why everybody else is married and has kids.

that is another thing. out of 4 of us kids, we are all single. sometimes i wonder if my parents look at us and thing, “what did we do wrong?” even if they did think that they would never say. we are all pretty ‘normal’. we all bathe and know how to be around people. but for some reason, we can never find people that fit. people ask me if i believe in a one true love and happily ever after. not anymore. i’m over it. i know that some dashing prince isn’t going to come in and sweep me off my feet. i get it. the fantasies over. if i want a man i have to get an app or go out and talk to people. i have to make it clear that i am available and interested. and honestly it is so god damn hard. i hate it. i hate pretending like i want to go on dates with random guys. i don’t want that. i never have. i just want one guy. one normalish kind of guy who wants to actually care about someone more than himself. it shouldn’t be that hard. all of my friends have figured it out. but not me. and not my siblings, and i honestly don’t know why. which makes me think that maybe there is just one fit for each of us. and maybe we haven’t found it yet. or we already screwed it up. or it came along and we laughed in it’s face hoping for something better. i don’t know. what i do know is it is important to be happy when you’re alone.

i can say that i am content. i can be alone. i can make ends meet. i can figure it out. i know that. i am resilient enough to take care of myself. happy? i don’t know. i don’t really know the last time i was really happy. Ireland. i was unashamedly happy when i was there. and i know i can’t live in the past. i know that that time is over. i know that i need to find happy here. as a 26 year old female living in the usa. i know that. i know that. i know that. the trouble is i don’t know how.

i often think that people are tired of me. that i am too obnoxious. i think that constantly. maybe if i stopped thinking about that i would be happy. probably. i think that writing things out could help. i just need to remember to do that. to continue to get it out of me instead of keeping it locked up inside.

here’s to trying new things and new habits. according to my app i should be 150 pounds in october. that is mindblowing to me. i’ve been 180-190 for the better part of 6 years. to be thin. to not think about the extra fat. to feel good and maybe beautiful. it would be nice. maybe it’s a pipe dream. maybe i can make it a reality. i don’t know. i’ve never had any luck before. but i’ve also never been a single 26 year old who is at her wits end. i’m not suicidal. i’m more at the point where i want to pack a bag and move. start over somewhere new. make up a new me. figure out who i am without my family and ‘friends’ that i currently have.

i’m beyond sick of living up to people’s expectations. that’s probably a big reason i like to get high. it’s my secret that nobody knows. secretly i am failing everyone and it’s like my little joke. ha. you want a perfect angel. well in reality i’m just a girl that gets high, eats too much, cries, and wishes beyond all belief that someone would find me who i like as much as they like me. i continually am at one end of the fucking see saw. either i like them way to much or visa versa. or they fall in love with a version of me that i don’t want to be for the rest of my life. i don’t know. it shouldn’t be that hard. but it is. people are obnoxious and arrogant. and unkind. and it’s so fucking hard to find someone who is kind and who thinks about something, anything, more than themselves. but again, here i am writing a ridiculous monologue about my unhappiness.

this is kind of nice though. it’s like writing to a friend.

i’ve been watching this show called the magicians. and i just bought the books. and i don’t know why i am so obsessed. i’m currently on my third watch through. i found it three weeks ago. it’s really bad. i’m not in love with any of the characters or anything. i just like it. it makes me happy. maybe i feel like i could actually be friends with them. or like maybe its a fantasy world where i feel like i might actually fit. GoT and harry potter and stuff have always been fun but i’ve never actually felt like i could belong there. but there is something about this show and series where its like, ya, if that were real, i would fit there. i would make sense there. maybe that’s why i like it so much.

anyway. that’s all i think.

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btgalaxy · 5 years ago

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Twisted

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ genre: mafia!au, angst, eventual smut, maybe fluff

➳ word count: 4.5k

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Chapter 6:

You gasp at the sudden impact against your throat, arms reflexively struggling to push away the root of your suffocation. Contact with Jimin?

He leans in close enough for you to smell the tobacco riddled in his breath, “and don’t lie to me, Y/N, the bastard told me himself you’ve been talking with him.”

Jimin. He saw Jimin. Your head dizzies between the lack of oxygen and the though that Yoongi has spoken to Jimin. And he lied to Yoongi about you?

“What?” You choke, “I- I never-,“ Yoongi holds you tighter till you’re unable to speak, unable to breathe.

“I said don’t lie,” he growls, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, resembling some animalistic creature on the verge of slaughter.

As your face reddens and eyes begin bulging the hold seems to loosen, just before your body approaches giving up. Yoongi snaps away and you drop to the floor, palms pressed to the stone as you hunch over, panting.

“I want the truth, Y/N. How have you been contacting him?” He spits, pointing at your bent figure on the floor, shooting daggers through his eyes.

“I haven’t,” you pant, still struggling to catch your breath, to oxygenise your brain and stop the room from feeling so deformed and upside down.

“I know you have!” He roars, turning around and launching his desk to the wall with a God-like strength that makes you shudder. Still heaving with fury, he stalks back over to you, kneeling down to snatch at your chin and pull your face to look at him, the proxemics between you decreasing as he falls closer and closer.

“Tell me what you’ve told him and how you’ve been doing it,” he orders, his tone still laced with venom, poisoning his mind with lies.

“I’ve not had contact with anyone outside of here the entire time- I swear,” you plea with desperate eyes, slowly bringing your hands up to- hesitantly- rest on his arm, to gently release his grip from your face. And, fleetingly, it works, his gaze becoming entrapped in your own, caressing him to stop abusing you and listen to what you’re saying, but the moment vanishes within seconds and he’s pushed you again, storming back over to the window overlooking the training area.

“Taehyung!” He bellows, still facing outwards so not to meet your eye. Taehyung comes bundling in looking frantic and rapidly diverting his eyes around the room.

“What? What is-,“ he spots you on the floor, “Y/N?”

“Take her to her room.” Just as he’s moving to help you up, he receives the order from Yoongi. Not again. “Lock her in it. Nobody gets in, but you. Put her on the hole diet.”

“She’s not going to the-,“ Taehyung attempts to interrupt.

“She’ll stay there till I’m ready to deal with her.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the rest of his body completely immobile, breathing deep. “Now.”

Taehyung, surprisingly reluctantly, helps you to your feet, as you glance desperately at Yoongi. In a final effort to convince him you really haven’t spoken to Jimin since the night he broke up with you, you snatch away from the grip behind you, but Tae is too fast still and ceases your movement by snatching your arms again as you yell out one final time.

“Yoongi, I didn’t speak to him. I haven’t spoken to him,” you cry, fighting against Tae’s strong arms, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Your words seem to unnerve both men, and they falter as you proclaim some sort of emotion towards Yoongi, whether that be loyalty, friendship… more than that? You aren’t sure, but the atmosphere becomes thicker as you’re dragged away, the remnants of your voice still echoing against the stone.

Great. Now you’re stuck again like a damn prisoner without even a fairy tale book from the old lady to keep you company. Nor are you likely to get one anytime soon. Taehyung is to bring your meals from now, ceasing contact with anyone bar him, and you’re also being monitored by a camera set up in the top right corner by the entrance to the bathroom. You can only imagine Yoongi sat at his desk watching you, beaming at your seemingly eternal misery.

You begin to think of Jimin. This is the first time you’ve heard of an actual attack of his, or interception, or whatever. Taehyung says he brought down a lorry of cocaine just a mere few miles from here and stole millions of pounds worth of drugs. He killed people, and he did it remorselessly. You feel sick. All the times you spent curled up in bed, nuzzling into the neck of a killer, allowing him to pleasure you each night with those blood-stained hands. You always thought when he denied you in bed that it was to gain the most pleasure at the end, but now you’re beginning to think the act was purely sadistic and cruel.

And Yoongi. God, that man. Would he ever listen to anyone other than himself? You try to picture him with his parents, listening to their advice, following their orders. But you can’t even do that. The man is stubborn, and reserved, and seems to seek the worst in people. Perhaps that’s what you become when raised by mafia parents. Regardless, you’re still fucked off he wouldn’t listen to you.

After two days of absolute recluse with only Taehyung delivering three meals of the blandest, most insipid meals- the hole diet, as Yoongi referred to it as- you swear you can feel your lungs expanding and decreasing, and it’s the most interesting bloody thing going on. Well, that and the peeling wallpaper by the side of the dresser where it’s been knocked enough that the paper shredded and now it’s slowly curling upwards, providing a secondary source of absolutely riveting entertainment. It’s a form of torture, social isolation. And you can feel yourself slipping into insanity if you’re left alone like this much longer.

Thankfully, however, after your fourth day of suffering, Taehyung delivers your meal and has been permitted to sit with you. It’s not quite the relief you’re after, but at this point you’re desperate.

“Is he ever going to let me go?” You moan, pushing around the mashed potatoes with a fork, raising your eyebrows at the lumpy consistency.

Tae sighs, “He doesn’t know who to trust.”

“He’s trusting his one sworn enemy over me,” you speak slowly, decisively, “He’s being a stubborn bastard. I’ve been here for nearly two months now, can he really not take my word? Why would I contact Jimin? How would I contact Jimin?” Your questions leave Taehyung speechless for a moment as he clamps down on his lower lip, rolling his head back with his palms pressed against the duvet of the bed.

“Y/N, I’m on your side, alright? I have been since the start,” he declares, “I’m trying with Yoongi, and even Jin has had his say that you need to get out of this room at least.” Jin? Fighting your case? You almost can’t believe what he’s saying.

You pause, still playing with the tasteless remnants of food, “I thought I was doing alright here.”

“You were, duckie. You are. Everyone’s on your side, Joon can’t find any sort of proof you contacted Jimin on the systems since you’ve been here, and Yoongi is on the verge of being swayed; I can sense it.”

“Please, then. Please, just let me out of here for five minutes- I’m going insane.” You lean forwards, eyes bulging, to try and make a point, but Taehyung simply shakes his head at your endeavours.

“I’m sorry, duckie.” He gives you a pitiful smile, “As much as I want to, I can’t defy Boss’s orders.”

A miserable silence brazens the room with an abysmal atmosphere, weighing your shoulders down like a millstone around your neck. You just want to get out of here, this room that’s become some place of despondency and your own custom-made jail cell.

“Do you know what Jimin said?” You blurt out, partially to break the awkward silence, but partially out of curiosity. You’re interested to know what he could’ve said after the pair of you not meeting for so long, and knowing that you’re being held here.

Taehyung wets his lips, “He said you’d contacted him and you were to be released, immediately. Threatened the Enterprise a bit, Yoongi too. I know it was a lie, I can ensure you I know the truth entirely. But when it’s coming straight from the horse’s mouth it’s difficult to object, and apparently he looked, well, like he was going out of his mind.”

Before you can respond, Taehyung’s phone begins blasting and vibrating in his pocket, and his hand immediately snaps down to take it out. He mutters a curse under his breath when he glances at the screen.

“I’ve gotta take this, duckie.” He begins to get up, making you frantic.

You scramble to the end of the bed, “Wait, no, please, Taehyung.” He gives you a second meagre smile of pity before clicking the door shut behind you, and once again you are alone. How does he even get reception down here?

You slump back onto the pillows ignoring your bland meal, now alone again. You want to sleep, to forget for a little bit and dream you’re back at your boring job and living your boring life with only Jimin to look forward to. You didn’t exactly love your life, but you at least had freedom. You at least had some control over what you did, what you ate, where you slept, who you slept with. It’s one of those things you take for granted, and then when it’s taken away you realise how underappreciated it was.

You glance at the little camera in the top corner of the room, watching you with its cyclops eye. You picture Yoongi, feet on the desk and bum planted firmly in his swivel chair with his laptop open in front of him with your live feed on the screen, grinning sadistically as you sit and watch wallpaper rot. You consider for a moment doing something scandalous to get his attention; undress, slip your hands down your pants, make some noise. But he’d probably enjoy the show more than anything, so you decide against it. He’s probably gaining enough pleasure from you’re suffering as it is.

After the seventh day- a week, a whole fucking week- the man himself shows up.

Yoongi saunters in impossibly casually and plonks himself at the edge of your bed. You wake up from your nap not entirely sure whether you are actually awake, seeing him gazing back at you, but when you do snap into reality you’re ready to pounce, nostrils flared and fists clenched.

“The fuck are you doing here? Ready to laugh at me some more?” You accuse, clearly shocking him as he widens his eyes, a little taken aback.

“I’d be careful what you say, love. I’m only just convinced you aren’t what Jimin says you are.”

Your tone changes, “What does Jimin say I am?”

Yoongi looks back at you, in disbelief, “Oh so now you’ll talk to me?”

