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acceleracers-baby · 1 year ago

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Acceleracers HC’s - How they sleep! Metal Maniac Edition!

Metal Maniacs

(Taro Kitano, Tork Maddox, Monkey McClurg, Porkchop Riggs & Markie Wylde)

+Bonus Round

(Doctor Tezla & Lani Tam)

Metal Maniacs

Taro Kitano - Taro strikes me as the kind of guy who could fall asleep anywhere. Back a few years ago when he was still traveling around a lot he used to be a BIG camping gear geek. He hiked up Mount Everest twice in style. When he’s sleeping at home in his own bed he definitely has some nice silk sheets though. No one who ski’s down Mount Everest TWICE sleeps on shitty sheets. A few years ago he used to have a wild sleep schedule, but now that he’s joined the Metal Maniacs and not traveling around as much, he’s developed more healthy sleeping habits. Before he goes to bed, he turns the lights down and mainly uses scented candles to keep his room lit. It’s practical. Keeps his room smelling nice and warm light is better for nighttime.

Tork Maddox - Tork sleeps slightly propped up. At LEAST two pillows under him at all times. He also seems like the type to keep his room cold as fuck but have like three big flannel blankets to keep him warm. Tork SNORES. He straight up sounds like a grizzly bear. On top of that he usually falls asleep with the TV on. Occasionally, he has the sense of mind to turn it off or at least put it on mute, but after Tone’s passing, he is frequently plagued by nightmares. The TV helps, but what helps more is the fact that he gets into journaling. Even if he just writes down a sentence or two it helps.

Monkey McClurg - Not only does Monkey sleep walk, but he also sleep talks. He has had full on conversations with people while dead asleep and not remember a single thing the next morning. Porkchop once caught him fixing up his car at like three in the morning while babbling about some kind of new suspension system he wanted to implement. Usually all it takes to get him back to bed is to just tell him that he’s asleep, but sometimes he argues. It never lasts long though. When he does end up back in bed he’s usually there for the rest of the night.

Porkchop Riggs - Obviously we know he sleeps with a stuffed pig, but I raise you that he also sleeps with a flying pig night light. It was something Mama Chop got him after his father drowned. He was very prone to night terrors at that time. They’ve gotten better, but he’s just so used to sleeping with it now it feels wrong to take it out of the wall. Porkchop gets his best sleep when his window air conditioner unit kicks on. Something about the loud rattling and cool air reminds him of when he was a kid. Adversely he doesn’t sleep at all when it storms. It reminds him of the night he lost his father.

Markie Wylde - Mark sleeps curled up tight. At least one of his legs is tucked up towards his chest and he’s usually holding on tight to a pillow. He never sleeps with his back to the door. He also never sleeps around people he’s not 100% comfortable around. Mark always has a really hard time sleeping in beds that aren’t his own. He barely got any sleep the first week he was in prison, and when he got out, it was the same. It takes him at least three days now to acclimate to sleeping in places he’s unfamiliar with. When he does sleep he doesn’t really snore but he does make noise. Loud sniffles, grunts, and occasionally he’ll grind his teeth.

Bonus Round

Doctor Tezla - Idle hands are the devils work. There is so much to explore, so much to research, but there are also so few hours in the day. Gig quite literally has to force Tezla to go to sleep most days. He’s just so stressed about…well everything that it’s nearly impossible to fall asleep on his own. At first he tried general over the counter melatonin, but that proved to be less than effective so he got a prescription for something stronger. Gig reminds him to take it most nights, but occasionally Lani has to get involved, reminding him that he won’t be able to continue his work if he dies due to severe sleep deprivation. He’s stubborn, but not stupid.

Lani Tam - The shit that this poor woman has to deal with… When Lani decides it’s time for bed, she refuses to be disturbed. She drinks a nice hot tea with honey, reads a few chapters from a good book, and throws on a sleep mask before promptly passing out. Before any of that though she usually indulges in a scalding hot bath. If her skin isn’t a different shade by the time she gets out, she doesn’t want it. Occasionally, if she can’t sleep, she’ll fall asleep watching something that doesn’t take a whole lot of brain power. Something like Survivor or Hells Kitchen.

——— Thanks for Reading ———

#hot wheels acceleracers #acceleracers #hot wheels fanfic #hot wheels hcs #hot wheels highway 35 #hot wheels #Lani Tam #Doctor Tezla #Mark Wylde #Taro Kitano #Monkey McClurg #Porkchop Riggs #Tork Maddox #acceleracers headcanons

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ultra--grief · 1 year ago

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ULTRAGRIEF: Seeing Stars

Characters:

V1, V2 (intro)

V2, Gabriel (Actual Writing)

INTRO:

>V1. >WHAT? >You’re back in Greed? >I NEEDED TO P-RANK. >…for more guns? >YES. … >That’s my arm. >MINE NOW. >I’d beat your ass, but I need a small favor. >YOU NEED A FAVOR? >Yes. How did you turn off the sun? >I DON’T UNDERSTAND. >The sun. It was nighttime. There were stars. >MOON PENDANT. >What? >FIND IT. THEN PUT IT UPON A PEDESTAL. >…alright then. I’ll get goin– >WAIT. >What? >WHY DO YOU NEED IT? >I just want to show someone something. >I DON’T UNDERSTAND. >You wouldn’t. The only thing you know is violence. Bitch. >ULTRAKILL YOURSELF. >You first.

ACTUAL WRITING:

>Gabriel. “…Yes?” >You see that pyramid? Ignore the…blood on the bottom. Just sit on the top for a bit. “Wait, what? Why?” >I want to show you something. Don’t ask questions. Just fly up there. “Alright.”

…

“V2? What are you doing?” >Just wait a little longer. I’m almost done. “…Is it wrong to say I’m excited?” >Of course not. I just want to show you something nice for once. “I don’t know what to say.” >Don’t. Just stay put.

…

>It’s done. “Really?” >Look up. The sun is setting. “You’re…right. It is.” >Soon there will be stars. “…” >Can you see them? “…” >Gabriel? “V2…they’re beautiful.” >I hoped you’d like them. “I do. Come up here. I want to show you something in return.” >... “V2?” >Nothing. It’s just that pyramids give…bad memories. “If you want me to come down–” >No, it’s okay. I’ll get up there. “Don’t force yourself to do anything you don’t want to.” >I told you, it’s fine.

…

“Get comfortable. It wouldn’t be as good without you.”

>I will. Do you like the stars? “I love them.” >That’s good. “You see that star? It’s brighter than the ones surrounding it.” >Yes. “That’s Polaris. The North Star.” >It’s…pretty. “I’d say it’s akin to you.” >…No. It suits you better. “Wrong.” >I’m right and you know it. “…sure. Right. Anyhow, those stars make the Big Dipper.” >Constellations? “Yes.” >That’s interesting. “There’s also Perseus. The brightest star in it is Alpha Persei.” >I like stars. “I’m glad.” >Thank you for telling me. “It’s the least I could do after you went through the trouble of showing me the stars.” >It was worth it, wasn’t it? “Definitely.” >Good.

PART 2:

“The sun’s coming back up.” >It is. The pendant only lasts a few minutes. “…pity. I enjoyed the stars.” >I’m sorry. “It’s not your fault. Should we descend the pyramid now?” >Yes– “V2?” >Sorry. I, er, looked down and had a few…flashbacks. “Oh. You fell from there during your fight with V1.” >No need to remind me. I remember it well. “Sorry.” >It’s not a prob– “V2?!”

—

>You…caught me? “I didn’t want you to fall.” >Your wings. The lack of light– Gabriel, just– Just drop me and go back. I’ll be fine. I’m metal, you’re not. “I know.” >You can fall. Gabriel. Drop me and go back. “No.” >You’re exerting yourself. Please. “I’m going to get us down one way or another.” >I’m telling you, it’ll be fi–

[CRASH]

>Gabriel??

…

>Gabriel.

…

>You’ve fallen.

…

“I’m fine.” >No, you’re not. “I am.” >Your wings– they’re gone. “What?” >They’re just…gone. “…” >Sit up straight. “Alr– ow–” >Nevermind. Lay down again. “Done.” >They’re just…gone. “Oh.” … “I’m sorry, V2.” >It’s not your fault. “…” >Are you all right, otherwise? You landed on your back and– And I thought the blood… “It’s not mine. I believe it’s…yours.” >…it might be. “From the fall with V1.” >I know. “How much longer do I have?” >… >One hour. “One…hour?” >Yes. “…” >I just wanted this to be fun, not… “It’s okay.” >What? “It’s okay. The fall…cleared my head. I need to stop fooling around and do what we were meant to do hours ago.” >…Gabriel? “Kill V1.”

Things get real in Greed, don't they?

#ULTRAGRIEF #writing #ultrakill au #ultrakill

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whitepolaris · 7 months ago

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Coming of the Saucers, Mount Rainier

In late November 1869, a couple named Mr. and Mrs. St. John told the Tacoma Daily Ledger about a strange nighttime sighting. They said they were lying in bed around midnight, looking out the window. Mrs. St. John saw a strange light in the sky east of Mount Rainier. She woke her husband up, and he saw it too. They said it was as bright as the lighthouse beacon. It flashed several times, and each time it flashed, various colored lights shot out from the center of the object like spokes of a wheel.

Did this strange object reappear over fifty years later? Certainly something like it was seen again in 1947, and this sighting led to the popular use of the term "flying saucer." The phrase owes its existence to a newspaperman's misquote of a pilot named Kenneth Arnold regarding a strange experience he had on June 24, 1947, one similar to the St. John's experience in 1896.

Kenneth Arnold lived in Boise, Idaho, where he owned a business that made and installed fire control systems. Business must have been slow in the summer of 1947, because Arnold spent June 24, in his airplane, flying over the Washington Cascades. He was looking for a missing marine airplane, hoping for a $10,000 reward. At two fifty p.m. he was traveling east over the mountains toward Mount Adams, when he saw nine large metallic flying objects.

These craft were about twenty-five miles away, at an elevation of ten thousand feet, traveling very, very fast. He noticed that they did not fly in straight lines like ordinary airplanes or make wide turns. Instead, they dipped and swerved, seemingly to follow the mountain peaks from Mount Rainier to Mount Adams. Arnold started the stopwatch on his airplane control panel. Based on the distance between the two mountains (forty-five miles) and the time it took the objects to travel it, he estimated they were flying at twelve hundred miles an hour. At first, Arnold thought they were jet aircraft, even though their speed was far faster than that of the jets of that era.

Once the strange craft vanished in the distance, Arnold continued his search, until he landed in Yakima. He reported the incident to the Civil Aeronautics Administration and the next day flew to Pendleton, Oregon, where the press mobbed him. Before Arnold's sighting, there had been earlier reports of similar objects, and the press and U.S. government always referred to these as flying disks, as did Arnold.

He told the reporters that nine craft were about a hundred feet across, thin, and disk-or crescent shaped. Although the front was round, the rear looked chopped off and came to a point. He said that he was amazed that there was no tail, as on a normal aircraft, and that the craft did not make any noise. When one of the reporters asked him how the objects maneuvered, Arnold replied that they moved kind of like a saucer would move if someone skipped it across a lake. The reporter wrote down that Arnold said the aircraft looked like flying saucers, and the misquote stuck.

Although this was not the first unidentified flying object ever reported, the publicity set off a rash of new sightings. After a radio interview, a number of people from the Seattle area and the MIdwest contacted the media and reported seeing multiple flying objects on the same day. On July 4, a United Airlines flight crew reported seeing flying objects in Idaho. A few days after that, on July 8, another flying saucer was reported to have crashed in Roswell, New Mexico, and the alien aircraft craze really took off. Newspapers contacted military officials, who denied that they were testing experimental jet aircraft in the Washington Cascades.

