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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Area 51 - Nanami Kento

This is for @natsuonii’s creature feature collab! :) It’s got alien!reader, scientist Nanami and a whole lot of weird shit I’d say. Femme reader...there’s alien pussy lol 9.8K words

link to the collab!

Content warnings: sex pollen, alien heat, reverse knot, daddy kink, blood + needle(it’s brief I promise) and random medical terms and fake science shit lol don’t look too deeply at it

“This...this is the best scientific breakthrough we’ve ever had.” Nanami was at a loss for words, watching as decked out military men brought in case after case of wreckage from a shot down spacecraft. Working at a highly secure government facility sure did have it’s perks, and being one of the first people to know about all this was certainly the biggest one.

Nanami had spent so much of his life studying and clawing his way to the job he was at now. He’d sacrificed so much in the name of science, in the pursuit of finding extraterrestrial life forms no matter how small and insignificant, and it was finally paying off.

“Doctor, we’ll take the embryos to your lab.” One of the men said, quickly walking away tailed by people holding glowing blue cases. He hadn’t really been briefed on what all was coming in and what exactly happened to get it here, but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

“Careful!” Another person shouted and he was pushed out of the way. Coming in through the large steel doors was what looked like a four armed monster strapped face down to a flatbed. Markings went up and down his face and body and there were an extra set of eyes staring at everyone as it was wheeled by.

“What is that creature?” Nanami mumbled, clutching his clipboard tightly. The creature was breathing hard through its nose, nostrils flaring dangerously wide and a light growl rumbled from its chest.

“It appears to be the leader of the spacecraft, we could only get the creature's name, nothing else: Sukuna.” Someone answered him, but Nanami didn’t acknowledge, he was unable to take his eyes off Sukuna.

“Incredible.” His mouth hung open like a fool, unblinking as he watched Sukuna be wheeled past him and to the elevator shaft. “How far down are they taking him?”

“I heard the chief say as far as they could. He’s highly dangerous, it was a miracle the team was able to get the upper hand.”

“I’ll have to pay him a visit soon.” Nanami had enough security clearance to go anywhere in the building, but something was telling him he’d have to ask for a lot of permissions first before making contact with Sukuna. Nanami learned quite early on that the deeper underground you went, the more power you needed to be there.

Once the final bits and pieces were brought into the facility, Nanami peeled himself off the wall and made the way to his own lab. With his badge hung proudly from his shirt pocket, Nanami made the descent and as the elevator went floor after floor and the numbers got higher and higher, he let some excited exhales out.

Going down the metal corridor, he came to his lab to see it teeming with people. Nanami often worked alone on things and to see so many people milling about in his space made him a little nervous.

“Tell me about the embryos.” Was the first thing he said when he entered, donning the white lab coat he’d left hanging by the door. Walking over to the giant test tubes lining the back wall, he peered into one of the open cases.

Nestled inside atop a pile of hay were glowing blue orbs, some too bright to look at directly. They had a light blue smoke coming off, gradually spilling out the sides of the case and if he looked hard enough Nanami could just barely see the outline of a creature inside.

“They were on the spaceship Sukuna came in on. He was hellbent on protecting them, killing five of our people right off the bat.” The military man he’d spoken to earlier was here, answering right away.

“Were they in a case like this?” Donning a pair of gloves, Nanami picked one up. It was cool to the touch and quite heavy, making the muscles in his arm work harder than expected to stay upright.

“No, he had them suspended in some type of thick goop, like clear maple syrup.”

“How scientific, thank you.” He snorted, setting the embryo back down. “Do you have any of this ‘goop’ left?”

“Only this, sir.” Holding up a capped beaker filled halfway with the fluid, the man let out a defeated sigh. “Sukuna actually swallowed most of it, I guess trying to keep the embryos from us any way possible. This stuff is crazy acidic though, it’s melted almost everything it comes in contact with.”

“This should be enough…” Already making calculations in his head, Nanami took the beaker and walked to the control panel of the test tubes. “Load up the embryos and I’ll try to mimic the solution they were in. In the meantime, I’ll put one in that should be similar enough to keep them alive for a while.”

Pressing a few buttons on the panel, the test tubes began to fill with a murky pink liquid, filling the air with a pungent aroma. The embryos were loaded in quickly and the tubes sealed off. Watching them as he walked over to a table full of supplies, Nanami grinned slightly at watching them float.

It took him little time to come up with the properties of the amniotic fluid the embryos had been in. Making slight adjustments to the formula, he watched the liquid go from murky to clear, with only a light pink tinge left.

As the days wore on, Nanami studied the embryos intensely, opting to sleep in his lab instead of the barracks provided so he wouldn’t miss a single change should any occur. Going days without sleep, a week went by without any significant change.

A soft tapping on glass roused Nanami from an impromptu nap. Drawing his head up from where it was nestled in his arms on the metal table he was slumped over, he rubbed his face roughly and looked around.

“Who is it?” He called, assuming it was someone at the door. But when no answer came and the door wasn’t opened, he fully sat up and looked around. “Where the hell-” Cutting himself off as he looked at the test tubes, Nanami almost fell out of his stool.

In the seven test tubes lining the wall, there were three embryos that had come to term. He knew some would fail, resigning himself to the possibility that all of them would, but to see three newborn aliens was beyond his wildest expectations.

“Oh my god.” Snatching his clipboard off the table, Nanami rushed to the test tubes. He was writing furiously, capturing every single detail he saw about them and even making quick sketches of what they looked like.

There were little nubs right above their behinds, what looked to be the beginnings of a tail. All of them had two sets of eyes, unopened and tiny on their infantile faces, faces that were beginning to bear the same marks Sukuna had.

The tapping on the glass, Nanami quickly found out, was from them floating freely in the tubes, softly knocking against the glass as they hung suspended in the fluid. Nanami couldn’t see any kind of umbilical cord or method to get them the possible nutrients they needed to stay alive. So he just had to hope that they woke up soon to tell him what they needed.

The babies rapidly took shape after coming to term, morphing into a human-like form right before Nanami’s eyes. It seemed that with every couple of hours that passed they grew more and more. Fingers, webbed toes, tufts of hair and tails all appeared.

“So when do you think they’ll be able to come out?” His supervisor asked, nearly a month after the first encounter. The aliens under Nanami’s care looked like full fledged adults, ones that you could see out in public and - despite a few glaring differences - not pay any mind to.

“I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t know if they can survive out here.” In the month that passed, the facility wasn’t able to get any intel from Sukuna about the embryos or why he chose to come to Earth. All he did was snarl and growl, slurring a few death threats when he could.

“Take one out and see.”

“What?” Gasping loudly, Nanami’s eyes went wide. Surely his boss didn’t mean for him to sacrifice one of them? They were too precious of an asset to possibly let die like that and Nanami was ready to put his foot down.

“Don’t worry, doctor, Sukuna’s told us a bunch of times that more of his people will be coming, and I’m willing to bet they’ll have more embryos for us to study.” Giving him a swift pat on the back, his boss turned on her heel and started to walk away. “The usual assistants will be here to help you should you need anything and don’t feel bad if they all die, that’s just how these things go.”

The parting words were less than heartwarming. Letting out a rough sigh, Nanami turned to the team of people behind him. They worked with him before, most of them idolizing him with a gleam in their eyes.

“We’ll wheel in the examining table and take them out one by one. If there’s any adverse reactions, I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it. Get the usual supplies ready, we’ll start in ten.” Giving the group a curt nod, Nanami turned back to the test tubes. Pressing his hand onto the glass of one, he closed his eyes. “God, I really hope you all don’t die.”

In ten minutes, Nanami was dressed in full hazmat gear and so was his team. The crinkling of plastic suits was loud in the otherwise deathly silent room as everyone held their breath. Draining the fluid of the first tube, Nanami swung open the door.

“Let’s take a look.” Nanami said as the body was lifted onto the table. It had no external sex organs to speak of, not even a hole for a cloaca. Cool to the touch, Nanami waited for it to show any signs of life.

“It’s not moving.” Someone called out after five minutes, scribbling it down on the notes. They’d tried everything, strapping an oxygen mask over the face, chest compressions and returning the body back to the fluid it had previously been in, but it was no use.

“Take that away to Getou’s lab, he’ll dissect it.” Waving the first body away, Nanami looked up at the second. “We need to instill a gradual change in environment or else the same thing will happen.”

“Should we try to set up a feeding tube or an IV?”

“IV, yes.”

The second attempt went marginally better than the first. Slowly shifting the fluid to one of a normal human amniotic fluid seemed to work. The alien twitched and rocked side to side, seemingly waking up from its slumber.

Drawing it out from the tube, it appeared to be just fine. Gasping for air, fluttering eyelids and squirming limbs - all things Nanami wanted to see. What he didn’t want though, was for the creature to lash out with unexpectedly sharp claws, cutting through the sleeve of his suit and drawing blood.

“Holy shit!” Stumbling back, Nanami watched in horror as the creature licked the blood from its nails. Smacking its lips together, the creature pointed at him. It was rapidly losing the color in its cheeks, struggling to form whatever words it needed.

“Blood? Do you need human blood to survive on this planet?” Nanami shouted, scrambling away from the table he’d flung himself onto and holding out his arm. “Take it! Quickly!”

“Doctor no!” A few of his assistants tried to yank him away from the examining table. They didn’t want to see the blood get drained from his body or him possibly get eaten by the creature.

“Stop it, let me do this!” Struggling with them, Nanami watched in rapt horror as the creature nodded slowly before fully collapsing on the table, drawing it’s last shaky inhale before falling limp entirely. “You fucking idiots, we just lost another one!” Pushing the people away, Nanami banged his fist angrily on the table.

“Doctor, we couldn’t let you do something so dangerous! You’re the most valuable scientist here, we can’t lose you!”

“Bullshit! I don’t care if the next one wants to swallow me whole, you let it!” Glaring at all the people in the room, Nanami began to rip his gear off. “And if it dies for any reason, I’m going to make sure none of you ever find work again.”

With the threat hanging heavily in the air, Nanami stormed over to the control panel one last time, punching in the codes needed to change the fluid on the remaining test tube. His arm was slowly leaking blood and he could feel the warmth drip down to his hand.

“Get me an IV, I’m going to give this last one a blood transfusion.”

“Doctor, are you sure you-”

“If you question me one more time I’ll cut your tongue out. Now do as I say.” Pulling up a chair, Nanami sat down and leaned his head against the cold glass of the tube. None of this was going as he wanted; Nanami didn’t plan to lose two out of three creatures, nor to give blood to the last one.

Hooking up an IV, Nanami watched the blood drain from his arm, flowing up and into the top of the test tube where there was a needle inserted into the last alien. Trying not to get too woozy as he was drained of blood, Nanami pressed his forehead to the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I don’t believe in you but God if you’re out there, please make this work.”

“Doctor?” He wasn’t sure when he passed out, but when Nanami came to, he had a crowd of people gawking at him.

“Yes? What?” The IV was out of his arm and there was a blanket over him and as he tried to get out of his chair he nearly fell.

“L-look behind you.” Pointing with a shaking finger, the assistant that woke him up turned him to face the test tube.

“Why do you all look so-” Turning around, Nanami stumbled back, for once grateful to have someone else in the lab to catch him. “Scared?” Whispering out the last word in a high pitched voice, Nanami couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The once nondescript alien in the tube was now a fully fledged human being. With complete and fairly dark markings on their face, breasts and a vagina, the creature before him could be mistaken for any other adult.

And the thing that was most shocking was the way all four eyes honed in on Nanami, tracking his every move. Pressing it’s forehead and hands to the glass, the creature turned as Nanami walked side to side.

“It’s been watching you since you passed out.”

“How long has it been like that?” He asked, getting closer to the test tube.

“It just suddenly changed shortly after you lost consciousness. A flash of light went off and poof, it looked like that.” Pressing his hand to the glass, Nanami let out a breathless laugh as the creature scurried back only to return in mere seconds.

“Open the tube, we have to let it out.” Unable to take his eyes off the creature, Nanami could hardly wait for all the fluid to be drained before opening up the test tube and helping the creature out. Surprisingly steady on its feet, Nanami barely had to help it stand upright.

“Hello.” He smiled, shrugging off his lab coat and placing it over its shoulders. “Welcome to Earth.”

“Hello.” You said back, attempting to smile as well. “Welcome to Earth.”

When Nanami first got the embryos, he wasn’t expecting anything to come out of them. The most he thought would happen was possible growth but never any of them coming to term and certainly never of them to actually be able to communicate.

