#[smashes my head onto a concrete block]
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Burning and Building Bridges
Why does my writing block go away for a character I haven’t met in an event I haven’t even played? Constructive criticism welcome as this is my first time writing something like this. I plan to write a part 2, but probably not until after EN server gets the Masquerade event
Summary: Rollo Flamm would absolutely see a mechanically minded Yuu as a sign you were meant for him. He would rid the world of magic and you would help the society rebuild and continue to function in its absence.
notes: [1.6k] words, yandere content, gn reader
The festival decorations are beautiful, you think to yourself, as you wander around town with Grimm. As you open your mouth to suggest stopping by a food cart, you hear a crash from around the corner. The two of you glance at each other and nod before running over to check it out.
“Is everyone okay?” you ask as you round the corner to see the damage.
Thankfully, no one appears to be hurt. You see a shopkeeper standing a few feet outside of her storefront looking with distress at half of her store’s sign dangling from one of its hooks. In front of the shop keeper, there is some concrete debris, the other half of the store’s sign, a smashed flowerpot, and open window a couple floors up. These last two were likely responsible for the damage. What you don't see is the man in the window above, who also looked to inspect the cause of the noise.
"Worry not, citizen, the great mage Grimm and my henchman are here to help!"
You take a moment to assess the damage. “I think this is beyond what our classes have covered. Are you sure you can repair that?”
“Er, well, no...” Grimm looks down sheepishly, as he shakes his head
* “Typical fools, so blinded by the plague of magic that penetrates this world they don't even see how their reliance on it weakens them and those around them." Rollo thinks to himself, letting out a scoff and starting to turn away. He had more important things to do than watch reliance on corruption grow. Plans rarely sorted themselves out, after all, and his were too important to leave to chance. *
The shop keeper looks up as you approach the scene. “Oh, that uniform! You’re an NRC Student, right? I don’t suppose you would mind using your magic to help me fix this up?”
"Oh, I can't actually do magic," You say holding your hands up defensively. "but I still think I can fix it, at least, well enough that it won’t get worse before a mage can come fix it properly.”
After taking a minute to assess the damage and materials available, you determine that nothing around is sturdy enough to climb on to lift it. Among the wreckage is a string of flags that also got knocked down. You pick it up, and give it a tug, frown, fold it in half and tug again. That’ll do. You tie one end of the doubled up string to the fallen sign, remove your belt, and affix it to the other end, giving it some weight so you can actually aim. You toss that end over a sturdy looking pipe to make a simple pulley and pull it back up onto the other hook, then repeat the process with a piece of wood to support the broken halves in the middle.
* The pipe you chose happened to be outside the window Rollo was walking by, prompting him to look out again to see what startled him. As if spreading their curse to those born without the impurity wasn't bad enough, must they cause a ruckus that disturbs everyone else? He glanced with distress out the window to see what you had done to startle him, and found himself yet more startled to see that you were managing to help the townsfolk almost entirely WITHOUT magic, having asked Grimm for just enough assistance to let him feel like he was helping. *
The shopkeeper brings the two of you refreshments as you finished up in thanks for your help.
That evening as you return to the accommodations Noble Bell set up for the NRC visitors, you find your way blocked by a local student with a particularly unfriendly expression. You stop, hoping that for once in your time at Twisted Wonderland it wasn't because of some trouble. "Pardon the interruption. I wish to commend you for your actions earlier today. That was quite admirable how you helped that vendor. I must say, it is refreshing to see people who remain competent when their magic fails them." Rollo said.
"I helped too, ya know!" Grimm chimed in, earning only a brief downwards glance from Rollo, as if he was irritated to be reminded of the creature's presence.
"Ah yes, whatever would I do without you?" You say in a playful tone, giving Grimm a pat on the head. Turning back to the man in front of you, you reply, "it was no trouble, really." Then, more to yourself, you add, "it's nice to put the stuff I learned to use."
Rollo was taken aback at that. "I did not realize Night Raven College offered non magical classes."
"Oh, no, not Night Raven, the school I went to before..." the school in the same world as your family and friends that you doubt Crowley is actually still trying to help you get back to. You let out a sigh.
"I should very much like to hear about this school if you have the time."
Huh, this man doesn’t seem nearly as unpleasant as he looked.
"Nyehhh, sounds boring if you ask me." Grimm yawns. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Have fun talking to the only person who’d be impressed you can’t use magic."
Rollo raises an eyebrow, watching for only a moment as Grimm left, before returning his gaze to you. Perhaps it was the light, but his eyes seemed brighter. "You don't use magic, yet you are attending a school for mages? That is a rather peculiar circumstance."
"Hah, well, peculiar might be an understatement." Rollo gave a look which prompted you to continue. "It's a long story, but the gist of it is that Grimm and I count as one student, which gives him a chance to study magic and gives me a place to stay until I can find a way back to my magic-less world."
“Peculiar indeed. You say your world is free of magic? That sounds-” he pauses, pulling out his handkerchief. “Ahem, that sounds like it would make life rather difficult.”
“Hah, you know, I definitely thought magic would make things easier when I first got here, but the classes Grimm and I have been taking hardly seem any easier than my engineering classes back home...” Your laugh turns into more of a grimace as you think back to the last test you had with Professor Trein. Being from another world certainly put you at a disadvantage for History class. “Oh, in case that’s not a thing here, engineering is the science of studying how to design and build things, just with technology and materials instead of magic. It’s what I was studying.”
Rollo continues to ask questions, very clearly fascinated, so you indulge him in the conversation. The two of you continue chatting about your world and your studies until the clock chimes.
“Oh wow, it’s gotten late!” The reminder of the time seemed to be an invitation for all the tiredness of the day to catch up with you. “I’m going to head in for the night. I imagine you’ve got things you need to do tomorrow as well.”
“Indeed,” He glowers at the clock.
You get up and start to walk to the guest rooms for NRC students before turning back to Rollo. “It was nice talking with you. See you... probably tomorrow, yeah?” You give a smile and a wave, then take your leave, wondering if Grimm had fallen asleep already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* Rollo let his hand linger in the air a little longer even after you turned to leave. He would have liked to continue listening to you talk, even on things unrelated to what would help with his plans. You had a lovely voice and were so friendly towards him. But you were right, he shook his head, he DID have things he needed to get done. He made his way back to his own room, surprising a few students he passed with the uncharacteristic smile on his face.
It was perfect, YOU were perfect. A world without magic, and a person from that world who can help Twisted Wonderland rebuild once he purge it of magic. Though he supposed that would mean there would be no way for you to return to your home, nor would there be a reason for NRC to remain open, which would leave you doubly without a place to stay. Rollo would not stand for that, not when you were going to help him save the world from magic. He decided in that moment he would look after you and ensure you had a safe place to stay, here in the city of flowers, after this was all over. It was the least he could do for the assistance you would provide to their soon to be magic free society. But wait! What if "after” is too late? You have displayed no fear for magic, despite being surrounded by so many who use it so flippantly and having none of your own to protect yourself with. What if... what if something happened to you before he could purge magic from the world? No, he couldn't bare to lose someone else to magic. In the morning, he will have to ensure you are separated from that monster cat you spend your time with. Content with his plan, Rollo begins to drift off to sleep... Only for his eyes to burst open at the realization. That cat monster! You are staying in the same room, and given the accommodations were per student, likely even the same bed! His mind filled with all sorts of scenarios of magical disasters that could happen between now and the morning. For all he knew, you could have been hurt already. He anxiously flips through the paperwork on the NRC students visiting, searching for the room you were assigned to. His eyes light with fire. This could not wait until morning, he would have to save you now, even if it took you a while to see that was what he was doing. *
#yandere x reader#male yandere#twisted wonderland#Rollo Flamm#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#original content
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writing snippet #24
tw: tasers/electrocution
Hero flipped to avoid another attack, balancing on their hands before the momentum carried them off over the scattered crates of the warehouse. They landed on bent knees and dove out of the way when Thief went to smack them with their heel, kicking down at where their form had once been.
The hero clenched their jaw and their fist connected with Thief’s exposed side, right where they knew the kidney’s were. The master thief held back a choked gasp and collapsed onto their knees, smacking into the concrete. Hero grinned under their breath and swung onto their feet, grabbing the back of their collar.
Thief could hardly fight when they were jerked back, a rough hand pinning them onto their back. Under the mask, their face wrinkled in pain, taking jagged breaths.
“Cute,” they wheezed. “Playing dirty?”
Hero grit their teeth and frowned. “Tell me what you want with this stuff.”
The warehouse was barren, the security droids deactivated when Thief had snuck into the place. Some of the crates were smuggling a powerful energy source that had started going missing in various places. Hero had pinpointed the final location and managed to apprehend the thief before they could get their hands on it.
Except, they hadn't expected this particular thief to be behind the crime.
Their muscles were aching; they were a formidable opponent. Almost too good. Hero had been bested by them far too many times, and they were going to put them away for good this time.
“My motto is steal, don’t tell,” Thief forced a grin, but their voice was still strained from the attack on their kidney’s. “Although, if you’re willing to give me a little kiss...”
The hero went hot around the collar, but swiftly hid it by violently jostling them, yanking them up by the front of their shirt. Thief groaned softly, pain rippling up to their ribs.
“We can either do this here, or a prison cell,” Hero spat, tightening their grip until their knuckles went white. “Your choice.”
Thief tilted their head. “How about neither?”
Beneath them, their legs jerked upwards, knocking Hero forward against their hips, a surprised gasp escaping them. They had to let go of their shirt to brace themselves against the floor, palms smacking into the concrete painfully. Thief took this opportunity and wrapped their legs around their waist, flipping them both over.
Hero felt the air being ripped from their lungs, as they landed on their stomach, Thief’s weight hot and heavy against their lower back. Their arm was twisted behind their back and the other pinned above their head, tearing an angry groan from their lips.
Thief sighed in satisfaction and relaxed, gripping their wrist until the hero caved, letting out a painful cry.
“Now, this is much prettier sight,” they purred. “But unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule here. I ought to get going.”
Hero felt a hard fist smack into the side of their temple, and they saw a plethora of bright stars. They wheezed against the ground and rolled clumsily onto their side, trying to blink away the haziness. They briefly saw the whirling figure of Thief cranking open one of their crates, and they grit their teeth, determination surging through them.
They dragged themselves onto their feet and darted towards them, throwing a particularly nasty roundhouse kick that Thief only just narrowly avoided. Their foot smashed against the crate, reducing it to nothing but splinters. They landed and felt their vision blur, but directed a deadly glare towards them.
Thief was empty handed, but they could tell they were shaking with anger. “God sake, Hero, give it a rest!”
So the hero definitely didn’t give it a rest.
They attacked with more verocity than before, their fists flying in anger and being blocked expertly each time. It was truly astounding how Thief could keep up so effortlessly, but they seemed to grow bored of their games and grabbed their wrist, flinging them against the wall.
Their shoulder clipped against a mess of wires and an electric circuit popped as they sunk to the ground. It sparked and coughed and suddenly, they were hearing mechanical clunking and whirring. They squinted across the warehouse to find the security droids online, their eyes glowering a bright red.
Hero gasped as they jolted towards their direction, and suddenly an influx of them were rolling towards them, the smooth patch where their hand would be sparking with lights. They scrambled to their feet and desperately searched for the thief. They had already hopped high into the rafters, with something tucked under their arm and a grappling hook clutched in the other.
Hero dodged a swing from the security droid, not fond of the taser’s they planned to subdue them with, despite not being the real threat at hand.
“Thief!” They screamed, forced to take their eyes off them to kick away one of the droids. It tipped over and unceremoniously clattered to the ground.
Thief balanced on the railings, sending them a disasterously pleased grin. “Good luck!”
They blew them a kiss, before they were yanked through the open window by the grappling hook, disappearing off into the night. Hero cursed under their breath and evaded another swing. They kicked away a few more pathetic security droids before diving across the other side of the broken crates, heading towards the exit.
But Hero hadn’t expected one knocked down security droid to thrust it’s taser against their calf, and the hero definitely wasn’t expecting the agonising pain that engulfed them. They clenched their jaw, leg going numb, until they crumbled under their weight and smacked into the ground.
They felt another security droid jam a taser into their stomach, and the hero saw white. They let out a painful shriek as their body spasmed, excruciating pain wracking their bones and zapping up their spine. It only seemed to grow worse, until their mind started to shut down and they could hardly breathe.
What was going on? These were meant to subdue the criminals, not kill them!
Tears welled in their eyes, their body too rigid to move under the bouts of electricity pounding through them. They couldn’t even open their mouth to say they were Hero – like that might work. Static pulsed through their skull, until they heard a smash echoing around them, and the taser’s were ripped away from their body.
The hero sucked in a desperate breath, but it felt like fire was climbing up their throat. They deteriorated into a violent fit of coughs, gasping for air. They curled their arms around their stomach, pressing against the flesh, their body still twitching slightly from the aftermath of the attack.
Their head swarmed with a throbbing headache, and they felt arms slip under their legs and across their back, lifting them off the floor. They whimpered at the fiery pain and pressed against the warm chest, unaware that tears had slid down their cheeks sometime earlier. There was a rush of wind and their stomach was churning with the swift sensations, like whoever it was was jumping down from once surface to another.