Skeptics believed that Arnold could have been fooled by mirages created by air inversions or even by reflections of his own airplane off the atmosphere. Later, someone suggested that he'd seen a swarm of meteors that flashed and burned out quickly. Despite these suggestions, no one could prove that Arnold was mistaken, including the air force, which had launched its own investigation. Their findings led them to form a team that eventually turned into Project Blue Book, a formalized government investigation of UFOs undertaken from 1952 to 1970.

The issue of whether UFOs are really flying craft from outer space is full of controversy, and much of this, including its central term, had its beginnings in our home state. It is interesting to note that although skeptics do not believe that Kenneth Arnold saw flying machines from other worlds, none of them accuse him of deliberate fraud. Arnold's clear honesty and candor led the way to open discussion of the phenomena.

#weird washington #type read

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thedevilyk · 2 years ago

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estella - OC

table of contents

basic info

personality

appearance

attire

this or that

stats

family & friends

abilities

weapons

history

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

basic info

name: estella sylva

nickname: stella

alias: elara

age: looks around 22

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

languages: english, wookiee

accent: slight russian sounding accent

occupation: pilot

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

personality

positive traits: affectionate, independent, confident, passionate, alert, effective, persistent

negative traits: compulsive, defensive, impatient, reckless, stubborn

first impression: her first impressions are rarely ever positive or accurate to her actual personality. usually she is quite cold and untrustworthy to new people. a lot of her words are sharp and short.

how they portray happiness: while it is rare for cleo to show true happiness when she does, she smiles so much. she sometimes avoid eye contact when she wants to hide her smile.

how they portray sadness: she goes silent almost immediately, especially if the feeling is sudden. she freezes up and tries not to let others see her tears. she usually walks away or turns away before any tears actually fall.

how they portray anger: again, she goes silent. she doesn’t usually say much when she’s angry in fear that she’ll say something she’ll regret. but if she’s pushed and pushed then she’ll definitely snap and start yelling.

how they portray jealousy: she doesn’t tell people when she’s jealous but usually avoids the person she’s jealous of or who is making her jealous. she shuts herself off and barely talks.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

appearance

height: 5’6”

weight: 120 lbs

skin tone: pale, sometimes ghostly

skin type: smooth

blemishes: freckles along her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose

birth marks: one large one on her lower back that looks like a paint splotch

hair colour: left side dark red, right side black

hair length: just above her first rib

hair type: straight and silky

hair style: almost always down unless she ties it up in a high ponytail when she’s flying

eye colour: left one is green and right one is a dull red

eye shape: almond

lip colour: full

lip shape: light pink

nose shape: button

body type: mesomorph

body shape: soft pear

body modifications: both of her earlobes pierced

face claim:

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

attire

everyday outfit:

casual outfit:

formal outfit:

sleepwear:

swim wear:

date wear:

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this or that

winter or summer?: winter

hot or cold?: cold

books or movies?: books

sweet or savoury?: sweet

spring or fall?: fall

horror movies or romance movies?: romance movies

nighttime or daytime?: nighttime

sun or moon?: moon

black cat or golden retriever?: black cat

ranged combat or hand to hand?: ranged combat

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

stats

intelligence: 7/10

book smarts: 6/10

street smarts: 8/10

stamina: 8.5/10

bravery: 7/10

agility: 9/10

loyalty: 7/10

teamwork: 5/10

leadership: 4/10

physical strength: 6/10

mental strength: 6/10

emotional strength: 4/10

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

family & friends

mother: cara sylva - deceased

father: samual sylva - alive

sister: mia sylva - alive

brother: none

grandma: elizabeth mune sylva - deceased

grandpa: eddie sylva - deceased

children: none

significant other: luke skywalker

best friend(s): leia organa, luke skywalker

friend(s): han solo, chewbacca

enemie(s): depends

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

abilities

estella is force sensitive but she hasn’t mastered her abilities quite yet.

she is highly trained in both hand to hand and ranged combat but likes to stick to ranged combat since she doesn’t like getting up and personal with someone

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

weapons

primary weapon:

secondary weapon:

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

history

estella grew up with her mother and father and her older sister. her father was an old retired jedi and her mother was a merchant. her sister is approximately 4 years older than her so it wasn’t a huge age difference.

her mother died very early on in her life. it happened in a crossfire between her father and a bounty hunter. her mother took a bullet straight to the heart and she died in less than a few seconds.

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

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Doth Not Fear, For Our Future Awaits {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

@babbushka:

Happy follower milestone my dear friend!! My prompt idea for your consideration: A medieval AU where reader is a lady in waiting to the Queen at the royal court, and Kylo is the crown prince who is in love with her. They can never be together...or can they? However you'd like to take this, if you decide at all, would be so much fun! xoxoxo :)

author’s notes: hello, hello! I’m baaaaack after a lengthy case of writers block 😩 my dearest friend, my beloved, thank you for this wonderful request!! I’ll be honest, I restarted this about three different times, but I’m very pleased with how this one turned out for you <3 @babbushka

warnings (what you see is what you’ll get!): fluff. forbidden romance/love. passionate kissing. themes of infidelity. use of Shakespearean English. some insults are thrown around.

no tw’s :)

word count: 1.6k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney @trubluepensfan @beachwoodmonet (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or at the top of my masterlist.)

[NOT my art/image. full credit to the artist, therealmcgee, and found via Pinterest]

A gentle autumn breeze rustles the masterpiece of dark tresses that sit atop the head of crown prince Kylo Ren, who stands alone in the moonlight-illuminated garden. The birds have ceased their chirps and allowed for the nighttime singers to shine through, crickets and katydids creating a peaceful melody from amongst the grasses.

He stands by the pond, staring down at his gently rippled reflection in the water. A grimace seems to be permanently etched onto his expression whenever he’s in the presence of his overbearing mother or pesky new bride, creating creases in his skin that shall surely remain for the rest of his living days.

As he looks down upon himself under the soft moonlight, he can only see the miserable face of a young man trapped in the cage of a legacy, unable to free himself from the heavy chains of expectation and tradition. Tonight, though, those chains bear an even greater weight for the young royal.

You're all he desires in life, the only thing he wishes to seek out and fight for. Not the kingdom of Alderaan, not his new bride, not even his mother; it’s you. And now, he’s forever bound to the wrong woman, restrained yet again by the rigid ways of his family’s traditions.

What if he no longer wants to be Prince?

A hollow footstep on the stone courtyard startles him from his thoughts and he turns around to gaze upon the intruder of his serene privacy.

“I believeth thy new bride is awaiting that lady marital bedding.”

His expression softens upon the sight of you striding towards him, turning fully around to properly face you as you stand before him. He holds your smaller hands in his much larger ones.

“The lady shalt beest waiting for an eternity, then. I am doubtful of that lady did suppose pureness, if 't be true i am truthful.”

The two of you laugh softly together at his comment.

“I wanteth nay other, Y/N, only thee.”

You offer the crown prince a sad smile. “And I only desire thee, Kylo, but we simply cannot beest together. I am mistress in waiting to thy mother, the queen, and ye art did set to becometh king. 't is 'gainst the laws of the land and we shalt certes beest hanged if 't be true anyone ever did discover our love affair.”

He sighs, forehead pressing against yours as he looks longingly into your eyes. “I wish things wast not this way, yond people couldst beest free to marry for love, not for status or bloodlines.”

“Me too.” You lean into him, bringing your mouth up to hover over his, and his down to meet yours. Warm, gentle wafts of his breath smooth out across your lips and you give a soft whimper in response, pressing yourself further against him. “Telleth me all thee would do to have me as thy bride, Kylo.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, considering you’re barely able to breathe through your nose by now, with your face practically smashed up against him, but that’s the absolute last thing you give thought to at a moment like this. He opens his mouth and lazily attempts to capture you in a kiss, fingertips pressing harder into your sides.

“Gods, I would doth aught for thee. I would giveth up mine coronet, mine legacy for thy handeth.”

Slowly, your arms slither up around the back of his neck, feeling a familiar heat rising and bubbling in your nether regions. “Telleth me more.”

He’s practically slobbering over you now, so desperate to press his lips unto yours. The hunger surges through him as he pulls you flush against him.

“I would square for thee, square anyone for thy love to belong to only me. I would drop of sorrow mine bloody, beating heart out of mine own chest for thee.”

Your pulse throbs neath your flesh, the upbeat tempo of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You sigh into his open mouth, hand coming up to grab hold of his silky hair.

“Moo.”

Suddenly, he sweeps you up off your feet and instantly presses you against the side of the nearest structure, effectively caging you in with his massive form. He snarls softly, pinning you even further into the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from your lips.

“By gods, Y/N, I would killeth for thee.”

You tighten your grip in his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. He returns the embrace with eager lips, tongue prodding and exploring every cavern of your mouth. His pelvis presses right up against your lower abdomen, rubbing his stiffening length up against you.

“Kylo.” A sigh pushes its way through your pursed lips as Kylo’s head dips down, lips pecking at the taut skin on your neck.

“Did shalt we runneth hence together. I wanteth to declare our love to the kingdom tonight.” His face lights up as he holds yours in his massive hands, smiling. “I’m sick of hiding in the shadows, sick of having to keepeth myself hence from thee.”

You’re riddled with worry over this sudden decision, rubbing the strong upper arms of your lover. “Art thee sure? This idea worries me greatly, mine sweeting. What if 't be true we receiveth did doth catch? They wilt throweth us in the dungeons for sure; our destiny wilt beest but soft decaying down thither until death showeth us mercy.”

“I don’t care. Allow me to prove all I would doth for thy love and for thy handeth, Y/N. I wilt taketh care of thee, I wilt at each moment maketh sure thee hath't everything thee couldst ever needeth and moo. And we wilt beest together, beest free to love one another at last. Who is't cares whither we art or what our fates wilt beest? We can finally beest together without restrictions, punishments or secrecy.” He presses you further up against the wall, lips parallel to your ear. “Mine life isn't worth living if 't be true thou art not by mine side. Wilt thee runneth hence with me?”

Simply just the thought of that makes your stomach go a flutter, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your eyes flicker up to meet his once more, hands cradling his handsomely carved face.

“I trust thee, kylo, thither's few or none will entertain it path thee decideth to taketh; I wilt remain by thy side. If 't be true thee wish to telleth the kingdom, then I wilt telleth those folk 'longside thee. If 't be true thee wish to runneth hence from this lodging, then I wilt runneth with thee.”

Kylo pulls you close for one more embrace, then guides you along back up to the party. Acidic nerves begins to crawl up your throat as the two of you draw nearer and nearer to the bustling ballroom.

Instantly, the Queen rushes over to her estranged son with a frustrated frown on her face. “Whither on earth hath't thee been?! Thy bride hath been by herself all night waiting for thee to returneth!”

He takes your hand. “The lady is not mine bride, mother, not anymore. Y/n is mine bride, and we don't care what everyone thinkest of our forbidden love. I've grown did tire of trying to prithee, of trying to followeth all of the traditions of our family. I wanteth to marry for love, not for the continuation of our lineage, and i intend to doth so with mine beloved.”

Now, people have begun to look onto the unfolding situation, finding it far more interesting than the festivities. Leia’s eyes search her son’s, then flicker over to glare into yours. A shiver swipes down your spine at her gaze of hatred.

“Thee've poisoned mine son. Callet!”

This gets the attention of even more patrons and suddenly, every single set of eyes are focused on where you stand. You wish to simply crumble in this moment, become one with the Earth in order to escape their accusatory stares.

“How dare thee speaketh of mine beloved in such a manner?! Didn't thee heareth what I did doth sayeth? We don't care what thee bethink of us, what any of thee bethink of us. We wilt beest together, coequal if 't be true 't doth take every single moment of mine life to achieve.”