It appears you were destined to prove him wrong, however. Nearly the moment you stepped out of the test tube, dripping in fluid and with a long tail you couldn’t quite control, you exceeded all of Nanami’s expectations - not that he even had any to begin with, especially not when it came to taking you out of the tube.

The first hour, you were sitting perfectly still while the team ran tests on you. Pressing a cold stethoscope to your chest, a few of them got a giggle out of the way you gasped and squirmed. Nanami watched it all happen, taking calculated notes and even doing some of the tests himself.

“What’s your name?” He questioned after another hour of hearing you repeat the phrases around you. Staring at him from the stool you were perched on, you tilted your head. It was only you and him left in the lab now, he sent everyone else away, wanting a chance to study you on his own.

“What’s your name?” You parroted back, mimicking the way Nanami had his arms crossed over his chest.

“My name is Nanami Kento. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.” He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes at the giggle you let out. He understood he was dealing with an alien, one that might never be able to fully communicate the way he desired, but he wanted to get somewhere.

“What’ll it take for you to stop copying me?”

“Reading a book.” He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, and hearing your voice form a stilted sentence all on it’s own was a big surprise. Nodding curtly, Nanami walked over to a set of bookcases and grabbed a thick dictionary and a thesaurus, placing them onto the table next to you. Flipping open the first page of the dictionary, Nanami pointed at the words.

“Can you read these?”

“Mhmm!” Leaning over, your eyes scanned the script.

“Good, read all of it and tell me when you’re done.” Setting up a chair on the other side of the table, Nanami fixed a pile of notes and other documents he needed to work over. He could take time to catch up his reports while you-

“Done!” Slamming the dictionary closed, you picked up the thesaurus. “I have to read this too?”

“Y-yes.” Nanami’s mouth hung open slightly as he watched you speed through the second book. He expected this whole process to take an hour at least but you were done with both books in just a few minutes.

“All finished.” You were still a little unsure of forming sentences, lifting your voice in slight question at the end.

“How did you do that so fast?”

“When Mother made us, she gave us all the information she could on this planet, including rudimentary language. I just needed a way to conceptualize actually speaking on my own.”

“Who’s Mother?” Grabbing his pen, Nanami began to scribble down what you were saying.

“Mother is the one that made us. All of us, me, my companions, and Sukuna too.”

“Right…” Nanami’s hand hesitated at the mention of Sukuna, drawing inky swirls in place of words. “Then Mother is the one who sent you here with him?”

“Yes! She said that to take over this planet, we would need to assimilate to the environment and that we’d need a strong warrior to protect us.” You had a dreamy look in your eyes, no doubt thinking about Sukuna. “So far I like this-”

“Hold on, take over the planet?”

“It’s what my people do: we come to a planet, impregnate the population and take over.” He was sure there was more to it than that but for his own peace of mind Nanami didn’t question it further. For now, he wanted to focus on the positives, mainly the one of you finally speaking on your own.

“So…” Nanami struggled to find the next topic of conversation.

“Oh, I remember my name now! It’s (Y/N).”

“Did Mother also give you that name?”

“She did!” You truly looked overjoyed to be talking about all this. The smile on your face led to Nanami being able to see the sharp canine teeth in your mouth, akin to a set of teeth he’d find in a vampire movie.

“So (Y/N), I have a question. I gave you my blood so you’d be able to live on this planet.” He paused to make sure you were following along. “I want to know why you’re a female when you received male donor blood.”

“Mother determined which gender would be useful for me to have on this planet, so all I needed was your DNA to complete the transformation and become a human.”

“Mother thinks humans have those extra eyes and a tail?” Nanami snorted at that, there were too many things to give away your unhuman origins that couldn’t be ignored.

“Sukuna is supposed to teach us how to hide them until we need them.” Your shoulders visibly slumped and you looked around. “Where is he? He was supposed to be here when we woke up.”

“He’s somewhere else-”

“Where? Where is he?” Putting both palms flat on the table, you leaned forward. You seemed desperate, your brows scrunching together as you worried your lip. “I can tell he’s close, but where is he exactly?”

Nanami heard what you said. He knew exactly the words that were spoken and their meaning. But he was having a hard time thinking of anything as he suddenly became aware again of the fact that you were still naked, the lab coat you had on falling open to reveal your breasts.

“How about we talk about that while you get dressed in something more appropriate?” Clearing his throat roughly, Nanami pushed away from the table. His cheeks were getting a bit warm and he didn’t want you to see.

“No, tell me where Sukuna is!” Slapping your hands loudly on the table, you glared sharply at Nanami when he tried to come closer. “I don’t want to be alone any longer! My companions didn’t make it, he’s all I have!”

“(Y/N)...” Sighing softly, Nanami didn’t know what to do. If he tried to raise his hand, you growled at him, flexing your fingers as if you were going to strike him. He couldn’t tell you where Sukuna was, no matter what. “You’re- you’re not alone.”

“What do you mean?” Your face softened just a fraction, and you leaned back as Nanami lifted his hand slowly, placing it on the table near your own hand.

“You have me.” Nanami felt something odd twisting his stomach, something that told him this simultaneously was a good and bad idea. It wasn’t wise to say this to you, to try and build some kind of relationship beyond a scientist and his test subject, but what did he have to lose? You were the first alien he’d ever come in contact with, there were bound to be some risks he’d have to take to keep you happy.

“Really?” Relaxing your body, you let your hand get closer to Nanami’s.

“Really.” Fully grabbing your hand now, Nanami tugged you from the stool, craning his head away to avoid looking at your open chest. “Now follow me, I think there’s some scrubs in one of these drawers.”

“Nanami, I’m hungry.” After finding you a set of clothes buried in a drawer and cutting a hole in the bottoms for your tail, Nanami was greeted with the sound of your growling stomach.

“What do you eat?”

“Whatever you eat.” Taking up residence on the singular fold out couch Nanami used to sleep on, you watched him pick up the phone on his desk.

“Let’s have some pasta then.”

While Nanami preferred to cook his food himself rather than ordering it from upstairs, he didn’t have the heart to tell you that the cafeteria food was less than ideal. You seemed to love the dish he gave you, eating it with no hesitation and a smile on your face.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your kind?” Picking over his food, Nanami watched you finish eating in record time and pushed his plate over to you.

“Like what?” Tilting your head to the side, you gladly took his food.

“Anything that comes to mind like cultural things, maybe you celebrate holidays?”

“We do! I was created to leave the planet, but others get to stay and cultivate life there. We have something close to what you call Christmas and others for things you wouldn’t understand.”

“Really? You’ll have to write them down for me later.” Nodding to himself, he made the mental note to teach you how to write. Glancing down at the two now empty plates before you, Nanami flicked his head toward the phone. “Fancy some more?”

As it reached midnight, Nanami became starkly aware of the fact there was only one place for the both of you to sleep. He wasn’t sure how much sleep you actually needed or if you needed any at all for that matter, but he knew for sure that sleeping on the same fold out mattress with you would be crossing a line he wasn’t ready for. It was already too short to hold his entire frame, and putting two bodies side by side wouldn’t be a good idea.

“(Y/N), are you tired?” Standing up from the couch, he motioned for you to stand as well.

“Yes.” Your voice was chipper as ever, not a hint of exhaustion heard. You watched with rapt interest as Nanami unfolded the mattress and set it on the ground.

“Alright, well you’ll be sleeping here and I’ll be sleeping in the barracks.”

“I’m going to be alone?”

“Is that a problem?” Quirking a brow, Nanami glanced at you.

“Well not necessarily but I- I don’t want to be alone. Not on my first night, at least.” Curling your tail on the ground, you worried your fingers, claws clicking together as you did. Nanami could feel his resolve wearing down, the nervous look you tried to hide made his fingers flex; he felt an overarching urge to protect you.

“I’ll grab another couch from the lab next door.” Turning on his heel, Nanami took deep breaths as he left the room. Forcing his head to get clear, he drug another couch into his lab, setting it up across from the first one.

“Is this what you call a sleepover?” You asked, watching Nanami set up both couches with blankets and pillows.

“You could say that, yes.” A strange giggle left your mouth and it made Nanami pause and look at you. “What was that sound?”

“A laugh?” Dropping your face in confusion, you looked him straight in the eye. “Is something wrong?”

“No no it’s just-” clearing his throat loudly, Nanami rushed out the next words, “That was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” At his admittance, you giggled again and he had to bite his lip hard from audibly swooning.

“Mother made it special for me, she makes all her children special.” Mimicking the way Nanami climbed into bed, you laid down and stared at the dark ceiling. “Only some of us can laugh like that, and others have pheromones and what not to attract the native people on a new planet.”

“(Y/N), do you have special pheromones too?” Your casual mention of impregnating and taking over the whole planet flashed in his head.

“I think I do, why else would you have agreed to stay here with me?”

“Good to know.” Nanami would have to install a high tech air filter later, he didn’t like the idea of slowly succumbing to your desires. Fully laying down in bed, he drew the blankets up to his chin and tried not to think of it anymore. “Good night.”

For a month Nanami studied you nonstop. Gathering medical information, he discovered you had three stomachs and two hearts. Through plenty of trial and error you learned how to keep the swinging of your tail under control and not trip him anymore. He even learned your favorite foods and the relative location of your home planet in the galaxy.

When Nanami had to step out for meetings, he begrudgingly let fellow scientist Gojo watch over you. The best in his field and horribly obnoxious about it, Nanami tried to limit the time you two spent together. He didn’t need Gojo influencing you too much and ruining the work Nanami had put into acclimating you to society in an appropriate way.

“You’re back!” It was like he was coming home from work whenever you greeted him like that. You bounded over to the door from wherever you were and bounced on your toes, eager to talk to him about what he’d done while away.

“Mhmm. How’s it been with Gojo?” Nanami glanced up at said man, not liking the fact that he was lounging on the couch with his laptop perched precariously on his thigh.

“It’s great! He showed me something really interesting.” A shy giggle left your lips and you avoided further eye contact with Nanami.

“What is it?” Narrowing his eyes, Nanami began to glower at Gojo, who started to shrink under his gaze.

“(Y/N), don’t you have something to say first?” Gojo smirked, barely hiding a chuckle behind his hand.

“Oh, you’re right!” Squaring your shoulders at Nanami, you took a deep breath. “Welcome back, daddy!” Taking a brief glance at Gojo, you cupped your cheeks and stuck your tongue out, crossing your eyes for extra measure.

“W-what the fuck!” Scrambling back in shock, Nanami glared sharply at Gojo as a harsh red flush coated his cheeks. He was ashamed to admit he’d seen that face before, late at night when he was too restless to sleep and needed something to help soothe his mind.

“What’s wrong, Kento? Do you not like what (Y/N)’s doin’?” The dark chuckle behind Gojo’s words had Nanami wanting to throttle him. Of course he liked it, he was a grown man wasn’t he? Not to mention Nanami couldn’t remember the last time he’d laid down with another warm body like that and the face you were making was bringing several repressed thoughts to the surface.

Unable to form the proper words, Nanami side stepped you and went to his desk, placing files down that needed to be typed out later and trying to still his rapid heartbeat. The way you said that sentence so enthusiastically, saliva making your tongue glisten in the light - it was too much for him to deal with so abruptly.

“Why’d you teach her that shit?” Nanami growled, covering the lower half of his face with his trembling hand.

“(Y/N) deserves to know all aspects of human life, wouldn’t you agree?” Closing his laptop, Gojo stood up and walked to the door. “Besides Kento, I know you get lonely at night.” Smiling sweetly at you, Gojo left the room without any further comment.

“(Y/N).” With his back still facing you, Nanami heaved a sigh.

“Yes?” You said slowly, relaxing your body. The tension rolled off Nanami in waves, making the air thick and uncomfortable. It was hard to read whether he was angry or not.

“What has Gojo been teaching you?” The subtle sag in his shoulders isn’t missed by you, making you scramble to the desk and face him.

“I don’t know! He said there were some interesting things you’d yet to show me and he pulled up some websites and- and-” A bit of fear spiked in your head. You’d only gone along with what Gojo said was right, Nanami had entrusted you to his care after all and your whole reason for being on the planet was to assimilate. “Are you mad at me?” Rubbing at your four eyes to stem a sudden wave of anxious tears, you looked at Nanami, waiting nervously for his answer.

“Not at you. Him.” Sensing your oncoming distraught, Nanami shook his head and cleared his throat. “I want you to learn all the good things of human life and well-”

“Sex isn’t a good thing?” You gasped, leaning your hands on the desk.

“Did he teach you about sex?” Nanami nearly yelled back.

“He did! We read a lot of medical journals about it, it releases so many good chemicals into the human brain! And then Gojo went to this website called PornHub and-”

“He what?!” A heart attack. Nanami was going to have a heart attack.