“What did he say?” You ignore him.

He rubs his palm along the bedsheet, flattening out the creases with his veiny hands, “He said you were a liar. That I can’t trust anything you say.”

You frown, observing Yoongi’s reactions. Does he really believe what Jimin is saying? You daren’t even think of Jimin’s own lies, else you might start to hate him, and he seems to be the last thing you have to still- somewhat- look forward to these past few days, so you push that thought aside.

You shuffle closer to Yoongi, “And do you?”

“Do I what?” His tone is indecipherable- almost distant, calculating, but very aware of what your question means.

“Trust me?” You press, leaning forwards towards him.

He manoeuvres uncomfortably on the bed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it with a sigh. It’s a gesture he shares with Jimin. When you used to pry into his life, when he seemed stressed or worried or as if he was keeping something from you, you’d lay on question after question, adamant you’d find out and sort the problem. But he’d never cave. Instead, he’d just sigh and rub the bridge of his nose before taking you into his arms and kissing your head, telling you not to worry about it. Of course you still did, every time, but not once did he ever tell you. Thinking back now, he was clever about what he told you. Enough to keep you satisfied and not brilliantly curious, which was manipulative in his own way- but anyway, you won’t think about that.

“I don’t know if I should trust you or not,” he admits, causing you to involuntarily slump back again in defeat, “but for the first time in my life I just- I want to trust you.”

To say you’re stunned would be an understatement. Did he really just say he wants to trust you? You’re speechless, which frankly is a difficult thing to achieve with you. In the time you’ve known him, Yoongi’s never shared anything more than a family story with you, never actual feelings, and better yet feelings towards you. You shuffle a little closer to him, dangerously close, the man’s a killer after all, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter right now.

“Then do,” you murmur, grazing his knee with yours and softening your demeanour. His sightline travels down to the contact and he stiffens momentarily and then calms, diffusing your apprehension and allowing you to relax into him. You swallow, visibly, gouging his reaction.

“I wanted to show you my library. I thought it might be a good place for you to be alone that isn’t here,” he announces, “Taehyung told me you didn’t seem well.” Your saviour.

You lean forwards, smiling slightly, “There’s a library here?”

“Well,” he grumbles, “It was my parents’ study, but after they died I cleared out the desks and brought in the books from our old house; they enjoyed reading.”

You nod in response, relishing the excitement of a library. Books. An abundance of books. After so long being entertained by paint drying the thought of some actual intellectual stimulation is beyond thrilling.

“Come on then.” He stands up, adjusting his slacks and making a move towards the door with you hot on his trail.

The corridors are filled once more with life, the hustle and bustle of men joking about as they head to eat, the odd woman carrying a basket of laundry, people holding clipboards as they run figures through their head. And something smells incredible, something from the kitchen. After your diet of plain potatoes and dry meat you’re more than welcoming to the scent lazily roaming the halls, enticing you to make a hasty break towards the fridge, but you refrain from doing so. You’d take books over food any day.

Yoongi guides you silently to an eerily empty hallway. The hallway containing the door Taehyung told you is strictly off-limits. Perhaps that’s the library? But you both walk straight past it, at a slightly faster pace, and again that smell is back. The smell of something burning in a frying pan, like a slab of fatty pork sizzling till the skin turns black and filling the entire place with that God-awful smell you have to open all the windows to release. You hold your breath until you’re passed.

“In here.” Yoongi indicates to a door, stepping aside and allowing you through first. You’re apprehensive at first, he’s never shown much chivalry before, so for a moment you question what will be on the other side- a hoard of angry dogs? A lethal snake? Another room to leave you locked in for a week?- but you still walk forwards, pushing down the handle and gently opening the door with an ominous creak.

The interior is a warm surprise. The bookshelves cover the floor to the ceiling over every wall, including the part above the doorway, and there are three more units down the centre with plush sofas at the end, practically calling you to curl up on them with some old novel and a cup of tea. You sigh in contentment, finally feeling a little at home in this place, finally feeling as though it isn’t all bad.

“Wow.” You trace your fingers along the battered spines of the browning books, reading the titles. Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood. This must be where the woman was getting you all those books.

“They read me a lot of children’s books when I was younger.” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, a little awkwardly, a gesture you’ve never seen him use before.

You glance back at the crooked spines, “I like Alice in Wonderland.” You recall the first book you received after arriving at the Enterprise, the story now bringing you a sense of comfort, that you’re not the only one falling into a whole other world you don’t entirely understand.

“I preferred Robin Hood.” You glimpse at his figure, stood domineeringly next to another shelving unit and again find yourself admiring his soft features, the gentle slop of his nose and the curve of his jawline. He’s not at all what you would’ve pictured having heard of some criminal mafia boss, not even close.

You walk down one of the aisles, stopping next to a particular section that holds the mystery genre. Your knuckles make contact with the bent backs and you clutch onto one titled ‘Five Little Pigs’. The paper feels thin and brittle as you flick wantonly through the different chapters, driving your excitement at the amplitude of stories now resting at your fingertips.

“Do you like Agatha Christie?” Yoongi inquires, now sat comfortably on one of the sofas.

You move to join him, book in hand, “I haven’t had the chance to read anything by her, but some of the film adaptations-“

You’re cut off by Yoongi’s throaty laugh, “Ah, so you’re a film-over-books type then?”

“No, not really,” you frown, “Jimin was.”

His smile drops almost instantly when you say his name, a new expression strewn over his features- something resembling distaste but you can’t quite decipher it.

“Course he was,” he scoffs, leaning back and resting one arm over the chesterfield, “A book’s probably a bit too much for him to handle.”

Although Jimin isn’t exactly you’re favourite person right now, it still hurts for someone to speak ill of him in front of you, so the sour look on your face is a subconscious effort you’re unable to prevent. You trail your focal point down to the book in your lap, avoiding Yoongi’s apathetic gaze.

“You alright, love?” He chuckles lightly, observing your reaction, “Didn’t think you still cared about him.”

“I don’t,” you snap, “I just don’t think it’s right for you to just- just- I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s right.”

He nods slowly, “Right. Well, I’m glad you don’t care about him anymore.” Your heart skips a beat. “It’d make staying here a lot more awkward- him being the enemy and all.” And then it slumps again.

“Certainly.” You push your lips to the side, searching for a change of subject, “So do you use this place often? To read and what not?”

Yoongi sighs, running his tongue across his lower jaw, “I don’t really have the chance. That’s why I’m showing you. You might make better use of the place.”

Your ears perk up a little, “You mean I can come here whenever?” He nods, and you grin harder.

“What about training? Do I still have to do training?”

“Of course you do,” he remarks, eyebrows raised, “I don’t expect you to stay here and do nothing but read all day.” If only. “Besides, I thought you and Jin were on good terms now. He did speak to me about you after all.”

You pout slightly, “Taehyung said. Although he’s never been nice to me leading up to this.”

“He told me you had a talk when we went away to sort out that shipment problem.”

“Barely,” you laugh, disbelievingly, “I wouldn’t exactly call us buddies.”

“Nobody here has ‘buddies’. But having an ally won’t hurt you.”

“Sure it won’t.”

Yoongi leans towards you, intrigued, “And what do you mean by that?”

“I’m sure you know all about perfidy.”

He nods, falling back slowly again, “Indeed I do. In fact I have reason to believe we’ve an informer living under our noses at the Enterprise, but no solid evidence just yet.”

You widen your eyes, digesting his words, “What? Why would you think that? Who would be an informer?”

“Just leaked information nobody could get from the outside to Jimin. It’s how he intercepted our last shipment; he just blamed you to cover up for the bastard. And if I knew who it was I would not be sat here with you right now, I’d be down in the hole with a scalpel and some forceps and-“ He stops himself, suddenly aware of the uncomfortable detail he’s going into.

You gulp, hunching over your posture and bringing your hands awkwardly onto the book ahead of you, trying to repress the bout of unease now billowing through you like waves. Sometimes it’s easy to forget his career path, and what that requires him to do. You’re positive his hands have been dirtied on more than one occasion, and he’s probably taken lives, but for some bizarre reason you find yourself trying to defend him- that he is just doing as his parents wanted him to. And this sudden desire to defend him makes you nervous.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “It just makes me angry not knowing.” You’re unphased by this; everything about him screams that he needs to dominate and control everything.

“It’s fine,” you utter back, “I would be frustrated too.”

You finally make eye contact, and his expression is now even more indecipherable than before. You can no longer tell if he’s actually difficult to read, or if you just aren’t very good at interpreting people. You decide against the latter.

An awkward silence ensues between the two of you; lingering like a foul smell in the air that nobody wants to acknowledge. You thumb at the edge of the book, bending the hardcover corner slightly and running your flesh over the point of it. Your fidgeting is clearly an uncomfortable distraction from your little ‘heart to heart’ with Yoongi, and he becomes apparently aware of it.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, blatantly, “I can leave if you’d like that better. I can collect you in an hour or so?”

You shake your head rapidly, “No, no, no, I- it’s- I just- you…” Your trailing off leaves him curious as his eyes glisten with inquisition, his posture arching towards you.

“You what?” He presses.

You shrug dismissively and lower your head, “I don’t know. I guess I just want you to stay.” You mumble the last words, scrunching up your nose and avoiding looking at him as you can feel the damn smirk dancing on his lips. Why would you say that?

You hear him move back against the couch, “I would’ve stayed anyway.”

Ugh. You can sense the cocksure glint in his eyes without even looking. You want to take back the words, but it’s already too late. Besides, you’ve said a few stupid things now, what’s one more going to make a difference?

“So when am I going back to normal training with Jin then?” You attempt to divert the subject.

It’s bizarre really, referring to your training with Jin as ‘normal’. That implies that what you do is something anyone would do on a day-to-day basis, which actually is in no way the truth. But this is your new way of life, and you’ve become so quickly accustomed to it it’s somewhat terrifying. You guess you were groomed by Jimin’s tendency for secrets, his confidentiality about his work, his skilled fighting- you’ll never forget the way he pinned one man to the bar when he reached to grope your arse. It’s funny how fast things can change.

“Tomorrow, I’d hope. The longer you take away from your instruction the harder it will be to recover. And I need you top form, love.” Yoongi speaks with an encouraging decisiveness, making you smile at the notion you’ll be back doing something other than sitting around all day- and now you have access to all these books too, things seem to be looking up. Finally.

“Thank you.” You look up at him, gratefully.

The two of you make eye contact once again, and a sudden flurry of nervousness gathers in your stomach, throwing you about and making you feel dizzy. Yoongi’s gaze penetrates your calm expression, piercing through to unveil your inner cluster of emotions and for a second you swear you could see the same within him. As you look at him, now completely defenceless to his searing eyes glazing over you like a machine, he becomes less and less the mafia boss you once only perceived him as. No, now, sat here, entirely alone with him in one of his personal spaces, you feel as though something significant has changed, something that could change everything.

He shuffles forwards, “Y/N, I don’t know what it is, but I have this overwhelming voice telling me to kiss you.”

Your heart nearly stops.

Your knees touch like they did in your room, but this time far more purposefully as Yoongi runs his tongue across his lower lip, eyes flickering to yours with an unexpected passion burning like a fire and setting his skin alight, a similar effect that his touch has on you. And just as you can feel his breath against the tip of your nose, hear the way he exhales as he falls closer, feel the thumping of his heart as your hands close on his chest, the door opens. For fucks sake Taehyung.

The brunette man stands awkwardly in the doorframe, visibly panting and somewhat undisturbed by the scene he’s walked in on. Just as Yoongi stands up and shoves away from you, disappointing you slightly but you’d rather that than have Taehyung watch, Tae lifts up his head and speaks.

“Yoongi- I- sir- it’s Jimin- he’s- he’s here.”

What?

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#twisted #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts suga #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi smut #admin lottie

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bunslakes-artblog · 6 years ago

Text

Small collection of bnha stuff I’ve written

Ok so I am not a story writer, I can’t write a full story that is enjoyable to read. However, I do like to write specific scenes, try to convey a mood, or just write down scenarios that have been floating around in my head. This is probably not the the most convenient-to-read format, but I don’t have an accound for any fanfic sites or anything so.. Here I have put together some stuff I have written down, I think you could class all of them as angst lol. It’s kiribaku, but could be read as platonic in most cases too.