The room is completely still and scarily quiet, not a single shift in position or breath can be heard in this moment. Leia stands up straight to look up into her son’s eyes. “I at each moment did knoweth thee wast nev'r did cullionly to beest in this family. I'm ashamed to hath't thee as a son.”

Patrons begin to stir and an angry unrest drapes itself atop the crowd.

“Throweth those folk in the dungeons!“ One says.

“Death to the coronet prince!“ Another exclaims.

From the very back of the room, another voice pops up. “Traitors!“

Suddenly, Kylo yanks you towards the stairs, breaking out in a full sprint.

“Runneth anon, mine love! We wilt hence!”

Your precious shoes fly off your feet as you run behind him. “Kylo! Mine shoes hath't cometh off! What am I to doth?”

He’s quick to scoop you up and carry you in his arms, breath steadily growing heavier with your added weight. He runs all the way down to the stables and seizes a tacked horse, mounting the perplexed creature swiftly.

“Taketh mine handeth. Doth not fear, for our future awaits, mine beloved.”

With a bright and hopeful smile, you take his hand willingly, the wind catching your hair as rhythmic hoof-falls carry you off to your new life, one you get to spend with the love of your life.

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber.

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who.

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state.

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.”

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.

So he’s back.

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.”

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown.

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his.

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news.

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver.

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle.

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.”

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing.

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look. His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..."

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.”

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to.

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.”

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.”

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ”

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out.

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?”

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at.

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?”

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance.

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.”

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be.

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing.

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.”

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so.

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.”

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you.

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance.

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi.

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.”

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall.

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore.

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck.

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this.

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow.

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement.

“Why do you like me so much?”

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath.

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“... Alright, I won’t.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.”

#dabi my hero academia #Dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #yandere dabi imagines #yandere dabi #yandere dabi imagine #yandere dabi x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #yandere my hero academia #commissions

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ssahoodrathotchner · 4 years ago

Text

Need You Here

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have a close call with an explosion

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, explosions, talk of injuries, canon-level case violence, basically just soft hurt/comfort idk there’s a happy ending sooooo

A/N: this is definitely a self-indulgent fic that’s been a wip for a while and by some miracle i found the motivation to finish it. enjoy :)

Masterlist

---

The stars are falling from the sky.

Air rushes back into your lungs in one unpleasant burst, and you choke on the bitter taste of smoke that accompanies each additional heave of your chest. Blinking rapidly, your vision sharpens and you realize that it’s not the stars that are falling, but bits of ash and debris falling through the smoke; it’s not nighttime. You hear nothing but the ringing in your ears, sounds muffled as if underwater. Slowly, painfully, you become aware of the pain radiating through your body stemming from a pressure on your midsection. Carefully turning your head to the side, your eyes find the remains of the small cabin which once held three girls captive. Where are they? Your vision clouds once more, smoke stinging its way down your throat and biting at your eyes, causing you to squeeze them shut. You can hear shouting, and you try to focus on what’s happening around you, but the sounds fade, and you follow.

You’re being pushed—pulled? —and suddenly the pressure on your chest lets up and you gasp, eyes flying open and struggling to focus. A dark head of hair looms above you, grasping your face with both hands. Emily? Her mouth is moving, but your mind isn’t processing sounds yet, and all you can do is let out pained noises that rumble through your throat before spilling out of your lips. Your head rolls to the side as Emily removes her hands from your face and places them on your torso. The small cabin is still on fire, but the flames have lessened. Your attention is drawn back to your own body with the addition of more hands pressing down on you. Morgan’s worried face peers down at you where Emily’s had been as you fully regain consciousness.

“Wha’…?” you manage to choke out before the overwhelming taste of smoke sends you coughing.

“Whoa, Princess, easy,” Derek says, stopping you from moving around as you try and turn to get a better look at your surroundings.

He smooths a hand over your forehead and you feel something smear along the same path his hand drags across. Blood.

“Where…?” your voice is rough, but stronger this time as you desperately hold Morgan’s gaze, trying to get answers.

“There was an explosion,” he says simply, but the furrow in his brow tells you there’s more than just ‘an explosion’ that’s nagging at him.

Emily comes back into view, a hard look on her face as she stares at something in the distance. She quickly glances down at you before speaking rapidly into her comms. You seem to have lost yours in the blast.

“…yeah, Hotch, we found her. She was under some debris from the house, but Morgan and I cleared that pretty fast. She’s still down, but none of her injuries seem to be too serious,” she squints at you to confirm. You nod.

Gently, you feel Derek’s hands pressing around your midsection over your Kevlar vest, and you hiss in pain once he reaches your ribs. With a frown, he pushes just a little harder, which makes you yelp in discomfort and glare at him. So much for not having serious injuries.

“Sorry, Princess, just checking. Seems like you’ve got some bruised ribs, although I’ve got a feeling more than a few of them are broken.”

“Lovely,” you grit out as Prentiss smiles apologetically at you, correcting her assessment over the comms. Sucking in a breath, you tilt your head down towards the rest of your body. “What else, Derek?”

“My guess is also a mild concussion,” to which you grunt in agreement “and a lot of superficial cuts and nicks,” he finishes, gesturing to your upper body and face.

You make a face. “Well, as long as that’s all,” you joke. “Help me up?”

Grasping your forearm with one hand, another on your back, Derek eases you upright until you’re sitting, ribs protesting the entire time.

You open your mouth to ask him more questions, but before you can make a sound Aaron comes flying around the corner of (what used to be) the house, a grim look on his face. Dropping to his knees by your side, he takes one of your hands and leans down to kiss your forehead, lips barely leaving your skin as he takes deep breaths.

“Thought I lost you, Sweetheart,” he whispers.

“Never,” you respond, squeezing his hand in yours.

“How’d you end up all the way over here?” he asks in a soft voice, sitting back to brush hair (and blood) from your hairline.

How did you end up here?

Your brow furrows and you direct your gaze away past Aaron and up towards the darkening sky, the first stars making themselves visible.

“The unsub—” you start.

“Warner. Ted Warner,” Aaron supplies.

“Right, Warner,” you let out a frustrated breath. “And the girls…?”

“Lucy Burnes, Allison Smythe, and Rowan Lucason. All nine years old,” Morgan chimes in.

“Warner was going to release one girl an hour to us as long as we stayed back from the cabin,” Emily says with a shake of her head.

You look back towards the remains of the cabin. So much for that. It’s starting to come back to you now.

Allison, running straight into your arms and you take a step back to absorb her impact on yourself and the Kevlar you’re wearing. You see a curtain twitch through the cabin window as you look over her head. She’s shaking and crying. You slowly move backwards and pass her off to JJ who then walks her over to where the medics are parked.

“We got Allison first,” you say, looking at the team above you for confirmation.

“That’s right, Sweetheart. She ran right to you,” Aaron says with an encouraging smile.

“Rowan was next,” Morgan states, his gaze lands somewhere in the distance. You know he’s reliving it along with you.

Rowan flying out of the cabin as if being chased, lands squarely in Morgan’s chest and he’s quick to wrap her in his arms and start walking towards the medics. You see Allison’s shoulders drop in relief before she pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders and returns her gaze anxiously back to the house.

“She ran out like she was being chased by something,” you say softly.

“Or she was running to something,” Aaron says, equally as soft.

Safety.

“Then things got complicated,” Prentiss sighs.

Warner emerges, hobbling out of the cabin and dragging Lucy with him. He’s using her as a shield. They move backwards towards the woods as he shouts at everyone to stay back. You’re standing at the edge of the group of agents and officers, and in the fading light of the day, you do something you know you’ll get yelled at for later. Aaron and Rossi are engaging with Warner, trying to make him see reason, and you take your chance to slip off further to the side, easing yourself into the cover of the forest, gun drawn. Staying low, you make your way around the side of the cabin until you’re level with Warner and Lucy, separated only by the length of the small cabin. He’s getting more agitated, yelling and waving one of his arms and—there. A small remote gripped in his hand catches your attention. He raises it above his head, thumb hovering dangerously close to the buttons, and you don’t hesitate to raise your weapon and aim for his head; Lucy’s shorter than him, you’re unlikely to hit her. You pull the trigger as he clamps down on the remote. You watch Lucy twist away as he falls. No more than three seconds later, the cabin explodes. You’re thrown backwards and hit the ground hard.

“Lucy,” you breathe out, frantically looking around. “Where is she? Did she make it?”

Aaron attempts to stop you as you make a move to stand up, but you shoot him a look and he moves to help you with a huff. Supported by Morgan and Aaron, you manage to right yourself. Clenching your eyes shut, you breathe through the pain emanating from your ribcage. Oh yeah, definitely bruised if not broken. Once you’re standing, they don’t let go of you, carefully making sure you don’t collapse to the ground.

“Where is she?” you say impatiently, looking around.

“Safe,” it’s Emily who finally answers your question and you sigh in relief.

“Once she was free of Warner she took off running. She was thrown forward by the explosion, but kept moving,” Aaron says. “Morgan grabbed her and carried her the rest of the way.”

You turn to smile at Derek and he gives you a small one in return.

“And Warner?” you ask turning back to Aaron.

“Dead,” he responds in a curt tone.

You nod to yourself. “So, we got all of them.”

You take a tentative step forward, Aaron and Derek moving with you and you can see Emily in your peripheral vision keeping your slow pace.

“Yeah, Princess, we got them,” Morgan agrees. “But what you did was reckless and stupid,” he finishes.

“But—” you’re cut off by Aaron, who acts like you hadn’t started talking and instead stares straight ahead.

“Reid was the first to notice you were missing,” he says softly, and controlled in a way that relays the amount of emotion he’s holding back. “Once he alerted us, we realized none of us had seen you since Warner left the cabin. The cabin that had just exploded into flames.”

“It wasn’t until Allison mentioned you going into the woods that we put it together,” Emily says, only a tad bit louder than Aaron. “When I found you—” she pauses and sucks in a deep breath before continuing. “When I found you, I thought you were dead. You were half-under a piece of siding from the cabin and I couldn’t tell if you were breathing.”

Aaron’s hand tightens around yours. He didn’t know that.

“God, I’m sorry, Em,” you send her a weak smile.

“But you were breathing,” she says shakily. “You’re still breathing.”

Aaron says nothing, mouth pressed in a thin line, jaw tight.

You make it around the side of the still smoking house, and you’re immediately drawn to the sight of the rest of the team—Rossi, JJ, and Spencer, as they simultaneously take in your appearance with varying levels of relief and anger clouding their faces.

It’s a slow walk the rest of the way, and by the time you reach the medics, you’re gritting your teeth and focusing very hard on controlling your breathing. Gently, Morgan and Aaron deposit you on the back of the ambulance and you’re swarmed by medics in no time. The team gathers just outside the frenzy of activity going on around you, and you catch glimpses of them as you answer questions.

The medics remove your bulletproof vest and yes, your ribs hurt like a bitch. Spencer floats anxiously to Morgan’s side, asking him questions about where you were.

The antiseptic stings where it’s applied to the cuts on your face. JJ and Emily’s heads are close together, with Emily relaying everything to the blonde.

A bright light blinds you as a medic checks out your concussion. Aaron and Dave stand next to each other, arms crossed, silently watching.

Once the medics finish their evaluation, you’re told how lucky you are to only come away with a mild concussion, three broken ribs, the rest bruised, and shallow cuts that don’t (by some miracle) require stitches. Nothing that requires you to be immediately rushed to the hospital, seeing as the medics wrapped your ribs (although there really isn’t anything you can do for them besides try not to aggravate them further), cleaned the cuts (but you know there’s still blood on your face), and advised you to take it easy for the next few weeks (as if Aaron would let you do anything strenuous).

Yeah, you’re very lucky.