“Let me finish! He showed me humans having sex and it looked like they were having a great time!” Your breath was coming out short and Nanami could hear the drag of your tail on the ground as you got worked up. “But it didn’t do anything to me, I haven’t reached that point yet!” He didn’t understand what you meant and while the urge to drown himself in the bottle of dark liquor he kept hidden away tugged at him, his pursuit for knowledge was greater.

“What do you mean you ‘haven’t reached that point yet’?” Collapsing into the desk chair, Nanami was more worked up than he thought. The shock of hearing you call him daddy, learning that you discovered what sex was and now he was going to know when you would begin to show interest in such a thing.

“Sexual maturity, I’m not there yet, so seeing that stuff didn’t do anything to me.”

“When will you be?” He pressed, grabbing a pen and getting ready to write down whatever you said on the corner of a file.

“It’s been a month since I’ve transformed, so in about a week or two.”

“That fast?” Nanami blanched, mind spinning at how he was going to deal with that. “Humans take years, though, shouldn’t my blood affect that?”

“No, my DNA only takes what it needs from yours. My base mechanics like lifespan and in this case sexual maturity are all hardwired by Mother. They won’t change just because a few drops of your blood mix in.”

“So...so what does that mean for you? Do you need some kind of special uh- a special thing or-?” His cheeks and ears burned fiercely and Nanami cleared his throat in the middle of the sentence. He knew exactly what he meant by ‘a special thing’ but he couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of you.

“I don’t know, actually.” Shrugging your shoulders, you sat on the edge of his desk. “Sukuna is supposed to tell me what happens and what to do after we pick out a suitable mate for me.”

There was that mention of Sukuna again. The creature buried so far underground some people wondered if he was passing the Earth's mantle. He’d settled down in the month since your arrival, seemingly knowing that you had emerged from the embryo and survived. He still refused to give any answers and you hadn’t mentioned him in nearly three weeks.

“You don’t need him. We can figure it out once it gets here.” Shaking his head, Nanami could feel himself getting a little high off your pheromones with you sitting so close. The air filter he put into the room could only do so much when your scent rolled off in such thick waves.

“Okay.” Sighing the word, you resigned yourself to playing with your fingers. Silence washed over the room, less tense than before but still tainted with an edge to it. Both of you were flushed from talking about this subject and Nanami was glad you had your back to him.

“(Y/N), I have another question.” A few minutes later, Nanami couldn’t hold back the question burning in his mind. You let out a hum of acknowledgement but didn’t face him. “What would be a suitable mate for you? What kind of human?”

He blamed it on your pheromones, he blamed every last less than professional thought in his head on your pheromones and what you did to him and he especially blamed Gojo for forcing this topic of conversation to come up. Nanami tried to reason with himself, put the narrative in his head that he wanted to know for science, but in the dark recesses of his mind Nanami wanted to know who your type was if you even had one.

“Well actually, a human like you is perfect.” Your back curved just a little to keep your face hidden as you spoke. The words hung in the air, leaving Nanami’s mouth hanging slightly open and his mind bouncing to a hundred different places at once.

“Like me?” He whispered, barely registering the words coming out of his mouth.

“Exactly like you.” This time you looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes narrowing as you took in his reaction. His shock seemed to be enough for you, your secondary eyes pinching closed as you smiled, and you turned back to face forward. “Nanami, I’m hungry.”

Having grown accustomed to your new home, you slid off the desk and to the couch that was yours. Nanami’s eyes were glued to your back, watching the way your tail moved on the ground as you walked. His throat was suddenly thick, there were plenty of things he wanted to say, things that would definitely violate his code of ethics.

“Nanami.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, back to reality where you were far away from arms reach. The weight of your eyes bore right back into him and Nanami knew he’d been caught staring.

“Yes?” He forced the word out, his tongue feeling heavy and foreign in his mouth.

“Should we have pasta tonight?”

Nanami hardly slept at all that night, plagued with ideas of what you thought about him and less than savory images of you and your body. Shame settled over him like a second blanket as he tossed and turned throughout the night, trying to rid his mind of such things to no avail.

In the morning, Nanami got rid of the second couch and made the decision to sleep in the barracks when he needed to. While nothing inherently sexual had occurred, he still felt like he betrayed some sort of trust between you two, sullied the pure relationship you had together.

Ignoring your whines and protests, he also made the decision to get rid of Gojo as your babysitter. He didn’t want or need your mind filled with things he didn’t deem appropriate and Gojo was the main perpetrator of such things, and he was confident enough that he could leave you alone for a few hours and nothing bad would happen.

It almost hurts to leave you alone at night, the old ritual of slowly nudging you along your night time routine and laying down on adjacent mattresses was now replaced by getting you ready for bed but then leaving shortly after you were all tucked in. Sometimes you whined and wanted him to stay, claiming that you didn’t sleep as well without him there, and sometimes Nanami hesitated at the door before steeling his resolve and leaving.

He doubts he’ll ever tell you that he stopped sleeping as well too.

An abrupt evening meeting three weeks later called him away from you sooner than either of you would have liked. You’d developed a cough and a bit of a rash over the course of time and while Nanami was sure this meant you were reaching sexual maturity, he was still hell bent on finding some medicine to help you, not wanting to go to this meeting about another potential UFO sighting.

“(Y/N), I’m back and I-” Nanami all but ran back to his laboratory with some medicine he’d swiped from Gojo. He was worried for you, not just as a scientist but as a friend. Throwing open the door and locking it quickly to contain any possible airborne particles, Nanami was assaulted with the harsh smell of something sweetly floral.

“N-nanami!” His eyes immediately find you, writhing in what looks like agony on the mattress he’d pulled out for you before leaving. Walking quickly over to you, every inhale he made felt like he was breathing in a thick fog.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Coughing and putting a hand over his face, he looked over you. It was normal for you to just wear a long, oversized t-shirt Gojo got you from a local thrift store to sleep and right now it was clinging tightly to your body from the sweat pouring out of you.

“Nanami!” Shaking your head side to side, he could see the tears leaking out of your eyes. Against his better judgement, Nanami crouched down on one knee and put a hand on your forehead.

“Shit, you’re burning up.” Pulling his fingers away, there was a light yellow powdery film left on them. “(Y/N) what is this? Has it started?” The substance tingled on his fingers, making them go slightly numb.

There was a pitiful noise from you as a response and a limp nod, and Nanami rushed to the sink to wash off his hands. The scent in the room was overwhelming, almost choking him with every inhale he made. Turning the ventilation system on as high as it could go did nothing and there was still pollen visibly floating in the air.

“I have to go, I can’t be here.”

“No!” You cried, falling out of bed with a loud thump and crawling toward Nanami. “D-don’t leave!”

“I have to, this stuff isn’t good for me.” Nanami kept his back to you, hastily trying to grab some things from his desk. His cock was already beginning to stiffen painfully and the sounds you were making were echoing inside his head.

“Wait!” Tugging on his pant leg, you dug your claws into it.

“(Y/N), let go.” He tried to shake you off, staunchly avoiding eye contact. The heat on his skin was rising and if Nanami were to look in a mirror he would see how red he was. You refused to let go, sitting up on weak knees and pushing your hand further up his leg.

“D-daddy, please! Help me!”

That was it. That was the moment that broke Nanami Kento. He knows Gojo has told you that he likes to be called that in bed, among other things. He knows that the pollen in the air is what’s making his head impossibly foggy with only one thing able to be focused on. Nanami knows that if he stays here any longer, he’ll do something that he won’t regret, but that might cost him his job.

“Daddy…” Emboldened by unbridled desperation, you force Nanami to face you with strength he didn’t know you possessed. Eye to eye with his cock straining against his slacks, you shove your face right into it.

“(Y/N)!” Your name comes out as a rough groan from his lips and Nanami’s hands fly to grab the back of your head. As he grips your head, Nanami makes no move to pull you away and doesn’t stop you from rubbing your face along his clothed cock.

“Please please please, just this once! I need to do this-” The pleading you're doing is muffled by your mouth running along fabric, words slurred and barely coming out properly. Just from this stimulation alone Nanami can feel his balls tighten like he’s about to cum.

“Sto-stop, stop this.” Nanami’s own sense of morals, his will to do anything besides being in this room with you was going to be torn to shreds the longer you touched him. And it was, as he came in his pants, rutting his hips like a pathetic teenager into your face.

He came but his cock was still as hard as before, maybe even more so. There was no reprieve from the painful need to be stimulated, to feel you touch him again and again and again. With a mangled groan, he shoves your head away and grabs his waistband.

Swatting your hands away that still rest on his hips, Nanami undoes his belt and shoves his pants and underwear down to the ground. His cock slaps against his dress shirt, glistening from the previous load of cum and leaking more like he’s never seen before.

“What did you do to me?” He asks under his breath, feeling sweat pooling on his skin despite being half naked. As he takes off his remaining clothes, Nanami can feel the tingle from the pollen settling all over him, sticking to his hair and to every crevice of his body.

“D’ya like it, daddy? That’s what M-mother chose for me, it’s a new- a new evolution we got from a previous planet.” It’s amazing that you can stand on your own feet despite the way your legs shake violently. Nanami can tell you’re in a sorry state, so he lets you lead him to the mattress and fall back onto it.

“Mother made you pollen? How interesting.” Somewhere far back in his head, he really did find it genuinely interesting. But right now he was merely making conversation, settling on the bed as you climbed on top of him and took your wet shirt off.

The rash that had been on your skin was now turning into powdery pollen before his very eyes, falling off and into the air like a flower's pollen would. Laying down on Nanami, pressing your breasts against his chest, you fell into a kiss with him.

Even though it was your first kiss, Nanami was the one left feeling inexperienced as you slotted your mouths together and slid your tongue past his lips. Even your saliva was sweet as it dripped it into his mouth and down the sides. Nanami’s hands roamed your body, pinching into your sides and squeezing your ass painfully tight. Surprisingly, your tail didn’t get in the way, just languidly swaying side to side and sometimes tickling his shins.

“Daddy, please- I want more!” You whined loudly, breaking the kiss to trail your lips along his neck and chest and nip at the skin every so often.

“Tell me. Tell- tell daddy what you want.” There was the slightest hesitation, a tiny tinge of shame for doing this with you that got washed away as quickly as it came up by your wet cunt sliding against his cock.

“I want you inside me.” Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you stroked it slowly, unable to focus on putting it in and kissing him at the same time. Giving up with a grunt, you settled for rubbing your cunt along his shaft.

“Shit, roll over.” Flipping you with ease, Nanami grabs onto your thighs and holds them apart. Staring down at your cunt, it looks just like any other human sex organ, giving Nanami some peace of mind that he wouldn’t need to do anything too complicated to make you feel good.

You whine again when he doesn’t immediately push himself balls deep into you, instead laying on his stomach and giving your inner thighs kisses. Nanami grabs your hands, silently telling you to hold your legs apart as he delves in deeper.

One lick up your slit and you fall apart so easily, gushing around his mouth so much Nanami is sure you just had an orgasm. Greedily drinking it up, Nanami can attest that this is the best thing he’s ever tasted. Burying his face into your heat, he can’t keep his tongue in one place for too long, torn between pushing it deep inside you and licking at your swollen clit.

You’ve given up holding your legs open a while ago. As Nanami sucked on your clit, your thighs clamped down around his head and your fingers threaded through his hair. The feeling of his mouth on you was the best you’d ever experienced in your short time being alive and it was one you’d think about forever.

“Oh my- daddy, I-” Your eyes were closed so tightly you were seeing stars and you were sure Nanami couldn’t breathe anymore from how tightly you squeezed him as you came. His head thrashed side to side, tongue swiping all along your sex and inner thighs to catch all of your release.

“This is the best scientific breakthrough we’ve ever had.” Wrenching his head away before he passed out, Nanami laid limply on the bed. As the words left his mouth he remembered all those weeks ago now when you first came to him as just a tiny, glowing embryo. He never would have been able to imagine that you’d be here, turning him to lay on his back and crawling between his legs.

Grabbing the base of his cock firmly, you gave one lick to the tip before engulfing it fully in your mouth. Nanami’s back arched high off the bed in shock, surprised at the lack of hesitation from you and how easily he hit the back of your throat.

“S-slow down a little.” He panted, trying to cup your face and get you to look at him. Swatting his hand away, you let your tongue loll in your mouth as you sucked him off, easily planting your nose on his lower stomach and swallowing around him.

It must have been the pollen in the air to make him cum so quickly, Nanami reasoned with a harsh blush on his face. That was the only explanation for why he was currently spilling a thick load of cum down your throat in less than two minutes of you sucking him off.