They groaned in pain and tried blinking their eyes open, but the wind pierced their eyes like knives and only made them shrivel up more into the comfortable chest. They felt the ground again and their eyes flickered open once more, blinking back the black spots on the edges of their vision.
They could hear someone’s voice, fuzzy in their ears. Hero released a shuddering sigh and shifted closer into their arms, grateful they had saved them from that excruciating pain, now a dull ache that occasionally sparked more painfully than before.
“I should bring a taser to our next fight,” the voice murmured, dryly amused. “They make you very clingy.”
Shit. Hero recognised that voice. Their body felt too heavy to pull away, simply trying to muster up enough strength to squint their eyes through the darkness of the night.
“Thief...” They slurred quietly, causing the criminal to sigh heavily and hold them tighter.
“Be quiet. You’re a real nuisance, you know that?”
Hero’s fogged up brain finally came to a shocking conclusion, almost jerking them awake. Thief had just saved them from the security droids; they had the energy source, and they had the opportunity to escape. Why hadn’t they?
They felt something brush against their cheek, so soft they leaned into it, but it was gone before they could figure out what it was.
“And here I thought you could handle some silly droids,” Thief mocked, making the hero frown. “I was in my right mind to leave you there.”
Hero’s throat felt tight as they clutched their stomach tighter. “You should’ve.”
“Yeah,” Thief muttered lazily, shrugging their shoulders. “Probably.”
“No, really...” Hero forced a weak smile as the sound of distant sirens reached their ears. “Secruity droids alert the police. You’re going to be arrested.”
Thief’s eyes widened as their head snapped to the side, straightening up. The screeching of police sirens and the roaring engines were drawing closer in mere moments, and the thief’s expression tightened in anger for just a split second.
A sharp clacking sound dragged their attention back towards the hero, gaze dropping to their arm. They saw a handcuff around their wrist, and stared at Hero, seeing the other locked around their own. They were smiling dazily, their eyes unfocused in the darkness.
“Can’t run,” they muttered softly, trying to chuckle, but it seemed they had used all their remaining energy to shackle them both together. “I caught you.”
Thief raised a brow, before a smirk rose on their lips. They pulled Hero closer, brushing a strand of their hair behind their ear with their gloved hand. “Hero, what makes you think I won’t just take you with me?”
They gently played with their locks. “This doesn’t stop me. You think I’m going to sit here and wait to get arrested?”
Hero’s eyes were glittering in confusion as they tried to decipher what Thief was saying. The criminal sighed in amusement and shook their head, wedging their hand out of the handcuff. Hero hadn’t even been able to tighten it properly, but it was to be expected.
It was a cute attempt, though.
They pulled away from them, almost pleased when the hero tried to clutch onto them, grumbling under their breath. Thief scooped up their prize and tucked it under their arm again. Hero watched them as the sirens grew louder, piercing through their skull.
“It was nice, as always,” Thief sighed with a smile on their face, rolling their shoulders back with satisfying pop. They stepped over the hero and turned back to give them a wink through the mask. “You owe me for this. I want you to remember that.”
Hero rolled onto their side with a pained gasp, their fist digging into the ground below them. They could only muster a frustrated glare as the thief jogged across the concrete, sending them an enthusiastic wave.
“See you, love you!” They called, before spinning around, and disappearing off into the darkness. Hero clenched their jaw and fell back onto their back as the flashing blue and red lights cascaded across their figure, dancing on the ground.
They closed their eyes. “Fuck you.”
#hero x thief#thief x hero#hero and thief#thief and hero#i think a flirty thief and a hero that takes their job way too seriously is now my favourite dynamic woo#hero and villain#villain and hero#hero villain#villain hero#hero villain snippet#hero and villain snippet#writing snippet#story snippet#not a prompt#thief#hero#writing#my writing#avvail snippet
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Salaì Chapter 4: Another One
chapter count: 1 | 2 |3
word count: 1.3k
pairing: 2012!leo x reader
summary: A new vigilante named Salaí has taken the streets of New York, sending an increase in missing and injured criminals. This seemingly new vigilante shocks the turtles in town and with the help of Reader, they try to figure out who this vigilante is. Surprise, its Reader, knowingly leading an investigation against themself. Hopefully, no one falls in love.
A/N: hi there! sorry if this chapter is a bit short, writer's block is kicking my ass. comments and likes are appreciated and i love you all! <33
song: Frankenstein - Rina Sawayama
Raphael was pissed, as he always is. As Leo ran towards the abandoned warehouse, that revelation was only certified by the sound of lasers and clanging metal. He opened a nearby window and carefully snuck inside, watching from on top of the rafters. He hopped down onto the ground, feeling its concrete texture and hiding behind a stack of boxes among the copious other identical copies, some even towering higher.
He noticed a Krang droid and swiftly sliced it with his katana before appearing from behind the boxes, a detail Raphael took notice of.
“There’s our fearless leader, now get in here!” he yelled.
“Alright guys, let’s terminate the terminators-”
“Less one-liners, more smashing!” Raph yelled, stabbing a Krang droid through the head. Leo sighed, spinning his katana with his hand before joining the battle. They kept smashing and dicing through each droid that came their way, the sound of clanging metal and the smell of rust seemed to melt together. Blurs of red, purple and orange sped by him with every hit.
“On your left!” Leo hollered, making Donnie look over to his left and knock out another droid, leaving its pink brain scuttling off.
Leo kept slashing until he had one in his sights, its pink exposed brain practically shining amongst the muted colours of the warehouse. A flash of white covered his eyes as he lunged towards it, katana in hand. He sliced, squinting his eyes closed and when he opened them, he noticed the metallic body on the ground, but no cut through its body, compared to the rest of Leonardo’s bodies. In fact, it had a metal arrow sticking out of its head. Another fact was that multiple bodies had that arrow mark indented in their heads
“What was that, dudes?” Mikey asked.
Everyone darted their heads towards the direction of the arrow and saw a menacing figure above. It was a figure wearing a cropped hoodie, dark beige cargo pants and a black gas mask with pink, blue, and yellow blobs. It was The Vigilante, or Salaì now. They were wearing the same exact thing that they were wearing when Leo witnessed them declare their new name. Except this time, they were wearing tiny plastic devil horns strapped to the gas mask and had two long blue pigtails that reached their waist. They held a crossbow in their hands, staring with determination and fierceness. Or at least that's what he could make out from the mask.
“Hey you!” Raph shouted, their head darting towards him, as they went scurrying away out of the window in a hurry.
“What was that about?” Donnie asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Was that The Vigilante? It’s got a rad outfit, ten outta ten.”
“Also, where were you Mr. Punctual?” Raph asked, facing Leo who stood like a statue.
“I got.. caught up with some thugs near the Ravendale district.”
“Right, let’s get outta here before more show up.” he said, heading for the backdoors, brothers following in tow. As Leo followed his brothers out, a creeping doubt was encompassing his mind. A realisation that this could be another problem, another roadblock that they had to stop fast. And Leo knew the exact person he could potentially trust to help him.
You sighed out of relief, wondering who the other figures could be. The lighting was dark, not even the moonlight could help you. Slumping down the steel panelling, a million thoughts rushed your mind as your breathing quickened. Muttering gibberish and profanities until you could feel your breathing subside and your thoughts recede was all you did for the next twenty minutes when your phone buzzed.
As you clicked open the screen, you expected your timer to appear, not a frantic text from Casey.
01:23
2ft teeth:
DUDE
HEY
HEY
ANWSER NOW
y/n:
casey
it is one in the morning
what is it
2ft teeth:
YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHIT
OK OK
TMRW
MEET ME AT BARKER ST CORNER
PLS I SWEAR THIS IS IMPORTANT
y/n:
okay casey
istg if this is a prank, i will kill you.
You shut your phone off, mentally preparing for what mindless story he had to tell. Before you could get back up, you felt your phone buzz again.
01:25
Mom:
Hey, so the Dobsons are gonna have you to babysit their kid tomorrow after school.
Scratch that, mentally prepare twice for tomorrow’s events. You dreaded leaving that warehouse, but you had sleep to catch up on.
Karai walked through the elevator doors, seeing two goons already bowing down toward a singular throne, occupied by a masked villain, adorning a crown made of metal. She willingly took her bow, the other goons standing up and off to the side.
“Shredder, I’ve obtained information that could benefit our objective.”
“Tell me what you’ve discovered.”
“The leader of the turtles, Leonardo, has seemed to grow attached t0 a human. We could use this to our advantage. ”
Shredder hummed, turning around and giving Karai a brief nod. “Excellent. This provides us with an opportunity to finally offer us vengeance. Well done, Karai.”
“Thank you Father. I’m-”
“What plan do you have?”
“I plan to observe them until I can find an opportunity to strike. A moment where I can kidnap them and bring them back to our lair. Then we can persuade them to join our ever growing clan.”
He placed a calm hand onto her relaxed shoulder. “Exceptional. We begin the plan tomorrow. Go to your room.”
Karai nodded, getting up from her knees and walking back into the elevator. As she pressed a button, the doors shut and the descent began, flashes of light flickering with every passing floor. She felt her shoulders fully dropped as she took off her mask, revealing her crimson lips. It seemed like eternity until she got to her floor, the doors opening to display her room. She trudged through, resting on the edge of her bed and feeling the soft ruffles of the quilt. A sharp sting jutted in her bandaged stomach, as she clutched it glancing outside the window that showcased the glittery night.
Karai’s mind started to rest, a brief moment of tranquillity seeped into her bones. Her room still looked the same as she left it, which meant Shredder hadn’t tried to look through it today or that her trap worked. Due to the look of the door, it looked like the former. A strange feeling sat deep into her stomach, a feeling she couldn’t quite pin. Why couldn’t she understand what this was? It’s a simple kidnapping mission, nothing more. She placed her hand on her forehead, glancing over to her counter, where a primrose attached to a singular letter sat underneath the warm glow of an overhead lamp. She gripped the letter, tearing open the top and reading the contents.
Dear Karai,
How long has it been? Two years, three? It has felt like an eternity. I know it’s been ages since we’ve last talked and I’ve yearned for your words since. My training has been confusing, the routine is much stricter than when I was under your training. It studies on fewer versions of ninjutsu and the people here are much more formidable than I thought. But they’re no match for you and me.
My offer still stands if you want to come with me to Japan. We could train together and show them what you truly are. They keep talking awful rumours about you, how you’ve rusted like an old teapot over the years lurking in New York. Of course, I took care of them once I heard that, but it still bothers me.
I’ve gotten a new makeup kit and they’ve already trashed it, no manners for a kunoichi. The palette is tarnished and everything. From your last letter, it seems like you’re troubled. I know that what you saw is a troubling thing to process and I wish I could take it away from you, but I can’t. I miss the excursions we used to take during late nights and the way you trained me.
You offered me guidance and love, and I thank you for that. If there’s anything I can do to take this burden off of your mind, please let me know.
Love,
Shini
#tmnt 2k12#tmnt#tmnt fic#tmnt x reader#leonardo x reader#2012!leo x reader#2012 leo x reader#2012 leo#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012#karai#2012 karai#tmnt shinigami#karai x shinigami
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To Behave Or Not To Behave | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader
@befreebehappya012 asked: Heey Jack!! Could I request "You're here with me, behave yourself" from your prompt list with Zemo please? Thank yoouu!!
summary: you and Zemo are tasked with something so simple and so easy that it can't go wrong - but it's not exactly in your interests to behave, if you're honest.
tws: swearing, smoking, choking, hair pulling
Gold seemed to fill the room so effortlessly, even with the large chandelier that hung from the ceiling; it made you think of an episode of an old television show you used to watch when you were a child. Two brothers had been tasked with cleaning some chandeliers and Granddad had unscrewed the wrong one, resulting in it plummeting to the floor and smashing. The thought made you bite your lip as you tried not to laugh and grin; furrowing his brows when he heard the quiet snort of a half escaped laugh, Zemo pulled you a little closer against his side as he dared to mumble in your ear.
"What are you laughing at?"
You couldn't resist it, clearing your throat and keeping your voice quiet as you pointed to the chandelier. "Brace yourself, Rodney, brace yourself."
"Who's Rodney?" He asked, confused and vexed, but when you only laughed, he smiled and shrugged it off. He guessed it was something of nothing.
Besides, it wasn't like this was particularly important, all you and Zemo had to do was make an appearance and look pretty doing it while Sam and Bucky snuck around to gather information; all you had to do was walk around, chat up some rich cunts, go for a smoke, have a drink and then go back to the hotel room. It was a piece of piss.
But then Zemo just had to stop to talk to some aristocrat about something, and although you tried to seem like you were somewhat interested, you ended up sneaking away; weaving through the sea of suits and ball gowns, you wound up sat out in the large garden. Parker on a concrete bench as you dared to smoke a cigarette, a habit you had promised Zemo you wouldn't indulge in too much; but a familiar shadow soon came to block the outdoor lights, and when you looked up, you met a pair of all too familiar dark brown eyes, and you smiled.
"You caught me."
"I did," Zemo nodded, sitting down beside you and holding out his hand, humming softly when you passed him a cigarette and a lighter. "I take it you're bored, puppy?"
You nodded, daring to laugh quietly as you flicked ash onto the precious and perfect patio. "Who would have guessed? You brought the fucking Punisher's sidekick to an event filled with cunts."