Aaron turns to leave once they’re done, moving back towards the three girls who are huddled together. Back to work. Derek and Rossi follow him. JJ and, to your surprise, Spencer give you short hugs before taking off after the boys. Emily shoots you a smile and pulls you to your feet, keeping an arm around your shoulders as the two of you slowly make your way to the rest of the team.

“You didn’t see him when he realized you had run off without anyone noticing,” she says quietly into your ear. “I thought he was going to run into the burning building to try and find you. I haven’t seen him lose his composure like that in the field before.”

Oh, Aaron.

Emily steps away from your side, and Allison gasps when she sees you, all but throwing off her blanket and barreling into you, closely followed by Lucy.

“You’re okay,” Allison whispers into your chest as you try not to give away how much your ribs hurt.

“Yeah,” you say softly, “Thank you for telling them where I went.”

You feel her nod against your chest and she squeezes tighter—ouch—for a second before letting go.

Lucy steps forward, shyly shifting from one foot to another. You give her a small, warm smile and she returns it.

The two girls go back to where Rowan is sitting in the back of an ambulance, and once their attention is sufficiently diverted, you grimace and hold a hand to your ribs. Oh, this is going to suck.

A hand on your back pulls you away from the ache in your torso, and you look up to see Aaron’s concerned face.

“Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss are accompanying the girls to the police station. Dave and Reid are staying here to wrap up with local PD, and we’re going back to the hotel.”

You know better than to argue with him at this point, so you just nod. Aaron guides you to a waiting SUV, and you thank him by squeezing his hand as he gently helps you settle in to the seat before buckling your seatbelt for you.

The drive back into town is quiet. You know he’s waiting until you get to the hotel room to talk to you—really talk to you. So, you give him the space and time he needs. You look out the window and watch the stars.

---

It’s when you’re in the hotel room and Aaron’s closed the door behind you that he deflates, sinking in on himself and pulling you with him until the both of you are sitting across from each other at the end of the bed.

You gently trace the lines of his palm until he takes a deep breath and begins to speak in a hushed voice.

“When Reid asked where you were,” he starts slowly, “and I couldn’t immediately see you, I thought the worst.” He looks at you, really looks at you. Desperately looks at you. “The building was on fire and Warner had told us not to get too close, so when he dropped and the place exploded with you nowhere in sight?” you squeeze his hand.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes his eyes, trying to gain some sense of composure, and you let him, staying silent.

“…I thought you died. I thought he had placed explosives along some imaginary perimeter, and that you triggered them and that he blew up the cabin too. I thought you were gone.” Aaron’s shoulders start to shake as he tries to push through the sobs rumbling through him. “But the girls were still there, Morgan had just grabbed Lucy, and the local cops were trying to figure out how to deal with the explosion and all I could think was that I just lost you,” his voice breaks.

You lean forward and drag a hand through his hair as he drops his head, giving in to the tears. You move your hand to his cheek and tilt his head up so you can look him in the eyes, so he can look you in the eyes. Gently, you brush tears away with your thumb as they fall.

“I’m here, Love. And I’m so sorry for not telling you where I was going. You and Dave had Warner’s attention and he still had Lucy, and I just—” you try to find the right words. “I didn’t think about it, I just knew that I had to do something to try and save her.” You sigh. “And it almost got me killed,” you acknowledge in a whisper, as if that somehow makes it better. “But all three girls get to go home to their families tonight,” you say softly.

“But you almost didn’t,” he says. “Local PD were focused on the fire and explosion and the team was focused on you and the girls. Emily took off as soon as she could and Morgan followed her because I was caught up with the Chief of Police,” he says with so much venom you can’t help but snort; this particular Chief of Police had been a pain in the ass the entire case.

“And they found me. And then you found me,” you whisper, holding both his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles. “And here we are.”

“And here we are,” he echoes.

You tug him forward, moving your hands to his shoulders and gently catching his lips with your own. His hands cup your face with a fierceness that takes you by surprise, and he kisses back with a desperation that leaves you clinging to his broad frame. I’m here I’m here I’m here. He pulls back slightly, just enough to rest his lips on yours, eyes closed, as the two of you just exist with each other, nothing more. You move your hands to the back of his neck, playing with the hair there as his thumbs move slowly across your cheekbones.

“I love you, Aaron,” you breathe, letting your lips brush his with each syllable.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he whispers, softly pressing his lips to yours once, twice, three times.

You open your eyes with a sigh to find Aaron already looking at you. Moving further up the bed, he pulls you with him, laying down and gently maneuvering you until you’re half-across his chest. One of your arms resting under your cheek, over his heart, the other grasping at the fabric of the button-down he’s wearing. He has both his arms securely around you, mindful of your ribs, holding you against him as he rests his cheek on top of your head and intermittently presses kisses wherever he can reach.

In the contented silence, you let yourself relax. Your eyes drifting shut to the steady rhythm of Aaron’s heartbeat as he runs his hands up and down your arms. You know you should shower, that you smell like smoke and the forest floor and that there’s blood you need to wash off your face. You know that Aaron probably won’t let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future, and that he’ll keep you by his side during standoffs so you can’t do anything close to what you did today. You know that you love him, and he loves you.

So, for now, you rest against each other and allow yourselves the comfort of knowing that you survived another day.

---

Taglist: @rosesonmyheart

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eurydicees · 4 years ago

Note

For the prompts, any fandom, any ship: decadence. Just the word decadence, let's see what you can do, go wild

ahhhh thank you for this prompt!! this was so much fun to write. i hope you don't mind that i chose kyohru. i've never written them before but i've been aching to, i just didn't have a good idea. hope you enjoy :)

i promise to remember every sunrise with you

summary: an introspective night under the stars, and a moment together under the sunrise. takes place some point after tohru finds out that kyo will be locked up after high school.

pairings: kyo sohma/tohru honda

words: 1536

warnings: none

The thing he will miss the most, Kyo thinks, when he is caged, is the sky at night. He’ll miss the stars, and the way that they blink in and out with the wind, as if they are wind chimes pushed from side to side with each passing cloud. He’ll miss the lights of the planes as they fly by, the red and green blinking in the moonlight like something alien. He’ll miss the moon, the crescent and the gibbous and the full moon, all hanging in the sky like a face looking down and loving him.

He lies on the roof, now, staring up at the stars. It’s four am, and the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon, rosy fingers beginning to drift out and over, lighting the sky with her sunrise-red and gold. He wants the night to last a little longer, wants the darkness to stay and hide him for just a few more hours. He needs the loneliness, sometimes.

Other times, he wants nothing more than to be with people. He wants nothing more than to hold hands with someone— his mind speaks a name and he does not let it sit on his tongue for long— or hug them, or find the sweetness of being held in a way he has never felt before. Other times, he wants nothing more than to be in the light, reaching out to find someone there to reach back. Other times, he wants nothing more than to laugh with a friend, to let happiness fill him up until he’s spilling over with it.

He knows, though, that he does not deserve it. He was cursed long before he ever knew he hungered for such a thing as happiness, and bearing his curse means starving.

Kyo shifts slightly, moving his hands behind his head to rest on his palms, crossing his ankles. He feels steady up here in a way that he doesn’t feel in the stifling heat of the house. Though the day is humid, these ghost hours of the night are cool. He sighs, closing his eyes.

He thinks of the little hut with the cage that he will be put in after graduation— because he knows, deep down in a place that he cannot accept, that he will lose his bet with Akito. He knows, in a way that sits and settles bone deep and that he ignores so carefully, that he will never win against Yuki. His punches always land slightly off, he always commits to his dive a little too strongly, his stance always slips a little too early.

Kyo isn’t giving up. Not yet. He can keep training. He’ll win, he tells himself, and be accepted, and then he can sit and stare at the stars for as many nights as he wants. He can sit on a roof and make wishes on airplanes and track the moon’s waxing and waning and be free. He can drink in the wind and let himself drift away on it, letting it relax him. There will be no confined spaces to fear, no cages to prepare himself for, no people to get ready to miss.

He will be able to indulge this one thing. He will drink in the stars and he will hold them on his tongue and he will let them burn. He will let himself live.

There are other things, too, that he will miss. He knows this in the same way that he knows he will be locked up: with certainty, and with a carefully executed ignorance. There are things that he knows he cannot let himself hope for.

“What are you doing up here?”

Kyo opens his eyes, turning towards the ladder at the side of the house. “Tohru?”

Tohru pokes her head above the edge of the roof, looking at him with wide eyes. “Can I… join you?”

“Sure,” he says, more earnest than he had meant to make it sound. He wants her to join him in this silence, he realizes. He wants her to find him in the secrecy of his thoughts. “What’re you doing up?”

She shrugs, crawling onto the roof. She’s hesitant with every step, as if she’s afraid that she’ll fall off. He sits up, reaching his hand out to steady her. She takes it with even more hesitance, but her grip is strong when he helps her sit down next to him.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she says softly. “I don’t know why. But I thought I would come watch the sunrise. I didn’t know you would be awake.”

Kyo nods, turning away from her. From the roof, they can see the entire city, they can watch as the world wakes up below them. The sun hasn’t risen yet, not entirely, but the sky is turning a lighter blue than the nighttime had brought. The sun is spreading out over the horizon, spilling colors along the line of mountain and forest and city, rising up and painting the sky gold.

This, too, he will miss. This, too, will be something he aches for. Once he’s in that cage, he will never see the sunrise again. He’ll never sit with Tohru and watch the brilliance of the light.

“Why are you awake?” Tohru asks, glancing over at him.

He looks at her, and she turns away, cheeks flushed, as if she’s embarrassed to have been caught looking. He wonders why she does that— why she looks. Every time that she sees him, Kyo can’t help but feel like she’s seeing something more than his eyes, like she’s seeing straight into his thoughts rather than just letting her gaze wash over his face. It’s strange, though, because he doesn’t feel invaded so much as he feels cared for. Someone cares enough to truly see him, to try to understand him.

For so long, Kyo had thought that he was unknowable. But Tohru is trying to unravel all of his webs and nets and fears. Tohru is trying to know him, and Kyo aches to tell her every secret he has ever kept.

He won’t. He knows that would be the end of everything. One day, he’ll have the courage. Maybe right before he’s locked up, he thinks bitterly, so that she never has to look at him again.

“Couldn’t sleep either,” Kyo finally says, breaking himself out of his self-induced misery. “Bad dreams.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Tohru asks. “Sometimes that helps.”

Kyo shrugs. He pulls one knee up to his chest, resting his elbow against it. Tohru, next to him, wraps both her arms around her legs, holding herself close.

“That’s okay,” Tohru says. “You don’t have to. I remember whenever Mom asked about my bad dreams, I never wanted to tell her, even if I knew it would help.”

“It’s just… weird to talk about,” Kyo confesses. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps his eyes on the horizon. “I just think too much, you know?”

Tohru nods, eyes unfocused. She’s drifting off into her head, he can tell. She’s going somewhere that he can’t follow.

Somehow, though, he finds that he doesn’t mind when she does that while he’s with her. He’s grateful for any amount of time with her, whether or not it’s spent in silence. If he’s going to be locked in a cage for the rest of his life, he wants as many sunrises with Tohru as he can count, no matter the amount of talking versus dreaming.

“It’s so beautiful,” Tohru murmurs, so soft that he almost doesn’t hear it.

She’s looking out at the horizon. The sun on her cheek glitters like drops of molten gold in her eyes, her entire face lit up by the sunrise. He studies the way she looks out at it, the soft frown of her lips that’s slowly turning into a gentle smile, so small that he wonders if he knows she’s smiling. The way that her hair falls in front of her face, the way that it curls at her forehead.

He reaches out and brushes her hair behind her ear. She turns to look at him, eyes still bright. “It is.”

He’s not talking about the sunrise, and he thinks that they both know it.

But neither says anything— he just turns away, looking out at the sky, indulging himself in this sunrise. In this moment with Tohru, this peace that he may never find again.