“You taste so good, daddy.” Pulling off his cock, you licked the sides and down to his balls, gently sucking one into your mouth and looking up at him. Despite just cumming, Nanami felt another orgasm wash over him and another wave of cum came out, dribbling down the sides of his cock and onto your face.

Slapping a hand over his face, Nanami let out a few moans he’d been holding back. There was no way he would ever be able to look at you the same way after seeing your face covered in his seed.

“C’mere.” Stopping you from your current ministrations, he pulled you to lay over top of him again. Grabbing your sweaty shirt from the ground, he wiped the cum off your face, kissing your skin after he wiped it clean.

“Daddy, will you put it in already?” You cried, smacking your ass against his thighs angrily.

“Be patient, baby.” Petting down your back, Nanami shushed you, giving your ass a quick pinch before gripping the base of his cock. Keeping a hand on your hip to keep you steady, he helped you sink down on his cock, easily all the way to the hilt.

Digging your claws into his chest, you let out a loud howl. Finally you were getting what you really needed, the feeling of Nanami’s cock hugged tightly by your cunt spreading a warm feeling throughout your body.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He hissed as you dragged your hips upward and back down again. Sure he’d been with other women before but none like this. Your cunt squeezed him incredibly tight, making it impossible for him to do anything other than lay back and let you move however you saw fit.

You weren’t shy in your motions either, riding his cock with a dizzying confidence and nearly fumbling down into a heap of loud moans on more than one occasion. Even with all the prep before your arrival to the planet and research you’d done about sex and the human experience, nothing could have prepared you for how good it actually felt during your heat.

Nanami was sure everyone within the compound could hear what was going on in the room, your noises were as loud as they’d ever been. The sound was as beautiful as when you laughed, hypnotizing him further into compliance.

“Shit!” He cursed harshly, nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he came. As his orgasm came over him, Nanami got no break from the pleasurable waves washing over him because you refused to stop.

“More, more!” You panted, working even harder to get him to cum again. With the added vigor, more pollen released into the air and Nanami breathed in a deep mouthful. Snaking an arm around your back, Nanami rolled you over, acting on pure instinct as he pushed and pulled your body into a mating press.

“You’re so- so demanding, baby.” The pet name came without thinking, not that Nanami was doing a whole lot as he pounded the full length of his cock into you. He wasn’t sure you could hear him, even while being face to face like this. There were too many sounds in the room, the moans that left both of you freely, the wet slapping of skin against skin and the creak of the old mattress springs.

“Please, give it all to me!” Throwing your head back, your cunt spasmed around Nanami’s cock for the umpteenth time, making another gush of your release coat everything within its reach.

Nanami was sure you’d have bruises later from how hard he gripped you but right now he couldn’t find it in him to care. The only thing on his mind was fucking you so hard you stopped babbling and crying like a baby for more of him. He wanted to give you all that he had and more until he himself collapsed as well.

Pushing a hand between your bodies, when he touched your clit Nanami briefly went deaf, unprepared for the incredibly high pitched moan that left your lips. His ears were ringing fiercely but he kept going, refusing to take his eyes off the way your mouth fell open as he rubbed your clit in quick circles.

“H-how many- how many times have you cum?” He gasped, feeling the very beginnings of a burn in his thighs.

“Not enough, it’s not enough.” Thrashing your head against the mattress, you wound your arms around his shoulders. “I need more, daddy.”

“I don’t have any more.” Nanami spoke around the smothering kisses you gave him.

“You do! Just- just a few more!” He wasn’t really in a position to argue with you, you were holding onto him with far more strength than he could ever hope to possess, and while the pollen on your skin had started to diminish there was still a lot in the air that refused to let him truly come to a stop.

As if on command, Nanami felt his balls tighten up and he came again. The arms holding him up broke down and he fell on top of you, burrowing his face into your neck and holding your hips up with his hands.

“Fuck, baby-” With his eyes squeezed shut, Nanami lost track of where he actually was. Nothing mattered except for the feeling of your body underneath him and your cunt holding him in a vice grip. There wasn’t any reason to keep track of how many times he’d emptied a load inside you, so when he did it again so soon after the other one, Nanami paid it no mind.

“It’s coming!” You gasped suddenly, cradling the back of Nanami’s head as your body suddenly came to a stop. Unable to stammer out a question as to what was coming, Nanami was met with the harsh shock of your cunt getting so tight he couldn’t move any further.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you sobbed openly, words slurring together. Nanami was only able to catch something about a ‘seal’ and how you were making Mother so proud for your first heat cycle on Earth.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Craning his head down, Nanami was just barely able to see the swollen flesh of your sex encompassing his cock.

“Y-you humans would call this a knot, right?” Shifting your hips a little, you slowly unwind your legs from around Nanami and let them lay on the bed. “I have to keep you inside for a while.”

“You’re going to get pregnant though.” With his mind still in disarray, Nanami found that he didn’t actually care. He knew that was why you came to the planet and he was willing to help you fulfill your mission.

“Not this first time, I’m only keeping it for later.”

“Of course an alien has sperm storage.” Mumbling to himself, Nanami felt the aches in his body finally starting to settle in as the rest of the pollen was cleared out of the air and the world around him returned to normal. Laying down as gently as possible, Nanami rolled you onto your side and hooked your leg over him. “How long will we be like this?”

“At least another five minutes.” Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin. Taking a deep breath, Nanami felt around for the blanket you used that had managed to stay on the bed during all the moving. Throwing it over the two of you, he let out a sigh.

“I can wait five minutes.” No doubt there was going to be a lot of explaining to do on his part, and he could possibly get fired, but Nanami refused to think about that right now. He was far too tired, and the way you cuddled into him had not an ounce of regret or shame going through him. He would do it all again in a heartbeat.

“Nanami?” You whispered, fighting through sleep.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Did you know what love truly was? Did you have the capacity to love him like any other human, or were you thinking of a different emotion that you wanted to convey? Maybe you loved him in a way that he couldn’t understand and never would, or perhaps you were lying to further your agenda.

“I love you too.” Kissing the top of your head, Nanami pushed all other thoughts out of his head that could lead him to a negative outcome. Focusing on the sound of your breathing, he knew you had fallen asleep, and he kissed you again. “Yeah...I love you too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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otonymous · 4 years

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Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard). Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes: My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom! I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it. This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea. That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard! Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog. And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh. There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?! WHAT THE HELL?!”

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize. And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep. And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate. The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!” You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade. “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it. You were sleepwalking. You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to. My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL! Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay? We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye. So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods. But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon. He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions. And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course. That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual? Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG! You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight! It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol. Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon: Hey! He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate! Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon. Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place? Was there something wrong with his room? I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her. I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏 She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair. Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer. The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with. And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop. Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared. Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre. But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave. Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel? I just want to help—” You reach for his arm. He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE! I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me. This has never happened before. I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been. I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough. The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission. Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?! I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t. I don’t mind, Beel. I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide. And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive. I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back. I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh. You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam. And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage. The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious. All the time. And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses. I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form. But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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

Cheddar. Pickles. Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want. I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well. Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog. Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel. Better than fine, actually. I feel fantastic!” You smile, moving to sit up in bed. The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features. “I’m glad. I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back. You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites. “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too. Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself. “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Text

Chapter Four

“Dang it!” I bellow eight days later, as my body gives way and topples over, having used too great of force to yank a now dead primrose from the ground.

Yesterday morning I had come outside to discover the yellow evening primroses, the flowers Peeta had planted upon his arrival back in Twelve, had all but died.

And I didn’t even notice. I’ve been so distracted with everything else going on in my life—namely Peeta and his blonde companion—that I entirely forgot about the flowers. The flowers that my sister was named for. The flowers meant to represent her when she was no longer alive to represent herself.

The idea that I could forget the plant, that I let myself lag on the simple duty of keeping them alive and watered and healthy, felt as if I had let my little sister down all over again. It felt as if I’d failed Prim a second time.

And it’s more than I can handle. I can’t even endure the thought. The very implication that I am, in any way, dishonoring my sister’s memory is entirely unbearable. Even if it is just me implying it, inside my head.

But in any case, it looks like the primroses are too far gone and I don’t have even a chance at resurrecting them back to life. I took too long to notice their wilting, I was too caught up in other things, that I let the plants die and now there’s no going back.

For a split second I consider returning one of my mother’s many calls to ask for gardening advice. She has always had a green thumb and been able to grow whatever she set her mind to. I never had any of those skills. I was a hunter by nature, not a nurturer.

No, that was Prim. The soft and gentle one, who loved animals, who could heal any wound she could identify, who could garden and grow herbs just as well as our mother.

And I miss her so much. I miss my little sister so very much that I almost breakdown into tears right then and there, right in front of the dead primrose bush outside my house.

“Katniss?” I hear someone call in the distance. I recognize the voice instantly.

And rapidly get up and make a beeline towards my front door.

Unfortunately he’s determined to catch me. After eight solid days of evasion, Peeta is dead set on catching me at any given opportunity before him.

It’s almost funny how once upon a time it was him who wished to avoid me. It was him who craved distance between us, who acted icy and detached at every encounter, whether forced or by chance.

Now it’s him trying to force an encounter between us, trying desperately to make up for hurting me, trying to still be a part of my life, even after I pronounced our relationship finished.

The bread he left on my doorstep—that I immediately tossed in the garbage—is proof of that. The cheesebuns he left on my counter who met their demise to a flock of birds on my back porch is proof of that. The cookies he baked and passed through Greasy Sae when I went to trade at the new, rebuilt Hob is glaring proof of his efforts.

I did actually eat those but I made sure to do it in private, where Peeta would never know if his token was accepted or not.

Because I don’t want him to think we’re okay. I don’t want Peeta to believe me and him can still be friends, with Bailey Robyn, the uptight, controlling blonde still lingering over his every move.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic. Bailey isn’t residing over Peeta’s every action. She probably doesn’t even know he’s made all these treats for me. And she surely wasn’t sitting by his side in the corner of Greasy Sae’s booth when our eyes briefly met before I stubbornly stormed out.

But I feel like she is. I feel her presence overcast in every one of Peeta’s actions, in every deed he partakes in, in every moment I run into him. Maybe it’s only inside my head but it’s enough reason for me to avoid Peeta. It’s enough reason that I wish to stand by my words eight days ago and cut him directly out of my life. With a chainsaw if necessary, I wish to cut the invisible cord that has tied me and him together for so long now.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls again, his arms grasping my waist just in time to prevent my escape into the house.

“Go away,” I mutter under my breath, ire and ache still seeping off me even after a week separating this moment here with our last interaction.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, a little breathless now from the race to my front door. But even tired, concern still manages to leak into his tone. His blue eyes still show anxiety for my well-being.

And it’s still not enough to thaw me.

“You know why,” I say rigidly, pulling my front door open and shoving his hands away from me.

“No, no, I mean,” he quickly tries to correct his question. “I meant, what’s happened out here that has you upset?”

I audibly huff, my eyes about as warm as a popsicle in a snowstorm. The last thing I want to do is stand here and recount just about anything to Peeta, especially in regards to the way I’m currently feeling.

Especially after the last time we spoke about our feelings, when I chose to let him in and allowed him to see the vulnerable parts of me that I never trust anyone with.

Only for him to turn around and side with Bailey over me.

But knowing how persistent Peeta can be when properly determined—his intensity to train like a Career, Brutus’ murder and him warning District Thirteen about Snow’s incoming attack all fly to the top of that list—I merely gesture widely to my backyard, where the dead flowers lie.

It only takes Peeta a moment to click it all together, to his credit. Though I’m hesitant to even offer him that right now.

“I’ll replant them,” he instantly offers, like a dog begging to fetch his owner a carcass bone.

“Don’t bother,” I say, about as rude and uninviting as humanly possible. “It’s not your responsibility.”

I’m just stepping into the house when Peeta’s hand shoves on the door, hard enough to keep it open. For a split second, I contemplate putting all my strength behind it and slamming his fingers in the door. But even as mad as I am—even as wounded as I am—I won’t physically harm Peeta.

After all, he already lost his leg once about I tied it in a tourniquet. I may have saved his life but I also cost him half a limb and that thought alone stops me from nearly taking his fingers off too.

“Katniss, I want to,” he pleads and his eyes are so big and blue and I feel my heart involuntarily melt a bit upon at the sight. “I want to replant them.”

I release an unconscious breath, for the first time in over a week not completely hostile towards the boy with the bread, who in my eyes, completely turned his back on me. Or so it feels. “I’ll just end up killing them again, Peeta. I’m serious. Don’t even bother.”