He raised a brow, taking a long drag and licking his lips. "My apologies. We won't be here long, though."
You leaned into him a little, your free hand on his thigh as you dared to smile a little. "I don't mind it so much... just bores the fuck out of me hearing rich cunts chat shit for ages. Like, we get it! You had a fucking private education! Good for you, you Tory cunt."
Zemo laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before he dared to lean against you a little. "I had a private education."
"You're different," you scoffed. "You're not a Tory cunt."
"Point taken," he mused. "Is there any other way I'm different?"
"Well, a few come to mind, yeah," you dared to steal a look at him as you took a drag from your cigarette and cleared your throat. "I could name 'em, but I don't think you'd want them rich cunts to hear about what we do behind closed doors."
"Not particularly," he admitted. "You're here with me, behave yourself, won't you?"
"Me? Behave?" You tutted, shaking your head. "Zemo, I never thought I'd hear the day you chatted such fucking horse shit!"
That filthy mouth was the thing he was worried most about, not the boredom or the disapproval at being surrounded by a bunch of rich cunts, it was going to be your filthy mouth that blew it all; the words that left it could blow the whole operation. Still, he supposed it would have been more than entertaining to watch you get into an argument with one of those cunts. The thought made him smile as he finished his cigarette and chucked it aside.
"Perhaps I ought to shut you up," he purred, waiting for you to sit upright and throw your cigarette away before his gaze dropped to your lips as he raised a brow, a smile on his lips.
You grinned back, licking your lips and tilting your head to the head. "And how do you think you'll do that?"
"The only way I know how," he hummed, one hand going to your throat and the other on your jaw as he pulled you in, his kiss so harsh and so rough that you couldn't help but to let out a quiet moan as you kissed him back.
You moved to get on his lap, drawing a surprised but pleased chuckle from him as he eagerly pulled you closer, squeezing your throat a little as you buried one hand in his hair, tugging at the brown strands; but then he broke the kiss, his lips a little swollen and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, a harsh blush on his features.
"Will you behave, now?"
"I suppose," you huffed, licking your lips to savour the way his tasted. "Kiss me like that again, and I'll promise you I will."
"Now that," Zemo dared to give your throat a playful squeeze. "I can do, Mein Stern."
if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG
#mlem writes#helmut zemo imagine#helmut zemo x yn#helmut zemo x y/n#helmut zemo x you#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo#baron zemo#zemo x reader#zemo x y/n#zemo x you#baron zemo oneshot#zemo one shot#zemo oneshot#helmut zemo one shot#helmut zemo oneshot#baron zemo imagine#zemo imagine#zemo#daniel brühl x you#daniel brühl imagine#daniel brühl x reader#daniel brühl#daniel bruhl imagine#daniel bruhl x you#daniel bruhl x reader#daniel bruhl
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Twisted Trial: Part 2
So? This getaway car of yours!?
Like I said, central garage, bottom floor! But to get there, we’ll need to get to the other side of the complex!
I suppose a little closer would’ve aroused suspicion.
Thank you for understanding! I admit, it is a hassle!
YOU!
Oh crap!
Come on! This way!
*Munakata and a handful of armed men burst out from the other end of the corridor and begin to give chase to Nagito and Uchui.
Now!
!!??
!!??
*With the entire Foundation aware of the danger thanks to Alter Ego, an ambush is all too easy. Soldiers begin to dive out from the side rooms of the hallway in an attempt to grab the escapees. Fortunately or unfortunately, none of them succeed, as Uchui and Nagito dodge and dive over and under them.
GO RIGHT! GO RIGHT!
*Uchui’s scream prompts Nagito to do just that. They both slide right down the hallway, with Munakata and the soldiers still in hot pursuit.
Stop right there!
And let you cut me into little bits with that sword!? Nah, I’ll just keep running!
Come on, let’s go this way!
Huh!? HEY, WAIT A SECOND!
*Nagito grabs Uchui’s arm to help him keep up, and then starts rushing up the stairs, with the soldiers not letting up.
WAIT WAIT WAIT, what are you doing!? We’re supposed to be going down!?
Don’t be stupid! They’ve probably left a trap or another ambush at the bottom of these stairs!
And going up helps HOW!?
I’ve put my trust in you!
I need YOU to reciprocate that trust!
*Within a few moments, Nagito and Uchui burst onto the roof of the central building, and still grasping onto each other, rush across the rooftop.
Give me that!
Soldier: H-Hey, sir!?
*Munakata suddenly snatches an RPG Launcher from one of his escorting soldiers, and aims it straight at the escapees.
DIE!
*FWOOSH!* *BOOOM!*
ACK!
AAHAAGH!
*The explosion goes off and blows up the roof. Neither Nagito, nor Uchui are hit dead on by the explosion, but both are sent flying forward by it, causing them to let go.
Kamukura-!
GO GO RUN RUN RUN!
*Knowing full well Munakata won’t give them time to recover, Uchui doesn’t wait for Nagito to rescue him, and instead pulls himself up and keeps running across the rooftops.
HAGH!
!!!??
*However, as they approach the edge of the building, they see their cohort ahead take a leap and jump off the roof down to the roof of another building slightly below.
Oh, you’ve gotta be KIDDDING MEEEEE!!?
HAAAAAAGH!
*BOOOOM!*
*Munakata launches another RPG, and with no more time, Uchui screams and follows Nagito, diving off the roof, tucking, ducking and rolling onto the building below them.
Are you ok Kamukura!?
Ngh...Yeah, I...I’m ok...
*CHOPACHOPACHOPACHOPACHOPACHOPACHOPA*
Huh!?
Huh...!?
*Just as it seems like things are starting to relax, an attack chopper suddenly takes flight and hovers next to them. The sliding door opens and a figure pokes their head out.
UCHUI KAMUKURA! NAGITO KOMAEDA! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! GET ON THE GROUND AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!
You know Komaeda, I changed my mind! I’m NOT ok anymore!
Reasonable! Hold on tight.
No, NO NO NOT AGAIN ACK-!
Very well...OPEN FIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!
SHIIIIIHIHIHIIIIIIT!
*Dragging Uchui against his will across the long rooftop, Nekomaru’s chopper opens fire. Nagito is fast enough to avoid the bullets, while Uchui screams in fear.
Brace yourself! HYAGH!
WAAAAAGH!
*SMASH!* *CRASH!*
*Nagito reels back and tosses Uchui’s body through a window above them. When Uchui goes crashing through the window, Nagito leaps up through the hole he made. He helps Uchui up to his feet, and they continue running as the chopper keeps firing at them.
We’re almost at the East Block!
We’re going to have to jump it! HIYAGHCK!
*BOOOOM!*
*With a heavy swing, Nagito blows a hole in the wall, opening up the side of the building facing the East Block building. He then bounds across to the other side and blows a hole through that building too.
Come on!
*pant!* *pant!* *pant!*
Surrender! Now!
Hngh...!
*Nagito reaches over and grabs a chunk of concrete off the side of his building, and he leans back, ready to throw it at the chopper.
NO!
...!
Don’t!
Kegh...!
*With Uchui’s shout, he drops it.
Ok...Ok...! THE ONE PIECE IS REEEEAAAAAALLLL!
*And with a scream, Uchui jumps...
...!
...!
AAGHCK!
KAMUKURAAAGH!
*CATCH!*
HAH!
*Uchui unfortunately doesn’t jump off the best footing, and he’s unable to reach the other side of the building! Instead, he faceplants and begins to slide down the glass towards the ground far below. Luckily, Nagito quickly leaps out and grabs Uchui before he can fall, hanging off the side of the building by his foot.
I’ve got you! Now hold on tight!
If I had a yen for every time I’ve heard THAT TODAAAAGH!
*Uchui nearly throws up as Nagito flips them both back into the building. As soon as they get inside, they continue to run.
DAMMIT!
*Nekomaru grabs a radio.
Sakura! We failed to get them! It’s up to you now!
Sakura: Don’t worry! They shan’t pass me!
Kyosuke: I am on my way with backup Sakura Ogami! But I hope you will not need it!
This area shouldn’t be as heavily guarded! We shouldn’t have to worry about taking the stairs!
But we’ll need to hurry! This building will be swamped before long!
There! Down the hall!
See!?
We don’t have a choice! We’ll need to fight through them!
We-Where’s-!? Where’s the “we!?” I can’t take these guys!
Fair point...
Alright then, stay close to me.
Komaeda, please-
You asked me not to kill them.
I haven’t taken any lives so far, and I don’t intend to.
*Steeling themselves, Nagito rushes down the hallway, with Uchui struggling to catch up as Sakura and her Soldiers attempt to intercept them.
Soldiers: GAGH!
HRGH!
NGH!
*With a single blow, Nagito is able to swamp most of the advancing soldiers immediately. He then goes straight for Sakura, who blocks his attack.
How fast the night changes, Nagito Komaeda. I’ll bet you never imagined the day you’d be facing down the strongest woman on earth!?
Are you kidding me!? Who do you think you’re talking to!? I could never dream of such a thing!
In fact, I’m amazed I haven’t peed a little in my trousers yet!
That said, I’m sorry Ogami, but I cannot waste this opportunity, and I cannot let you stop me!
You took the words right out of my mouth! HAGH!
*Sakura takes a heavy swing, which Nagito dodges under.
KAMUKURA! GET TO THE STAIRS!
Not without you!
Don’t worry about me, I’ll catch up! Just save yourself first!
Aaah...
Soldier: Don’t let him get away!
*Uchui follows suit and decks it down the hallway towards the stairs. The soldiers around try to tackle him over or shoot him down, but he’s able to avoid these.
For someone who’s so tired of life, I sure am good at avoiding death!
Soldier: Hugh!
AAHACK!
*One of the soldiers that dives at Uchui sticks out their foot and trips the Theoretical Physicist up. Uchui topples forward and lands on his face.
Oww...Gah...Huh...?
There you are...YOU’RE MINE!
Shit shit shit SHIT SHIT!
*At the worst possible time, Munakata and his goons suddenly burst into the block through the elevator.
I won’t kill you...But I have no problems turning you into a handicap!
Ahhh! OOH!
*Munakata lunges at Uchui and starts to swipe at him with his sword. Uchui narrowly dodges each attack, until he hits his ankle on one of the fallen soldiers.
YOU WON’T DODGE THIS!
HEEELP!
...!
Huh!?
...
*Before Munakata can deal the decisive blow, Munakata is suddenlt restrained by Nagito, who rushes up behind him.
HAGH!
WAAGH!
OOGH!
*He then grabs Munakata by the arm and throws him straight at Sakura. Munakata lands right into her rock hard abs.
Gagh! You heathen!
I said I’d be willing to fight you! I didn’t say I’d fight fairly!
We’ve wasted enough time, let’s go!
Yes! Thanks!
*This time, Uchui holds out his arm willingly for Nagito to grab and heave him along. They bolt it down the hallway, blowing aside all the other soldiers, and beeline it for the stairs.
...!
...!
Oh no...
*The get to the square block of stairs, and look down in dismay. Several dozens of heavily armed soldiers start to climb up the flights, and barricade the way down.
So...uh...You think you can take them?
Maybe...But even I might struggle if it’s just me against all of them...Especially on a playing field as tight as this...
Where’s Kuripa when you need him...?
This ends now!
*heavy breathing*
!!?
!!?
*Sakura and Munakata draw closer, with all their soldiers.
I’ll gut them...I’ll gut them both...!
Patience! I know you crave vengeance and justice, but it’s imperative we capture them alive.
...!
That’s it...!
Hey...Komaeda...I’m sorry about this...
Sorry about wha-!?
*CLICK!*
!!!??
!!!??
!!!??
*Everyone staggers back, caught completely off guard, as Uchui grabs one of the collapsed soldiers guns, gets Nagito in a headlock, and points the weapon straight at his head.
What the hell are you doing-!?
Last warning! I mean it! If any of you take one step closer, I pop a round right in his head!
You can’t be serious.
A pathetic bluff. We won’t fall for it-
*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*
GAAHCK!
!!!???
!!!???
*Despite their boasts of confidence, Munakata and Sakura’s faces go pale as Uchui fires three rounds into Nagito’s gut!
I don’t make idle threats old timer! Even if it is a bluff, are you sure you wanna risk it!? I’m not exactly in the perfect frame of mind right now!
Munakata! If he’s serious, this could go very wrong, very fast!
Krgh...But what do we do!? We can’t just let them go!
I know not what they intend, but they have no escape. We’ve cornered them.
That’s what you think...
*Uchui leans in and whispers in Nagito’s ear.
Are you alright?
No! You just SHOT me!
I know, I’m sorry, and I’ll patch you up, but I can only DO so if we make this work! Can you still stand straight?
I think so...why?
...Because...
I really need you to catch me...
What are you-!?
...!
...!
!!!??
!!!??
*To the horror of the Future Foundation, with the gun pressed to his “hostage” Uchui continues to back up...until he falls off the banister backwards...!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!
GRRRGH! GRRAAAAAAAAGGH!!
*CRAAAAASSSH!*
Gah! Huh!? HAH!?