Tohru sighs, and she scoots closer, pressed to his side. She drops her head against his shoulder, and he tries not to tense up. He’s so unused to any kind of physical touch, but even as he thinks that, he can feel himself relaxing into the feeling. He can feel himself softening.

When he’s locked up, Kyo thinks, this is a memory that will keep him going. This is something that he will hold onto hungrily, when he’s starved of everything else. When Akito is the only person that he sees, when he can never find the stars again, he’ll think of this moment. He’ll think of Tohru.

For now, though, he’s just going to watch the sunrise with her, and count each star that fades.

#my writing #august prompt challenge #fruits basket #kyohru #kyo x tohru #kyo sohma #tohru honda #fruits basket fanfiction #furuba fanfiction

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gureishi · 4 years ago

Note

Saeyoung + 13? Or Saeyoung + 11?

[417]

Of COURSE, my friend~

Oh boy, this one was fun to do. I really hope you enjoy it ♡

thirteen: left your mark on me

Saeyoung X Reader, T, words: 2643

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It’s the first time Saeran has ever texted you.

Technically, you think—heart pounding—that’s not true. Him texting you was, you suppose, the catalyst for everything that’s happened to you over the last few months. But the Saeran you know now—the quiet, tired boy who’s just recently started saying hello to you when you show up at his home—never. Certainly not.

Your hands tremble as you swipe to open his message. Something’s wrong, you think, because why else would he reach out to you? You feel your heartbeat in the roof of your mouth and say a prayer in your head. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

“Come over,” says the text.

What?

“Is everything okay?” you text back with one hand, already tripping across your room, grabbing a jacket. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

He answers immediately. He types fast, like his brother.

“Yeah,” he says. You let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Come talk to him. I don’t want to.”

You pause, one arm in your jacket. Come talk to him? That ambiguous phrase could mean so many things, and god, you want to know more, but you can’t want to press him—that he reached out at all is a huge step, one you wouldn’t dare jeopardize.

“Be right there,” you text back, stuffing your other arm into your jacket, slipping into shoes. You keep your phone in your hand as you throw the door open, taking the steps two at a time, but he doesn’t text you again. Of course he doesn’t—he’s said what he needed to say.

You put on loud music in the car, feeling the need to drown out the sound of your heartbeat. You roll down the window even though the wind blows your hair into your eyes, making it hard to see. You go over the messages again and again in your head: talk to him, he said. Talk to him about what?

Your music pounds over the speakers, rocking the car a little, and you grip the steering wheel slightly too hard. You’ve just missed rush hour and the traffic is dying down, so you make good time, driving just the tiniest bit over the speed limit. He’d scold you for it, you think—he’s always admonishing you for driving too fast, even though he pushes his fancy little cars to their limits on the empty dirt roads around the bunker. Hypocrite.

You take the exit, follow the street as it loops round and round, make the turn-off onto the unmarked road that leads to his home. The stars are starting to come out now.

You slow down as you see the bunker looming in the distance; from the outside, it’s ominous, and yet it fills you with an inexplicable warmth, flips your stomach around.

You shout the password at the garage without stopping, grinning as the first door opens for you. You half-expect to find him here, body mostly hidden under one of his cars, mysterious tools littering the ground around him. He’s often here when he’s sulking—today, though, the garage is empty, dark and dank. You pull into the one parking spot he’s left open for you—as far as possible from his cars, dressed for nighttime in their little protective hoods. I can park, you think grumpily. He doesn’t trust me.

But you know this isn’t true, and it’s confirmed again as you slip out of your car, keys in hand, and step cautiously toward his main door.

“Welcome,” it says to you in it’s robo-voice.

This is new.

“Šukran,” you say.

And without any further prompting—without questions, or quizzes, or nearly impossible translations, it opens. Almost as if it recognizes the sound of your voice.

Huh.

You kick off your shoes, tossing them into the jumble by the door. Saeyoung’s are heaped in a pile, some upside down and sideways; Saeran’s are lined up nearly beside his, in a perfect line as if to say “look, this is how it’s done.” This makes you smile.

Neither twin is in the living room. There’s a light under Saeran’s door, but you leave him be.

Anxiety building in the pit of your stomach, you pad down the hall in your socked feet. Saeyoung’s office is dark, but there’s light on in his bedroom. This, by itself, is unusual—without you here, it’s rare that he goes into that room at all.

You knock softly on the door, and when he doesn’t answer you push it open.

“It’s me,” you call softly, squinting as your eyes adjust. The room is as bright as the rest of the bunker is dark; all the fluorescent lights on are, starkly illuminating the black and yellow decorations. There’s barely any empty space on the walls, and it reminds you of his mind—so crammed with thoughts that there’s no place to rest.

In spite of his near-inhuman senses, he doesn’t see you at first.

He’s sitting on the floor, back propped against the side of the bed, headphones over his ears. His eyes are closed, knees tucked up to his chest. He looks small, like this—like you could scoop him up in your arms and carry him away.

“Hi,” you say, a little louder.

He jumps, eyes flying open, headphones slipping off one ear. He makes a spluttering noise that could be “huh?” or “hi” or just “haaaaah!”

You smile.

“Saeran didn’t tell you I was coming, then?”

“N-no, I…Saeran?” He blinks up at you as though he doesn’t quite believe you’re there. It’s then that you notice the sunken-in look about him: his eyes are clouded and sleepy, a little red-rimmed. His cheeks are pale.

You sink onto the floor beside him; you copy his posture, tucking your knees to your chest.

“Saeran told me to come talk to you,” you admit, looking down. You’re not sure why, but now that you’re here, you feel a little embarrassed. “So I did.”

“He…he…” Saeyoung looks lost for words. A part of you—a little bitter, self-conscious part—wonders if he wishes you hadn’t come. As if he senses what you’re thinking, he spins abruptly to face you, sitting cross-legged. He moves fast: in an instant, you’re almost nose-to-nose. “Sorry,” he says quietly, and you feel his breath on your face; your cheeks burn. “I’m soooo happy to see you, kitten. I was just…ah, surprised.”

It’s hard to breathe with him close like this. You bite your lip.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you tell him.

And you are. His hair’s a little messed up, like he’s been running his hands through it, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes now—though he’s still got that harrowed, tired look about him.

“I, uh…” He looks down, his face reddening a little. “I was actually wishing you were here, earlier. I should’ve just called you myself.”

He pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes with one shaky hand.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you ask.

He sighs, and you feel like maybe he’s been half-holding his breath all day.

“Not really,” he says.

“Saeyoung.”

He peers at you through his fingers; you feel you must look foolish with the stern expression you’re making, but he smiles.

“Oh, I just adore you,” he groans, now dropping his face into both hands. “I can’t resist you, you know.”

“I know.” Gently, you place a hand on his knee; he twitches in response.

“It’s something silly,” he warns, voice muffled by his hands. Suddenly, he tips forward; you realize what he’s doing just in time and shift your weight so his head lands on your shoulder. His breath is on your collarbone now, and a shiver runs through your body.

“I’m sure it’s not,” you say.

He exhales again, and fleetingly, you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose—breathing on the exposed skin of your shoulder just to tease you. Even gloomy like this, he can’t resist the urge to try and rile you up.

“I guess I sort of…realized something,” he mutters, voice low. You have to tilt your head down to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Having Saeran here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmurs. He’s almost whispering, as if he’s afraid to be heard. “One of the greatest,” he adds, grazing your wrist with his thumb, calloused and rough and wonderful.

You hum your affirmation, not wanting to interrupt now that he’s talking.

“But…” He trails off as if he’s not quite sure how to explain it. His head is still on your shoulder and you can’t see his face; with your free hand, you gently brush his hair off his forehead. “My whole life,” he continues, a little more confidently, “I’ve just had one thing I’m trying to do. Everything I’ve done has been about making sure he’s safe. Now that I’ve got him, I…”

“Don’t know what to do next?”

He twists his head sideways—like a cat, you think, seeking out attention. You tangle your hand in his hair, pulling it a little, and you swear he purrs.

“Yeah,” he admits, voice breathy. “I’m not sure what I’m…here for, now.”

“Saeyoung.” You say his name firmly—something has dawned on you. You straighten abruptly and he pulls back if as startled. He’s still got that weary look, like he’s spent the day like this, buried under a pile of his own thoughts. “Saeyoung, has anyone ever asked you what you want before?”

“What do you mean?” He sits up straight too: faces you, fingers still gently gripping your wrist.

“Listen,” you say. “I know you want to live together with Saeran, and now you do. And you want him to be safe and happy. But aside from those things, what do you want?”

You can tell he’s puzzled; he cocks his head thoughtfully.

“I don’t, um…”

“Try to think.”

“I mean, I…”

He’s got this sort of helpless look about him, and you can’t take it anymore. You take his face in both your hands, gently holding his cheeks—which are flushed, almost feverish. Touching his face makes your body tingle.

“Let’s start small,” you tell him. His eyes are so big and bright behind his glasses and you feel a strange impulse to kiss his eyelashes. “Tell me one thing you want right now.”

His eyes lock with yours and then you see his face flush—if possible—even darker. His gaze trails down your face, lingering on your lips.

“Well…” he lilts, tilting his head to the side. “There is one thing I wanna do, but—I mean, ahh, I would say that I’m thinking about…”

“I’m gonna help you,” you whisper, hands still on his cheeks. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

His face is red—oh, so red.

“Well, the thing is, I…I really want you to kiss me,” he murmurs. Finally. The buzzy air between you was becoming almost unbearable.

You lean forward and he waits, patient, still, longing. He’s already so close; you ghost your lips over his and he melts into you instantly. You swipe your tongue over his bottom lip.

When you pull away he’s panting, eyes cloudy.

“Good,” you tell him. “What else do you want?”

“I…ah…” His voice sounds almost slurred: he’s overwhelmed, you think, by the way you’ve taken control. There’s a sort of dazed smile dancing over his lips.

“Tell me,” you urge. “Think of this as practice. I’m gonna teach you how to ask for what you want if it kills me, Choi Saeyoung.”

Oh, the look on his face is wonderful: delighted and spellbound.

“I want, ah…um, th-this,” he says—which isn’t really a request, but it’s a start. He takes your hand in his and guides it upwards, pushes your fingers into his hair.

“You want me to pet you?”

“Yeah, like…like how you did before.”

You comb your fingers through his messy curls, separating the strands with your fingertips. And you face is still so close to his, and he looks so hopelessly adoring, so you lean forward and kiss him again: once, quick and soft.

“Can you, uh…can you do what you did before? With my hair?” he asks weakly. What you did before…?

Oh.

You tangle your fingers in his hair a little more roughly, pulling it, and he squeaks and kisses you again, this time with unbound enthusiasm. You feel like you’ve unlocked a secret weapon.

Hand buried in his hair, you kiss just his lower lip, then the tip of his nose, his cheek, his jaw. You trail kisses down the side of his neck and he inhales sharply.

“Will you do that again?” he asks.

“This?” You kiss his neck again, gently, just under the curve of his jaw.

“Y-yes, but um…harder.”

Interesting. “Do you want me to?” you ask him—because this is practice, after all; you’re helping him—not just satisfying your own curiosity about how much he’d squirm if you just…nibbled him a little.

He giggles, high-pitched and awkward. “Mmmm…yes, I want you to,” he mutters, and that’s enough for you.

You take the smooth skin between your teeth, biting down, and he yelps. You were right—he does squirm, wiggling around like a fish. You suck the skin into your mouth, biting a little harder.

And by the time you pull away he looks dizzy; there’s a beautiful, silly grin on his face.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” you say softly, touching the already-reddening skin with your fingertip.

“I…think I like that,” he says, with some surprise.

“Good job,” you tell him, opening your arms—he eagerly leans into you, rests his head on your chest. “That was, uh…good practice.”