“Then I’ll tend to them,” Peeta throws out, getting more and more desperate the more I refuse, it seems.

I’m about to brush off his offer once again when another voice joins us. “Oh, let him do it, sweetheart. The boy needs a hobby besides baking,” Haymitch chimes in, standing at the bottom of my porch, looking drunk as ever.

“You love that baking is his only hobby,” I shoot back at the paunchy, old man.

“Well, not anymore. Since you two started fighting he’s been making me fat. I need a break.”

I’m about to come back with another comment, probably one to suggest Haymitch doesn’t have to eat everything Peeta brings, when we’re joined by a third presence.

Of course, she has to join us. Bailey can’t seem to let Peeta go anywhere without her nowadays.

“What’s going on?” She murmurs, looking around at all our tense body language. Well, at mine and Peeta’s tense body language. Haymitch is currently sitting on the bottom step of my porch now, as relaxed as Buttercup is in the window.

Peeta opens his mouth to respond but then shuts it again, glancing back at me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he doesn’t wish to discuss his offer to help me with his girlfriend or if it’s the fact that he clearly knows I dislike the notion of Bailey in my business, but either way I’m a little pleased when he closes his mouth and adverts eye contact away from the blonde.

Instead it’s my drunken mentor who elaborates. “The girl’s flowers died. Your boyfriend just wants to replant them.”

To my utter astonishment, Bailey seems amendable to the idea. “The flowers for your sister?” She inquires, looking right at me. I shoot her a quizzical—and perhaps slightly unfriendly—look out of the corner of my eye but she continues on anyway. “Peeta, you should help her plant them again. Especially since you let them die-“

But I’ve heard enough from her—and everyone else here, for that matter—and I turn to Peeta, my hand still holding the doorknob tightly, ready to slam it shut. “Fine,” I cave, my tone anything but grateful. “Go ahead and replant the primroses. If that’s going to help you, then go for it.”

I don’t wait to hear a response from any of the parties now camped out on my property. Instead I shove Peeta’s fingers off my door—first time I’ve touched him in eight days—and throw it shut with such a force I feel the walls in my entryway shake.

“She’s always been a spitfire,” I hear Haymitch mumble as three sets of footsteps make their way further from my porch.

I barely catch Peeta’s response. If I hadn’t been standing by the door, unintentionally listening to hear what they may be saying, I would have missed it altogether.

“That’s the best thing about her.”

It’s just mere hours later before I’m disturbed once again. This time not by a crew of three but by one solo intruder.

“Sweetheart?” Haymitch barks, evidently not too keen on the fact that I decided to turn every light in my house off after returning home from the Hob.

“Go away,” I mumble out, knowing well and clear that he can’t hear me from upstairs. I’m in my bedroom, lying in the safety of my own bed, in my own private sanctuary, where I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone at any cost.

Of course, it only takes a few minutes of bumping into things and cursing for Haymitch to track me down. “Girl, it’s six at night?” He says incredulously.

“So?” I snap, as he turns my light on, effectively blinding me.

“Did you just forget about dinner tonight?” He asks, his voice neither kind nor hostile. In all honesty, he just sounds puzzled.

“Why are you in my room, Haymitch?” I murmur, rubbing my eyes until they adjust to the beaming brightness and pulling myself upwards now. Off his dismissive glance, I let out a deep sigh. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Of course, we’re not really talking about me skipping a meal. I highly doubt Haymitch truly cares if I miss dinner by my own accord. He surely wasn’t too interested in my meal intake when he brought me home from the Capitol and dropped me off on my doorstep.

No, we’re referring to the weekly dinners me, Peeta and Haymitch have at the old man’s pig sty. The same dinners I’ve brought Delly along to, that Haymitch is constantly passing out drunk during, that Bailey has been crashing nonstop since arriving here in Twelve.

When I came home from trading at the Hob tonight, I decided I was done with those dinners. I don’t need to subject myself to bossy Bailey any longer, and my resolve to keep Peeta out of my life as much as humanly possible is still strong. Despite the fact that I agreed to let him plant the primroses in my garden again and tend to their growth, I still don’t wish for us to be friends. I still don’t want to subject myself any further to him and Bailey’s exhibits.

And I figured no one would mind my absence anyways. At least not for a few dinners. I knew eventually Haymitch would try to push me to come back and Peeta would probably ask me very sweetly to join again, but I didn’t think the first night I skipped would be a huge production.

And okay, maybe there is a small part of me who deep down hopes if I refuse to come, Bailey may be disinvited in order to make me feel welcome again. It’s a long shot and not one I’d consciously admit to counting on, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small, minuscule part of me wishing for that to happen just the same.

Haymitch glances at me suspiciously now. “You’re always hungry, kid.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most enthusiastic eater I know.”

Okay, he is blatantly confused apparently. His drunken goggles are blurring his perspective of reality, it would seem.

In any case, I flop backwards on my bed and roll away, hoping if I ignore my mentor long enough he’ll just evaporate into thin air.

But for some reason, Haymitch is weirdly dogged tonight. “Come on,” he urges, shaking my shoulder a bit too roughly. “I know the boy always says you’re just like me, but this little display is over the top, Katniss.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do you even want me at those dinners, Haymitch? You have Peeta and Bailey there.” I can’t stop myself from throwing the extra emphasis on Bailey, as immature as it may be.

However, the old man isn’t interested in dignifying me with a response. “And Delly. And Johanna. And Annie Cresta.”

That catches me completely off-guard. “What?”

In the time since the war ended and I returned to Twelve—or rather, was exiled to Twelve—no one from the other districts have visited. I have barely seen anyone I know in the last few months, outside Haymitch, Peeta and Delly.

“Some of which are anxious to see you at dinner,” he adds, gesturing for me to get up.

I shoot him a mordant glance. “Johanna’s anxious to see me?”

“I said some. Meaning Delly and Annie,” he clarifies. Off my still hesitant expression, he reaches down and tugs on my wrist, trying to get me out of bed.

“Fine!” I exclaim, feeling strangely embarrassed now as I realize that our roles are suddenly being reversed. I’m the one who always forced him out of bed, who made him come to meals, who fought with him to hurry up and get moving.

In the end, I don’t bother cleaning myself up or trying to appear presentable. Johanna and Annie won’t care and Peeta doesn’t get to care anymore.

And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Even if Effie Trinket or my entire prep team were here, I’d never stand a chance of looking anything but plain next to Bailey.

It’s not that I care that she’s so blatantly pretty. It’s just that her looks are one more thing about her presence to be bothered by, and that list is getting long and extensive. Even after her apparent approval of Peeta gardening my primroses, even after no negative interactions in eight days, I still sense hostility with her. And I still can’t stare at her without feeling my stomach churn.

Because every time she’s around, I know I’m about to be the odd one out. For whatever reason, outside of Delly, the people I care for, hold a deep affinity for Bailey Robyn.

And it bothers me above anything I can express. It bothers me beyond words, beyond measure, beyond any sense of feeling.

“Look who I found,” Haymitch announces as we enter through the threshold of his filthy residence.

“Katniss!” Annie exclaims and tosses her arms around my neck, despite the fact that we’ve never been too close. I can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation in person. The only true communication between me and Annie is the letters she sends, the ones filled with details of her life in Four and Finnick’s son. The ones I rarely respond to, but always read just the same.

Still, despite the fact that Annie might as well be a glorified stranger to me, I return the embrace, instinctively at first and then, simply because I want to. Because no one besides Peeta has given me any sort of affection in months and I miss it. Now that Peeta has put conditions on our relationship, I am hungry for any physical touch at all.

It shocks me to realize, in that moment, just how completely starved I am, for closeness.

I hug Annie for far longer than I think anyone watching anticipated but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems to welcome it too.

Then again, her husband died and left her with seemingly no family at all to help raise their baby. So perhaps she’s just as desperate for a human touch—I suppose besides her son—as I am.

I don’t receive the same welcome from Johanna, unsurprisingly, but as soon as me and Annie break apart, she shoots me a satirical glance and pulls on a piece of my hair.

“Ow!” I exclaim, my thick brows furrowing in confusion. “What was that for?”

“It was sticking up,” she explains with a shrug and then smirks. “Did you just roll out of bed and come here?”

“Did you?” Her outfit is just denim pants and a low cut t-shirt. Not that different from my attire.

“Yes. And I’m not ashamed of it.” She runs a hand over her hair which has grown out to about length with her shoulders. “But I know how to use a hairbrush, at least.”

I roll my eyes as she nudges me. “This is dinner,” Haymitch deadpans as he makes his way to the table. “Not a Capitol Beauty Contest.”

Jo examines the unwashed table as we follow the grumpy man’s lead. As of right now, the table is completely void of substance. “Doesn’t dinner imply food?” She asks and Annie laughs lightly, suggesting she was thinking along the same lines.

“Haymitch doesn’t believe in cooking himself,” I retort, earning a look from the old man. “He’s waiting for Peeta to arrive with food.”

“You’re more than welcome to provide the meal, sweetheart.”

“And what are you providing?”

“The residence the meal is served at.”

“And what a residence it is!” Exclaims a completely different voice, a higher pitched soprano.

And like clockwork, three blonde heads round the corner of the dining room, abruptly joining the party.

Delly looks as enthusiastic to be walking with Peeta and Bailey as I am to be in their company right now. Which she further evidences by hurrying to the seat at my right.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a grin,” Haymitch remarks as he pulls out a bottle of white liquor and pours it into a half-clean glass.

“Wonder why that is,” I murmur out loud before thinking better of it. After all, Haymitch seems to care for Bailey more than me nowadays. I should probably not stir the pot before the food is even presented before me.

But he doesn’t reply back. Even if he did, I doubt I’d notice anyway.

Because, in the flash of a second, the attention of the room is completely shifted.

I knew Bailey was coming with Peeta. She’s practically glued to his hip at all times of day, almost as if she’s afraid to let him out of her sight. But it would seem that Haymitch did not inform Johanna or Annie about Peeta’s new relationship, effectively catching them both by surprise at the additional dinner guest.

And there’s little room for doubt to anyone with eyes that they’re together. Their hands are practically singed as one, in an airtight grasp, her manicured nails intertwined with his long fingers.

For a split second I wonder if that’s what my hand looked like inside Peeta’s last week. I wonder if this is what Bailey saw before her, when she caught us roaming through town at the crack of dawn.

“Barley?” Johanna says in a shocked voice.

It takes a moment for her comment to compute in my brain. “Bailey,” I correct, trying to be helpful. Though I’m unsure where she even managed to get the name Barley at all. Especially if Haymitch didn’t warn her about the girl Peeta was bringing and I strongly suspect he didn’t.

Jo looks at me like I’m insane for the amendment before turning back to Bailey and Peeta. “You’re dating Bailey Barley?” She say incredulously.

Bailey Barley? Is that a nickname? Now I’m the one who’s completely lost at sea, feeling like there was a good chunk of time I somehow missed.

Bailey’s blue eyes stare into Jo’s now, not exactly friendly but not as belligerent as I’ve seen her before. As I saw her last week.

I don’t know nor do I understand what they’re silently communicating, but I do comprehend one thing without a doubt.

Johanna knows Bailey. Somehow, someway, Johanna knows Bailey even more than I do.

Peeta doesn’t seem too confused though. He doesn’t even seem fazed by the exchange at all. Instead he drops Bailey’s hand—not soon enough, in my opinion—and moves to set some kind of meat and potato meal down on the table.

“Where did you get the meat?” I ask abruptly, recognizing it as deer. I just shot my first in a long time only the other day. How on Earth did Peeta get deer meat around the same time I did.

“I traded a cake for it. At the Hob,” he explains nonchalantly, avoiding my bewildered eyes now.

I just stare at him for a second, debating on even further commenting.

The Hob is where I traded the deer after killing it. Peeta literally baked a cake and traded it for meat, just because I wouldn’t speak to him.

He literally traded a cake so I could eat the meat that I hunted myself.

Something about that scenario vindicates me slightly. And I have to wonder if I’ve become sadistic with time and solitude.

My attention though is pulled back to Johanna and Bailey now. “What’re you doing in Twelve?”

Bailey takes her seat, between Haymitch and Peeta, with grace. “Peeta and I met in the Capitol,” she states simply. “I decided to come here and spend some more time with him. Get to know him a little better.”

As if to punctuate her words, she places one dainty hand on top of Peeta’s and gives it a squeeze.

I can’t even fight my eye roll.

“I see,” Jo murmurs, casting a sideway glance at me, none too subtle. “Well, it looks like you did... that.”