*The sequence of events that follow is miraculous. After falling off the banister, Uchui and Nagito fall a long long way to the cold hard floor below, past the heavily guarded staircase and all the soldiers. With the force making Uchui let go, Nagito, still heavily wounded, straightens himself and falls below Uchui. He successfully crashes down to the ground on his feet at the bottom of the stairs, then reaches out his arms and catches Uchui before he can go splat!
Hah...Why did I think doing that was a good idea!?
It WAS a good idea! You just saved us!
Not yet! To the van!
Agck!
I’ve got you, don’t worry!
*This time, Uchui lends Nagito a helping hand. He allows the wounded Luckster to rest on his shoulder, as they frantically get to the car. He loads Nagito inside and then jumps in the drivers seat, wasting not a single second in smashing the accelerator with his foot.
Soldier: NO! STOP THEM!
*The soldiers get down the stairs too late, as Uchui and Nagito beeline it straight out of the garage and to the open road.
SEE YA LATER SUCKAAAAAAAAAHHHS!!!
*Uchui triumphantly sticks his head out of the window and screams back at the Foundation, as they smash through the buildings front gates and successfully make their escape.
...Grgh...
No...No no no...! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
*Sakura hangs her head in defeat, while Munakata pounds the ground in agony, as they both watch the vehicle drive a long way away.
//Nagito Komaeda has escaped.//
#danganronpa survivor#danganronpa#danganronpa 2#dr2#danganronpa 3#dr3#oc#uchui porosen#nagito komaeda#kyosuke munakata#sakura ogami#nekomaru nidai#the monster in me arc
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As regards influences in my life, I can categorically affirm that training at the Earlham Street Dojo with Steve Morris1979 - 80 was a one of several wake up events. All contact with remarable men will open up a challenge and set you on a certain path of discovery or one of denial. Steve Morris broke the mould in many respects and set me on a course that fuelled a lifeling interest in functional movement over form practice. The so called Internal systems are just as flawed as the Karate that Steve dissects so well in the article below. For me whole body function and natural movement are really in dire straights in the world of compliant martial arts practice, including the so called internal arts. How I met Steve Morris as a 19 year old. I saw a sign in the window of the Steve Morris's 1st floor Earlham Street Dojo every time I came and went from Victor Kan's Wing Chun basement school, which was ditectly opposite. For personal reasons Wing Chun did not impress me, so on my final day of frustration with Wing Chun, I ascended from Kan's coal cellar and onto the pavement, pausing, staring for a few moments at a hand written sign in the window opposite that simply said Kick Boxing, a sign that had beckoned for many months, I marched across the street, through the open door, headed up a flight of stairs, doubled back and up a few more steps into a small entrance that had a window on the right. I stopped dead, the atmosphere was intense and I looked at photo's on the wall of a long haired bloke bare chested wearing Gi trousers smashing huge concrete looking blocks, like a reversal of scene in the movie Leon, I was about to meet someone very very serious. I glanced through and caught the eyes of the man himself and walked in to be greeted by a martial arts genious, what he showed me in that first meeting blew my mind. His story is below: and be warned Martial Artists, it is not for those who are attached to their organised/ compliant martial art practice. Magnificent read.... http://morrisnoholdsbarred.com/archives/pedigree/ #mma #nhb #karate #kungfu #gongfu #internalfamilysystems #taichichuan https://www.instagram.com/p/CpYflblIi_4/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Luther Nedeed made two mistakes that cost him his life: he thought Willa was leaving the house, and he read the determination in her eyes as madness. She was heading for the piles of boxes and loose paper in the corner by the hall door. But she kept walking when he called her, walking when he touched her, so he blocked her path with his body. That brought them face-to-face. He had never encountered the eyes of a lone army ant, marching in defiance of falling rocks and rushing water along the great Amazon, the wingless queen who cannot fly from danger, blindly dragging her bloated egg sac as long as at least one leg is left uncrushed; so the dilated pupils in front of him registered insanity. Her fist lashed out and caught him across the Adam’s apple, making him bend and choke. As she brushed past him, he sprang up, grabbed her tightly behind the shoulders, pulling her away from the door. He was trying to force her down into the chair. But that leather chair was back toward the kitchen, and the kitchen led to the basement door, and the door opened on twelve concrete steps leading to the morgue. She had cleaned those rooms. Every cell in her body strained against his hands and he found himself being pulled toward the hall.
Then he reached for the child. The moment his fingers touched the wrapped body, making a fraction of space between it and Willa, her arms loosened for one to shoot around his neck, the other his waist, and the three were welded togther. Luther tried to wrench free, but they breathed as one, moved as one, and one body lurched against the fireplace. The trailing veil brushed an ember, the material curling and shrinking as orange sparks raced up its fine weave. There was no place in her universe to make sense out of the words, “My God, we’re on fire.” No meaning to his struggle except that it was pushing her back into the kitchen. And now no path to the clutter by the door except through the lighted tree. They went hurling against it, the top smashed a side window, and the December wind howled in.
[...]
“Something’s happening in there.” Willie grabbed Lester’s arm. “We’ve gotta do something.”
“What are we gonna do, Willie?” Lester snatched his arm away. “Just tell me that, huh?” His whole body was trembling, and the tears in his eyes didn’t come from the wind. “He’s not gonna let us back in there.” Lester turned and kicked the door viciously. “Son of a bitch!”
“We could call the cops.”
“And tell them what? Who’d believe us? Christ, I don’t believe it myself.”
“But she’s in there, Les.” Willie took him by both shoulders. “Don’t you understand? She’s in there.”
“I know, Willie, I know,” he whispered, not knowing anything except that the look on Willie’s face had turned him into a stranger.
“Come on, we can tell them that Nedeed killed the kid.” Willie jumped over the banister and down onto the lake.
“But he didn’t kill him.” Lester swung over after him. “You know that.”
“I don’t know nothing, but we’ve gotta do something.”
They ran, skidding and sliding across the frozen water. They had just reached the edge when they heard a dull roar and, glancing back, saw smoke billowing from the side of the house as the den draperies went up in flames.
“Oh my God, the place is on fire!”
“That fucking tree. There’s no fire alarm down here. We’ve gotta get up to Tupelo Drive.”
But Willie had already started back across the lake.
“No, White!” Lester pulled him back.
“What do you mean, no?” Willie shoved him in the chest. “She’s in there.”
As he ran toward the house, the den window shattered and flames shot out, crawling up to the porch roof. An arm grabbed him around the neck and he fell to his knees. He smashed his elbow back into Lester’s stomach, twisted around, and threw him against the ice. “Get your hands off of me!” When he was tackled from the front, he beat at Lester’s jaw and mouth. A blow to the side of Lester’s nose split it open, but the next one slid across his cheek because it was now covered with blood. It took a knee up into his stomach to send Lester flat on his back. Willie was free and he charged toward a porch that was totally consumed in flames. A weight slammed against his spine and he spun crazily across the ice with Lester riding him. Willie’s right arm was wrenched up and his chin forced back into a hammerlock.
“For God’s sake, White, look at it!” Warm blood and tears ran down Willie’s ear.
The front door burned through, sending flames fed by the relentless wind curling all the way up to the third-floor windows. With his chest forced against the ice, his chin jammed into the air, Willie listened as the roar of hot and cold blasts caved in the porch roof. It fell as if moving through solidified air, charred ashes fanning out on the snow in loops and curves that matched the arc of red embers against the smoke. The air kept beating in a dull hum, a deliberate rhythm and pattern that branded itself on his mind. Something inside of him ended there, but the nightmare was still to begin.
Racing up that steep incline, his lungs burning. Falling and tearing his coat and trousers, his palms and knees seared by the icy concrete. Tasting blood in his throat, feeling it wet on his blistered knuckles as he yelled and banged at the lighted houses along Tupelo Drive. Faces appearing and disappearing—the unopened doors. The lights going off, the draperies parting. The lights going off, the shades going up. The lights going off … going off … going off …
“They hear us,” Lester’s breath was coming in short, painful heaves through his bruised nose.
“But they’re not opening the doors.”
“They’re scared, White. Don’t worry. Somebody will call.”
“They’re at those windows, Shit. Look at them, they’re at those windows.”
Willie stumbled up and down the middle of Tupelo Drive, confused and dazed.
“Tell me I’m dreaming, Shit. Please, tell me I’m dreaming—they’re watching it burn.”
But as Lester anchored his hands on both sides of his friend’s neck, the white clapboard house blazing in front of him, those darkened windows looming at his back like gutted eyes, he knew that only real life could be this insane.
“No, White. Somebody will call.”
“Yeah, they’ll call.” Willie backed away from him. “You bet your ass they’ll call.” He bent and picked up a huge rock, ran to a picture window and shattered it. He grabbed up another and was headed for the next house when Lester wrestled it from him.
A shade went down and a light on.
“Yeah, you see? They’ll call now, lousy bastards!”
They heard sirens up on Linden Road. “White, I told you they were coming.” But it was two police cars, racing at a dangerous speed down the icy slope. Lester took Willie’s arm. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” They ran back toward the burning house. With nowhere to hide, they jumped the low fence and crouched behind the gravestones.
Lester didn’t own a watch, so he couldn’t tell how much time had elapsed before the fire trucks actually got there, and he didn’t know how long it took them to extinguish the blaze. But he was certain that Willie had cried through the whole thing. Excited voices had carried into the cemetery, mingling with the muffled sound of Willie’s, as the firemen cursed the lake that sent their tires skidding, cursed the wind and the frozen hydrant caps, while the men scattered about breaking what few windows were left in the back, ice caked on their eyelashes, beards, and gloves as tons of water poured over the house. Lester had expected to see three bodies brought out, but one massive bulk was covered and carried to the ambulance. He couldn’t feel the ends of his toes or fingers any longer but he stayed bent over in the snow, waiting for Willie to get done. Lester kept his back turned away, not daring to move or speak; this was something Willie had to complete, feeling that he was totally alone.
When the trucks finally left, the Nedeed home was a pile of charred wood, one side completely gone and the others only represented by high pointed spikes. The water was freezing over them, so that under the moonlight, tiny droplets glistened as they rolled down the three jagged shafts. But Willie still kept his forehead pressed against the crumbling gravestone. He gripped the ancient monument, crying as only a man-child could. Tight, defiant tears that fought each touch of the night air for the validity to exist in such number and depth.
Finally, a hand touched Lester’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He got up and beat his knees to circulate the blood as sharp pains shot through his joints.
They stepped over the fence and, without looking at the ruins, headed for the rear of the yard.
“We better go this way and just climb the chain fence in the back,” Lester said. “We’ll be out on Patterson Road.”
“Yeah.”
There was silence until Willie told the biting wind, “They let it burn, Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Silence again. Suddenly, Lester stopped walking. “But they let it burn, White.”
“Yeah.”
“No, don’t you see—they let it burn.”
A deep sob caught in Willie’s throat as he told the wind once again, “They let it burn, Shit.”
“Yeah.”
They let it burn
Each with his own thoughts, they approached the chain fence, illuminated by a full moon just slipping toward the point over the horizon that signaled midnight. Hand anchored to hand, one helped the other to scale the open links. Then, they walked out of Tupelo Drive into the last days of the year.
Linden Hills, Gloria Naylor
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Here is a decidedly unedited excerpt from Vala’s chapter in the second story of my Stargate Exiles series. The only reason I’m posting it is because I think it’s really well written especially weaving 3 interconnecting stories together.
Vala is basically watching herself in a flashback but also in her own head in that flashback. Sorry for the shitty recap.
HIGH TW for verbal abuse and rape.
“You have a fever, you’re soaked in sweat,” he roared at her, except on the outside, she only saw his concern, how his brows furrowed in worry and his lower lip trembled. How his words were more pleas than demands, mewls than roars. “You need a doctor.”
Feebly, she tried to push him away, off her bed, and away from her.
The time in which she wanted to be with him was over in her head, but her head was also roasting within a crown of fire.
Watching herself is completely confounding, as she knows she passes out from the fever, from the illness raging through her body, from dehydration that Lam will soon see to, and her thoughts are all muddled in rollercoasters when she hasn’t ever been on one, and roses when she’s never received any.
However, Daniel, calls to her once, then twice, his hand hard on her shoulder shaking her and only receiving a weak moan back from her, before whisking her up in his arms, where her limbs have turned slack and her brain on shutdown.
She follows him, having to jog to catch up to him, through the darkness, the swirls of colors around her so real yet only painted onto the blackness, highlighting the white concrete of the halls in the mountain.
He runs with her, and she would have thought that he wouldn’t pay attention to her body, to how her arms and legs were, to how her head was, but he’s tossed one of her arms around his neck, and the other in her lap, and while her legs flap around unconsciously, he’s tucked her head against his chest to keep her from injuring it.
It’s a sign of consideration she never would have known of if she didn’t see it herself, because if he’d have told her, she would assume it was a lie in order to portray himself in a better light.
The elevator door happens to open at the perfect time once he reaches it, and the only person inside is Mitchell, who looks up from his feet to Daniel at the door and immediately loses the calm composure he carries when on duty.
“What happened?” He asked leaning forward and blocking the doors from shutting as Daniel slips in. People in the hallway have now started to stop and stare, which is something she’s still not used to.
“She’s got a really high fever,” Daniel gasped for air, his own skin getting greasy with sweat from being so close to her.