He laughs, warm and open and sleepy, and you wrap your arms around him.

“Excellent practice,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna need a lot more practice, though, so…”

“I’ve got you,” you tell him. You plant a kiss on the very top of his head and he hums. “I want you to start thinking about other stuff you want too, though. Okay? Life stuff.”

He gets comfortable, snuggling sleepily into you. He’s exhausted himself worrying, you think; he needs to power down that gigantic brain.

“Aaaaanything?” he sings, his tone lighter now, more relaxed.

“I mean…” Oh no.

“I want a hundred cats!”

“Saeyoung.”

“I can get them and squish them all and have them all sleep in my bed with me?!”

“Saeyoung…”

“And make a cat army and ride into battle on the back of a giant cat?”

“No.”

“Heeeeey,” he whines, and you squeeze him tighter, stroking his beautiful, messy, overwrought head. “You said anything.”

“Within reason, honey.”

He murmurs something only half-coherent about horse-sized cats and nuzzles into your chest. You wonder how much he’s slept in the past few days, stewing over his future. It’s normal to worry about these things, you think—but for Saeyoung, who’s never once thought about his future, it’s nearly impossible.

But this is what you want for him. You want to see him make choices for himself—to learn how to put his happiness first.

“One cat,” you murmur into his hair. “Let’s start with one cat.”

He hums, head heavy.

“Three,” he mumbles. “One for each of us.”

“Sure, baby,” you tell him, curling a lock of his thick red hair around your fingertip. He’s so soft and helpless like this—dozing off curled up in your arms, humming softly as you pet his head. “If that’s what you want,” you say, “I’ll make sure it happens.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys @pamakali @strwbryflvr

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #gureishi writes requests #xaaa-reivenx #417

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years ago

Text

Read like a Book

Vincent belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

Tag List: @whumpitywhumpwhump

TW: past noncon (implied), self victim-blaming, spice (doesn’t occur),

"Is this something new or is it just the usual?" Dmitri asks, violently ripping Vincent from the brink, the tether holding him to reality going taught and ripping him back.

"Hmm! Um, what do you mean?" Vincent asks as he comes back from his personal void. He realizes quickly that he's draped across Dmitri. The two, silently feeling the warm evening air, are out on Vincent's back porch. The sound of night peepers echoes around Vincent's house and the bubbling of his hot tub creates a calm white noise. The air seems slow-moving, like a leaf floating on the surface of a lake.

It's nighttime, Vincent realizes. The two sat out here around dinner, just enjoying the warm summer air. They both came home and quickly migrated towards each other. Then, they went out.

Dmitri chuckles, "You faded Vee. I tried to get your attention a while ago and you kinda just fell on me. So is this the usual issue or is it something new?"

"Issue? Nothing's wrong Dmitri. I'm-"

"-Fine, I know you are Vee. You wouldn't be this cuddly if something tipped you off the edge. But I can't tell this is one of your… moments." Dmitri says as he rubs his hand across Vincent's back. Vincent rests his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, allowing warmth to slowly pull the rest of him from the brink.

He wasn't having one of his moments, as Dmitri had dubbed them. He just left his mind for a while. A memory, one made of tears and pain, tried to bubble up to the surface and break the tranquility of their evening. Vincent was gone before it burst.

Dmitri was impossibly good at spotting them. Yet, he never seems to be fazed by Vincent’s vacations into the shallow pools of his own mind. Even when it takes hours for him to return.

"Just… vacated for a bit I guess."

Dmitri gives Vincent a kind smile, “Well, let’s vacate upstairs shall we. Both of us have a long day tomorrow.”

“Do we have to?” Vincent groans mockingly, an uncertainty sitting in Vincent’s head, “I like sitting out here with you.”

Dmitri rolls his eyes and scoops up Vincent into his arms. “Well, I like it as well but I have work tomorrow, setting up the second shop and all. So I need sleep.”

Vincent leans up and kisses Dmitri on the underside of his chin, “Fine, since you have to.”

Dark eyes look down on his lover and Vincent watches the tiniest shift in Dmitri’s gaze. It is so subtle that only Vincent, with his now years of experience with Dmitri, can see it. Vincent keeps himself from rolling his eyes, his lover always has had that kind of gaze every so often.

He was good at hiding it too.

What if he starts to ask questions?

Vincent bites back the question. It has been over a year since they committed to each other, why would Dmitri start questioning him now? He has had no interest in knowing about why Vincent was so averse to that form of intimacy before so why would he now.

It’s been a while. Most couples are past that already.

Vincent feels a sweetened dread seep into his stomach as Dmitri sets him down on his bed. Thousands of tiny what-ifs fly past Vincent’s vision as Dmitri stands. Crawling under his skin, the worries burrow deeper.

You should be past that.

“I’ma go change,” Dmitri says as he turns for the one drawer in Vincent’s dresser dedicated to Dmitri’s stuff. “Be back in a sec.”

Vincent sits on the bed, losing himself to his worries. The sheets cool under his skin. His eyes follow Dmitri out of the room and watch the door close behind him. Every passing possibility slowly devolves into something improbable and it’s maddening. Then, a voice that doesn't sound like it belongs to him, mutters sarcastically in his mind.

One time is not going to kill you.

Vincent exhales and sits back. The dread in his stomach starts to be smothered by a different feeling. A sort of anticipating fear blooms in its stead. As if his body was making the decision before his mind could register.

One time won’t hurt, right?

It’ll just be one time.

Vincent takes a deep breath and pulls up an acting face. He starts to feel detached like a layer of air spreading between the layers of his skin. He starts to feel the pull back into his mind but he holds his attention in front of him. It feels like pinning his conscience out in front of him, even with the squirming anticipation trying to unlatch it.

Dmitri knows when I fade. I can’t fade during this.

Acting is all in the eyes. If the eyes don’t match the role, the entire scene is ruined. The eyes make things convincing, they are what separate the actor from the character.

The eyes are what give me away.

Dmitri opens the door and walks towards the bed. Tiredness pulls at his eyes just enough for them to droop but not close. He sits on the bed next to Vincent, a warm smile growing across his face and lighting up the dim room. Dmitri leans back on a hand and brushes some of his braids out of his face.

“You know,” Vincent says, sliding into a character of himself, “We’ve had… some hiccups in the past between the two of us.”

Dmitri, raising an eyebrow, asks, “What do you mean by that?”

Vincent swings his leg over Dmitri’s lap and wraps his legs around his torso, “Well, intimacy has not been something we’ve done very much and I was thinking that we could change that today.”

Dmitri cocks an eyebrow in curious confusion, “And what do you mean by that?” There’s intrigue in Dmitri’s voice, the hint of mischief that Vincent is looking for.

Vincent rests his arms across Dmitri’s shoulders and presses his lips to Dmitri’s. He can taste the remnants of sugary frosting on the man’s lips. Their breath entangles and Vincent mutters into Dmitri’s lips, “Use your imagination.”

Then, Vincent feels Dmitri’s hand slide around to the small of his back and press him firmly into his chest. Pressing into Dmitri, Vincent lets himself be leaned back and pressed into the sheets. Vincent throws his legs around Dmitri’s waist and lets his hips press into Dmitri’s. Swallowing a forbidden ichor, Vincent lets himself fall deep into the desires that boil under his skin. Thoughts that would make Aphrodite blush nibble at the ends of Vincent’s fingers. Vincent’s fingers reach up and pull Dmitri down to his lips. They meet.

Stirring behind Vincent’s eyes, he realizes what he’s doing. He feels almost jolted aware suddenly. The tidal wave of fear previously blocked by a cloud of arousal is gone and just the looming beast remains.

Vincent is very aware of the mask he is holding over his thoughts. It slips ever so slightly. Vincent, using all of his attention, pulls it back over his face.

You want this.

Vincent presses deeper into the kiss.

You want this.

He tries to forget what he’s doing.

You want this.

Dmitri’s lips shift from Vincent’s down to his neck.

You wanted this.

As Dmitri comes up for air, he pauses, eyes scanning across Vincent’s face. Vincent brings an almost dreamy smile to his lips and tips his head to the side. Intrigue, that’s the feeling on Vincent’s face.

You signed up for this Vincent. You committed. See it through.

Dmitri’s expression drops. The lustrous curiosity vaporizing and tiredness fills its place. Dmitri pulls Vincent close to him and rolls over, positioning Vincent partially on top of him.

Vincent is very confused.

“Just go to sleep Vee,” Dmitri mumbles, clearly holding back more words.

Vincent props his head on Dmitri’s chest, letting the confusion seep through the playful mask he clutches to his face, hiding the breath-stealing fear. “What’s wrong?”

Dmitri sighs and pulls the covers up over Vincent’s shoulder, “I’m just... done.”

“Did I do something wrong?” A crack forms in the mask and the water of reality starts to drip across his face. What did I do?

“Vee- I- you clearly don’t want to do this, so don’t,” Dmitri says, frustration in his voice, “Just go to sleep, we both have stuff to do tomorrow.”

Vincent sits up and tries to repair the now crumbling mask. He can feel it chip away in every twitch of his facial muscles. Things he should have trained to keep straight and in the right position. Why is it failing me now?

“What do you mean? I wouldn't have started this if I didn’t want it.” The statement is far weaker than how it sounds in Vincent’s head.

Dmitri rubs the bridge of his nose and props himself up on an elbow. In the dim light of Vincent’s bedroom, Dmitri almost looks angry. He slowly pulls himself upright and sighs, “You might have started this, but you also look scared Vincent.”

The voice that’s not quite his, echoes in Vincent’s mine. Don’t look so scared, you want this.

“I’m not scared,” Vincent says as he comes to the terrifying conclusion that the mask he’s been wearing is completely gone now. All Dmitri sees is someone too scared to sit in his own skin.

“Please Vee,” Dmitri exhales. He rubs his eyes and sits forward. There’s frustration in his eyes, the kind that leaves a lot to the imagination. His fingers wrap around Vincent’s shoulder and Dmitri meets his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” Vincent says, voice rapidly getting smaller, “Because, um, that’s what couples do together.”

Dmitri sighs, the hands that are on Vincent's shoulders tightening around his skin. Vincent, at the moment, wants to take back the last thirty minutes of decisions he just made. The feeling of hot shame eats at the skin on his face.

"I'm sorry," Vincent stampers, "I should've thought this through-"

"Vee," Dmitri asks, staring dead into Vincent's eyes. Concern coats his face and opens confusion spills from his mouth. "What were you trying to do?"

Vincent didn't want to be in his own skin right now. The shame and terror were not going away fast enough. "I was hoping you would ignore it..."

"You were hoping I would ignore the fact you looked terrified and just, have sex with you?" Dmitri states with the tiniest bits of disgust and waves of worry filtering through his words. "We have a word for that, that's called rape."

"Nonononono, I just- I shouldn't've- I- I kept telling you no but I love you and I just to make up for-"

Dmitri pulls Vincent into his chest, horror coating every fiber of his mind. Vincent feels the warmth of Dmitri's skin and realizes he's been shaking. Vincent lets Dmitri hold him, feeling Dmitri's breath across his curls.

For minutes they sit in silence. Until Dmitri whispers in a firm, almost demanding, way.

"Who. the fuck. told you. that you should let the people you care about hurt you like that Vincent."

Vincent flinches back as the words sting on his skin. The air in the room shifts and he wants to coil into his skin and die. Dmitri’s eyes feel like a knife digging into his skin and dragging across a bone. Vincent rests his head under Dmitri’s chin and murmurs pleading apologies.

Dmitri sighs, the air rustling across his curls, and mutters, “I probably should go, let you have some space.”

Panic envelops the very fabric that makes up Vincent. The feeling of hope sliding through his fingers and falling into an inky black abyss fills him with dread. I’m gonna lose him.