Delly snickers into her water glass and I don’t miss the way Bailey shoots her an irritated glance. Peeta seemingly does though. Haymitch is already too tipsy to care if an actual fight breaks out among us, his white liquor kicking in quick.

Annie on the other hand, who I’ve always believed to often be oblivious to all those around her, decidedly cuts the tension here. “Well, I’m hungry. Peeta, pass me a plate.”

And just like that, we’re having one of the most awkward meals I’ve ever had to endure.

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#everlark #thg #everlark fic #hunger games #fanfic #writing #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨

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honoredbastard · 3 years

Text

I COME BACK WITH THOUGHTS/THEORIES ON ITADORI AND HIS RELATIONS- I THINK.

anyways, so i'll just point this out: i'm not good at speaking my thoughts in an organized manner. i absolutely suck at it, i speak on how my brain brings up the thoughts so i might ramble, get over my head in a thought, etc. i can't control it so i apologize in advance for the jumpiness of the texts. i will spell a lot of things wrong and not everything will be correct, as i read translations and on a manga site. don't worry it's not illegal, i believe.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

i apologize for my absence! last week or two weeks ago the tower to my computer completely broke and will not turn on. i tried to repair it and follow my fathers instructions but nothing worked. even cleaned off the fan and went through countless nights readjusting things. it's not my cords either so to help me out my father is working extra shifts to get me a new pc. so in the meantime i'll do small posts like these but not full writing/head canons until i have a computer tower lol. a family member was kind enough to allow me to have their phone while we work throughout this issue.

now onto the actual topic:

kenjaku and itadori's relationship. ( family wise ).

for context in the most recent chapter, 160 "colony" kamo shows up in sasaki's home and talks to her about the culling game and a barrier. but that's not the point, the point is as he's guiding her to the barrier inside her "dream" at the end he says "oh right. i almost forgot to tell you. thank you for getting along with my son." and then she is awakened inside the barrier, in her pajamas beside iguchi. when sasaki and iguchi look at the barrier and gather themselves they bring up kamo.

sasaki asked iguchi if he mentioned his son and he says no. this leaves sasaki in a state of confusion when itadori flashes in her mind. she says his name aloud like she finally connected the dots. now. why am i bringing up this whole kenjaku thanking sasaki for being his "son"'s friend. it throws me off because why didn't he thank iguchi?

did he not think iguchi meant their friendship? because sasaki was the one uninjured and still counted itadori as a friend? does iguchi not consider itadori as a friend anymore?

because we haven't seen these two at all since the incident. that raised many questions in me. as well "how can itadori be related to kamo?" and itadori is related to choso.

because kamo's technique is explained ( vaguely. we are aware he can create barriers, take over bodies, and has incredible cursed tools. chapter 134. this is also where choso makes his connection ( i believe. ) to itadori yuji as his brother. but because we saw this with todo many thought itadori just had another unconsious technique that allows the person who is hit create false memories and believe of a completely made up relationship with itadori without his knowledge. but alas, i was wrong. ) and we're given more hints shown than told ( imo ) i tried my best to make sense out of the situation and what he said. i think my conclusions are pretty solid, so continuing on.

we're given very little history on itadori, his past, and family. at the start of the manga we know that itadori's only family he knows is his grandfather and that he is ill in the hospital. at the very very beginning we learn that itadori is your average cute, fluffy, laid back but strong and goofy protagonist. in smaller words: itadori is kirby but even cuter and dumber.

my first impressions of him is a pineapple. if you're confused to this saying: it's calling a person prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. and this is true, itadori's grandfather seems prickly and cold on the outside but he genuinely cares for itadori.

he raised itadori for all we know and did that with his all in assumption. but this ends up backfiring onto itadori, because he cares so much for his grandson - he ends up leaving a " curse " on yuji.

help people. save them.

itadori takes this to heart as his grandfathers speech is his last one. when he looks over to his grandfather the man is dead and now yuji is left alone. then the following events occur.

at this point in time i assumed itadori was an orphan ( he technically is if we're connecting the dots. his parents has not been shown, he doesn't speak of them, they aren't in the picture. we can conclude either they disowned itadori or died before he could make complete memories of them. )

but when we are shown in chapter 143 itadori's parents we see this "woman" jin ( yuji's father ) and his grandfather talking about has the same scar pattern. this scar pattern is either stitching ( assuming that is how kamo keeps the top of the opened skull from coming off. this is also how kamo revealed his cursed technique / body of sorts ( the brain, assuming that is kenjaku in his cursed technique and not the body / puppet he is controlling " getou suguru " ) to gojou. )

this is the only way i find kamo being able to assign itadori as his son. why is that you might be asking this dumbass here.

we do not have the full story, exact date, location, and full context of the memory/dream itadori is having. this cannot be fake either because kamo would than have no reason to call itadori his son. or is there? anyways.

take a leap of faith with me. imagine that before itadori is born ( he seems no more than a few weeks or days old in this memory. hence why i am thinking my conclusion is pretty solid in theory. but yknow gege, there might be something different. ) anywhooo.

TW. D3ATH/IMPLYING ANTI LIFE ATTEMPT

kamo had to have taken over yuji's mothers body after an accident OR after she gave birth to yuji. his grandfather is interrupted by her before he can finish his sentence but it seems to be leading to the conclusion that either kaori ( yuji's mother ) died while giving birth to yuji or kaori could not conceive and tried to take her own life or cause an accident that would take her life. ( i read a fan translation for this part but im pretty sure i also read the official translation today too and it added up to the same. )

i believe in the first idea, but since kamo's cursed technique wasn't explained in detail i don't know the conditions of his body technique. does the original host of the body have to be dead? can he regenerate body limbs ( i highly doubt. getou lost an arm during his fight with yuta. overconfident dick. reminding me of an ex ANTWAYS. i forgive him for being overconfident smooch. he learned. OFF TOPIC but continuing on i promise.

this is being continued from the cut off point. i'm so upset so it'll just be summarized. i can't believe this shit lol i took three hours just to finish it for it to literally cut off the bottom half.

continuing on in a sadge mood. kamo must not have the complete ability to take over a body. after all getou took his only arm he had as he was dying and choked his own body to his full ability. getou was willing to die ( possibly, you never know he could be alive if he killed his own body. moving on. ) just to have the chance to save his friend from being swallowed by a damn box.

so there has to be a chance that kamo cannot fully take over the previous persons complete consious and memory of their body. if getou still had his other arm after losing the fight to yuta, he could've choked kamo with both arms. in theory kamo wouldn't be able to control the right arm and die to the previous host choking him to death.

so why wouldn't the other hosts do it? after all, kamo did say it was his first time experiencing such a thing. assuming kamo has lived throughout many bodies in his 150+ lifespan none of the previous hosts could take control of their body.

i believe getou was completely influenced by gojou and his six eyes. there is no way gojou would even try to speak out to his friend unless he had an inkling or saw getou still in there. helpless and without the ability to save himself from the cage he's in.

being used and puppeteered in his own body by an external force. laughing in the world he could not. putting getou into a constant misery and defeat that he couldn't escape his hell. the one he tried so hard to fight and get out of. even if it was the wrong path.

gojou was the last person to witness getou dying. he had to watch getou bleed out after their conversation because he couldn't bring himself to kill his friend. the one he spent his whole jujutsu student life with. so for gojou to say such a thing to getou despite all that he did had to break getou out of his misery and give him that small sliver of hope that he could do something. of course he failed, but i doubt that's going to be the end of that.

the only way i see kamo being related to yuji is if he took over kaori's body before the pregnancy. assuming that when kamo takes over a body he becomes one with said body and is that person for however long he lives in said body. my only thing is, can he take over a persons body whilst they are alive? i would go more in depth like i did the last time but i am extremely upset about my work being erased so that's the end of this part.

thank you for reading! i have one more thing for you though.

the last time we see sukuna in a manga page after the shibuya incident is where he is on his throne and in his domain. this is after yuji is stabbed by yuta and is presumed "dead" at the time. he seems to be interested in yuta and i can think of 2-3 things. I would love to hear your theories too so don't be afraid to barge into my dms like the koolaid man.

A - sukuna is interested in Yuta because of his ability to use the reverse healing technique ( only a few sorcerers know this. sukuna being the first. shoko being the second one to be told that she has this power and then gojou. ) because of this he sees potential in yuta as well or has added this boy into his plans. after all, there is very few that can make sukuna make an expression that isn't an RBF. aka megumi and possibly gojou. I was looking at the page of him stabbing yuji and noticed we only see the entry point of where the blade enters. it's smaller because some got chunked off so its a possibility yuta used this to his advantage when "killing" yuji and instead hit an artery that could kill him but quickly healed him afterwards. or just his heart. the ideas.

B. Rika, Yuta is able to completely control Rika as shown. Even though he claims he is on the weak side, these two combined seem like an unstoppable force. He may be interested in Rika as she is a curse that has been put on someone that can fully control it. Not many people is shown to be able to control their curse. As we haven't met many.

this was enti and that's the last of my post! thank you for reading and it was a fun one. even though i had to restore this shit. anyways, i'd love you to add or fix up my ideas and tell me your thoughts and opinions! Thanks a bunch!

^ this is for pure humor

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rhys-daarling · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel- Gwyn injured headcanon

“Ow” Gwyn muttered, looking down at her leg and scowling.

She closed her eyes, leaning her weight against the kitchen table, taking deep breaths.

“Gwyn?” Came the voice of the shadowsinger.

Gwyn open end her eyes, trying to stand up straighter against the table without putting any more weight on her leg.

Azriel noticed this, and walked to her much faster.

“What happened?” His tone was ice cold. Hard. Gwyn almost faltered, this wasn’t the warm trainer she had come to know, the one she had teased and joked with.

This was the shadowsinger, feared across the seven courts.

“What happened Gwyn” he repeated, locking eyes with her, concern and anger pooling in his eyes, his posture rigid, shadows swirling.

She tried to stand up straighter, “Ow!” Her injured leg buckled, and before she could collapse, Azriel grabbed her waist steadying her. Gwyn grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling the corded muscle underneath.

“My leg” she admitted at last, looking down and wincing, momentarily distracted by how close he was, how warm and powerful his body felt, and the scent of crisp air that surrounded her now.

“I was gone three days.” His jaw tensed, as if he believed he was to blame for her injury.

Gwyn was struck speechless, the anger radiating off of him, she could feel his siphons readying their power.

“It’s not as bad as it seems, honestly. I’ll be fine, you can go.” She shook her head, knowing he had to report to the Rhysand about his mission.

“If you think I’m going to leave you here like this” a hard look passed his face, and the hands holding her waist gripped her slightly tighter.

“Gwyn, tell me what happened.” He leaned in slightly, and his wide frame was suddenly all she could see, blocking out everything else.

“I was practicing a new move, where I throw the blade and catch it” she explained sheepishly.

“Go on...” ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth quivered, as if he could picture how terribly the move had gone for her.

She scowled at him, his lips quivered slightly more.

“And I failed miserably, and the knife may have cut me a little” his eyes slowly fell back to her leg, and Gwyn heated, as if Azriel was looking through her robe to the bare flesh.

“It doesn’t help that I stumbled today in the library and hit my leg into a corner.” she added with a wince, watching Azriel snap his gaze back to her and scowl.

“Yes yes I shouldn’t have been working today and I should have let it heal” she cut him off, indeed, Azriel snapped his mouth shut.

After a moment, as a shadow tickled her cheek, Gwyn became aware once more of the strong hands holding her, the warmth spreading from the spot they touched, and the ease that he held her with reminded Gwyn of the strength in his arms.

“I’m guessing your cut has reopened” he spoke at least, their chests so close.

She began to shake her head and refuse.

“Gwyn, let me help you” he added firmly, whispering into the small space between them. Her eyes came to his chest, and she had to tilt her head up slightly to look at him.

She nodded , and smoothly, Azriel lifted her onto the table.

“May I?” He asked , pointing to her leg, and Gwyn nodded, swallowing once as he slowly lifted the fabric, exposing her skin.

She inhaled sharply, seeing the blood on the bandage, and looked up to see cold fury in Azriel’s face.

With deft hands, Azriel unbandaged her leg, his scowl deepened as he looked at the wound.

“Just a cut huh?” He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to lie to him again.

“It is just a cut” she retorted stubbornly.

“Just a very deep cut” she added as she watched the blood trickle down her leg.

She whimpered slightly as Azriel applied an anti-septic salve.

“Sorry” he whispered, leaning slightly closer to her.

“I’m going to need to stitch it up a little. I can call for a healer-“

“No! Please. I don’t want anyone else to know” she blushed, imagining all the fuss everyone would make.