Mitchell leans into the button for the level of the infirmary, as she starts to shift in Daniel’s arms. “I thought she was just sick.”
“So did I.”
In her mind the voices are distorted so much she can’t hear the words, can’t translate anything but deep and slow noises like a heavy metal drum being hit in a time of ceremony, there’s a fire and dancing and flames shooting skywards towards the stars.
But the elevator is slow, as Mitchell smashes the button again, with his thumb several times again, before turning back to Daniel who’s slowly letting her down onto her feet that she can no doubt not support herself on.
“Hey there, Princess,” Mitchell speaks with her, trying to get an answer out of her, but almost all the muscles in her body have gone slack at her level of unconsciousness and the fire is only making her hotter.
“Sorry, I had to put her down.” Daniel slips off his jacket, letting it land on the floor of the elevator leaving him in a black t-shirt as he slips his arm back around her to help keep her standing, although her head has begun to roll.
“How did she get so sick?” Mitchell’s question is almost accusatory, as he places a hand to her head, and then to her cheek, just like Daniel did, not even garnering a reaction from her.
“I don’t know.”
With no reaction, Mitchell grows more impatient, her fever melting away his calmness as he turns towards Daniel, not even bothering to hide the accusations now. “How did she get so sick?!”
“I don’t know, okay?” Daniel shouts back as the elevator slips down more levels. “She was completely fine this weekend—well, she was a little depressed, but I don’t think that has anything to do with—”
“This weekend?”
“Yeah, we were supposed to go out for dinner but—” Daniel’s reiterations fall short as he realizes that he has, in fact, just exposed their relationship to their mutual superior officer.
She would expect Mitchell to make some sarcastic or lighthearted comment about her finally breaking down Daniel’s defenses, or perhaps how it’s easier just to agree to be with her than to put up with her constant whining—things she would expect of other men.
Even perhaps query about their sex life, as she’s overheard other men talk about women, herself included, in less than flattering manners, as if they were pieces of meat or prizes to be won, wanting all the lurid details about what happens—or doesn’t—between the sheets.
Mitchell is a man, after all, and even if his mother has instilled into him certain behaviours that he still complies to around her, he is an individual with needs.
But instead, Mitchell simply glares at him as her forehead rests lolling onto his shoulder.
“Vala!”
They call to her but she cannot hear them.
Cannot find them in the circle of fire, the kind that the uncouth use in their outdated rituals involving the old gods and ancients, the kind she would exit her house to find set up in the city square, a hundred days of festivals and worship.
Hopping around the fire and alternating feet, wearing pearls in her hair, long and flowing like the smoke from the fire, and it’s something she hasn’t thought of for so long because every time she associates her village with the fire, it Qetesh’s guards who came and burnt the place down, who lit up the houses of single mothers, and the elderly laughing as they struggled to get through the barricaded doors and the scent of charred flesh wafting through the air to her stomach making her heave.
It's the men who tore apart the children from the mothers, dragging them away and tearing at their clothes with sharp nails and teeth and spittle in the corners of their mouths, and the numbness that follows before the intense pain.
It’s the—
--infirmary where she lays in a bed, Daniel having gotten her the last few steps while Mitchell jogged ahead to warn the staff of what was happening. Both men watching as Lam spat out orders that were in a specific kind of medical dialect she couldn’t understand, a nurse finding her arm and slipping in a needle with a long nose to flow the solution directly into her blood.
Medicine in bags the size of her hand dripped into her body, and for the next few hours once she was settled, a nurse would come by and inject another something into the bag.
In her mind now the fire had faded, the village was gone, the remains of houses, gardens, and bodies smoked shooting embers into the air on the wind. Her body was exposed, her dress torn and she struggled to hold it into place while she propped herself up against one of the only remaining walls, it was soundless, empty, a void.
The colors were swirling before her on the blackness like the smoke from her village, and slowly draining out until there was only a gray scale as men approached her once again, and in her mind she thought it couldn’t be happening again—not again, not—and before she could say anything, as she shot up to run, still clutching the strands of her dress in place, the strong hand of a Jaffa reached forward, catching her hair that no longer flowed freely, but was slicked down in saliva and semen, and threw her back on the ground.
Daniel and Mitchell waited beside her, both impatient, both fidgeting in their own way, with Daniel bouncing a leg and Mitchell pacing back and forth in the small confines of her allocated area behind a curtain.
Perhaps this happens because her body remembers all the trauma it’s been through all at once and just shuts down.
Perhaps because she doesn’t think of all the bad situations when people have laid their hands on her body without her permission, they break free of the dam of repression and flow through her until she gets physically ill, poisoning herself on her own memories.
Neither spend the night in the infirmary with her, she doesn’t know if it’s at Lam’s behest, but she’s left alone with a nurse coming to check on her every few hours and putting more injections into that bag.
Sometimes she gets a new bag.
The next day Mitchell walks in after Daniel has already been seated for a few hours, and he’s held her hand for a few minutes, but dropped it as soon as Mitchell returned.
It wasn’t anything to do with superiority or inappropriateness at work, but rather his own privacy and areas of his life that he thought shouldn’t be viewed.
In her mind she was screaming, dirt was laid on her scalp, her hair pulled out in clumps, she was cold and begging as the Jaffa chortled, turning her around, arranging her as they wanted.
Mitchell offered him the second cup of coffee he brought and Daniel politely refused it with his hand held up quietly.
With a shrug, Mitchell set the cup on the side table that was empty and pulled up a nearby chair.
“Maybe later.”
She kept waiting for someone to save her, because she was too young, and her mother kept telling her to get betrothed. That she needed someone to look after her, and while they were thrusting into her, she stared up at the sky, watching the clouds pass and the sun move until the stars came out again.
“Do you know how long it’s been since she’s eaten anything?”
Out of that latent respect, Lam posed the question to both men, thought she was talking directly to Daniel, understanding the implications as soon as he’d told her about the weekend.
“Umm—” Daniel went all stutter again, not fidgeting so much, but she knew he felt guilty because he hadn’t paid enough attention to know the last time she ate, even though he got enraged when—“She refused to go to a restaurant with me that I booked months ago—I thought—” his eyes swooped from Lam who was indifferent in her search for information, to Mitchell who was getting worse and worse at hiding his judgement “—I thought she was just mad at me or something.”
“Daniel, you idiot,” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the projection even though no one could see or hear her. He was always so concerned that everything she did was a reaction to him that he didn’t realize her genuine discomfort on Sunday had been because of illness not his callous attitude.
They left her in the dirt, her skin smudged and evert inch sullied. There was blood on her face from fighting, and blood between her legs from the men--ones she couldn’t remember but would never forget.
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Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?
No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good!
Hawks Rut Headcannons
Genre: fluff, smut
Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)
Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times
Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao
NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)
Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.
Pre-Rut Behaviors
Grooming and Preening
Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.
He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.
Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has.
Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.
Possessiveness and Protection
You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a l o t.
Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”
You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.
If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.
He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...
He.
Is.
Angry.
Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.
Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.
All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.
One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.
You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean.
If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.
If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut.
You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.
Nesting
He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?”
If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.
He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.
He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you.
He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.
Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.
He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.
He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.
Noises
He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”
You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood practically belongs to him.
Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.
Rut End-game
On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.
When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.
So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.
You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.
In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.
Physical Changes
Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.
His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.
He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.
His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.
His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.
His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.
his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).
His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck
His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’
His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him.
Rut (MAJOR NSFW)
Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS).
He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.
However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.
He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.
Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.
This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.
Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.
When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.
He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!”
One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.
You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected.
He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.
He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days.
Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.
He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose.
Yeah, he’s got that much energy.
Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed.
There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.
During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you.
He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.
He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough.
He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.
Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.
He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you
How much he loves you
How good you make him feel
How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut
How you’re his mate for life
How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.
Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.
When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.
He finishes off by pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.
This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses.
His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day.
Post Rut
When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off.
He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.
He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.
Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.
He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.
He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.
Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.
Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.
Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard
#bnha#mha#keigo takami#mha hawks#bnha hawks#bnha x reader#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n#mha x reader#takami keigo#hawks rut#hawks headcanons#hawks drabble#hawks imagine#keigo takami x you#hawks smut#keigo smut#keigo rut#rut#poc reader#male reader#hawks x male reader#hawks x trans reader#trans reader#gender neutral reader#hawks x gender neutral reader
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Blame it on the Alcohol
Pairing: Jay Halstead/Reader
Warnings: Alcohol, Vomiting
Words: ~1500
Description: Just shameless drunk flirting with the best-looking cop in Chicago.
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re sexy.” You slur, swigging back the last of your vodka cranberry.
“Hey Herrmann, I’ll t-take anotha!” You slide your glass across the counter of the bar, relieved to see the firefighter catch it before smashing into a hundred pieces on the floor.
“Nope. No more. I’m officially cutting you off.” Jay grabs the crumpled $5 bill from your hand.
“Ey, that better be half my tip there!” Herrmann interrupts, slamming down a cup of water in front of you. “Drink that, kiddo.”
You pout your lip realizing that the two were in cahoots to restore your sobriety, but still took the cool glass to press against your parched lips.
“You’re such a party pooper.” You kick Jay playfully under the bar. “I was just celebrating my best friend’s birthday!”
You peer past Jay to look at Sylvie, your ambo partner, who was swallowing back another Jell-O shot given to her by Dawson.
“I don’t understand how someone that small can take so much alcohol.” Jay laughs, having turned around to see what you were so intrigued with.
Your eyes glare at Jay as he takes in Sylvie’s skimpy red dress. You quickly stop staring as he turns back around, his gaze glancing to the still-full cup of water beside you.
“Drink that. All of it.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” You tease, pushing the glass further away.
“I mean it Y/N. Don’t really feel like taking care of the case of alcohol poisoning you’re about to get.”
“And what if I don’t? Are ya gonna arrest me?”
Jay smiles. “I just might.”
“Better whip out your handcuffs then.” You regret it the moment the words leave your mouth, your face burning hot in embarrassment.
You reach for your water, averting your eyes far from the detective, chugging down the drink. “I uh- I have to use the bathroom.”
Standing up from the stool a little too fast, your feet crossing awkwardly as you try to stand. You would have nosedived to the floor if it wasn’t for Jay’s strong arms and fast reflexes quickly shooting out of his seat to catch you.
“You good?” He asks.
Staring into his eyes causes a bubbling feeling to rise in your chest, that you first mistake as butterflies, but quickly realize is nausea working its way up your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you make a beeline to the bathroom, wriggling free from Jay’s protective hold on you. You dash past several concerned glances, ignoring your surroundings as you fall hard to your knees in front of the toilet, surely bruising them in the process.
What comes up from your stomach is a mixture of fruity cocktails and greasy food and you note that you’ll never again be eating a cheese blintz prepared by Brian Zvonecek’s baba again.
You hear the large wooden door to the bathroom open, expecting it to be Sylvie, or perhaps Gabby, but seeing Jay walk in caught you by surprise and you scramble to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe any spew that may have landed on your chin, instead of the bowl.
“This is the woman’s room.” You really don’t want to be seen by anyone in your current state, especially not Detective Jay Halstead.
“It’s okay, I have a warrant.”
“Very funny.” You try to stand, but a wave of alcohol-induced dizziness takes over you.
“You okay?” Jay asks.
“Never better.” You reach up to flush away the toilet-full of skinny margaritas.
“Why did you let me drink so much?”
“Excuse me?” Jay cocks an eyebrow.
“You’re a cop. You should have made me stop after the third drink.”
Jay smirks, walking across the floor and gently grabbing your arm, helping you stand. You fall into him as the dizziness washes over you again, smiling as he hugs you closer. “I took your keys after the first drink.” He announces, pulling them from his pocket and dangling them in front of you. “Figured I’d let you have some fun.”
“You went into my purse? Getting a little comfortable there, aren’t you officer?”
“I’m off duty. Don’t want to have to write you up for drinking and driving.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. Just being cautious. I think it’s time we get you home.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s only midnight! The party just started!”
“Don’t make me carry you out of here.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Jay smiles as he puts both arms around your waist, ready to lift you over his shoulders. You panic as you feel the nausea floating around in your stomach at the sudden change of motion. “No! Jay don’t please! I will throw up on you.”
He lets go, keeping one hand on your shoulder, afraid of you falling over.
“I need to grab my coat. I have a long walk home.”
“Ha. Walking. Funny.” Jay states, grabbing his own set of keys. “I’m driving you.”
“You don’t need to-“
“It’s not a discussion.”
“I’ll take a cab!” You exclaim, though your brain reminds you of the last $80 in your bank account that you did not want to blow on a taxi.
“You have a free cab right here.” Jay says motioning to himself before waving goodnight to Sylvie and the many emergency responders jampacked into Molly’s. He guides you outside, carefully leading you down the steps making sure you don’t slip, smashing your head onto the icy concrete below.
After ensuring your seatbelt is secured, after you had struggled with it for several minutes, he takes his place in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the small lot.
“You were supposed to make a left there.” You point out, realizing Jay had driven the wrong direction towards your apartment.
“Uh, Nope.”
“I know I’m drunk, but I still know where I live.”
“Oh, we’re not going to your place.”
“Huh?”
“You’re crashing at my house.”
“What?”
“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit alone.”
“So nice of you to care, but I don’t really want to sleep on your tiny sofa. I can imagine the pain in my neck already…”
“Who said you have to sleep on the couch?”