These are all written like little extractions from fics (that don’t excist other than said extraction), so don’t expect a full story coming or anyhting. I’ll try to explain some context to each one if I feel it’s needed though. Warning: super long text under the cut

This first one is so over the top angsty it’s almost funny, but here goes (context plus some extra in cursive at the end): The last piece of concrete was lifted by a light tap from Uraraka’s fingertips and the rescue group could finally see into the small space they had been working for hours to find and uncover after the building had collapsed during the battle with the villain. All Might was standing by the opening, blocking most of the view, but Midoriya could still catch a glimpse of what had been trapped in there. He almost recoiled when he was pierced with a crimson gaze, colder and sharper than an iron rod to the heart. Kacchan. He'd been in the center of the action when the building had collapsed, fighting side by side with- "Young Bakugo! Worry not for I-" All Might stopped himself from finishing his sentence, and Midoriya could see why. Bakugo was sitting, leaning against a broken piece of wall and rubble, the furthest into the small space. He was covered in small scrapes and cuts, hero costume torn, his body tense, face exhausted. Dried teartracks that had drawn visible lines over his dusty cheeks. And in his arms, leaning back to his chest, Kirishima. Bakugos arms were tightly wrapped around his upper body in an embrace, his head nuzzled in the dip between the redheads shoulder and neck. It would've been a tender view, if it wasn't for the redhead's unmoving chest. His pale skin. His almost closed, blank eyes.

It had been hours since the building collapsed, since the rest of the class and teachers were able to start digging for survivors.. Midoriya felt the dread sink its cold claws into his gut. All Might looked like he was about to say something, but stopped when Bakugo's arms hugged the lifeless body they were cradling a little tighter, his eyes suddenly burning white hot, most of his face still buried in the crook of his friends neck. "How dare you- How fucking DARE you show up now, when it's too late. When it's been too late for HOURS." Bakugos voice was low, cracked and rough like gravel from the emotional strain it'd been through. But it cut through the silence like a blade. The class had gotten involved with another villain attack and Bakugo and Kirishima had been fighting together inside the building while it collapsed. They got trapped in the small space under a fallen supporting beam that kept the rest of the rubble from crushing them. Or well, most of them. Bakugo had got off lightly compared to his friend who he found gasping for air in his arms once the dust had settled. They had been in there for a long time and both were noticing how difficult it was becoming for the redhead to breathe. How soft his voice had become. And there were still vague sounds from the battle outside, so rescue was still far away. Bakugo had already overused his quirk and could not let out any explosions without risking hurting Kirishima even more, so the only thing left to do was to sit still, wait, and hope.

Bakugo would try to keep Kirishima talking, terrified of the silence. Kirishima would be terrified too, not wanting to leave Bakugo alone in this small space with his dead body, knowing he’d be trapped in there for a long time before getting rescued. In an attempt to comfort them both, Kirishima had been gently massaging Bakugos strained palms, and Bakugo had had to sit there and feel Kirishima's grip getting softer and softer until the hands laid limp in his own. After the last breath had left his friends body, hed cried, yelled, cursed, cried some more and then some. But eventually tears run out and he was still trapped in there, now completely alone. The only thing he could think of to do was hugging the body in his arms, trying to keep the warmth from slipping out. And he had to stay in there like that for hours before rescue finally came.

This next one is kind of strangely written. Sometimes I like writing super vague and avoiding to talk too much about the characters, and more about what they feel and experience. Trying to show who’s perspective we are reading from just based on context clues. But to be clear, the first chunk is from Kirishima’s perspective and the second is Bakugo. The main thing here was just that I wanted to write about being trapped and abandoned for a very long time with no contact with hte outside world. Kind of tuning in to pure survival instinct and so on. There’s no context to this, I don’t know who or why he was captured or how, it jsut is how it is haha. Every gap in the text is a timeskip. How long a timeskip is is not really the point, but it could be anyhting from hours to like a week.

He had lost count of the days he’d been held there. Not that it was hard to, the complete lack of access to the real world made it more or less impossible to keep track of the passage of time. It was just him, alone in a windowless cube, a wooden rectangle sticking out from the wall to sleep on, a door with a tiny slot to push food through, and a bucket in a corner. It was just him, his only company being the rare sound of the slot opening and the scraping of the tray as it got pushed into his cell. No talking. He'd stopped talking to himself. Run out of things to say. He'd stopped hallucinating the sound of distant explosions getting closer and closer, stopped imagining the heavy door getting blasted open, blessing him with fresh air from the outside, and the sun. God he had almost forgotten what the sun felt like. What natural light looked like. What the voices of his friends sounded like. Their faces. Only a name with a vague blurry face shape to accompany it. He'd lost count of the weeks. No one was coming. The silence was unbearable. It was like pressure on his ears. The isolation was driving him insane. He'd laid by the door-slot, waiting for it to open, just to perhaps at least catch a glimpse of a hand, a sign of another human being. He'd lay on the floor in front of the door, watching the slot open, over and over. Nothing. No one. He can't stand it. Anything is better than this. No one is coming. He has to get himself out. Warmth and the taste of iron and salt fills his mouth. For a moment his hunger takes over and he bites down harder. The pain quickly takes over though and he lets out a whimper. Everything slowly fades. It hurt. The pulsating hot pain under the sloppy wrapping around his wrist, and the cold, piercing pain in his mouth. His tongue wouldn't stop running over the empty spaces and broken, filed down points that had once been his teeth. Failure. Weakling. They were not letting him go. No one was coming. It's so dark. There had been a distant rumble. The ground shook. Something deep inside him tugged at his heart, tried to revive a distant memory. A connection his brain wanted to make. An association. The smell of burnt sugar. Hope? The feeling didn't last long though since soon after the rumbling had begun, the artificial lights went out and his world became absolute darkness. In the beginning panic was the only thing he felt. He couldn't see. He didn't understand. What had happened? The air felt dusty, still and old. And it was so quiet. He didn't get used to the darkness. This wall of black right in front of his eyes at all times. He didn't understand. The meals had stopped coming. Not that they came very often before, but now they were nowhere to be seen at all. Abandoned. Forgotten. Left to rot. No one was coming. The air is so thick. Old. Same. He can almost taste himself with every breath. Disgusting. He doesn't know when he's sleeping and when he's not. It all looks the same. Black. Moving is hard. He doesn't know what his limbs are doing. He can't see. He accidentally tipped over the bucket when weakly fumbling for it in the dark, spilling the contents over the floor. Disgusting. Putrid. Unspeakable. Sobbing, he crawled back up on his bunk. He didn't go on the floor anymore. Liquid. His dry lips are pressed against the wall, trying to soak up every last drop of what's slowly trickling down the uneven surface. There had been a crack, the first sound since the horrible wet clash of the bucket, and he'd breathed in a mouthful of dust. Then he'd felt it. Cool against his fingers. Slowly trickling. Wet. That tug in his heart is there again. Fainter than ever, making a last attempt. He can't do anything else than keep pressing his lips against the wall, absorbing every last drop of hope. It was becoming almost unbearable to force himself to breathe. He was so tired. Felt so heavy. Nothing to breathe but dust and stench. No one was coming. He was just going to sleep for a little while. Finally. Finally they found it. The place they'd been tirelessly searching for for months. His body was out of shape, exhausted from endless sleepless nights dedicated to searching, because dammit, they had taken HIM. Those fuckers. Those absolute evil monsters. They were his. He felt his body preparing to give it its all now when they'd finally found their target. The attack had been successful, executed with the element of surprise in their favour, along with pretty much the whole class, all the teachers plus some other pros. And he'd been in the lead, blasting anything that moved, sometimes even if it didn't. Like a machine he'd plowed through corridors upon corridors, searching for the only thing that mattered to him. Nothing yet. "Th-the basement. You ha-have to.. it collapsed" "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN COLLAPSED? IS THERE ANYTHING DOWN THERE??" he was getting impatient. Impatient and scared. He hadn't found him yet. And all the captives had been rescued. Where the fuck had they hid him? He refused to even consider the unthinkable. He WAS here. Somewhere. "Don't shake the victim, are you crazy?!" The annoying voice of some adult shouted. He let out an irritated “tch” but let go of the shaking, thin human. The adult took over listening to what the rescued had been trying to say. "The basement.. it's where they kept.. where they kept the struggling one. The one who wouldn't stop fighting.." A wall of rubble. Impossible to get through. There must've been an earthquake or something with equal force that caused this massive disaster. They couldn't get down. And it looked like no one had been able to for a very long time. He could feel hope run out. Quickly. His chest tightening, making it hard to breathe. But he dug. God it's so dark. The air almost impossible to breathe, having been still and filled with dust for so long. His heart was racing with horrification. Was he here, in this complete, silent darkness? This hell of isolation? "When did this happen?" "I-i don't.. days.. weeks ago?" That's what the rescued person had said. Fuck. His explosions was barely enough to light the floor in front of him. He walked quickly, every step echoing in the earnumbing silence. There was a door at the end of the hallway. The glimpse he'd gotten of the horrifyingly small cube of a room before getting pulled away had been enough. His head was screaming. Stomach tying itself into a hard, cold knot. Throat tighter than it'd ever been. It had been complete darkness when he'd swung open the heavy door, followed by the stench, hitting him like a wall. Old, musty and way too over-recycled air, rot and something else he didn't want to think about. Then the lightbeam from the rescue torches had lit the scene for a moment. A small bare room, no windows, nothing on the walls or ceiling but some built-in fluorescent lights that had since long gone out. A mess in a corner. A crack in the wall with a small trail of water from some broken pipe trickling down, leading down to a wooden rectangle sticking out from said wall. And on it- "Oh no" That was all he had heard from the pro that had been right behind him before quickly being tugged away from the scene. His heart was still and cold in his chest. He couldn't comprehend what he'd seen in that room. The thin, boney figure on the bunk, lying, folded in on itself, looking so small, so fragile. The head pressed against the crack in the wall, the head covered in greasy, tangled, matted hair. Fading crimson red hair. He was throwing up, couldn't help himself, couldn't stop. Dry heaving on all fours, he felt a warm hand on his back, large, bony, familiar. Unwelcome. They had been too late. They had let this happen. They weren't worthy of calling themselves heroes. People. FRIENDS. He'd seen it when they were carrying him out, up to the surface. The filthy bandages that had almost slipped off the thin wrist that had once been strong and muscular. The badly stitched together bite marks. The glimpse of the demolished, once sharp teeth. Those fuckers had even denied him his last option to get himself out of there. Those fucking monsters.

His heart almost couldn’t take it anymore when he heard the medic’s voice gasping.

“There’s a pulse!”

You really are stupidly strong, aren’t you.

This one is not much of a story, but more a little “headcanon” I have for Unbreakable. I like to imagine Kirishima being able to reach deeper and deeper states of unbreakable, getting bigger and more rock like. This text is pretty much just a description of the very specific sound that a deep-state unbreakable could make.

At first it was just a feeling. A vague sensation of pressure, almost like airplane ear. The sensation grew and he could feel a low vibration in his ribcage, rumbling like an earthquake throughout his entire body and, or so it seemed, the ground as well. What the hell? Then it hit him. It's a noise. He can hear it now. It's so loud and in such a low pitch that it's more something to be felt than heard, but it's definitely there. A deep rumble, like rough boulders grinding against each other (not in a stupid metaphorical way, no, it was literally the sound of rock grinding against rock), coming from what felt like the ground itself. The strong arms holding him down loosened their grip for a brief moment, probably due to the surprising sound, and he took the opportunity to break himself free enough to look around. "Oh." That was all he could say. Where his friend had stood as he had gotten himself stupidly overpowered by the villain now tightening their grip once again, was now something he would never had believed was the same person unless he'd seen it before. Or at least a similar version of whatever this was. Skin no longer even remotely resembling its true soft self, the rough texture made him look like he'd been bluntly carved out directly from a cliffside. Every soft curve was replaced with hard, angular edges and sharp points. His friend, or he was almost sure it still was his friend in there, looked more like a living mountain than a person. And he was still emitting that sound, even though the stalactite filled cave that was once a mouth wasn't even open. No, this rumble came from his core, vibrating out from the chest, through the bones and into the ground. "A growl" he realized.

This is not a perfect representation of the sound I’m imaginiang but it’s sort of a combo of this and the first half-second of this. Or maybe a bit like this, but more rock-y sort of. These growls would be close mouth vocalisation, emmitting from deep withing the gut/chest.

This last one is also about unbreakable, and has a bit more of my headcanon for it. I’m sort of thinking that the deeper Kirishima goes into unbreakable, the more one-tracked his mind gets, eventually running almost like a machine, carrying out each task (thought) the quickest, most convenient way before forming the new task. More on this at the end.

The class is in the middle of a particularly heated sparring session, everyone having been divided into the hero- and villain half.