Azriel nodded knowingly.

She watched as he grabbed a needle and thread.

With skilled hands, he began to stitch her up.

Gwyn whimpered once more, leaning forward, her head resting on Azriel’s shoulder.

“Almost done” he whispered against her ear, his hair tickling her cheek.

Gwyn closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the warmth of Azriel’s body.

“Done” he said at last. Smoothing a fresh bandage on top, his hand searing her skin.

“Thank you” Gwyn said at last, reluctantly lifting her head from his chest, finding her face inches from his.

She watched as Azriel swallowed.

“I’m sorry” the shadowsinger said at last, and Gwyn’s eyes filled with confusion.

“I should have been there. I should have helped you with the move. I should have been there to stop you being hurt. And I should have had you stitched up properly.”

He scowled and shook his head. Gwyn’s heart beat faster, realising Azriel’s guilt and anger wasn’t directed at her, but at himself for not protecting her.

“That’s ridiculous Az, none of that is your fault”.

“I should have been there” Gwyn felt his eyes scans cross her face, across every pane and shadow.

“Promise me no more moves if I’m not there” he gripped her with a stare, holding her gaze.

Gwyn was speechless for a moment, so unaccustomed to such fierce protectiveness.

“I’m not going to wake you up in the middle of the night because I feel like throwing a blade around” she teased, trying to bring some lightness.

“Yes you will” he all but snarled, pressing his body into hers.

“Promise me Gwyn. No matter what time, what it is I’m doing. If you want to train, you come to me. I’ll drop everything for you”.

Gwyn exhaled deeply, her chest coming into contact with his.

“I promise” she whispered.

“You have a penchance for saving me” she added lightly, remembering the cloak he had given her.

“That was my favourite cloak” he added a smile playing in his lips, his hands resting on the table either side of her.

“Do you want it back?” She teased, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I’ll train you, and one day I’ll spar you for it”. He grinned, his hands going to her waist as he picked her up and helped her stand on the floor.

“Az?” She asked, hands on his forearm.

He looked down at her with a smile.

“Thank you for stitching me up”

“Anytime Gwyn, he said, slowly letting her go and walking away.

So everyday, before Gwyn trained with him, she traced the fading scar, a reminder of just how far she had come.

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

The Tower: Family - 25

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2175

Warnings: Pregnancy, Labor/childbirth, medical proceedures

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 25: Sarah and Rose

As Wanda got closer and closer to her due date, we all started hovering around her in case she went into labor. I was by her side almost constantly, as was Natasha and Sam. The others seemed to take shifts, but we all went to bed at the same time in the same bed which hadn’t always been a given before. Everyone was a little worried that she’d go into labor early and that someone wouldn’t be here for it so they were staying pretty close by.

In the end, we were all worrying for nothing. She made it to thirty-seven weeks just fine and they decided to induce her.

Wanda wanted to go through a natural labor despite the advice that for twins it would be very difficult. She knew she’d most likely need some sort of intervention at some point, but she thought that given her new powers, she might be able to get through most of it without any. She was so into being pregnant, and so connected with it, she wanted that to be the case right until the end.

By the time we got to her induction date, our new nannies had been working for us for nearly a month. They hadn’t been super actively involved with the care of the kids yet. With the ten of us, things like baths, stories, and bedtime were covered. We had maids and cooks, so they didn’t have to clean up or feed them. They’d done a few drop-offs with Happy driving the car and they would help during the morning chaos to get them ready to go, but otherwise, they were mostly not needed and were just getting the feel of the household.

The first real taste of really having full responsibility for taking care of the kids was after breakfast on Wanda’s induction day when we kissed Riley and Pietro goodbye and went down to the medical ward with Wanda.

They’d designed a delivery room just for the three of us because Wanda had very specific things she wanted there, but Tony was adamant that we all get the best medical equipment too. The room had all the medical things needed in case of an emergency. The bed, while you couldn’t tell it to look at it, was an adjustable hospital bed. The functionality of it was hidden in dark purple linen and soft pillows. The whole room could be lit up in harsh hospital lighting, but with the flick of a switch, the room was lit in low soft lights that were placed in sconces on one side of the room. The walls were painted in mint green, with a burgundy feature wall on one side. There was a large clover-shaped bathtub in one corner of the room. A sitting area with couches that would fit all of us. A spot to do yoga or meditation with yoga mats and exercise balls, and around the room were scented candles we could light. Music that Wanda had selected was being piped through the speakers and there was a large screen TV if she wanted to watch anything. All the rest of the medical equipment was hidden behind a secret wall.

It had to be opened up, to begin with, because of the induction process, and Wanda waited impatiently on the bed, strapped up to a fetal heart rate monitor until she was told she was allowed to get up and walk around.

“Just a little white longer, záĭka,” Natasha soothed, running her fingers through Wanda’s hair as Wanda flinched with a contraction.

“I know I should relax while they are still mild,” Wanda reasoned. “But I hate this equipment around me.”

“We’ll get rid of it as soon as we can and you can try the meditation thing you wanted to do,” I said. “But I’m not getting on the floor with you.”

Wanda giggled. “I’m much more pregnant than you are.”

“Clearly,” I teased. “But you have flying powers. I just get to know when you’re in pain.”

“I’ll get on the floor with you,” Sam said. “Don’t worry.”

“And I’ll go through the meditation script we’ve been practicing,” Bucky added.

Tony was pacing up and down by the door, and he poked his head out to see where the doctor was. “Oh good, there you are,” he said, holding the door open and letting Doctor Schroeder in.

She chuckled. “You better not get my patient all wound up, Mister Stark,” she said as she passed him and approached Wanda.

“Yeah, Tony,” Bruce said, patting the couch next to him. “Come and sit down.”

Tony went and sat next to Bruce, who pulled him close with his large hand. Tony couldn’t quite keep still even with that extra comfort. His foot kept tapping on the linoleum floor.

“Okay,” Doctor Schroeder said, looking Wanda over and checking how far she was dilated. “We can put all this away again. Everything looks good. I’m going to want to check on the twins again in a few hours, but we’re going to be in for a long haul. The nurses will keep checking on you and you can call me if you need me. Don’t be scared of using pain medication, Wanda. You aren’t cheating if you need something to help you through it.”

Wanda nodded as Doctor Schroeder removed the equipment from her. “I know,” she said.

“This is going to take a long time. Make sure you all take care of each other and try and relax as much as you can,” she said.

When everything was packed away Bucky offered Wanda his hand and helped her to her feet. “Do you want to try and meditate?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “Can someone dim the lights and light some candles?”

I went and lit the candles as FRIDAY dimmed the lights and Wanda took a seat on the ground with Bucky.

“Take a deep breath in. Focus on how the air fills your lungs…” Bucky began.

Doctor Schroeder hadn’t been kidding when she said we were in for the long haul. Wanda managed to meditate with Bucky for two hours until the doctor returned. She checked how far along she was and put the fetal heart rate monitor again.

Wanda had barely progressed, so she was left alone again and this time the guys all took turns massaging her back while she dozed. After another check-up, we took turns going to get lunch, while Wanda continued to try to sleep. It was another four hours before her contractions got to the point they were painful enough that she couldn’t nap through them. She got up and began using the exercise ball and Clint and Sam took turns doing stretches with her and providing someone to lean on during contractions. She tried doing yoga an hour later and then started pacing the room with Tony.

After thirteen hours of labor the contracts had gotten close together and painful to the point she wasn’t able to do anything while she was having them. She hopped into the bath with Thor. He would rub her back and hold a jet of water against it as she rested her head on the edge of the tub.

After sixteen hours she was waning. Doctor Schroeder would make her get out of the tub every few hours to check how things were progressing and she was starting to take these four or five-minute catnaps between contractions.

“I can’t do it,” she moaned as another hit while the babies were being monitored again.

“Do you want some drugs?” Tony asked. “She can have drugs right.”

“She’s passed the point where she can have an epidural, but she can take something else,” the doctor answered.

“No, no drugs,” Wanda whined. “I don’t want them.”

I patted her forehead with a damp cloth. “You’re not failing them if you need help, honey.”

“I know… I don’t want them though,” she said.

“Okay. It’s okay,” Doctor Shroeder soothed. “It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Not much longer was two and a half more hours before she reached the transition period. Wanda was exhausted and crying and I could feel her distress passing through from her to me through the threat. “I can’t… I can’t do it. I was wrong.”

“Breathe, záĭka,” Natasha soothed. “You can do it. I know you can.”

“This is the last bit, Wanda,” Bruce said. “Those little girls will be in your arms soon.”

It lasted around half an hour and the nurses stayed with us until it was time to push when Doctor Schroeder was called in too.

“That’s a girl, Wanda,” Doctor Schoeder praised. “When you feel the urge, push down as hard as you can.”

I held one of her hands while Sam held the other and Clint dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth. She was pushing for half an hour until Doctor Schroeder took out the vacuum to help get the first little girl out. When her head was free, Wanda pushed as hard as she could and the rest of her joined us in a messy and noisy entrance.

“Here she is, Wanda,” Doctor Schroeder said, holding up the little girl. She was tiny with pale brown skin and a thatch of curly black hair on the top of her head.

“Look at her, Wanda,” I said. “She’s perfect.”

“Hello, Sarah,” Wanda murmured.

“Which one of you would like to cut the cord?” Doctor Schroeder asked as she clamped it.

“Let me,” Natasha said, stepping forward.

The cord was cut and she was whisked off for a moment to be cleaned up while Doctor Schroeder checked the position of Rose. “Aright, Wanda. She looks good. Right in line to come next. You can keep pushing when you’re ready.”

It seemed to take a moment before the next contraction hit and Wanda started pushing again. She was exhausted and her eyes had begun to flicker pink. It was twenty-three minutes before Rose entered the world. It took a moment for her to make any sound but when she did, it was a loud wailing.

“You did it, Wanda!” I praised leaning down and kissing her forehead. “Look at our daughter.”

“I did it,” she repeated softly, collapsing down on the pillows.

Sam went and cut the cord and as Rose was whisked away to be checked over, Sarah was brought back to us and placed on Wanda’s chest. “There you go, mommy,” the nurse said.

“Okay, Wanda,” Doctor Schroeder said. “I know you’re really tired, but you still need to deliver the placenta.”

She nodded slowly but wouldn’t take her eyes off Sarah. “I can do it.”

“It’s the easy part,” she assured her.

Wanda started to push again, but without the straining that she did with the babies. None of us were paying too much attention to that though. We were all looking at our daughter.

“Look at the little mark the vacuum made,” Clint said. “Poor little pickle.”

“Don’t worry about that,” one of the nurses said. “It’ll go away in no time.”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Steve said. “That’s the important part.”

As Doctor Schroeder took the placenta away the nurses weaved in and out of our group, fussing over Wanda and the babies. Wanda tried breastfeeding them, but she was extremely exhausted and it didn’t last long.

A nurse approached with some toast and juice for Wanda. “You must be starving now.”

She smiled and nodded slowly. “And tired.”

“Have something to eat, and moms and dads, quickly have a go holding the twins. They’re going to need to go into the incubator soon. Then we’ll take you to your room to sleep.”

“Me first,” I said, taking Rose from her.

“Hey!” Sam argued. “I helped make her.”

“You can hold Sarah,” I said and poked out my tongue at him.

He chuckled and picked the tiny little bundle up. “Hey there, little one,” he whispered.

“I cannot believe you did this with no drugs, Wanda,” I said. “You’re definitely a superhero.”

She shook her head. “I was scared,” she admitted. “With the amount people have messed with my head. I didn’t want to not feel in control.”

“The epidural doesn’t do that though,” I said.

“I know… but it’s a huge needle,” she said.

“Oh honey,” I said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “It’s all done now.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Now it’s just sleepless nights and diaper changes.”

“Alright, Elise, quit hogging that baby,” Natasha said, coming and taking Rose from me.

Wanda hummed and relaxed back into the pillow. “Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said to her gently. “Do you want me to help you to the shower? Then we’ll get you to your room.”

She nodded slowly and Steve helped her to her feet.

“Two down, two to go,” Bruce said, as Sam placed Sarah into his hand.

Natasha let out a strained laugh. “Let’s not hurry them along too fast, Bruce,” she said. “I’m in no rush to go through any of that.”

// NEXT

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Sky's Tsunami - Chapter 19

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"You're saying they wanted to rope me in because I pose a genuine threat?" Skye asks Quinn.

"Yes, and fit their profile," Quinn tells Skye, moving to the window." See, you're a criminal. You have a warrant somewhere."

"Probably," Skye agrees.

"A specialized skill set."