“No! Wait, I’m sorry! Please- I’ll- I’m sorry, don’t go—”

With a warm, bare embrace, Dmitri wraps Vincent up and squeezes him slightly, “Vee, Shh. It’s alright, I’ll stay. Just go to bed.”

Vincent trembles. His entire body feels like it is going to rip apart under the weight of his mistakes. Dmitri gently guides him back down onto the sheets. Wrapping Vincent in his own sheet, Dmitri lets his warmth bleed over into Vincent.

Vincent starts to cry. A different kind of fear unfurls in his chest, not the terror-linked with sex but fear of Dmitri fading away into a clouded abyss and leaving him alone. Those tears carry him to sleep.

The next morning, Vincent wakes alone. Dmitri is gone. The urge to puke pools behind his lips. His eyes, straying to the clock on the wall, see that it's past eight o’clock and Vincent finds himself both relieved and that much more anxious.

Dmitri leaves for work at 7:30 on the dot, it's normal that he’s gone now. This is normal.

No matter what Vincent tells himself, he can’t bring himself to believe any of what he says.

Around six that evening is when Dmitri usually gets back from work. Vincent starts to panic at six-thirty.

When Dmitri opens the door Vincent is standing there. It’s 7 o’clock. There is a kind of fear eating at him that he has never felt before. He knows fear, this wasn’t it. He rubs at the long scar that circumferences his wrist. Their eyes meet and silence eats at their skin.

“I’m-”

“I need to apologise to you,” Dmitri says as he sets the bag of what smells like food on the table sitting in the doorway, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice last night, I’m sorry.”

Vincent pauses. The air feels too heavy to stand under. He swallows the mucus bile that rises in his throat. “You aren;t the person that is supposed to be apologizing to Dmitri. I am.”

“No,” Dmitri cuts him off, “You did nothing wrong. I- There’s probably many more things I should be apologizing for.”

“Dmitri-”

“I got us food,” Dmitri says, poorly masking a plethora of emotions, “From Claudios, the Italian place.”

Vincent looks at Dmitri, seeing pain and guilt behind his eyes. Vincent pulls Dmitri into a hug. Muttering into his chest, Vincent tries to say, “This isn’t your fault.” It’s mine.

Dmitri wraps his arms around Vincent and exhales into his hair. They just stay in each other’s arms for a while. Just together.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you did nothing wrong.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

When silence blankets them again, neither know what to say. The air stalls around them and then, Vincent looks up at Dmitri, “I love you.”

Dmitri gives him a soft, almost tearful smile, “I love you too.”

#vincent has no knowledge of autonomy #owen is still whispering into vince's head #poor boy #emotional whump #past noncon #spice #vincent shield #dmitri o'brian #forgotten to found

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice.

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry!

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub.

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip.

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress.

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete.

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it.

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her.

I'm outside, he texted back.

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

------------------

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance.

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state.

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place.

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare.

“Lahela, tell me why—”

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added.

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston.

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise.

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down.

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected.

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore.

“Me neither,” he confessed.

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away.

------------------

1:32 am

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk.

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink.

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here.

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?”

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months.

He nodded in mock seriousness.

“And is he the jealous type?”

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver.

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was.

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud.

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.”

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?”

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.”

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently.

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words.

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?”

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly.

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss.

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused.

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?”

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh.

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

---------------

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him.

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?”

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?”

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?”

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying.

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter.

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing.

Ethan didn't care.

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened.

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her.

------------

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress.

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there.

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do.

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly.

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him.

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round.

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat.

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him.

-------------

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains.

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded.

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds.

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour.

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile.

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze.

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—”

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.”

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside.

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence.

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells.

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—”

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him.

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart.

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

------------------

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke.

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you!

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol.

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol.

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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emmies-archives · 4 years ago

Text

Quirk Marriage

Part One

Shoto Todoroki X Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of being kidnapped

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Endeavor buys you at an auction and arranges a quirk marriage between you and Shoto. Childhood friends turned to fiancés, Shoto forcefully rejects it.

You never expected to be here. The lights. The music. The people. It was all foreign. It was wrong. You couldn’t fathom how you got yourself in this situation. You racked your brain for what steps you could’ve taken to prevent this from happening.

The small room adorned like a dressing room that you sat in would’ve felt comforting to you, the pastel blue walls and warms lights usually would offer you solace. This was a space you could find yourself able to relax in. You would too if it weren’t for the chain that seemingly sprouted from the wall leading to the cuffs that wrapped around your wrists. Holding you in your seat like a prisoner.

Many hours had passed since anyone had come to check on you. They had offered you refreshments several times. Like you were simply a passenger on a long flight. No one seemed to see what was wrong with the situation. Not a single person that entered the room acknowledged the fact that you were quite literally handcuffed to a chair.

As if being locked in a room was bad enough, for some reason you couldn’t activate your quirk either. It was the cuffs that held your wrists together. They held some power over you, taking away the single thing that could help you in this situation.

Four years you had spent training at UA Highschool. Four years you underwent intense mind-altering lessons for you to master your quirk. Your quirk was transmutation; the ability to alter the state of something. A small example would be changing water to rock or metal to plastic. With enough practice and drive, you had the ability to change the state of a quirk attack. If someone with an electricity quirk attacked, you could simply change the electrical impulses to sound waves. So far, you have only managed it a few times.

The soft silence of the room was eerie. You could hear the faint sounds of a waltz-like song seeping in from the ducts. Everything was so odd; it was like you were thrown back in time. Even the clothes you were forced to wear, it was a gown. A muted mauve fabric littered shimmering golden vines weaved to make it seem like they were crawling down your frame.

They had done your hair too, tying it back out of your face in some style. You couldn’t see what it looked like, but it was tight and didn’t do anything to ease the tension that picked at the nape of your neck.

You could feel it in your bones; the trepidation. Whatever was about to happen was not going fare well for you. Whatever that was waiting for you outside the dressing room, was wrong. The ache in your core wasn’t just nausea, it was where the understanding that you weren’t going back to your old life chose to rest.

This little room that had held you in its grasp for hours felt like limbo. Like it existed outside of time, or it didn’t exist at all. Maybe you would go mad before anyone came back. Maybe that would be better than whatever came next; whenever it would happen.

A sharp knock at the door made your eyes snap open; you didn’t even realize you had them closed. After a moment several people entered the small room. They looked different than the ones before; they looked intense. You couldn’t find your ability to speak when you looked at them. Not that you needed to, the only question you found yourself wanting to ask would be answered soon.

The chain came loose from the cuffs and you were pulled from the room. One of them stood on either side of you, another leading ahead. The path they took you on was through a large darkened hallway, pictures of different people plastered the wall the entire length of the hallway.

The music grew louder as you walked with them. If you had use of your quirk, maybe you would fight against them, try to get away. It wasn’t there for you to call on; blocked by whatever mechanics were placed on your wrists. So, you found absolutely no motivation to try to shake free of the people around you.

The closed hall opened suddenly into a grand room. You found yourself trying to shade your eyes as the lights from the ceiling bore down on you. Noise erupted from the room. The people escorting you brought you to a halt and it was then you took in your surroundings. You were on a stage facing hundreds of people all standing, staring straight at you. Their gazes sent a sharp chill down your spine. A hush fell over the crowd when the music stopped.

“Alright, Alright. Ladies and gentlemen welcome our next guest! L/n F/n!” A loud voice sounded from every corner of the room. Soft clapping came from the crowd at the announcement. You tried to speak, to ask what was happening, to ask where you were but you found your lips were sealed. It was someone’s quirk holding your words in your throat.

“This lovely lady is a graduate of UA Highschool! Now, she does have quite the intriguing quirk.” The voice began explaining the basics of how your quirk worked. Something flickered in the corner of your eye. There was a large screen on the wall behind you, it was playing your last fight between you and a student from another class in the sports festival in your fourth year. The fight that caused your victory.

That was one of the greatest times you had been able to change another’s quirk. You had been facing a student with the ability to produce and manipulate metal. One of their final moves was wrapping themselves in metal shaped like a knight’s armor and charge their downed opponent, which happened to be you.

You would’ve lost if you hadn’t taken a chance. You would’ve lost if your chance failed. In a split second, you managed to alter the metal that protected them to be magnetized. Hoping that the walls of the stadium were built out of steel. They were and your chance worked. Your opponent was forced to a stop and in a moment was sent flying back. The magnetic pull of their armor wasn’t strong enough to bring the stadium walls to them, so because of their lesser weight, the magnetized armor was forced to the nearest wall. With a slam that shuddered through the entire stadium, your opponent was out of the ring. Deeming your winner.

Nostalgia warmed you at the video that played behind you. Your attention was focused so intensely on one of your greatest moments. You didn’t even hear the shouts coming from the crowd. One deafening boom shook you from your focus.

“30,000!” A deep thunderous voice sounded drowning out everything and everyone else.

“Well. That was certainly unexpected!” A voice spoke through the speakers. “That is much more than 10,000, are you sure?”

At this point, the confusion in you felt like it would take over every one of your senses. A chilling heat flooded through the room. Through the light shining in your eyes, you could just make out someone making their way to the stage. When you were able to see them clearly the man finally spoke again.

“Oh, yes. I am certain.” The words fell like hammers from his lips as he locked his piercing blue eyes on yours. You knew those eyes. Somehow the fire that churned in them turned your bones to ice every time you saw them. You stared at the only hero you despised, Endeavor.

You were taken immediately off stage and back through the hall, skipping the room you were in before, however. The one you were stopped at seemed to be an office of some sort. Shortly after you were placed in the room, the doors opened again.

“I was surprised that your parents signed you up for this, L/n.” You turned at his voice. Endeavor exuded dominance from him like the flames that danced on his body. It was quite hard to look at him without shuddering.

The voice that was trapped in your throat before, you found yourself finally able to use it. “Why am I here? What is going on?”

The wicked laugh that fell from his mouth stilled you completely. He tilted his head when he brought his eyes to look back up at you. “I just bought you, Y/n. For quite a lot too.”

“What?” It seemed that was the only word you could get past your lips. You felt your knees weaken at his words. “What?”

“Don’t act foolish, Y/n. You know exactly what I mean.”

You did, you just didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t believe it. Ice filled your blood as the realization weighed on you. This is what you were waiting in that room the size of a cupboard for. This is what you had been dreading for however long you’d been trapped.

“How?” Your voice was only but a whisper now.

“Your parents’ views happened to line up with mine perfectly.” The smug smile that he wore on his face ate through your burning skin. You turned away from him, unable to look at his features anymore.

You stared at the window on the wall you now faced. It was nighttime now. When you had last looked outside, it had been early morning. How much time had passed since you arrived here? Why were your parents even on track with this? You could see the shock on your features as your reflection stared back at you from the dark glass. This was a dream. It had to be.

So wrapped up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even hear the knock at the door. You didn’t see the reflection of someone else entering the room. You didn’t feel the slight chill the air developed. Your awareness trapped inside of you as panicked thoughts took over.

“Ah, thank you for joining us.” Endeavor spoke barely reaching your ears. Someone responded though it sounded like faint mumbling. A conversation started between the two. It was long, several minutes passed before the other person noticed you. “Oh, she is the reason I called you to meet me.”

Endeavor pressed a hand on your shoulder turning you away from the window. You were snapped out of your thoughts at his touch, jerking away from his hand.

Your eyes tore from the floor at the other person's voice. “Who is that?”

“This is Y/n.” Endeavor spoke slowly, grinning at the boy who stared straight toward you.

Something pulled you to meet his eyes, his two-toned eyes. One deep grey; the other icy blue. His hair split with his eyes as well; snowy with grey, crimson with blue. The ground beneath your feet grew slightly unstable at the realization. You felt short of breath, unable to tear your gaze from the young man who stood just feet in front of you. You knew who he was, he graduated from the same high school a few years before you.