The arm reached out for Bakugo, ready to grab him. If it reached, it would all be over, and Bakugo doesn't have time to dodge. Being too caught up in the heat of the moment, reality slips for a moment and weeks worth of nightmares of villain hands grabbing for his friend, taking him away, killing him, floods his mind. No no no no no! Kirishima feels his unbreakable form deepen, and suddenly his mind can only keep in one track. "NO. DENY." A loud bang echoes through the training hall as rock-hard jaws slam together, stalagmite teeth snapping shut, leaving no gaps in-between. The world goes silent as an object goes flying, spinning, in a wide arc across the battleground with liquid drizzling behind it like a firework, faint traces of green lightning still sparking around it. The object collides with the wall with a thud and a small choked gasp can be heard from the projectiles source. Then the tense silence is further broken by a scream. "MIDORIYA!" Uraraka rushes to the green-haired boy who's now sitting slumped down on the ground, pale as a sheet, clearly in shock. More screams are heard around the hall as the other students start realizing what had happened. Blood is pouring from the stump ending right below the boys shoulder, the same blood that's dripping from the still closed, still harneded jaw, frozen in place. Kirishima's min is blank inside Unbreakable. His heart is racing and out of his control, he goes deeper and deeper into his hardening, choking himself, crushing- And suddenly it stops and he goes limp and falls to the ground. Aizawa had taken hold of the situation, canceled the red-head's quirk to stop him from panic-crushing himself, and then headed straight to pick up the mutilated boy who had started muttering incoherently, looking like he might pass out any second. Pretty much the whole class kept as much distance as they could from Kirishima as they followed their teacher carrying their classmate to recovery girl, fear, shock and confusion clearly visible on their faces. The whole class. Almost. Kirishima didn't know he was hyperventilating until he felt a grounding hand on his shoulder. Bakugo's hand. His head was spinning. What happened? His eyes dart around the area and they land on the object on the ground across the room. The arm. The taste of blood suddenly made itself very present and he brought both his hands up, tightly holding them over his mouth as he breathed shallow and hard from his nose. "Kirish- oh fuck." Bakugo placed his hand on the red-head's back and did his best to keep the red hair out of the way as Kirishima vomited on the floor. He kept going until he was just coughing up saliva and dry-heaving, tears flowing down his face, the warm hand still on his back rubbing soothing cirkles. "Sit down, put your head between your legs or you'll faint" Bakugo's voice said softly. When he had enough control over his breathing to speak, he managed to croak out; "I-.. Ididn't mean to- I thought- I didn't know-" the sobs were taking over again and Bakugo gently pulled him into a hug. "I know. I saw what happened. And-" he stroked Kirishima's hair "I know he saw it too. In your eyes. He won't hate you."

Ok so back to how I imagine unbreakable’s mind would work in this deep state. Kirishima’s last thought before hardening was to stop the hand from reaching Bakugo, which carried over into a more compressed, literal state once in unbreakable mode. Like a computer sort of his mind would now work like: stop hand - closest? mouth. - bite - task complete. For visual reference, I imagine the movement when he turns to bite is similar to how Saitama bites the sword. Not this exact motion, but the same suddenness and power of it. The way the arm flies away is similar to how Eren’s arm gets flung away when the titan eats him.

Poor Kirishima, imagine how bad he feels about hurting a friend so badly. Dw, they will probably be able to put Midoriya’s arm back again, it was bitten off cleanly and with this world’s technology, anything is possible.

Okay, so if you’ve made it all the way to the end, thank you so much for taking the time to read my strange, “let’s see in how many ways we can hurt kirishima” angst texts! This is actually the first time I’ve written anyhting similar to fanfics. I don’t know if there will be more in the future, I guess I’ll see what people think of this first..

#bnha #mha #text #long textpost #fanfic #headcanons #unbreakable #angst #Kirishima Eijirou #katsuki bakugou #kiribaku #midoriya izuku #horror #written gore #fanart

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pan-princess-levy · 6 years ago

Text

from across the ocean

for her 15th birthday, levy receives membership to an international pen pal program.

[pen pals/long-distance relationship. 2nd-anniversary gift for my beloved bailey, @blackbloodrose20 ]

also read on ao3 and ffnet!

(although it doesn’t match any of the prompts, this is considered an entry for gajevy week 2019. rejoice with love!)

Membership in an international pen-pal program was not what Levy expected for her 15th birthday, but at this point, she was so lonely she was ready to accept everything.

She struggled to sit down with her broken leg, awkwardly stretching it on the small stool under her computer desk before pulling the box with the documents over. She could still hear the soft murmurs coming from downstairs and considered getting up to close the door.

Then she knocked her toes against the wall.

“Nope, not today. I’ve done enough walking.”

It was hard, to maneuver her fingers into the tight space between her computer and the wall, but after the third attempt, Levy managed to find the start button and turn the machine on. The whirling noise only worried her for a moment. Grandmere had suggested they could get a new computer soon anyway.

If she was even going to need that new computer.

The program had a forum and everything established. Levy looked up the rules and the suggestions of the server then searched up some more things about proper forum etiquette just in case. The registration only took a minute at the most. Finding a proper picture of her took longer and at last, she picked the one she found best from that visit to Paris from Christmas. (Her face looked horribly red from the cold, but it would have to do.)

The forum soon matched her up with her partner. Levy watched the animation process with curiosity. Her picture appeared from a small red dot that was supposed to be her hometown. The same red dot appeared somewhere in North America and a small picture jumped from it. A thin red line connected the two pictures.

A new tab opened, startling her.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and she narrowed her eyes, urging herself to switch to English. The tab was almost empty, only containing a big box for messages and few small menus to the side with options for adding pictures, emoticons and other things she didn’t really care about.

A green dot by the side meant her partner was online, too.

Levy bit her lip. She could always quit. She could always put everything away and hand the documents down some other kid in town, then wait for her leg to heal up and do her best to be social.

Or she could try to be brave for once in her life.

FlowerLevy: Hello?

The three dots on the screen almost drove her insane. Levy nibbled on her nails.

the_dragon_warrior: hi? i’m gajeel. what’s your name?

FlowerLevy: My name is Levy. It’s nice to meet you!

flowercrown: I want to die.

panthers: who do i have to kill

flowercrown: You can’t just go around killing people, Gajeel.

panthers: i mean

panthers: i can try?

flowercrown: It’s illegal!

panthers: i’m already a criminal you foolish child

flowercrown: Buying a beer that one time doesn’t count.

panthers: but it’s also illegal

flowercrown: You can’t offer murder every time I complain about something.

panthers: i so much can

panthers: fucking watch me tiny one

flowercrown: Stop calling me short.

panthers: but you are short

flowercrown: One day, Gajeel Redfox, your growth spurt will stop.

flowercrown: And then, I’m going to have the upper hand.

flowercrown: Just you wait.

panthers: i’m so scarred. terrified.

flowercrown: I hate you with a burning passion.

panthers: but you love me

Levy blinked for a moment, staring at the screen of her laptop with a mixture of confusion and something she didn’t recognize.

flowercrown: You don’t deserve my love.

panthers: <3

When Levy touched her cheeks, she felt heat radiate from under her fingers. Something strange had settled in her stomach, making her feel as if she was going to throw up any second.

flowercrown: <3

panthers: ha! i got you to send me a heart!

flowercrown: You’re so strange, Gajeel.

panthers: i know tiny

panthers: i know

He was horrible.

actual-disney-princess: um

actual-disney-princess: i might have done something

sunflower: Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone.

actual-disney princess: i did not kill anyone

actual-disney-princess: why do you always assume that?

sunflower: … Really.

actual-disney-princess: touché

actual-disney-princess: but nope

actual-disney-princess: i did something better

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

sunflower: Is this a kitten?

actual-disney-princess: yup

actual-disney-princess: meet lily

actual-disney-princess: i met him today and he stole my heart

actual-disney-princess: he’s my child now

sunflower: Oh dear god, he’s so beautiful!

sunflower: You’re going to be a good dad, Gajeel.

actual-disney-princess: dad?

sunflower: You adopted a little animal. I think that makes you a dad?

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: i didn’t consider that

actual-disney-princess: that’s cool

actual-disney-princess: does that make you his mom?

sunflower: Why am I the mom?

actual-disney-princess: you’re my best friend dumbass

sunflower: Calling me your cat’s mother implies I’m your wife.

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: do you wanna marry me?

Levy slammed her head against the library table, startling the small group of first-years on the next table over. Her face was burning as she awkwardly apologized to them and turned her laptop to the side. He was so dumb, it was a wonder she loved him as much as she did.

sunflower: You can’t ask me to marry you just because you want me to be your cat’s mother.

actual-disney-princess: umm rude

actual-disney-princess: are you going to leave poor lily motherless?

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

actual-disney-princess: LOOK AT HIS SAD KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HOW CAN SAY NO TO HIS KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HEARTLESS

sunflower: OKAY I’M GOING TO MARRY YOU

sunflower: Please stop, you’re making me feel like a bad person.

actual-disney-princess: didn’t want to

actual-disney-princess: but at least it worked?

sunflower: You confuse me so much sometimes.

actual-disney-princess: sometimes it’s my intention

actual-disney-princess: now wife

sunflower: ugh

actual-disney-princess: i see how much enthusiasm you have, lev

actual-disney-princess: you wound me

Levy stared at her phone’s screen for a long time, her heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest. She had trouble catching her breath, find it difficult to put her mind in a single, coherent thought.

Be brave, she urged herself. You can’t hold it anymore. It’s enough.

Her classmates had been talking about love and romance. Levy didn’t care about romance. Her grandparents were strict in their care and her school was even stricter. But they were young girls, young girls with dreams of love. And they talked and gossiped and shared.

And she closed her eyes and thought for someone who waited for her across the ocean and it made her heart hurt.

Levy’d been in love with her best friends for a couple of months—maybe more, who knew?—now. And with every day that passed without telling him, it hurt her more. It had needed for her to face her old crush and listen to the girls in her class talk about their relationships for her to realize her feelings, but once she did, keeping them in her heart made her break apart.

Telling Gajeel would, at worst, probably ruin their friendship and make him hate her. But not telling him meant risking souring the warmth she held in her chest for him and truth be true, she preferred losing him and keeping the memories of the joy she had over watching their friendship turn into hate over dark feelings.

Ugh, what am I thinking about? My childish crush isn’t something out of a Shakespearean drama. I should stop the dramatics and focus.

Tell him.

minicat: Gajeel?

bigcat: what up tiny?

minicat: Are you free right now?

minicat: There’s something important I want to talk about.

bigcat: yeah i’m free today

bigcat: what’s wrong?

Her fingers gripped the sheets of her bed. Do it. Tell him.

minicat: I like you.

minicat: I mean, in the romantic sense.

minicat: In the sense that I want to hold your hand.

minicat: And hug you.

minicat: And kiss you.

minicat: I’m sorry.

bigcat: wait what?

bigcat: what are you sorry for?

bigcat: i’ve been into you for like

bigcat: a year or something

minicat: You what?

bigcat: ha

bigcat is calling you…

Levy promptly dropped her phone, her hands shaking. She needed a couple of tries to swipe in the proper direction in order to pick the call.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky and breathy.

“You’re so fucking dumb” came the voice from the other side, cracking just a bit. “I love you so damn much, dumbass.”

She stared at her room’s wall in awe, seeing black spots dance in her vision.

“Lev? Levy, fuck, answer—”

It took her only a couple of minutes—and some more of him calling her name— in order to gather her brains enough to form a coherent answer.

“Excuse me, you what?”

Laugh. He was laughing, the arrogant, egoisitic—

“I love you” Gajeel called from the other side of the connection, his voice cracking with laughter. “So damn much, you horrible, horrible, idiot bookworm.”

She covered her mouth to stop the choked sob for escaping, tears running from her eyes. She’d spent months wondering and pondering and torturing herself, and hoping, hoping for a little answer, the smallest hint—

“Say it” he told her. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” Levy asked, pulling her knees against her chest.

“You know what! Say it!”

She bit her knuckles to hold back another burst of emotion, feeling fear and worry and joy mix into her belly until every breath she took was heavy and ragged.

“I love you” she whispered, gasping.

“I know. But I do more.”

“To Andromeda and back” she added, and laughed, tears of joy trickling down her cheeks.

He stayed up with her for hours, until it was 3 am and the girl next door slammed against the wall and yelled for her to shut the fuck up.

“I suppose I have to say goodnight” Levy whispered as she tucked herself into bed. “Goodnight, Gajeel.”

“Night, Lev. Will you dream of me?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Talk more tomorrow?”