“Well, considering you live in a 1-bedroom.”
“You can take my bed. As long as you don’t puke in it.”
You chuckle, butterflies rising in your stomach as you stare at your knight-in-shining-armor. “I don’t think I can guarantee that I won’t.”
“Well, I’m prepared to burn my sheets then.”
“If you weren’t driving, I’d punch you.”
“Assaulting an officer and public intoxication. Real nice, Y/N.”
“Ooooh better punish me then, tough guy.”
Jay’s face blushes as he grins at you, side-eyeing your nervous expression.
“I mean, I could spank you, but I think that would be considered police brutality.”
You choke on nothing but air, thinking you misheard the handsome red head.
“I beg your pardon?”
“So, are you only going to flirt with me when you’re drunk? Am I too ugly for you sober? Don’t think I didn’t hear that handcuff comment earlier.”
“I-“ You can barely speak, embarrassment flooding your thoughts from working correctly.
Jay chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing till you sleep it off.”
“I- Um. Thanks? How kind of you?”
You throw your head back against the seat and close your eyes, trying to block out the streetlights flickering past your eyes as you drive down the snowy Chicago streets.
“I’m going to have such a headache in the morning.”
“Good thing my brother’s a doctor. He can get you the strong stuff.”
“Sometimes I don’t know when you’re joking.”
You smile at Jay as he finally pulls up to his apartment. He goes to open the car door before you pull him towards you by his jacket, thrusting your lips against his own, perhaps a little too hard. He’s taken aback, but quickly grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. Several seconds pass before you pull away, unsure of what drove you to do that.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah, don’t be.” Jay shakes his head, blushing. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”
Jay exits the car, rounding the vehicle and opening the door for you on your side. You stay seated for a moment as he looks at you questioningly. “C’mon Y/N, it’s freezing.”
“I just… I was thinking.”
“Huh? About what?”
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight, either.”
“Oh?” Jay grabs your hand, pulling you out of the car and pulling you into his chest.
“What do you have a Queen? I think there’s plenty of room for two people.”
“King, actually.”
“Okay well, we are not making it 3.”
“We’ll leave that up for debate.” Jay winks, helping you inside to the warm building, still clutching you close against the winter air.
#writing#fanfiction#morgan writes#oneshot#one chicago#chicago one#chicago pd#chicago med#chicago fire#jay halstead#jay halstead x y/n#jay halstead x reader#sylvie brett#one chicago fanfiction#chicago pd fanfiction
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Girl All the Bad Guys Want
okay i won’t lie, i remembered this song exists and i could not get the idea of a badboy!iida out of my head
this is a bit self indulgent because i was definitely that girl in hs lmaoooo
anyhow hopefully y’all like it too
PAIRING: Iida x Y/N
cw: badboy!iida
✨ tagging the iida army: @coleluuviida + @saturnity + @peachiileaf ✨
You have a reputation at UA, mostly with the male students. It isn’t something you put effort into maintaining or even something you cultivated on purpose, but you’ve gained some notoriety amongst your peers. At first glance, you don’t seem too different from your female classmates. You certainly don’t feel superior or disparate from them, but you’ve also never quite felt like you belonged with them. You don’t excel at being soft and demure, and you refuse to shrink yourself down in order to make others more comfortable in your presence. You spit in the face of all the things typically expected of a lady. And frankly, you’re more than a bit awkward when you hangout with the girls from your class. They always invite you to their sleepovers and shopping trips, and try to engage you in their conversations, but you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally offending them. You’re never really able to add anything of value when they talk about the boys in your class - a recurring subject. Mina knows everything about everyone in class; she loves to gossip. It’s like her horns serve as antennae and pick up on all the juiciest secrets. She is always interrogating the other girls about their crushes but you just never really felt that way about anyone. Honestly, you find the conversations about who likes who to be a bit boring. You typically end up hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima, and the rest of that squad. Boys are just easier to be around. They don’t get offended at your crass comments and your sometimes gruff disposition looks outright friendly next to Bakugo.
Your undeniably attractive appearance, unquestionable skill with your quirk, and nonchalant attitude have landed you in the sights of several of your fellow UA students. You are the embodiment of do no harm, but take no shit and something about you is intoxicating. Mina frequently jokes with you about how the entirety of the Bakusquad is duking it out to see who gets to ask you out first. You roll your eyes at her, convinced she’s imagining things. But in reality you’re just clueless. As cliché as it is, you really are the girl all the bad guys want. Too bad you didn’t want them back.
What you didn’t expect with your tough exterior, competitive nature, and tendency to slack off on class work is that class rep, Tenya Iida, would want you too. God, not even he expected it but he had fallen hard. You frustrate him. You’re just as smart as Yaomomo or Todoroki, but you skate by in class. You don’t outwardly disrespect authority, but you won’t blindly accept orders just because someone says so. He thinks the rap metal music you listen to while training is abrasive and doesn’t understand why all your favorite artists sound like they’re mad at their fathers. He finally gave up on lecturing you on the fact that the fishnets you wear with your uniform are not regulation and he was still wrestling with how he felt about learning you were one of the students caught at a dorm party with alcohol a few weeks ago. More than anything he hates that you’ve so effortlessly got him pining for you and you haven’t even noticed. Iida loves the rules! Order, structure, regulation - these are the things that Iida covets, so why was he craving the taste of your lips on his?
He is tired of silently lusting after you, and decides he’s going to try actively pursuing you instead. Tenya thinks that you like “bad boys” so as foreign as the concept is to him, he concludes he’s going to have to take on that persona. He starts off simply, making a playlist of songs he’s heard you blaring from your dorm. He eases himself into your music, starting with Linkin Park and Korn, before adding Incubus, Machine Head, and even some ICP to the mix. He’s hesitant at first… the music just sounds so hostile and aggressive to him. But soon he finds himself relishing the fierce energy the songs give him. Tenya gets why you train to this sort of music, his workouts becoming more intense than ever. They end in his chest heaving and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His muscular calves throb vigorously after every run and he feels powerful. It gives him a new found confidence that he strategically channels into his interactions with you. For class today, Aizawa simply instructs you all to pair off and spar. You’re about to ask Sero to partner with you when he approaches.
“Y/N. You’re with me.” Tenya doesn’t ask, he’s telling you you’re his partner.
A small sound of surprise leaves your throat at his unexpected forcefulness, but you don’t question it. You just nod, giving a small shrug to Sero before following the class rep to a vacant spot of the training gym.
You look over your challenger, rolling your head on your shoulders a few times to loosen up. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this,” you smirk, bringing your fists up in a defensive stance.
Before you can even blink, Tenya has closed the 10 foot gap between you, sweeping a long leg beneath yours in a circular motion, knocking you off your feet. You land with a thud on your back and the air in your lungs is forced out with a nmph.
“Just try to keep up, Y/N.”
Oh, it’s on. Previously you found Iida’s flustered demeanor around you endearing. But this new, assertive, almost cocky disposition is irresistible. His momentum propels him in a circle while he stays anchored in place on his massive left thigh. As he finishes turning through the motion he reaches forward hoping to pin your arms to the ground, but you’re just getting started. You plant the palms of your hands on either side of your face and kick up from the ground with a boost from your quirk. The added flow of air thrusts your legs up and over your head so you are now standing once more. You are sure that the soles of your shoes connect with Iida’s face during your arch through the air.
“It’s not going to be that easy, specs,” you taunt. Now it’s your turn.
You launch yourself at Tenya, closing the small gap between the pair of you in an instant. He extends a locked arm to block your approach but you simply dip your head, gliding underneath and down the length of his limb until you are just one step behind him. You pivot on your right foot as you swing your left arm across your body. Your open palm lands just between Tenya’s shoulder blades, your natural momentum accompanied by a gale force wind. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him toppling forward. Tenya’s speed is unmatched and his large frame is covered in tone muscle, but with the addition of the very air around you, your strikes are ferocious. Your air quirk aids in your mobility, but you’ve used it to master hand to hand combat. You dominate in tight quarters, so you just need to keep Tenya close. He’s already returned to his feet, calculating his next move. The moment ‘s hesitation creating an opening for your right shin to collide with his side. Tenya growls through gritted teeth in response to the blow and the feral vibrations send shivers down your spine. Instead of recoiling from your attack Tenya’s hands clamp onto your shoulders like vices. His brows are furrowed in smug determination, and he practically sneers “Recipro Burst!”
You are propelled backwards rapidly, the gym surrounding you flashing by in a blur, the only thing you're able to see clearly is the dark glint in Tenya’s eyes and the zealous grin on his lips. You try to activate your quirk to counter his momentum, but it’s futile, he is pushing you backwards so quickly you can’t manipulate any of the air whizzing past you. Your back is suddenly pinned to the back wall of the gym, Tenya’s large hands holding your slender wrists to the concrete wall. He places a muscular thigh between your legs so his left knee is pressed to the wall as well - he has you completely immobilized. Both of your chests are heaving, your faces no more than three inches from one another. You don’t know what possesses you but you smash your lips to his, desperate to close the miniscule gap between you.
Tenya’s body stiffens in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth, snaking his tongue past your lips. You wrench your hands from his grip, placing one on the back of his neck and tangling the other in the mess of his navy hair. You didn’t expect the class rep to be such an amazing kisser, but when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth you can’t contain the soft moan that escapes you. Tenya swallows your noises and begins to pull away. Your lips hungrily follow after him, but you’re stopped when one of his calloused hands rests on your neck with just enough force to hold you in place.
“Such public displays of desire are unbecoming of future heroes, Y/N. Come to my room this evening and we can finish this privately.” And with that, Tenya separates himself from you completely, already settling into a stance that signals he is ready to continue sparring.
#tenya iida#tenya x reader#tenya x y/n#iida x reader#iida x y/n#iida simps come and get y'all juice#my hero academia#mha#bnha#boku no hero#boku no hero academia#badboy!au#badboy!iida#by ves#mha imagines#bnha imagines#fan fic writing#fan fic blog
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Parker Luck
Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.
Read on Ao3 HERE :)
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Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.
He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.
He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.
For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.
After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.
Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.
But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.
With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.
--------
Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.
Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.
When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.
“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”
Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”
“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”
Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”
“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”
“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”
Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”
And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.
--------
When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.
He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.
This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”
Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”
Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.
His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”
“He’s a good kid.”
“I know.”
“He’s making you soft.”
Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”
“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”
His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”
“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”
And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.
“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.
Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”
---------
It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.
Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.
Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.
“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”
But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.
Tony shoots off into the sky.
---------
Peter thought they had everything under control.
Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.
He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.
“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.
“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”
“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”
“You can say that again.”
The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.
“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”
Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.
“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”
Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”
“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”
Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”
“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”
But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.
Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.
As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”
“But-”
“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”
The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”
“Mr. Stark-”
“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”
And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.
The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.
“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”
And then he’s gone.
Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.
“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”
The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.
“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”
He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.
“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.
“Benny.”
Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”
“I- I know.”
“Oh yeah?”
The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”
“I try too.”
“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.
“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”
“Brave?”
“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”
Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”
“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”
Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”
“Mom!”
Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.
“Of course,” is all he can manage.
Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”
For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”
“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”
He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.
Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.
“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”
Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.
“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”
“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”
“I can try.”
Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”
“No. Tony said-”
“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”
“Peter tingle?”
“Be right back.”
“Wait!”
But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.
Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.
“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.
Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.
“Steve!”
He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”
“Not without you.”
Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.
But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.
“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”
The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.
Then Peter sees it. A manhole.
“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”
Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.
There’s a couple moments of silence.
And then the world erupts.
Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.
He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.
He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.
But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.
And then there’s nothing.
----------
“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”
Awareness brings pain. He strays.
“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”
The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.
It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.
“Thank God,��� Steve says.
“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.
“It’s you I’m more worried about.”
“Mm. Why?”
Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.
“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”
Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”
“He’ll be here soon.”
There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.
“What happened?” Peter asks.
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”
Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.
The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.
“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”
Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”
“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”
“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.
“Rogers?”
“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.
“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”
“We’re airtight.”
“For now.”
Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”
“What’s wrong with Peter?”
“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”
Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.
“Rogers-”
“I got it, Tony.”
There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.
“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”
“Go for it.”
There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.
Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.
Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”
“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.
The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.
He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.
“Tony!”
Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.
“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”
“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”
“Peter-”
“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”
Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”
Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.
Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”
“Tony-”
“Go.”
The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.
He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.
Please. Please.
The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.
Please.
It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.
Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.
Tony is safe.
And it’s all that matters.
-------
“Peter. Don’t do this.”
“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”
“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”
“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”
“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”
“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”
“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”
It’s all water down a drain.
A swirling, murky mess.
And it takes Peter with it.
-------
Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.
Love them unconditionally.
Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.
May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.
There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”
Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”
“Has he woken up yet?”
“No.”
Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”
“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”
“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”
Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.
But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.
And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.
“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.
“But it is. It was.”
“I know.”
Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”
And then he leaves.
Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.
But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs.
“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.
“You don’ look angry.”
“Furious?”
“Nope.”
“Enraged?”
Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”
Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.
“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”
“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.
“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.
“That woman is nothing but a liar.”
“Mm. I believe her.”