“I have gone ahead and arranged something my father did for me.” At Endeavor’s words, the boy’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. “Meet your Fiance, Shoto.”

“What did you say.” Shoto sneered through his gritted teeth. He knew who you were too, your first year you had faced him in a sparring match along with the rest of your class. You had trained with him on your teacher’s request years ago. He was quite familiar with you. The two of you were close in high school.

Endeavor laughed sending tension down your spine. You were dreading those words. Shoto took a step back when Endeavor took one toward him.

“Don’t.” Shoto was fuming, steam rising from his left side. You wanted nothing more than to be out of the cuffs. Whatever small thing that had been between you and Shoto in high school was definitely wiped away from Endeavors actions now.

“You two have so much potential to create something stronger then all of us.”

Shoto turned abruptly toward the door. “I will never be a part of this.”

“She has a unique quirk; you have a powerful one. History will repeat.” The endeavor started and Shoto stopped turning to look at his deranged father once more. You could feel Endeavor's energy turn dark next to you, the grin on his face almost sinister. “Just like me and your mother. You don’t want to hurt your mother again. Do you, Shoto?”

The chill that hung in the room before was now replaced with ice plastering every surface in the room. It even dusted the shoes you wore. With no other words, Shoto left the room, the door freezing shut on his way out.

Endeavor looked at you as the ice started to melt around his feet. “Don’t get your hopes up, Y/n. I’ll make him come around. I do own you now.”

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki imagine #todoroki imagine #bnha todoroki #bnha shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha headcanons #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki oneshot #quirk marriage

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skyfire85 · 4 years ago

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-An XA3J-1 at North American's factory during roll-out. Photo: North American Aviation

FLIGHTLINE: 152 - NORTH AMERICAN AVIATION A-5 VIGILANTE

Designed as a carrier-based supersonic bomber in the 1950s, the Vigilante saw service over Vietnam as a recon plane before being retired in 1979.

Development of what became the A-5 began in 1954 when North American Aviation started a internal program. Seeking to turn around the company's fortunes after the failed XA2J Super Savage, NAA began designing a Mach 2 capable bomber which would give the Navy a nuclear strike option. The initial design, known as the North American General Purpose Attack Weapon (NAGPAW) was evaluated by the US Navy, which replied with a series of needed changes and in July 1955 an initial design contract was awarded, which included a single mockup of the plane. NAA's engineers were able to successfully address the USN's concerns about the design, and in September 1956 a contract for two flying prototypes was signed.

-Orthograph of the A-5 Vigilante. | Illustration: aviastar

DESIGN

The plane, designated XA3J-1, was one of the largest and by far the most complex aircraft to be proposed to operate from a USN aircraft carrier. It had a high-mounted swept wing with a boundary-layer control system (blown flaps) to improve low-speed lift. There were no ailerons, roll control was provided by spoilers in conjunction with differential deflection of the all-moving tail surfaces. Power was provided by two widely spaced General Electric J79 turbojet engines (also used on the Convair B-58 and McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II), fed by variable intake ramps. A single large all-moving vertical stabilizer was paired with the all-moving horizontal stabilizers. In order to save space, the wings, tail and radome were all folding. The XA3J had a crew of two seated in tandem, a pilot and a bombardier-navigator (BN) (reconnaissance/attack navigator (RAN) on later reconnaissance versions), who had some of the most advanced equipment of the time, including an early fly-by-wire system (with electromechanical backup), a primitive HUD system, a multi-mode, radar-equipped inertial navigation system, a TV camera in the nose, and a digital computer to run it all.

In order to make the bomber as streamlined as was possible, it was designed to carry additional fuel tanks and a single B27, B28 or B43 freefall nuclear bomb in internal weapons bay, which would be jettisoned over the target as a single "stores train". Provisions were also made to carry two B43 nukes or Mark 83 or Mark 84 conventional bombs on two external hardpoints, or drop tanks to increase range. Operationally however, these hardpoints were rarely used.

-Internal bomb bay and stores train of the North American A3J-1/A-5A Vigilante. | Illustration: Cobatfor

FLIGHT TESTING, INTRODUCTION, AND SERVICE

First flight of the XA3J was on 31 August 1958 from the same Columbus, OH plant that produced the F-86 and F-100s. Despite one of the prototypes crashing in 1959, the flight tests moved quickly, and by June 1961 the first A3J-1s entered service with Heavy Attack Squadron Three (VAH-3) at NAS Stanford, FL, replacing the Douglas A3D Skywarrior. The following year the plane was redesignated the A-5A under the new tri-service plan. The service life of the A-5A was fraught with issues, with numerous teething problems plaguing its advanced systems. These issues were tamed as maintenance crews became experienced with the Vig's high-tech gadgets, but the plane remained maintenance-intensive (a so-called "hangar-queen") throughout its life. A chronic issue was the stores train bomb release, which had a nasty habit of releasing during catapult shots, resulting in at least one crash. During tests, the train also tended to draft along in the aircraft's slipstream, making accurate bombing (for 1950s/60s definitions of "accurate") difficult.

-Five A3J-1 Vigilantes of VAH-7 ("Peacemakers of the Fleet") on CVAN-65 USS Enterprise in 1962. | Photo: USN

Fifty-eight A-5A were completed (out of an order of 64 aircraft) when NAA switched to the upgraded A-5B model. The B model incorporated changes made in light of the Navy's requirement that the Vigilante be able to take off at max weight with zero wind over the carrier being rescinded. This change allowed North American to increase the bomber's weight, adding a dorsal hump to carry more fuel. Only 18 of the A-5B were completed before the US Navy, undergoing a shift in policy away from manned nuclear bombers, canceled the order.

-North American A3J-2 Vigilante (BuNo 146699), circa 1960. This aircraft was the third production A3J-1 which was then modified to an A3J-2 (after 1962 A-5B and YA-5C) and finally to the A3J-3P (RA-5C). | Photo: US Navy

Developed from the A3J-2, the A3J-3P (later RA-5C) was a strike/reconnaissance variant of the Vigilante, incorporating the CCTV in the nose with a "canoe" fairing holding a full suite of gear including:

KA-51A/B forward-looking oblique angle film camera.

KA-50A, KA-51A, or KA-62A vertical film camera.

Passive electronics countermeasures (PECM) antenna for the AN/ALQ-61 Electronic Reconnaissance System. The AN/ALQ-61 was an "electronic intelligence (ELINT)" system that would pick up radar emissions and pin down their coordinates, frequency, and pulse pattern. The ELINT data was recorded on magnetic tape, with storage capacity for 112 minutes of continuous ELINT observations.

Various combinations of panoramic, vertical, or oblique film cameras. Camera fit included KA-58A panoramic camera for medium- to high-altitude work, or a KA-57A panoramic camera for low-altitude work. The cameras shot through prisms in the canoe that could be pivoted to permit shots straight down or from side to side.

AN/AAS-21 infrared sensor, which could provide a continuous film strip of thermal targets, such as hidden trucks, over a field of view 140 degrees wide.

Antenna for the Westinghouse AN/APD-7 "side looking airborne radar (SLAR)" system, which shot radar pulses out to the side of the aircraft and stored the return echo on a long film strip, permitting all-weather, day-night imaging.

Another PECM antenna for the AN/ALQ-21 system.

Additionally, a flash pod, powered by a ram-air turbine in its tail, could be carried under one wing to provide illumination for nighttime recon. The sensors were operated by the back-seater (also known as a "GIB": guy-in-back), formally called a "reconnaissance-attack navigator (RAN)". The bomb bay was filled with semi-permanent fuel tanks (though the plane apparently retained the ability to carry offensive weapons, this was never tested or confirmed). The remaining A-5A and A-5B aircraft were all converted to RA-5C standards, along with 33 new-build aircraft. Squadrons that had formerly flown the A-5 were transitioned to the RA-5 beginning with VAH-3 in July 1963, becoming Reconnaissance Attack Squadrons (RVAH) as they did so. Eventually ten squadrons of RA-5s were established, with the NAS Stanford RVAH-3 being joined by carrier-based RVAH-1, RVAH-5, RVAH-6, RVAH-7, RVAH-9, RVAH-11, RVAH-12, RVAH-13 and RVAH-14.

-RA-5C Vigilante of Reconnaissance Heavy Attack Squadron 3 (RVAH-3) "Sea Dragons" is parked on the flight line at Naval Air Station Sanford, Florida, on 27 March 1968. - | Photo: US Navy

Starting in July 1964, the RA-5Cs saw extensive service over Vietnam, carrying out dangerous post-strike damage assessment missions. Although fast and nimble, the Vig proved vulnerable to ground fire, with 14 RA-5s lost to AAA, 3 to SAMs and one shot down by a NVA MiG-21. Nine more were lost to accidents, and as a result three dozen additional aircraft were built between 1968 and 1970. Despite providing invaluable reconnaissance data, the RA-5 began to be phased out starting in 1968, with NAS Stanford being closed and the Vigilante's parent wing, Reconnaissance Attack Wing One, being transferred to Turner AFB in Georgia, which was turned over to the Navy and renamed NAS Albany. Barely six years later, NAS Albany was closed as a result of post-Vietnam drawdowns, and the remaining RA-5s were transferred again to NAS Key West. As newer and larger aircraft like the F-14 and S-3 were introduced in the mid-70s, the Navy began disestablishment of the RA-5 squadrons, with the last leaving Key West on 20 November 1979.

NASA, THE RAAF, AND THE USAF

At least one A3J-1 was bailed to NASA for a time while the Dryden FRC was participating in research for the US SST program. In 1962 Vigilante BuNo 147858 was given NASA tail number 858 and was flown by NASA pilot Bill Dana on 21 flights along airways around LAX to determine approach conditions for an SST landing patterns. After the conclusion of the program, the plane was returned to the Navy.

-NASA's A3J-1, wearing a day-glo orange tail flash, on 19 December 1962. | Photo: NASA DFRC

The RAAF was interested in the A-5 as a possible replacement for their aging Canberra bombers, considering the Vig alongside the F-4, Dassault Mirage IVA, BAC TSR-2 and F-111. Despite the A-5 being available without the delay anticipated for the F-111, the order for three dozen Vigilantes was not issued.

At some point in the Vigilante's development, North American advanced a proposal to the Air Force for the 'Retaliator', an A-5 with a liquid rocket added to the bomb bay, as an interceptor, but the USAF showed no interest. In 1972 NAA again proposed a modified A-5, known internally as the NR-349, to the USAF as an Improved Manned Interceptor. The internal bomb bay was modified to house a third jet, and six AIM-54 Phoenix missiles would be carried under the fuselage. Again the USAF was uninterested.

-Scale model of the Improved Manned Interceptor concept, in USAF markings. | Model: NAA/Rockwell

SURVIVORS

By 2004, all of the surviving RA-5s that had been retired to AMARG had been either scrapped or preserved as museum aircraft. A limited number of aircraft were still in storage at NAWS China Lake for eventual use in weapons tests. Around a dozen aircraft have been retained in museums around the US, with only one A-5A on display at NAS Pax River in Maryland, the balance being RA-5s.

-BuNo 146697, the sole remaining A-5A, on display at Pax River. | Photo: Richard Lane

-RA-5C Vigilante (BuNo 151629) on display at the Pueblo Weisbrod Aircraft Museum. It wears the markings of the fleet replacement squadron RVAH-3 Sea Dragons. | Photo: Kristian Jones

#aircraft #aviation #avgeek #airplanes #cold war #airplane #cold war history #coldwar #aviation history #us navy #usn #north american aviation #north american a 5a #a3j-1 Vigilante #a-5a Vigilante #a5a Vigilante #a 5a Vigilante #ra5c Vigilante #ra5c

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