“Always.”

lionheart: Have you ever considered a double suicide?

black-panther: why are we pulling a romeo and juliet?

lionheart: Remember that exam I told you about?

black-panther: yikes

lionheart: Exactly. Yikes.

black-panther: sorry lev

black-panther: if it calms your heart i have finals too

lionheart: It does not!

lionheart: Why are you texting me instead of studying?

black-panther: i’m already dead inside tiny

black-panther: it won’t be much of a difference if i fail my academic career too

lionheart: I hate you.

black-panther: no you don’t

lionheart: No, I don’t.

black-panther: do you wanna talk?

black-panther: i have a free period in a bit

lionheart: I don’t think I would be able to.

lionheart: You’ve seen my revision schedule.

black-panther: i have

black-panther: it’s ridiculous

black-panther: you’re panicking too much

lionheart: I’m not panicking.

black-panther: you are

black-panther: i mean you’re texting me

black-panther: that means you don’t want to revisit and you want to distract yourself from studying

lionheart: I’m texting you because I’m dating you and I miss you!

black-panther: that’s cute

black-panther: but my point stands

lionheart: Gajeel, I need to pass this.

lionheart: My whole life depends on this.

black-panther: i know lev

black-panther: that’s why i know you’re gonna do this

black-panther: and even if you don’t

black-panther: that doesn’t make you a failure

lionheart: Gajeel…

black-panther: live ain’t just classes and grades and uni

lionheart: Thank you.

black-panther: wait i want to continue my tirade

lionheart: You care about me, don’t you?

black-panther: i’m dating you, dumbass

black-panther: and since don’t have any sort of instinct of self-preservation

black-panther: i gotta fill in

lionheart: I love you, grumpy.

black-panther: love you too dumb woman

lionheart: <3

princess: Gajeel?

dragon: hm?

princess: I might have done something.

dragon: murder?

princess: God be good, no.

princess: But… you might not like it.

dragon: tell me

princess shared a picture

dragon: your

dragon: your hair

princess: … Yes?

dragon: it

dragon: it blue

dragon: it fucking blue

dragon: you dyed your hair???

princess: … Yes?

princess: Is it that bad?

dragon: fuck

dragon is calling you...

“You really should stop doing that and just talk to me, you know” Levy said softly as soon as she picked, leaning into her comfy chair and sticking her legs out.

“Turn on your camera.”

She blinked and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Gajeel, I’m not turning on my camera, I look horrible.”

“Levy, love of my life, sun to my moon, turn the fucking camera on and let me see you.”

Levy let out a low hum, barely containing a wave of giggles as he started cursing from the other side. She’d found she loved teasing him—once she’d gotten under his skin, she knew just how to push his buttons in order to have the most fun possible.

“And what if I don’t?” she asked, lowering her voice to a gentle whisper.

“Please?”

Her chest filled with warmth at the sheer feeling in his voice. Levy whispered a soft “okay” and set the phone down by her laptop, then pressed her finger to the small camera button and waited. Her teeth dug into her lip to contain her nerves. It was rare that they talked on camera and dear God, she looked like a mess—

“Hey.”

When she looked at the small screen, Levy saw her chérie and smiled at him. All the worries in her belly came to an end, however, when she met his eyes. She waved shyly at him, pulling the pillow she kept on her desk to her chest and hugging it tightly.

“Hi” she called back, hoping her smile conveyed her joy. She wanted to hide so much.

Gajeel looked almost as much of a mess as she felt. His hair—sweet goodness, it was even longer than she remembered it now!—was tied off into a messy ponytail, his black-framed glasses almost falling off his nose. When she looked hard enough, she noticed he had added another pair of studs to his ears, bringing the total to eight. The eyeliner on his lids was just a bit smudged and from the back of her mind, she wondered when he’d put it on.

More than ever before, Levy wished she could touch him, run her fingers over his cheeks and his jaw and that small uneven bump in his nose he’d told her he’d gotten after breaking his nose when he was little; bury them into his hair and feel the silken strands between her fingers. And then, then she would kiss him, press her mouth to his, feel the warmth of his lips against her own.

“Stop hiding” Gajeel called out, a hint of amusement in his voice, and she looked up from where she’d buried her face into her fluffy pillow. “I want to see you. Please, Lev?”

“O-okay” she said with a bashful smile and lifted her head so she could properly meet his eyes. “Just for you.”

Even through the screen and all the kilometers between them, she could feel his gaze on her, touching her and caressing her as if it were his hands and not his eyes. It filled her with a warmth that not even the cold of the wind blowing outside could put down, that spread from the ends of her hair to the tips of her fingers and made her feel… Loved.

“Beautiful” he breathed out, his eyes soft and gentle. “Fuck—you look like a goddamn angel or something.”

Levy buried her face into the pillow and laughed, laughed until her chest hurt and she could barely breathe. His words, awkward but filled with kindness and affection, were more precious to her than any high praise someone could sing her.

“Do you really think so?” she asked when she finally gathered her breath, her face flushed with warmth. “I was worried you might not like it…”

“I don’t like it” he said, and for a moment her heart fell. “I goddamn love it.”

“Don’t scare me like that! Silly Gajeel…”

Gajeel laughed and it made her heart sing along, a smile coming to her face despite her desire to pout and hide in a corner. Had he been there, with her, she would have pushed him to the ground and tackled him, hitting his stupid beautiful face with her pillow. Alas, he was far, far away, and the only thing she could do was laugh along and stick her tongue out to him in the most childish manner ever.

She loved this idiot so much.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Gajeel asked after some time.

“I was worried you might try to convince me not to” Levy admitted, holding the comfy pillow to her chest and tucking her feet under her thighs. “My grandparents are probably going to have a heart attack when they see me, but honestly… I love the feeling of it.”

“Well, it certainly loves you. Hell, you look amazing.” His smile made her toes curl with joy. “Like a tiny, sparkly blue diamond.”

“Just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you get to make fun of us small people, giant.”

“Levy, you’re five feet nothing.”

“Five feet and half an inch!” She was exactly five feet, but he didn’t know that. Yet. “I’m exactly 1 meter and 53 centimeters tall! You’re just jealous because I’m the perfect cuddling size!”

“Lev, you’re so tiny I can probably fit you in my pocket.” His smirk only fed her sudden desire to kick him. “So small. Bite-sized.”

Oh, if looks could kill… Gajeel only laughed at her, the sound sending pleasurable shivers all through her body. Levy let out a sound of defeat and buried her face into her pillow, desperately hoping it could silence her cries of anguish. Sadly, it did not.

“You’re so cute when you pretend to hate me” he cooed. “C’mon, blue, look at me.”

Shy, Levy lifted her head met him. Her moon—she’d found she liked calling him that, to match him calling her his sun—had a soft look on him. He wasn’t smiling with his mouth but instead with his eyes, the deep brown-red now filled with warmth and the sort of adoration she’d only read about in her old romance books.

“You called me blue” she mused. “A new nickname?”

“To match your new hair, of course.” His smirk made her shiver. “Do you like it?”

“No, I don’t” Levy admitted with a bashful smile. “To be true, I love it.”

The banner was growing heavy and her arms could barely keep holding it up, but to hell if she was going to put it down.

She'd spent hours upon hours last night to make the best possible welcome banner. In the end, what came out of her desperate attempts was bigger than anything her arms would hold, with “Welcome, Gajeel!” written in the brightest, most neon shade of pink she had been able to find after days of searching around the stores in the Parisian neighborhood her auntie lived in. Flowers and hearts decorated the bright pink letters.

His plane had landed half an hour ago. She saw it touch down and saw the bridge. She saw people coming out, luggage and everything.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Levy did her best to not panic.

She'd arrived at the airport precisely 15 minutes before the plane landed, courtesy to the poor taxi driver she almost drove insane. (She'd left the largest tip her broke student self could afford.) The first part of them was spent in pacing around and muttering to herself in a peculiar combination of french and english. The second contained excitedly bouncing around the entry doors with the banner flying in her arms, unable to contain her joy.

By now, her arms were positively dying down from the weight and the size and the effort it took to keep it up. The neon pink letters glimmered in the harsh Parisian sun. Yet Levy held it up, determined to hold out. Even if it meant muscle fever for the next week.

“You look even tinier in person.”

Levy whipped around, retort on the tip of her tongue. She promptly hit herself in the face with the banner in her haste to fight whoever called her out for her height and their horrible french.

Then her mind registered what was actually said and she squeaked.

The person standing beside her only laughed. They were wearing the widest, happiest grin she'd ever had the courtesy to see, only mirrored by the one she'd noticed on her own face the morning when she woke up. Her eyes saw long hair and gleaming silver and incredibly impractical leather and combat boots. Her hair only saw warm red-brown eyes and a smile.

Gajeel raised one eyebrow at her, crossing his arms.

“Really?”

And then she promptly squealed and threw herself into his arms.

“I can't believe you hit me with the banner” Gajeel complained.

Levy was too happy to remind him why exactly she hit him, her hand tightly gripping his to the point her knuckles were almost white. He didn't seem to mind it, holding her as close as it was socially acceptable. The banner, bright pink letters and flowers and hearts, hung from her other arm, safely tucked against her side.

The sun shone brightly as she led him to the taxis lined just outside the airport. People were rushing in and out of the large building, like ants desperate to follow their High Queen’s orders. She heard a combination of languages all around her. Usually, the loud sounds and the mess and the people pushing against her would have sent her into a state of near panic. Right now however, with Gajeel gripping her as if she was his lifeline, Levy felt oddly calm.

She found she liked that feeling a lot.

His uncle waited for them by one of the larger taxis, arguing with the driver. He was just as tall and his aura just as murderous as she'd seen Gajeel's in one of his bad moods. His choice of language wasn't very far from it, either… The red-faced driver was almost glowing by now, bellowing insults in french and broken english in the same way.

Levy looked at Gajeel and noticed his nose wrinkling like it always did when he saw something funny.

“Should we interrupt?” she whispered, although she was sure even if she'd spoken louder, neither would have heard her.

“Nah.” Gajeel snickered and pulled her closer, his fingers slipping from her grip when his arm wrapped around her. “Lemme watch. It's fun as hell.”

Levy gaped, her mouth opening and closing. He was warm. Despite the searing July heat, she found herself nuzzling into his hold. His other arm followed and soon she was buried into his chest, face pressed into the faded gray shirt he wore. His scent - spice and just a little bit of sweat - made her belly curls and brought out a purr from the back of her throat. His laughter rang against the crown of her heat. Her flesh and bones melted at the warmth of his hold. She felt safe and sound. She never wanted to let him go.

It took time and strength to untangle herself from his hold. Gajeel looked like a kicked puppy and Levy had to cover her mouth to hide her giggles. He pinched her in retaliation and she yelped, pulling back and almost falling. (Again. Would she ever stop embarrassing herself in front of him?)

Just a meter or so away his uncle was still arguing with the driver, their fight growing louder by the minute. The passerby would stop and watch them. Levy felt her cheeks burn with shame. It wasn't something she hadn't seen before - her own family had no less fire—but not for the first time, she felt embarrassed.

Gajeel either noticed her discomfort or felt in a similar situation, because he stepped ahead and grabbed his uncle's shoulder. His voice was a hushed whisper. Levy couldn't help but notice how different it sounded from when he spoke to her—rougher, more natural, with an accent that made something in her tingle. His uncle let out a disappointed huff, yet still turned around and apologized to the red-faced driver about some of the words he'd used.

Levy watched the object of her affection (her silly dragon) with curiosity. To her utter surprise, Gajeel turned to the driver and spoke in clear, if lightly accented, french to him, apologizing further for his uncle's behavior and for not stepping in earlier. His uncle—whose name was Acnologia, it seemed—looked at him with a mixture of shame and annoyance. Gajeel ignored him and smiled with satisfaction when the driver opened the door and welcomed them in his vehicle.

After a particularly long and awkward (Gajeel had taken pity on her and let her sit by the window while he answered all of his uncle's embarrassing questions about their relationship) drive, their taxi stopped at the small square in the middle of the neighborhood. Levy got out immediately and moved her toes in her shoes, eager to take them off and dip them into cold water. Gajeel followed behind, the welcome banner under his arm and with that stupid grin on his stupid face. His uncle helped him get all his luggage.

“You sure you're gonna be okay, brat?” he asked, setting down the last bag. “There's plenty of space at the hotel.”

“Nope. Not gonna miss a single second around Blue.”

Acnologia made a sound that could only be described as gagging and waved him off, then got back into the taxi. Soon enough they took off, the sound reverberating through the relatively empty streets.

Gajeel was frowning.

“What is it?” Levy asked, adjusting the knot of her ribbon.

“I imagined Paris more… “

“More…?”

“Dunno. More… Not empty.”