“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”
Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”
Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
#peter parker#spider-man#tony stark#irondad#irondad fic#hurt peter parker#peter parker whump#protective peter parker#bamf peter parker#protective tony stark#steve rogers#captain america
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Goodbye Despair, Goodbye Our Hero: Part 3.
*pant!* *pant!* *pant!*
HYRRAAGH!
OOFFF!
*CRAAASSHH!!*
*As he runs through the city streets, Hajime is attacked by Nagito, who smashes him through a building.
Hngh...shit...HAH!
*Landing next to the fire escape stairs, Hajime starts to rapidly climb up them until he reaches the roof of the building, or at least a balcony area seperate from the top floor.
Phew! Well, at least I got my steps in...
Where the hell is he-? AH!?
RAAAHAHAHAHAGH!
*Hajime looks down below off the building balcony, looking for Nagito, only to see him climbing up at rapid speed.
KEH!
RAAGH!
*Hajime jumps back in time as Nagito explodes onto the balcony. When the dust settles, he’s crouched down in a menacing pose, and glares up at Hajime.
Tch...ghh...
Nagito, you’re getting unstable...! You need to stop fighting me before you get one of us killed!
HAH! And you think I should care?
You and I are the same, both of us scum and trash of society at our core! I don’t care if you die, and I don’t care if I die!
I’m sure SEIKO cares about whether you live or die though! Did you ever consider that!?
KEEP HER NAME OUT OF THE GUTTER THAT IS YOUR MOUTH, HINATA!
Why not! She’s the reason for all of this, yeah? You killed Marin Mizuta because she got taken, right?
You’re smart man! You should know full well Zetsubou are responsible, not the UUV! And yet you still killed her! AND FOR WHAT!?
YOU’RE the one at fault! You couldn’t protect her when her safety and security was on the line! She was captured BECAUSE OF YOU!
*Nagito launches himself at Hajime, in a fit of rage and spite!
That’s not true and YOU KNOW IT!
*CRRRAAAASSHHH!!!*
*The two launch at each other and collide. They then start throwing more blows, kicks and punches at each other.
HAAGH!
*THUD!* *WHAM!* *CRAASSH!*
HURRAGH!
HUUP!
KEGAGH!
WHAAA- YAH YAH YAH! HAAGH!
OHOOGH!
*SMAAASHH!*
*Hajime spins through the air and kicks Nagito with both his feet, attempting to piledrive him only for his opponent to roll out the way, causing him to punch the ground and fracture it. Nagito dives at Hajime and knocks him down, but Hajime plants a strong kick with both his legs into Nagito and sends him up in the air. He then launches himself upwards and proceeds to kick him twice, knee him in the ribs, and grab him by the legs; slamming him down onto the roof.
Don’t you DARE pin YOUR misdoings and failures on ME! Don’t you understand that I want to save Seiko just as much as you want to protect her!?
HRGH!
*Nagito flips over, lands on his feet and rushes at Hajime.
She...wouldn’t NEED saving...!
UGH! WAAGH!
If you had JUST TAKEN FUJIMORI OUT IN THE FIRST PLACE!
HRRGH!
*CRAAASH!* *SMAASSH!*
KEGH!
*Nagito kicks Hajime twice, both blows which he blocks, but then he slides through his legs and sweeps his feet out from underneath him. He punches and kicks Hajime in the center of his back, sending him up into the air. He then leans back down, pulls a chunk of concrete out of the floor, and throws it up at him. Hajime holds up his arms and blocks the incoming debris, turning through the air and rushing head first back down towards Nagito, who dodges before Hajime can slam his head into the ground.
*bam!* *whack!* *thump!* *pow!* *thud!* *slap!* *bop!* *bonk!* *bang!* *pong!* *wham!* *bam!* *whack!* *thump!* *pow!* *thud!* *slap!* *bop!* *bonk!* *bang!* *pong!* *wham!*
HYRAGH!
OOGHFF!
GUYAAGH!
HURPH! HIYAAGH!
KUGH!
*With neither side giving each other the edge, they continue to rush each other down, landing a variety of blows in a variety of places. Nagito eventually counters one of Hajime’s kicks by grabbing his leg and slamming him into the wall. He reels back and tries to smash Hajime into a pancake, but as he lurches forward, Hajime slides up the wall to dodge. He drop kicks Nagito in the face and then lands a powerful kick to his jaw, sending him tumbling back.
Hup!
HOOOOYAAAAGH!
KUH-!
*BOOOOOOMMM!!!*
*Before Nagito has a chance to even remotely recover, Hajime jumps behind him and grabs him by the face. He then runs forward and slams Nagito full force into the wall.
So!? How’s THAT!?
*He backs up, as Nagito crawls his way to his feet.
Heh...tickled a little bit...
I guess even YOU have some semblance of arrogance and overconfidence.
Well I DO tend to be quite lucky...!
Huh?
HUGH!
AHAGH!
HOOYAHAHAHA!
OUGH! GOGH! AGH! KEGH! *COUGH!* DAGH!
HOOH!
*SMAASH!*
RGH!
*Hajime is caught off guard massively as Nagito suddenly reaches down and throws dirt and rubble in his eyes! Nagito then launches at him and starts to volley Hajime into the air with his punches and kicks. He eventually takes both fists and smashes him into the ground.
HIYAGH!
HEP! HAH! HAH! HAGH! HIYAH-
GEGH! HAAAGH!
OORGH!
*Nagito tries to crash down on Hajime, but he kicks him up into the air again, then sending an array of kicks trying to keep Nagito airborne. However, Nagito gets at an angle and punches Hajime in the thigh, sending him rolling to the side.
Ngh!
HAAAAAAGH!
YAGH!?
*CRASH!* *SMASH!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BASH!* *BANG!* *WHAM!* *THUMP!* *THUD!* *CRASH!*
GHGHG-! GAHAAGH!!!
*As soon as he lands back on his feet, Nagito drives Hajime straight into the wall. He then starts to beat him down and beat him down, refusing to let him get back up.
KEGH!
*CATCH!*
YAAAGH!
OOHOGH!
*Hajime gets a tiny window of opportunity and exploits it when Nagito reels back to deliver a particularly strong punch. He grabs his arm and throws him into the wall, swapping their positions and tossing Nagito into the crater he made with his body.
HYUUGH!
HMPH!
*SMAASH!*
HUUGH!
KUGH!
RAAGH!
UUCK!
HOIYAH!
BLECK!
HUUU-JAAAGH!
OOOGH! AAAHAAGH!
*BOOOOMMMM!!*
*Unfortunatly for Hajime, Nagito doesn’t let the fatigue of the impact get to him. Immediately shaking the blow off, he jumps forward and tries to slam a heavy hit, which Hajime dodges, causing Nagito to slam the ground. However, within a second, he punches him hard in the chest, and then immediately knees him in the jaw. Hajime is sent up into the air very briefly, and as he is, Nagito jumps behind him, and lands a mighty punch right into the center of his back! Hajime yells in pain, and his body is launched straight to the top of the wall!
HOOOGH! RARARARARARARARARARARARARARARA-!!!
GGGHHH!!
RARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARRARA-!!!
...!
BAACKK OOOOOFFFF!!!
!!!!???
*When Hajime falls back down, Nagito’s attacks turn relentless! He throws a rapidfire array of punches at Hajime, bruising and bloodying him badly! In the midst of his array of attacks, Hajime lets out an almost supersonic scream of rage, which knocks Nagito off balance!
KRUAAGH!!
HEE-!?
*SMASH!* *SMASH!* SMACK!*
DRGH! HUYAGH!
Ooh!
NYAAAAGH!
*CRACK!*
AAAAUUUGH!
*GRAB!* BLYAAAAGH!
*KAAA-BOOOOOMMM!!!*
*Refusing to take any more shit, Hajime grabs Nagito by the neck of his shirt, and punches him twice in the face, and then knees him in the ribs. He grabs his coat and throws him higher into the air, pushing off the ground with his hands, and smashes both his feet straight into Nagito’s spine! When Nagito screams in agony as he falls back down, Hajime grabs him from behind, and delivers a massive air suplex, sending both Nagito and himself crashing back down to the roof!
YAAGH!
HUUGH! Huh!?
*After they crash, Hajime grabs Nagito by the chest of his shirt, lifts him up and throws him away again. Nagito rolls along the roof, forcing himself to shake off his fatigue. But as he recovers, he suddenly looks up and sees a figure, glowing with red aura, flying straight at him!
GO! TO! HEEEEELLLL!!!
!!!!????
*KKEEERR-CRRAAAAAAAASSHHHHH!!!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!*
*Hajime, powered up and extremely enraged, flies straight at Nagito and crashes straight into him. The power of the blow combined with the previous battle damage causes the entire balcony battlefield to shatter and crumble, with Hajime forcing both himself and Nagito down to the roads and streets below. Fortunately the streets are empty and evacuated, because had they not been, a few people may have been caught in the ensuing explosion.
...
...
...
...
...
Krgh...!
*A giant crater is opened up in the road, and the explosion from the impact sets the streets ablaze as well. Nagito, exhausted, bruised, battered and bloody, clambers out of the hole in the ground.
Gh...*GASP!*
*It takes Nagito a second to regain his senses, but he snaps back to reality and consciousness when he sees his blood-stained hands and body, as well as the carnage around him.
Hahh...Hgh! HNGH! HGH! HGH! HGH! HGH! HGH!
*He starts to breath violently, panicked and angry.
Oh, what’s the matter, you big baby!? Isn’t this the kind of chaos and destruction you thrive on?
!!??
You gonna cry!? Piss your pants!? Shit yourself!?
HRRGGGHH! I HAAATE YOOUU!
Oh HOW ORIGINAL!? You seriously aren’t finished yet!?
No! Because you’re STILL ALIVE! Which means that there’s more SUFFERING I need to grant you!
Ahaha! And you’ve done a MARVELOUS job at that!
I promise you this...Hajime Hinata...!
I’m going to KILL YOU! And when I’m through with you, I’m gonna rip that little shit fiancé of yours to pieces! Then I’m gonna tear down the Future Foundation, and then I’LL KILL EVERYONE YOU KNOW AND LOVE!
...
*sigh*
Looks like the fun is only just starting...!
#danganronpa survivor#danganronpa#danganronpa 2#dr2#hajime hinata#nagito komaeda#ask#the melancholy of nagito komaeda arc
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forced masculinity
kim sunoo x fem!reader x badboy!k
angst, fluff
trigger warning: smoking, bullying, cursing (a lot), homophobic acts, k is a very bad person in this story sorry k :(
btw, if there is any engene that doesn’t know who k is, he was a contestant in i-land :)
——
the sound of a school bag roughly dragged across the red bricked walls echoed the empty alley as sunoo was thrown on the floor, arms wrapped around his whole body in attempt to protect himself from the tall boy standing in front of him, a smug smirk decorated his face. a cigarette was loosely hanging in k’s mouth, the heavy smoke smell made sunoo felt dizzy.
“it’s been a long time isn’t it gay boy? having 6 boys hanging around you most of the time must have made you felt safe or some shit.” k spat out on the ground next to sunoo, wildly laughing when he knew very well that little to no one will caught the sight of him bullying sunoo in this empty alley. not to mention, it was during the evening, the only students left in the school compound were the basketball and volleyball team.
sunoo was shivering the moment k knelt down next to him, his fingers gripped sunoo’s jaw tightly as his eyes bore into the smaller one’s much bigger and more brown than his. the younger one’s doe eyes stared at his face, lens were shaking as he thought of every possible consequence that could happen with k beside him.
“answer me when i asked you, bitch.” a loud slap sound echoed through the surroundings.
sunoo held his cheek with his shaky hands as he nodded vigorously, his eyes were now starting to burn as tears rolled down his cheeks. k stood up, almost cackling at the what he thought to be a pathetic sight unfolded in front of him.
“let go of the kid, bitch.” a more feminine voice spoke out behind k’s back,
both of the boys stared at where the voice was coming from and saw a girl with a black hair stopping right above her shoulders. she was much much smaller than both of the boys, but with the way she crossed her arms, the way her eyes stared at k’s eyes boringly, her aura, and the way she also has a cigarette hung loosely in her mouth, it was dominating both of them.
k chuckled, “ohh what is this combination? a raging lesbian saving a gay ass soy boy?” he mocked both of them, hand was pressed against his stomach as he once again laughed out loud.
“i’m not a lesbian?” the girl voiced out, eyebrow raised in confusion.
“don’t lie to me y/n, don’t think i didn’t see you checking out lee chaeryeong from the next class.” k rolled his eyes, his fingers pulling out the loose cigarette out of his mouth before smashing it with his foot.
“it’s not my fault she was hot, any normal girl could go gay for her.” y/n rolled her eyes, before continuing her sentence,
“-anyways, let sunoo go.”
the whole time they were conversing, sunoo hung his head down, but when y/n mentioned his name, it was almost like a switch flipped in him. ‘she knew my name?’ the boy thought to himself as he lifted up his head to make an eye contact with the girl. y/n’s eyes softened when she saw how badly bruised sunoo’s cheek was, with the huge size of k’s hand and the strength that he has, one could fly all the way to germany with one of his slap.
the short eye contact moment was cut off when k stood right in front of y/n, blocking sunoo’s sight.