Levy covered her mouth and giggled. He looked so confused. She wished she could take a photo of him like this. Alas, he would more than not likely finally fulfill his threats tickle her to death if she tried. Her wish would stay a wish.

(Fortunately, she had a whole folder on her laptop saved with embarrassing photos of him. His mother had sent some - “for posterity”, she'd claimed - but the rest were all screenshots from their face times. She would have so much fun finally getting to blackmail him.)

“Well, it’s hot outside” Levy reminded him as she picked some of his bags. “Also, we’re in the suburbs right now. Tomorrow, I’m taking out you to see the city.”

“Taking me out?” Gajeel asked, amusement written over his face. She couldn’t stop staring at him. “Like a date? Or with a sniper gun?”

“We will see” she said, giggling.

Together the three managed to carry all the luggage up the stairs. Aunt Amelie was ecstatic to finally meet the “sweetheart you haven’t stopped talking about for years!”. Levy gaped, torn between utter embarrassment and the urge to scream. Gajeel laughed so much he almost fell on the floor, clutching his stomach. At that point she had to hold back the desire to disappear into the floor.

They set his things in the small guest room by the side. Levy sat on the bed and watched Gajeel rummage through his bags. He was just five minutes in and the whole room already looked like a hurricane went through it. She found it hilarious.

She must have laughed out loud because when she lifted her head Gajeel was staring at her with a peculiar look in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, reaching down to slip off her shoes.

“We’re alone” he muttered. “I just—it’s strange.”

Levy couldn’t quite tell what he was trying to say, so she offered a shy smile. Gajeel looked equal parts confused and amazed, but when she offered her shaking hand, he reached out to grasp it with such eagerness that startled him. Taken by his momentum, she ended falling into his chest, her head knocking against him and sending her glasses somewhere in the floor.

“Sorry for hitting you” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “And for… currently stepping on your feet.”

She tried not to burn as she took a step back, his laughter ringing in her ears.

“No, it’s fine.” His hand dropped from hers, only for seconds later to wrap around her back and pull her closer. “Can I hold you for a bit?”

The question startled her, but Levy nodded her head anyway, shyly curling her arms around his middle and burying her face into his chest. The warmth he seemed to radiate filled her soul, from bottom to top, as if she’d been drained from life for ages and only now got to feel it.

“You feel safe” she whispered, voice muffled by the cotton.

Gajeel let out a humming sound, his grip growing tighter around her. Instead of afraid, she felt as if she wanted to come closer and closer, until there was no space left between them. But perhaps it wasn’t the right time yet.

“So do you.”

#gajevy #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #gajeel x levy #gajevyweek #monnywrites #happy anniversary again bailey!#this gets posted on my other media 2 days later and im #me @me: why are you like this

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missingverse · 7 years ago

Text

Missing Chapter Twenty Eight

Note: Please excuse the long absence, a combination of being metaphysically hit by the fandom feels and being hit by actually physical issues with my crumbling bones interfered with my ability to write this chapter. I'm still pretty unwell but I'm going to catch up on all of my fics this month hopefully.

As always, I recommend you check out my novel on Kindle if you like my work, and there's the added bonus that if I get struck by lightning or have another embolism you will have something to read while I'm in the ICU, cursing the lack of wifi.

US link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY

UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BGSPPBY

Also, soon to be available in paperback form!

…..

Waring's lawyer tried to argue for an insanity plea, but it was rejected. There was no doubt he was insane, but functional enough to kill so many women and keep a kidnapped child hidden for nearly half a year. He was given three consecutive life sentences, narrowly avoiding the death penalty because there was limited proof that he had killed the missing women. The prosectution was quoted as saying that without Helga's testimony he might have walked away.

That was some consolation during the week she spent in an induced coma followed by an intense surgery to relieve some of the pressure on her brain. The nosebleeds had been a herald of something that could easily have killed her, and there was still no telling what effect it would have on her long-term. When she came to after surgery, she couldn't speak and had trouble moving her arms.

It was depressing, Arnold had to admit. She had come so far he had pretty much assumed it could only get better, even though he'd been warned multiple times she could slide back like this. He was lying on his bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in his unhappiness, when his phone pinged.

It was Phoebe, of course, because she was the only person who really texted him.

Arnold, you might want to

come down to the hospital.

Why? What's up?

He had that sinking feeling it was going to be bad news.

She's talking again and

she seems okay, but she's

acting strange.

Strange in what way?

I don't know how to

explain it properly

over text.

Can you at least try?

She thinks she's dead, Arnold.

What? How?

I don't know, apparently

it's something that happens.

I don't know what to do.

Is she being treated for it?

We're waiting on the psychiatrist,

they probably won't get one until

tomorrow. I'm trying to act

normal but it's really hard.

Is there a way to act

normal in this situation?

This is why you need to

be here, Arnold. She

remembers what we did

when she was a ghost.

What?

Just get down here when

you can, okay?

…..

When he finally made it to the hospital (Ambrose was away getting some things sorted with his estate and so couldn't drive him) Phoebe had left. Helga's main doctor caught him in the corridor before he could go into Helga's room.

“Cotard delusion,” the doctor sighed, as if that explained anything. “It's not uncommon with brain injury. At least she's not self-harming or suicidal, she's taking it pretty well.”

“But...she thinks she's dead?” Arnold wondered.

“Specifically, she thinks she's a ghost,” the doctor explained. “And she's kind of upbeat about it. Most Cotard patients are manic or depressed or a combo of both. All things considered, it's not a bad result.”

Arnold wondered sourly how Helga suddenly believing she had died wasn't a bad result, but he supposed that was what separated the doctor from the normal civilian. She didn't die or become a vegetable after surgery, which technically meant it was a success.

She was scribbling something in her newest pink notebook when Arnold entered the room, but shut it hastily when she realized he was there.

“Thank God,” she muttered darkly. “Someone sensible.”

“Sensible?” Arnold laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Depends on what words come out of your mouth in the next few sentences,” Helga quipped. “Apparently everyone can see me now. At least here in the hospital anyway...”

“Well, yeah they can see you,” Arnold chuckled awkwardly. “You're alive.”

“God, not you too,” she groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “Phoebe already tried this, I know I'm dead. Don't try to sugarcoat it.”

“Why do you think you're dead?”

“I got shot,” she shrugged, seemingly without a care. “We found out that much. Who survives getting shot in the head?”

“You did,” he pressed. “The bullet just grazed you, the medical records prove this. Why do you think the nurses and doctors are treating you, if you're dead?”

“They don't believe in ghosts,” Helga answered. “It's easier to believe I'm just some sick kid that needs treatment. I suppose if I was going to manifest somewhere besides your house it would be the hospital I died in.”

It made a crazy sort of sense, at least from her perspective.

Maybe I should play along, at least until the psychiatrist can come to treat her.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugged, trying to put on a casual face. “You're dead. Did anyone tell you the guy who shot you got three life sentences?”

“Yes, everyone who's come to see me since I manifested,” she said. “And now you. Good. Let him rot in there.”

“So we did what we set out to do, we found out what happened to you.”

“Guess so.”

“What now? If you were a ghost, wouldn't you have moved on after we solved the case?”

“I don't know,” she moaned. “I'm not some sort of authority on ghosts.”

“Well then, it looks like you're here to stay,” Arnold said agreeably. “You're still welcome to haunt the boarding house.”

“I might just do that,” she said, smiling warmly.

An idea suddenly struck Arnold.

“I'm just going to find something,” he told her, getting up from his chair. “Oh, and I should talk to your doctor...”

“About what?”

“If I find it, I'll tell you.”

He hurried off to find the nurse's lounge. After asking a few of them, he found one with a bike she was willing to lend him and it had a basket on the handlebars (smaller than the one on his own but that didn't matter. He okayed it with the doctors, as long as he kept her warm and didn't stay out too long he was able to take her out. Rushing back to her room, he bundled her into her wheelchair and wheeled her out to the front of the hospital, where the nurse had propped up the bike waiting for them.

“Even ghosts need some fresh air,” he explained, lifting her into the basket he'd lined with pillows.

He took her out through one of the rarely-used country roads, bumpy and rough as it was the air was so clear and crisp and fragrant with the scent of blossoming fruit trees. She laughed wildly as they skittered over potholes and bumps in the road and didn't seem to mind that her bare feet were getting splattered with mud. Arnold's arms and legs ached with the strain of pushing the bike through the rocky terrain but it was worth it to see her so happy.

The bare patch of skin on her hairline where the bullet had struck her was covered by gauze since her surgery, but it brought back memories of hauling her ghost form around in his bike like this. Back then, he had come to terms, at least a little, with her death. He was more fearful now that she was living, that things could go wrong and she could be snatched away again. At least as a ghost, nobody would be able to hurt her.

Maybe that's why she believed herself to be dead; for protection.

…..

“I'll be going now,” Gertie told Arnold, kicking him out of his half-sleep.

“No, Grandma,” he groaned, rolling over in bed. “You don't have anywhere to be.”

She was wearing her coat but no shoes. Keeping shoes on her was the hardest task, even if she didn't leave the boarding house she seemed to lose her shoes within minutes of putting them on. Arnold brought her downstairs, took her coat and put some slippers on her feet. Phil was already at the breakfast table, frowning at some bills.

“Everything all right, Pookie?” he asked when Gertie sat down.

She didn't say anything but mumbled to herself a little. She was irritable these days, the new medication made her groggy and confused.

“I'll get started on breakfast,” Arnold offered.

Phil grunted in response and went back to scanning his bills.

A spike of resentment fired up in Arnold as he took out the ingredients to feed everyone in the boarding house. It was the weekend, and he should have had less work to do since Ambrose had started more or less renovating the building, but he'd found himself taking over his grandmother's old jobs instead. He appreciated Phil's money worries, but would it kill him to say thank you?

Other teenagers had the luxury of rebellion. Arnold didn't even have enough time to himself to get an ill-advised tattoo.

“Hey Arnold,” Ambrose said, leading Della into the kitchen. He was a naturally early riser. “On breakfast duty today?”

“Guess so,” Arnold shrugged.

“I'm going down to the hospital later. You wanna hop in?”

“Sure,” Arnold agreed. “Any news from the doctors?”

“They say another month and she should be good to come home,” Ambrose told him. “She has to be monitored by a home visitor but that's no big thing...and I almost got the ramp finished.”

Finally. They'd be living under the same roof. Helga remembered the things they did when she was a ghost, and at some point the Cotard delusion would fade.

She kissed me back. I know she did. It's not just me.

Once the scrambled eggs he cooked were ready, he piled them onto a platter, buttered enough toast to feed an army and brought both into the dining room.

“Ambrose is giving me a lift to the hospital,” he told Phil. “I should be back around ten or...”

“What?” Phil snapped, dropping his bills for probably the first time all morning. “No, I need you here.”

“I don't have any homework,” Arnold shrugged, that little resentful spike pricking him deep. “And the boiler's fixed, Ambrose finished up last night...”

“There's a pile of laundry higher than the kitchen door,” Phil retorted. “None of the floors have been vacuumed in a week and there's weeds all over the garden. Now I've been patient with this hospital business as long as you kept up with your chores...”

“Chores?” Arnold snorted. “Chores are cleaning your room and taking turns with the dishes, not doing laundry for an entire apartment building of adults!”

“Watch it,” Phil growled. “This is your home, you're as responsible for it as I am.”

“No, I'm not,” Arnold growled back. “I didn't choose to live here and I sure as hell never agreed to work here. You've had me doing what should be your job since I was six, you pay me next to nothing for the work I do, you ruined my social life and you're killing my future!”

Arnold hadn't realized but his voice had been climbing in volume, and now there was a line of awkward lodgers standing in the hall, not wanting to come in for breakfast. Phil looked shocked, the bills crumpled in his hands, two bright mortified spots on his cheeks. Even Ambrose and Della back in the kitchen had gone silent.

“Well,” Phil said at last. “If that's how you feel....you know where the door is.”

That just made Arnold even angrier. Over the years Arnold had been such a good kid, never given either of his grandparents any trouble, never even been caught smoking or taking a few dollars from a wallet or ditching school. And this was what he got for a lifetime of good behavior.

“Yes, I do,” he said as he stomped past the lodgers to the front door.

#hey arnold #hey arnold fanfiction #missing #tw: crime

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clown-bait · 7 years ago

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29 Neibolt ST (Monster Roommate AU)

Alright I’m just going to start posting this anyway since I have so much of it already written. This is my first venture into writing so go easy on me. Im normally an artist not a writer. I’ll intro my OC too she’s a grungey stoner girl going through some big changes. Those changes being that she’s slowly turning into a nosferatu style vampire. She “Dropped out” of bartending school, dumped her abusive ex and moved to Maine where she found out that every monster in the world had the same idea. Eventually she moves in with everyones favorite clown and feelings start to happen. This chapter is just intros really smut and romance is coming. Mostly a parody humor fic with horror and romance thrown in. There is lots of gore, NSFW, drug use, alcohol, death, swearing, and violence. So you’ve been warned. Chapter 1 The Contract She had been there for a month now. Somehow she was still alive, and living amongst monsters. “You know…It’s not that bad mom, the house is a bit old but it’s charming you get used to it after awhile.” as she says this a chunk of the Old Well House’s ceiling falls onto the ancient dining room table. She flinches a natural reaction left over from humanity’s days as a prey animal but she recovers quickly mostly unfazed. “Visit? Oooooh no, no, thats not a great idea. Roommates are a bit quirky you wouldn't like them.” she said into the phone. Quirky was a massive understatement. She opened the fridge and let out a groan of frustration at the severed head and arm sitting on top of her tupperware. “that son of a bitch” she whispered “Hey mom call you back, kitchen trouble. Love ya.” she hung up the phone and shouted “ALRIGHT WHO’S IS THIS?!” her voice echoed through out the old decaying house. She was met by heavy breathing and guttural grunting the kind you would hear in a horror movie sound clip. She turned to the doorway towards the owner of the sound, a hulking behemoth donning a butchers apron. He’s covered in old blood soaked handprints and his signature mask made of the leather from a human face. “What the hell Leatherface you have your own fucking fridge for this shit” she stated unafraid. Now one would be wondering at this point why is this girl so relaxed? Why has she not died of a heart attack or been murdered by these horrible housemates. This clearly wasn't your average college drop out living situation, not by a long shot. No my friend, this is the story of a human who literally lived with her monsters and in the process became one herself. But the only thing you need to know right now dear reader, is that Lucy Smith never turned down a good deal. It all started when she wanted to get out of the city. Adam and our dear Lucy had just broken up after being her high school sweetheart and boyfriend for 5 long years. It happened at the end her second to last year of college, he had become an absolute monster and she was done with his shit. Lucy wanted to get away. Away from everything that reminded her of him and the life they had shared together. “I’ll go to the other side of the country,” she thought “as far as possible I’ll go to fucking Maine.” When she found the house it looked abandoned. “Fucking hell this must be a fake ad or something. No way this place is inhabitable.” she groaned but there was a small sign in the window of the house on Neibolt Street that read “Room for Rent” in badly drawn red ink. “Wellp I got nothing to lose anyway, either I die via whatever serial killer is squatting here or the drinking will get me later.” She had next to nothing other than a car, her belongings and enough money for three months worth of rent. This really was her only option. As she walked by the sun flowers haphazardly planted in the front yard in some sad attempt to make the house look pleasant, the front door creaked open on its own. “Yeah I’m definitely going to get murdered.” she mumbled. Lucy stepped cautiously in the doorway “Um hello? I’m here about the room?” something scuttled on the floor above her, it sounded like the pitter patter of children’s feet. Lucy’s heart began to pound her blue eyes wide now and her senses heightened. “Anyone?” she called out into the decrepit house. Lucy made her way to the window and picked up the for rent sign clutching it tightly to her chest. She was an avid horror fan, and she was no idiot. This house screamed ghost murderer she began to step further into the house when suddenly the door slammed shut. “FUCK” she shouted trying to pry it back open but it wouldn't budge “ALRIGHT ASSHOLE” she yelled “I’m fucking done with this game! You going to discuss the room with me or not?!” a door in a different room had creaked open and Lucy could have sworn she heard the faint sound of bells. “This isn't funny bitch” she yelled nervously searching for an exit “be brave be brave be brave” she whispered to herself. Down the hall she heard footsteps from something large they seemed to be dragging across the floor. Fucking hide you idiot her brain told her she quickly and silently bolted to the kitchen, almost on the verge of tears now cursing herself for even getting into this situation. She frantically searched the room for something to hide in and a half open cabinet caught her eye. She made a dash for it when she hear the jingle again this time louder and coming form the basement of the Well-house. She reached for the rotting door and screamed when something grey and furry leapt out at her. It smelled almost dead and its eyes were lifeless and faded. The creature was a very pissed off dirty grey cat. “Holy shit little guy” she managed to say. The cat darted off into the house and Lucy let her guard down slightly breathing a sigh of relief, only to turn around to meet a twisted smile with long fangs and glowing yellow eyes. Suddenly the demon clown shot a gloved claw out around her throat. Lucy passed out from sheer terror, dropping the for rent sign on the ground next to her. ___________ Lucy awoke to voices, they were twisted and clearly agitated. Their tones were enough to make someones skin crawl. Her thoughts were foggy and her head ached from hitting it on her way down. She moved to rub it but she found she was tied to a chair, she thrashed a bit in a sad attempt to escape. the girl knew knew it wouldn't work. She was frail and malnourished looking, a text book punk kid in flannel and a stupid t-shirt that had a skeleton hand holding up the cliche devil horns. She wasn't getting out of this. The voices began to sound clearer now she had yet to open her eyes but she could hear what the owners were saying. “We can’t just kill her we need the money.” “She’s fucking human Tiff, just let the clown and the big guy fight over her meat!” “We’re about to lose the house babe! This is the best place we've had in years!” “You know the rules no regular humans allowed in our society.” “Leatherface is human!” “PFF barely,” “Will you two PLEASE stop bickering for 5 seconds!” “Oh you wanna finally join us Jingles? Because you've been sitting there drooling for the past five minutes while we've been trying to figure out what to do about YOUR house.” “DO NOT CALL ME JINGLES, DOLL!!!” Lucy opened her eyes, light stung them at first and her vision adjusted. She gurgled out a moan of pain and the room suddenly went silent. Across from her were two dolls one a pretty blonde girl doll with dark makeup the other a boy haphazardly stitched together in a terrifying way. “What the fuck” she mumbled turning to look behind her, she heard heavy breathing that coming out so deep they almost sounded like moans. The monster towered over her and most horrifying of all he wore the skinned face of a dead woman. Lucy quickly turned away to finally find the other inhabitant pouting in the corner, the evil clown from earlier. He was tall, lanky and had a giant forehead with fluffy orange hair twisting around like cotton candy. The clown was staring right at her with a terrifying hunger in his eyes, like he could smell her fear from across the room. She tried to soak it all in. This isn't happening this isn't real. Oh god I'm going to die here she thought. Then, something deep within Lucy’s mind snapped. She began to laugh. Her laughter was a mix of hysteria and horror it was insane and manic. “Wellp I’ve finally lost it.” she thought to herself as her cackling died down. The monstrous flatmates stared at her slightly confused by her reaction. “Well that the first time I’ve made that kind of impression. Thought makin' them laugh was your thing jingles.” the boy doll mused The clown let off an inhuman warning growl and the doll grinned wickedly. “Y-youre all r-real.” Lucy stuttered starting to slip into insanity. “Careful who you say isn't real around here toots, Jingles over there tends to get real triggered about that subject” the male doll quipped “Are you done insulting me yet? You disgusting excuse for a child’s toy.” the clown hissed “Not on your life chucklefuck.” “Chucky! Can we please focus on the girl!” the dolls female counterpart snapped “Sorry pumpkin, they've been having a bit of a dispute ever since the clown left a huge pile of drool outside the fridge yesterday morning” she turned to Lucy who now was a mix of terrified and utterly confused. “I was very hungry and couldn't decide what to eat!” the clown pouted “YOU HAVE AN ENTIRE PANTRY FULL OF DEAD CHILDREN IN THE SEWER DO YOU EVEN NEED TO EAT ANYTHING ELSE?” Chucky shouted back at him. “Wow that hurt. I don't just eat children you know” the clown mocked being struck in the heart followed by a sharp glare. The silent behemoth behind Lucy had decided enough was enough and banged on the counter next to him. All in the room went quiet. The female doll sighed “Well if you two are going to be children about this I’ll make the decision for us. Alright look hun. We’re in a bit of a pickle and we need an extra roommate or Penny here is going to lose the house. Then well all be shit outta luck, especially you sweetheart. So I’m givin ya two options” she looked at the grumpy killer clown who huffed and finally nodded giving the female doll permission “One, you take the room. You will live here as the fake owner so the town doesn't try to reclaim the house and tear it down. Or two…. you die.” “And if I don’t want either?” Lucy questioned giving in completely to this new terrifying situation she was in. All the inhabitants in the room smiled wickedly. The clown stepped forward and grabbed Lucy’s chin forcing her to look into his golden predatory eyes, they were slightly out of alignment as if he was barely managing to keep control of himself “You can try to run kitten, but in a house full of monsters” he grinned his smile sadistic with a sprinkling of insanity “I promise you wont get far.” he inhaled sharply as if sniffing a freshly cooked meal before taking a bite. Lucy swallowed her fear and insanity pushing it down deep within her. “I’m a fucking survivor and I’m not going to die in some rotting haunted house.” She thought to herself. The clown growled and shoved her face back roughly as if offended by her sudden burst of bravery. “How much is rent?” she stated cool and suddenly collected.She wasn't really but the girl was no stranger to putting on a brave face. The group turned to the clown who was suddenly put on the spot “….$450” “Fuck that. Does this crackhouse even have running water?” she spat. “Watch your filthy little mouth!” the clown growled. She had obviously hit a very sore spot. A weakness she smirked. “$300” she haggled. “Just for that remark, five” the clown sneered in her face again, he was so close she could feel his breath on her nose. “You cant go up you fucker” “How much is your life worth to you little human” “About 300 bucks a month, clown.” “Four.. not including utilities” he smiled like the devil himself. She broke. “Look if you don’t kill me then my ex probably will. Im dead either way. Probably safer with a bunch of monsters than with that psycho, so $350 with utilities and I wont call the cops and make sure people stay away from your place. You all obviously want to remain here in secret so I keep my mouth shut about what you are and you give me a cheap place to live and start over. I honestly don't give a shit if I'm living with demon dolls and cannibals. I just want freedom from my old shitty life and my old shitty ex.” she stared back into the clowns eyes in pure defiance. Blue and gold bore into each other in some unseen battle. Few have ever done this to him before and were allowed to live. Finally the clown broke the stare he was a bit thrown off. “I’m not a cannibal I'm not even human you disgusting Leech.” he mumbled. Clearly the demon clown had a pride issue. “Wait call the cops? Ah shit Chucky you forgot to take her phone???” the Tiffany yelled at the male doll. “You didn't fucking tell me too! I thought we were going to kill her like we do with all the humans that wander in here!! Didn't see the fucking need but apparently were all going soft because Buck Tooth McForehead over here is worried about foreclosure!” “You idiot! You never listen to me!!!!” she screamed and lunged at him. The clown rolled his eyes at them, apparently this happened a lot. “Can you guys please take this to the bedroom, since I know where this is going and I really don't want walk in to find you making up on my sofa again.” Leatherface who had been mostly silent had moaned and covered his eyes clearly grossed out at the thought. “FINE were leaving! Tell us when you two kids make a damn deal instead of eye fucking each other for hours” Chucky shouted from the floor his wife’s hands around his neck. “Ew what the hell man we weren’t…” Lucy began but was cut off by an eruption of anger from the clown. “GET OUT.” the clown roared.They stood up and Chucky took his wife’s hand in his and Tiffany gave Lucy a wink as she left. “what the hell was that-“ Lucy started. “Ignore them” the clown interrupted once again. “Ok but like what did he mean by-“ “Ignore them” She turned her attention again to the tall murderous, inhuman apparently, clown. Who was clearly extremely annoyed with the whole situation. “So we have a deal clown?” “Pennywise” the clown said. “PennyWhat?” “I have a name and its Pennywise… The dancing clown.” “You dance?” “Not the point.” “Can I see?” “No.” “I thought clowns liked to preform.” “Are you finished?” “Maybe.” Lucy fired back at him. The clown was not used to this amount of sass from such a small frail looking thing. She could certainly run her mouth. It reminded him of a very specific boy that had smacked him in the head with a baseball bat all those years ago. He knew he was going to hate this human, but he had little to no choice in this. The Well-house was apart of him and desperate times call for desperate measures. He decided to wait to kill her when she tries to move out. It'll happen eventually anyway, after all this human will be living amongst monsters, horrible abominations true living nightmares! No normal sane human would be able to last long in this situation. And then he will enjoy feasting on this small thing’s flesh. Biting into her pale skin hearing her cry out in fear when he turns on her. Oh yes her sweet, delicious, beautiful fear. He'd inhale her scent and burry his nose into her bleeding flesh licking the wound in her neck. Those big blue eyes wide in terror as the filthy leech rose up finally floating. Her short platinum hair swirling around her frozen face. Beautiful, intoxicating, delicious, alluring, all mine, mine, mine, MINE- he woke himself from his trance his eyes had drifted apart and he was drooling immensely. She was staring at him waiting for him to say something. He mentally cursed himself for those strange thoughts that had just drifted through his head. “You uh…. you ok there? It looks like you left earth there for a bit” The clown sighed and growled more turning to his giant flatmate. “Untie her and bring me some ink Leatherface, lets just get this over with” Pennywise said exhausted. The giant equally concerned and confused grabbed a knife off the kitchen wall and cut her free. Lucy’s first instinct was to run but she glued herself into the reality of her situation. The behemoth walked over to her still holding the knife and she suddenly felt the fear come back. What if the clown had lied? The giant grabbed her hand roughly. Shit she began to panic as he pressed the blade into her hand and cut. Pennywise was now sporting a devilish grin seeing his flatmate to be squirm and whimper under the blade. He suddenly had an old looking contract and a quill in his hand which he laid out on the table in front of her “Read it and sign it Leech” he sneered “Really? Im signing it in blood? Really?” “You’re being difficult and childish just sign the damn paper.” “Why do you keep calling me Leech anyway?” “Because you're sucking me dry with this $350 a month deal, sign the paper.” “Do I get to at least remodel my room?” “SIGN THE PAPER” “Bite me clown. I want to know the fine details.” “Careful what you wish for little Leech it just might come true.” he muttered. “That a threat Penny?” she fired backThe clown glared at the nickname. “You know, you’re cute when you're mad” she chuckled reading the document. “Interesting requirements you got here. Don’t know what the hell this whole community council thing is and all these weird secrets but eh its cheap living can’t complain.” she dabbed the pen on her open wound and scribbled her name on the line. “Congratulations were flatmates.” the clown growled snatching the paper and walked off towards the basement. Lucy turned to Leatherface and chuckled. “I like him, he’s fun. So you guys gonna take me on the grand tour?” the giant still very confused with the whole situation nodded silently and Lucy followed him out. She didn't quite know what she just agreed to and this definitely wasn't the change she had in mind. All she knew was that she had wished for a new start and she sure as hell was getting one.