“date me first,” k looked down at the girl in front of her, a smirk was decorating his face.
he couldn’t lie, k was attracted to y/n ever since she stepped into the school. she was exactly the copy paste of him, and that made him attracted to her in a way no girl had ever made him felt like. but after he saw y/n staring at chaeryeong’s figure during one of her dancing performances while biting her lip, he was almost 100% convinced the girl was gay as fuck. knowing she was not coming from y/n’s mouth herself made the latter a little bit glad at the news, so why not ask her out?
the rough, calloused hand of k grab y/n’s soft, dainty ones, before lifting up to his mouth and placed a small kiss on it. he was almost so sure y/n would accept him, i mean who would not? a lot of girls were after him. he was athletic, tall, and handsome. he was everything what a boy hoped for. the confidence was getting in his head, until a loud laugh erupted from y/n’s mouth. he found himself clenching his teeth and holding his jaw as he fell on the floor with a swing from the girl’s fist.
sunoo’s eyes widened at the sight, he was bullied by k for almost a year now and he had never saw k in such a state.
the smaller boy found himself being forced to stand when y/n lifted up him by his collar and dragged him out of the alley, leaving k with a bruised cheek on the floor yelling at y/n like a mad man. not that anyone was pitying him though, ‘ an eye for an eye’ sunoo thought to himself as he was still being dragged by the smaller one towards the field. the cigarette in her mouth was still puffing out smokes, but in a much smaller quantity.
the basketball court was placed at the end of the field, so the sight of sunoo getting dragged by y/n was seen by one of his friends, sunghoon. the mentioned one stopped dribbling the orange ball on his hands and excused himself from his teammates. he knew that y/n was not a good news and seeing her around sunoo made him worried for his safety. he knew that sunoo was not someone who was strong mentally, let alone physically either. heeseung, who was holding the ball sunghoon passed him, saw where sunghoon was heading to and decided to jog to the same destination, followed by riki and jay.
letting go of sunoo, y/n spat out the cigarette that was sitting way too long between her lips on the concrete and made the boy faced her. she eyed the purpling bruise one sunoo’s cheek, who got embarrassed by her stare and looked away.
the smaller girl reached out behind her back to grab an antiseptic and a huge, square hansaplast. zipping her bag closed, she was about to give sunoo the things in her hand when she was pushed back away from him. y/n looked up to sunghoon who pushed her and rolled her eyes, dusting off her shirt as she eyed the other 3 guys behind sunghoon, she recognised one of them was heeseung but forgot the other two names. the taller guy noticed the bruise on sunoo’s cheek and was about to confront y/n when sunoo pulled sunghoon back and told him that y/n was helping him, but to no avail, sunghoon kept his cold stare at the girl.
shame started to fill in sunoo’s self. he doesn’t want to look weak in front of his friends.
“what were you doing to my friend, y/n?” sunghoon asked coldly, his eyes bore into y/n’s lifeless ones.
not giving a damn to sunghoon, y/n shoved the antiseptic and hansaplast to sunoo’s arms.
“since i’m not your friend, you can ask this elsa motherfucker to do it to you instead.” y/n said pointing to sunghoon with her lips, a chuckle almost left her lips when she saw how sunghoon clenched his fist at the nickname.
“you shouldn’t have saved me, i’m a boy, i can handle this alone.” sunoo said, head still hanging down as he held onto the stuff y/n gave him close to his chest. a scoff left y/n’s mouth.
“so i should have left you to death instead? stop with the fucking toxic masculinity sunoo, you’re the least person i expected to hear this sentence from, and wow, not even a fucking thank you.” y/n said as she rolled her eyes, before smashing the cigarette she spat out earlier on the ground with her foot.
the whole group went silent at the venomous yet bold statement that left the short girl’s mouth. sunoo was not a boy that was easily convinced that he had to be masculine to be recognised as a real man, the whole school knew this. so when that sentence left his very own mouth, y/n felt almost disappointed for hoping that sunoo would at least be different.
“guess you’re no different than k,” she mumbled under her breath, but it was heard by sunoo.
the girl turned around and walked away from the boys, leaving them speechless and for sunoo to rethink again about what he said.
——
ever since that incident, sunoo saw y/n and himself in a different light. y/n’s sentence from a week ago still lingered in his head, he was starting to embrace more of his real self and decided that he doesn’t need to be as strong as all of his friends were to be a man. but, he could not deny that he felt bad for saying that to her. y/n literally put herself in danger because of him and all sunoo said was she wasn’t supposed to do that.
he couldn’t blame y/n. if he were her he would have done the same, just less vulgar words.
the fact that he was in the same class as her made it worse, he could only stare at her hanging around at the back of her class with her friends, laughing out loud. sunoo found himself staring at y/n more and more, he was even starting to catch her small habits. the way y/n’s nose slightly crinkled after she laughed, the way she put up her book to sleep during class, the way she slightly tilted her head when she was in her favourite class, history. and that was just the top of the iceberg.
the boy could not bring himself to apologise to her, he knew he was in the wrong, but he does not have the strength to do so. he was scared of what y/n could do, after what she did to k, he knew that y/n was someone not to be messed with. even sunghoon already apologised to y/n after he suspected her of doing something bad, but it was easy for him because of one sole reason.
y/n was not who sunghoon has feelings for. he even caught them chatting and laughing from time to time.
but after endless courage from his friends, today he decided to talk to the girl. sunoo knew that y/n always hung out at the rooftop alone during break, smoking. so he decided to go at break.
with shaking hands, the boy stared at the metal door in front of him. his hands were sweaty and he could not count on how many times he wiped his palms on his school’s trousers. it was now or never.
opening the door, sunoo was met with soft winds slapping against his face. it smelt of fresh air, no smell of like someone’s smoking. sunoo stepped inside and closed the door behind him, looking around, the boy was disappointed when he sees that there was no one. until he turned around and his heart almost leaped out of his throat of the sight of the one he was looking for leaning on the wall right next to the door, a lollipop was hanging loosely in her mouth instead of a cigarette.
y/n was looking at sunoo up and down, her school blazer was nowhere in sight as some of the buttons of her school was popped open. sunoo’s heart beat faster at the sight before adverting his eyes quickly when he noticed that, his fingers were fiddling together.
“looking for me?” y/n asked, an eyebrow was raised.
sunoo nodded vigorously, eyes were still stuck on the floor as if it was the most interesting thing at the moment. from his peripheral vision, he could see y/n buttoning up her shirt back and pushed back the lollipop to the side of her cheeks.
“what do you want?” she asked, voice sounding cold as ever. sunoo wondered if this was the same tone of her voice when she forgave him.
“i-i would like to apologise on how i acted that day. i was very thankful that you saved me, really. the old me thought that i would look weak in front of my friends if they knew that you saved me. what you said really-,” sunoo took a deep breath before lifting up his eyes and were met with y/n’s brown orbs. the boy was tearing up at the very moment and he himself doesn’t even know why. the feelings were overwhelming, he was scared of everything.
“-it really made me realised that i don’t need to be strong to be recognised as a male. thank you for that, and sorry again for-,” sunoo halted his breath when y/n suddenly placed her palm on top of the taller’s head, tip toeing a little bit as she let out a small chuckle. the distance between their faces was closer than before, and sunoo could smell the strong sweet scent of strawberry lollipop out of her mouth.
“okay, okay i get it. apology accepted.”
almost immediately, it was like a heavy burden being lifted off sunoo’s shoulders. he sniffed a little, the tears still streaming down his flushed cheeks. the girl stared at the tears rolling down before shoving her hand inside her chest pocket and pulled out a tissue before offering it to the crying male in front of her.
sunoo immediately took it, muttering a small thank you before wiping his tears and realising that the tissue was a scented vanilla one. he smiled a little, he learnt something new about y/n again.
needless to say, after that very incident, both of the pair grew very close to each other despite the wide spectrum of differences that existed between them. they were the polar opposites, yet they got along very well. y/n also grew closer to the group of friends sunoo has, finally learning all of their names with proper. it was shocking to the whole school, no one saw this coming, even y/n’s friends themselves. k was unsatisfied at this news of course.
but then again, it was kind of his fault in the first place isn’t it?
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enha#enhypen fluff#kim sunoo#sunoo#sunoo imagines#ddeonu#thunoo#kim sunoo imagines#sunoo fluff#fluff#enha fluff#enhypen x female reader#enhypen angst#angst#kpop#sunghoon#k#iland#iland k
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pause, m | myg | 2
pairing(s): yoongi x reader
summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.
warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader
rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.
The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol
–
1.
-
She slapped him across the face.
You froze.
The cassette smashed.
“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”
She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?
“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”
Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.
“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”
Stop it.
“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
Mumbles. Fear.
Stop it!
“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”
Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.
You smacked her hand away from him.
Pause.
You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.
Somehow you didn’t think so.
Play.
“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.
Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”
“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.
“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”
The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”
But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.
“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.
The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”
You curled your hands into fists.
“You stupid bully.”
The woman looked taken aback. “What?”
“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”
She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.
Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.
The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.
“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”
She turned her heel and stomped away.
You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.
“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”
You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.
“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.
You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.
You bit your lip.
Silence.
“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.
“Y… Yeah.”
Silence.
The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.
He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.
“H-Hey!”
Pause.
He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.
“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”
I want to break this cycle.
“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything.
Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.
He didn’t say anything the entire walk.
Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.
Showed him the bathroom. A shower?
Shake, shake.
Okay.
You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.
Yoongi said nothing.
You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.
You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.
No dance party tonight.
You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.
A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.
You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.
He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.
Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.
His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.
You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.
You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.
Let’s just say living alone made you weird.
You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.
Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.
Pause.
Fast forward.
-
Morning.
You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.
Staring at it with a million question marks.
You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.
Your stomach screamed in rage.
Feed me!
Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?
You began to chop the kimchi.
-
Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig.
"Motherfuc–!"
A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.
"Stupid oil, ugh."
Not his girlfriend.
Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later.
His stomach growled.
The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it.
"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."
Yoongi blinked.
He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer.
You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt.
You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan.
"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"
Yoongi stared.
You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around.
Froze.
Yoongi blinked at you.
Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan.
Silence.
A good ten seconds past.
You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.
"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"
"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.
You turned bright red.
"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."
Yoongi stared at you.
You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.
Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents.
That was a long time ago.
"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."
Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it.
As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality.
Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief.
He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.
"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."
Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate.
"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"
"No."
He said the word with harsh finality.
"It's not that bad."
It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away.
"... Okay."
Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems.
... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...
Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.
"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."
Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."
You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them.
"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."
He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either.
"Uh..."
You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper.
"What's your name?"
-
"Do you want white or black?"
You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.
"Uh... Black."
You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask.
He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots.
"White or black?"
Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.
Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater.
"O-oh!"
"Fuck!"
His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?
You laughed.
You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.
The red string connecting you to him.
Yoongi stared.
At you.
His heart thudded in his chest.
Thump.
"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.
Thump.
His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.
Thump.
A fleeting feeling.
Happiness.
You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly.
Another fluttering feeling.
Sadness.
You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?
"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic.
You shook your head, waving a hand.
"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"
"U-uh..."
"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."
-
"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought.
"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."
"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.
"... Yeah."
"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"
You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open.
"... Alright..."
-
Pause.
Fast forward.
-
Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.
"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning.
No one was there.
The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete.
"Hey, Yoongi."
He turned his head to see you tilting yours.
"You coming?"
You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine.
"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin.
-
Morning. Night. Morning. Night.
Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off.
Morning. Night.
"Hey, Yoongi."
Morning.
"You coming?"
Night.
“Wanna race?”
Repeat.
The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.
Your lips asking him once again.
"You coming?"
Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment.
At first, Yoongi didn't smile.
Then one day, he did.
And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you.
-
"What are you doing?"
You froze.
Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.
And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics.
You turned around.
Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles.
The song went into the guitar solo.
He blinked at you.
"Uh... dancing?"
Blink.
Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice.
But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.
"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.
Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"
Yoongi stared at you.
Blink.
The song changed. One of your favorites.
Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel.
Blink.
"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look.
The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar.
His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.
You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.
The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid.
Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing.
With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh.
And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.
Sparkling with brightness.
The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.
Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips.
"Your music taste is nuts."
You smiled as the next song started.
"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."
You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him.
"Because every night should be a dance party."
And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes.
From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"
You'd dance to anything.
You weren't great at it.
But it was always hilarious.
And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night.
-
Pause.
Fast forward.
Wait. Are you sure?
You can always rewind.
You don't have to press play.
Pause.
Play.
-
“Do you like rap?”
You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.
“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”
Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”
“I do.”
Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.
“I definitely want to listen to it.”
You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.
Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.
Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.
You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.
“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.
“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”
“… It’s not that–”
“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”
Yoongi looked stunned.
You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”
He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”
You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”
The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.
Both of you froze.
“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”
You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.
“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”
“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.
You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.
“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”
Yoongi took a step towards her.
The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.
Another step.
“Yoongi.”
He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.
You smiled.
Smiled even though the moment was killing you.
“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.
You kept the bright smile on your face.
Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.
“Okay.”
Pause.
You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.
“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”
He made eye contact with you. He nodded.
“Goodbye.”
You turned and ran.
Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.
You froze.
You wanted to scream.
Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.
Physically.
Emotionally.
Empty.
-
3.
--
masterpost
#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi fanfic#bts fanfic#bts series#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x you
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