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #monster roommate au #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise the clown #it 2017 #im sorry this is so goofy and dumb

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theforgottengn · 8 years ago

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Wicked and Secret Somethings

Characters: Kilo, Victor, Sierra, Echo, Juliett, Hotel, Papa, Richards

Word Count: 2,194

Trigger Warning: Slight Swearing.

Summary: Since my brain hates me and refuses to let me work on actual plot or sketch comics it decided on writing some ViKi. Sierra Company is sent on a mission to find out all they can about a state senator. Suspicion of the man has risen is recent months. Which means it’s mostly up to Vic & Ki to do what they do best. Click that read more if you wanna…

It was the middle of the day; that time when most regular people would be either at work or going on their lunch break. But, since they never kept schedules that normal people did, this time of day meant that they were hard at work. It was the perfect time for them to do their jobs after all since it guaranteed that next to no one would actually be in their homes. Under normal circumstances what they were doing would be considered unlawful breaking and entering. Fully complete with a couple charges of illegal surveillance of an individual, computer hacking, and possibly a few stealing charges. But since the home owner left the keys to his front door in a fake rock they only entered the man’s home unannounced.

There was no doubt about the hacking and illegal surveillance.

Despite being part of a government organization they did quite a lot of illegal things. Things that they ended up getting away with, time and time again, because they worked for the government. Most people would rot in jail for the rest of their lives if they did even half of the things they did on a regular basis. Not to mention that the two of them alone obtained national security information that they would be probably be executed if they were average citizens.

One of the few advantages of being a spy.

Another was getting to see how regular people spend their lives doing and what they spend their hard earned money on. Not that they didn’t spend money or do things with their lives it was just what they did was never really a choice they made. So the times where they got to really see inside someone else’s life was rather fun for them.

Kilo and Victor were currently doing that in Senator Jacob Keller’s estate.

They had quite a lot of intel on Keller but nothing which was substantial. A descendant from oil money, he was the only living heir to his great-great-grandfather’s fortune so the money, and the large scale South Carolina estate, went only to him. Keller’s love with politics and his natural-born way with people made him the perfect candidate for state senator. Winning each time he ran Keller became the youngest and most re-elected senator in South Carolina’s history.

But they were looking into Keller because intel suggested that he was up to something illegal on the side.

Who hasn’t done something illegal at least once in their life?, Kilo said when the team received this assignment. The comment promptly got her a stern look from both Sierra and their handler Richards. Juliett chuckled under her breath and both Echo and Hotel pretended they didn’t hear. Papa nodded in agreement. Victor, more than used to comments like that from Kilo, just rolled his eyes.

That was a couple days before. Now, while the others did their respective assignments, both Kilo and Victor were hard at work in Keller’s home.

Kilo started off in the library while Victor went to the study. The study was a rather large study for a man who lived alone but then again Keller inherited the estate. Even though the estate had a library the study had one wall that was an entire bookshelf. A large, black oak, desk sat directly across from the bookshelf and two small black leather bucket chairs sat in front of the desk. One wall had two small black end tables each with its own lamp and chair. The lampshades and chair cushions were both a deep, dark, blood-red. The look of the study was completed by the carpet which was the same exact shade of red as the cushions and lampshades.

Victor sat at a large black oak desk in the study with his laptop. It was open right next to the target’s sad excuse for a laptop. Like most people, who think they’re being original when they aren’t, Jacob Keller owned a Macbook Pro. Not a single thing adorned the laptop’s sliver shell that would reveal it was owned by anyone. The Macbook looked as clean and new as it probably did when Keller took it out of the box.

Victor personally owned two laptops.

A black Lenovo Thinkpad E570 which had a Kevlar-lined exterior, strictly on the off-chance anyone shot at him while he worked, that he used for hacking. Victor had affectionately taking to calling it The Beast. And an Alienware that he used for gaming along with everything else which was adorned with multiple stickers. The Beast was currently hooked up to the Macbook so that Victor could hack into it without getting his fingerprints all over it.

He rubbed his hands together gleefully and silently chuckled; finally figuring out the laptop’s password.

The answer stared him out at him from the lone photo on the target’s desk. It was a brown, oak wood, frame with a rectangular photo of Bengal cat. Underneath the photo, in black, were the words: You were more than a pet you were a loving soul I will never forget. RIP Mr. Whiskers.

What kind of person sets the name of their dead cat as their laptop password?

He shook his head annoyed and disappointed in himself for not trying it sooner. It was right in front of his face the entire time, after all. And if he learned anything at all from years of this it was that most people left clues to things just lying about in plain sight.

Better question is what kind of idiot leaves their laptop at home in the first place? Especially a man such as yourself, Mr. Jacob Keller, with your high political status. You’re bound to have a lot of secrets hidden here and you just leave it for little old me. Must be my lucky day.

With the password cracked Victor went to work on looking through the laptop’s files while simultaneously hacking into the target’s online banking account to take a look at his bank statements. Then he was going to work on the man’s multiple email accounts. After that he was going to surf through all of Keller’s social media.

Man, I wish I could see his face when I blow him out of the water.

Victor always loved his job, but, there were a lot of days where Kilo hated hers.

So much of it was very boring and tedious like what she was doing right now; planting bugs. Kilo had a lot of work ahead of her because the house, if you could really call it that since it was so large, had about ten rooms. But that didn’t include the four full-scale bathrooms and the massive library so the room count was actually fifteen. Kilo was currently hard at work bugging the house’s massive library with everything in her surveillance arsenal. And wondering why someone like Jacob Keller would even need to home this large; or anyone for that matter.

Well, she was working, as hard as she could with a double-decker cheeseburger in one hand.

Ki!

They were only a couple rooms away from each other they but still talked through comms. Old habits die hard and older ones die even harder. The sound of Victor’s yell through the comm. link startles Kilo making her jump and drop her cheeseburger.

She makes a small choking noise as the burger hits the wood floor. When her eyes shift to the small camera in her other hand she makes another noise.

“Dammit, Vic! I thought we always agreed no yelling.” she yells as she moves her bangs back from where they fell onto her face. “You made me drop my burger and now there’s cheese all over this camera! If this dries before I can get it all out then this fuck-up is on you.”

Victor rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh.

Ki, what do I always tell you?

This time Kilo sighs annoyed. “Never eat and work. I know, I know! But you know that I need my brain food and that I would be eating. “So this…” she gestures to the mess on the floor before her, “is your fault.”

You know I can’t see whatever you’re doing, right?

Kilo stares sadly at the mess that covers a good amount of the cherry wood floor. Sighing sadly she bends down and begins to clean the mess. Reaching into the grease-covered bag from the burger joint she palms a bunch of napkins.

“I didn’t even get to take a single bite! I only have my triple chocolate shake left and what the hell am I supposed to do with that? Besides, no matter how great our tech is supposed to be, no camera on Earth can survive this. If this thing is broken, and I wasted all my time, I will literally kill you.”

No, you won’t. You love me too much.

Kilo could practically hear his smirk through the comm. link and it makes her even more pissed off. She finishes picking up the last bit of the burger from the floor and starts to work on getting all the cheese off the parts of the camera. Sharp cheddar would definitely ruin the inner workings of any camera.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, Vic! A perfectly good burger wasted for nothing.”

Ki? I think I found something.

“More important than finding it in you to give your best friend the well-deserved apology she needs right now?”

I’m serious here, okay? This is big. Very big.

“I’m not playing. You owe me another burger, Vic. No. Make that two since I never got to eat this one.” Kilo says, ignoring him, as she walks over to the massive bookshelf. She moves a vase to plant the, now clean and fully functioning, camera in her hand. What lies behind the vase makes her mouth drop open in shock.

She doesn’t say anything to Victor about what she saw and instead keeps looking around the library.

Kilo, I’m telling you this is crazy. No, it’s scandalous. It’s like breaking the internet kind of scandalous!

Blocking Victor out as he talks about how insane whatever information he found is Kilo mentally totals the amount of items she came across. Things that have no place in this man’s home unless Kilo herself put them there, but, she did not. The amount of them is also something that catches Kilo off guard.

This can’t be happening, she says to herself.

Just to make sure that she’s not dreaming or anything she goes through the rest of the house. There’s a couple in the first floor bathroom. The dining room had three hiding in the chandelier alone. And three more were placed randomly about the room. About five or six were hiding all over the master bedroom on the second floor.

His bank statements are all over the place, and, Ki? I just finished fishing through Keller’s four separate email accounts. I’m telling you, this guy’s emails are enough to send him away for a long, long, time. Oh, I wonder what his text messages look like.

Kilo groans slightly and triple taps her comm. link, making it emit a beeping that speeds up as she gets closer to the person she’s online with, so she can find Victor.

She finds Victor sitting at the large black oak desk in the target’s study.

The blue-eyed blonde sits leaning back in the black leather office chair. His hands lay intertwined behind his head. Grinning from ear to ear Victor is obviously more than pleased with his handiwork. His face lights up even more when he sees her in the doorway. Before Kilo even enters the room he begins to tell her everything he found.

“The whole place is bugged!” she yells cutting Victor off before he could finish telling her whatever big news he started to share.

His jaw drops and his eyes go wide; “Holy shit.”

“I know,” she says with a nod. “And I’m talking the whole nine yards, here, Vic. Mics, cameras, hidden motion sensors; all of it. I found over 20 in the library alone.”

“You know what this means, Ki?”

Kilo nods again and sits in one of the black leather bucket chairs on the other side of the oak desk. It was the last thing they ever thought possible, but, it had to be true. This never happened to them before and she doesn’t know what to do. Kilo sighs and thinks for a few minutes but she comes up with nothing.

She looks to Victor but he doesn’t have any answers.

So, Kilo does the only thing that she can in this situation. Tapping her ear comm. she calls Sierra. She bites her bottom lip hoping that their leader answers as quickly as possible. No, scratch that, she just wants Sierra to answer no matter how long it takes. Kilo doesn’t want to take this information to the team’s handler. She can’t. Luckily Sierra does.

This better not be another call saying you’re hungry. I’m not taking time to buy you food, Kilo.

“Somebody out there is on to our guy.”

#here's a thing #the forgotten #story snippet #sierra company #agent kilo #agent victor #agent sierra #agent juliett #agent hotel #agent papa #agent echo #viki #might be a part two in the future #since this has a cliff-hanger ending #total bullshit title there

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