"I try to stay humble but fail," Skye says.

"No family. Take Natasha Romanoff for example," Quinn begins, and Skye focuses on the man, "And her sister. Both were criminals on SHEILD's radar."

Skye looks horrified.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve, but that is what these people do," Quinn goes on. "SHIELD - they prey on fear and loneliness and desperation, and then they offer a home to those who have no one else to turn to. I can offer you something better."

. . .

Three guards walk up the laser grid, looking around.

(Y/n) and Ward emerge from the bushes, quickly knocking the three guards to the ground.

"Guys, clock's ticking," (Y/n) says into her COMMs. "Where's Skye?"

. . .

"You stay with us, there's no secretes," Quinn tells Skye, "no lies, and no agenda. You're free to do what you do without big sister watching over you." Skye sits silently. "But first, you have to tell me exactly what agenda SHIELD sent you in here with."

"Well, they wanted me to do whatever it takes to get in here," Skye chuckles lifting the makeup compact, pretending to check her reflection in it.

The lights flash green and she closes the compact.

"And bat my eyes," Skye says, setting the compact beside her glass of champagne. "Get you talking.

. . .

There is a click.

"We're in!" May says in disbelief.

"She's done it!" Simmons exclaims.

. . .

Gunshots ring out, bullets shattering against the laser grid.

There is a shimmer, and the laser grid disappears.

Ward darts through the grid and (Y/n) fires two shots over her shoulder, hitting two of the guards before diving through just in the nick of time.

(Y/n) pulls Ward to his feet, and the two jog towards Quinn's facility.

. . .

"I'll look for Dr. Hall down in the lab," (Y/n) says.

"I'll get Skye," Ward replies, and the two separate.

. . .

"Dr. Hall," (Y/n) opens the door, walking inside. "Agent Rushman. We have an exit strategy."

"SHIELD?" Dr. Hall asks, continuing to type furiously on his computer.

"Yes, sir," (Y/n) replies. "Let's get you out of here."

"I'm sorry, Miss Rushman," Dr. Hall says. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

"Well, our plan didn't count on you saying that," (Y/n) remarks.

. . .

(Y/n) blinks, shaking her head as she sits up.

"Guys, we need to talk," (Y/n) groans, pushing herself to her knees, leaning against one of the walls for support, one of her hands pressed to the side of her head, which is bleeding.

"Lost you for a minute," May says.

"We're aware of the problems, (Y/n)," Coulson says. "Hall wanted Quinn to kidnap him?" he asks.

"Quinn built a gravity generator, Hall knew Quinn would need him to control its raw power, but Hall just wanted to unleash it," (Y/n) pulls herself to her feet.

"The one we found was two and a half centimetres in diameter," Simmons says. "It stopped a semi. How big are we talking?"

"This one's twelve feet," (Y/n) replies. "It'll definitely take down the entire compound."

"It'll sink the place," Simmons says.

"No, it'll do more than that," Fitz pipes up.

"Work a solution," (Y/n) tells the two scientists. "I'll disconnect the power before things get . . ." (Y/n) stands up, " . . . crazy."

Looking around, (Y/n) realizes that she is standing on the roof of the laboratory.

"They can't help you," Hall says, striding across the roof, a gun clasped in his hand. He moves over to a cabinet, pulling out a bottle wine and a glass. "Soon, it'll reach an exponential acceleration state." Dr. Hall picks up a chair off the floor - well, the roof - and sitting down, pouring himself a drink. "I'm sorry," Dr. Hall says, as (Y/n) looks over at the generator.

"So you leaked your location," (Y/n) guesses. "Why not try reasoning with him?" (Y/n) asks.

"You can't reason with an addict, and he's addicted to exploiting opportunities. He never gives a though to the friends, ecosystems, future generations left ruined in his wake."

"Like Agents Fitz and Simmons? Your former students?" (Y/n) asks and Hall tilts his head. "They're in my ear right now telling me that you're not a bad guy. SHIELD could've worked with you on this."

The generator whirs again, and (Y/n)'s back slams against a filing cabinet.

"And that's a broken back," (Y/n) grumbles, staggering to her feet again.

"SHIELD?" Hall asks. "SHIELD is just a guilty of the same thing - experimentation without though of consequence! Your search for an unlimited power source brought an alien invasion."

"Believe me, I know," (Y/n) looks away, looking regretful. "Those bastards were hard to kill," she mutters.

The room shakes again, and both figures stumble.

"T-this element is far too powerful for you, for him, for anyone!" Hall finds his handgun again, pointing it at (Y/n) again. "I don't have to tell you that."

The room shifts again, and the two fall against the roof as the papers fall out of their filing cabinets.

Hall and (Y/n) fall again, and (Y/n) rips the gun out of Hall's hand.

"I see the future, Miss Rushman, and it's a catastrophe," Hall tells her.

"All I see is a lot of people in trouble," (Y/n) replies.

(Y/n) reaches out, a rips the power cord out of the wall.

"It's still going," (Y/n) tells FitzSimmons. "I tried to cut the power."

"Find a catalyst / you need to find a catalyst," FitzSimmons say in unison.

"Something to create a chemical reaction in the core," Simmons tells (Y/n).

"It's not too late to do the right thing," (Y/n) says, furrowing her eyebrows at Hall. "Help me find a catalyst -"

"I am doing the right thing -" Hall argues. "A completely selfless act. I know that history never celebrates what didn't happen." (Y/n) levels her gun in case Hall started on her again. "They'll call this a-a tragedy. They won't understand the good I did here."

(Y/n) glances over and sees Ward and Skye standing against the door, peering through the glass.

"Killing innocent people?" (Y/n) asks, looking back at Hall.

"Saving millions," Hall corrects. "We have to live with the choices we make, but sometimes we have to die with them, too."

(Y/n) furrows her eyebrows. "I understand," (Y/n) lowers the handgun. "You made a hard call." (Y/n) glances back over at Skye and Ward. "And now I have to make mine."

(Y/n) shoots the glass below them, and she grabs one of the cords hanging from the roof.

Hall falls through the window and into the generator of Gravatonium.

The room rights itself and (Y/n) falls back down to the ground, slamming her head on the metal table, landing on her shoulder on the actual floor.

Skye and Ward run through the door.

Ward offers (Y/n) a hand up, and (Y/n) takes it, clutching her right shoulder. She stumbles towards the shattered window, looking at the Gravitonium generator.

. . .

"I really should set your shoulder," Simmons presses.

"But -" (Y/n) goes to argue.

"Sit," Coulson orders and (Y/n) flinches, sitting down on the Med table.

Simmons puts (Y/n)'s arm in a sling.

"Leave it in the sling for a few days," Simmons tells (Y/n), tightening the sling. (Y/n) squirms uncomfortably as her shoulder shifts.

"We should just cut this arm off," (Y/n) grumbles. "It's caused me too many issues."

"Let's not," Skye says, and and (Y/n) chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Word Count: 1603 words

The Sky's Tsunami Taglist:

@imapotato

@confusinggemini612

#Skye x romanoff reader #skye x reader #skye x fem reader #skye x female reader #daisy johnson x female reader #daisy johnson x fem reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson x romanoff reader

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theboombutton · 3 years

Note

Please say more about aspirated medial stops, I was talking with my brother in law the other day about how we (Californians) don't say t's in the middle of words and I'm really curious about why that is and if this is a universal thing in all accents of English now

Disclaimer: I do have a Bachelor's in linguistics, but I got it more than a decade ago so it is possible that some of the information in this post will be misremembered or out of date.

tl;dr

Knowing how to pronounce t in different locations in different dialects is a nightmare. Old-fashioned British Received Pronunciation pronounced t in the middle of words, but there's a UK language drift called T-glottalization in which ts except at the start of words are often being replaced with glottal stops? It's really obvious in lower-status dialects but it's been creeping into RP as well.

American English usually does a weird muscle flex called a "flap" or a "tap" that's something like a really short d, or a single roll of a rolled r. I think there are some UK dialects that use this tap as well.

I belieeeeeve that Indian English usually pronounces word-medial ts, but I haven't run an actual analysis on the applicable coworkers' speech because that'd be kind of creepy?

No idea about Australia or New Zealand.

As far as I know, there's no special reason why these particular drifts are happening. Linguistic drift and accent shifts are just something that happens with living languages. If anything, we have immensely slowed the natural process of language change through the invention and widespread teaching of standardized writing.

Glossary

Sorry, I tried doing this without a glossary but I kept having to do weird info cul-de-sacs to explain myself. I've ordered them according to approximately when they'll come up?

lol I failed so hard at this, about halfway through the post I started using words without putting them in the glossary first and man idk I've been working on this post for 4 hours now and I don't want to go back through and put definitions for some of this shit, sorry

Phoneme - A single language sound, as it is stored in your brain. Represented with slashes around it, e.g. /t/.

Phone - A language sound as it actually comes out of your mouth. Represented with square brackets around it, e.g. [t].

Phonology - The study of speech sounds, from internal representation to external expression, but not including the study of how they are physically created in the mouth (that's phonetics). Not to be confused with phrenology, the racist pseudoscience of head shape.

Word - Can have a few different meanings in a linguistic context. In this post, will usually refer to either a lexeme or a phonological word. You should be able to tell from the context.

Phonological Word - What you probably think of when you think of a "word." A unit of speech that you could naturally pause on either side of, but could not naturally pause inside.

Lexeme/Semantic Word - A single phonological word and its attached meaning; or, phrase of multiple phonological words, which holds a meaning which is different than the sum of its parts. For example, "Carry the bucket" is not a single lexeme; but "Kick the bucket" is.

Voiced/Voiceless - A sound is voiced if you use your vocal cords to make it, and voiceless if you don't.

Stop - Also called a plosive. A stop is a kind of consonant you make by stopping all air flow. The stops English uses are p, b, t, d, k, g, and the glottal stop.

Aspiration - A puff of air following a sound, usually a voiceless stop. In phonetic notation, it is indicated by a superscript h following the consonant, like [pʰ].

IPA - International Phonetic Alphabet. A standard set of symbols based on the Roman alphabet and used to refer to roughly the same sounds regardless of language.

Glottal stop - A stop which is performed not by your tongue, as in most stops, but by your vocal cords. Think of the word "Uh-oh" - the way you completely stop airflow after the "Uh" instead of just letting it flow into the "oh." That's a glottal stop.

Praat - An audio analysis program tailored specifically for viewing waveforms of speech sounds.

INFODUMP TIME

So the thing about saying words is that the ideas of sounds that you have in your head ("phonemes") don't translate one-to-one to the sounds that come out of your mouth ("phones"); and the ways that these sounds get modified vary between different dialects.

Please keep in mind that when you try to speak slowly or clearly, the sounds that you make change. Linguists are primarily interested in natural speech patterns, not what we do when we're trying to enunciate.

Tater-Tot

Let's take the lexeme tater-tot, because it's the first word I can think of that has all 3 of the major weird things that /t/ does that vary by dialect.

Let's start with the word-initial t. Phonologically there are actually two word-initial t's in tater-tot, the one at the beginning of 'tater,' and the one at the beginning of 'tot.' This is because "tater-tot" is two phonological words despite being one semantic word.

In American and British English, we aspirate our word-initial voiceless stops if they're immediately followed by a vowel, which means we pronounce /p/, /t/, and /k/ as [pʰ], [tʰ] and [kʰ] respectively if they're the first sound in a word (and immediately followed by a vowel). This means we add in a little puff of air following the consonant if it's the first sound in the word. In Indian English, they don't do this - a word-initial /t/ is pronounced [t], without the extra puff of air. To American & British English speakers it can almost sound like they're saying [d], because we're not used to hearing a word-initial /t/ without aspiration.

Next we've got a word-medial t, the second t of "tater." Here, Indian and British RP English speakers pronounce it as a plain [t], with no aspiration. American English speakers pronounce it as what's called a tap or a flap, which is sort of like a half-formed [d] but is actually more like a single roll of a rolled r - and so its IPA symbol is [ɾ]. And many less prestigious British dialects, including Cockney and I believe Scouse, replace it with a glottal stop, with IPA symbol [ʔ].

And our final t is the word-final t of tot. This is a tricky one to peel apart. English generally doesn't release word-final stops - that is, you put your tongue in the correct place to stop airflow to create the stop, but you never actually move your tongue out of the way to "release" the airflow you stopped. So the easy read on the word-final t's pronunciation is that it's [t̚], an unreleased t. However, in many dialects and situations /t/ is replaced with or co-articulated with a glottal stop - for example, after an [n] or an [m], /t/ is almost always pronounced as [ʔ] in English. But unreleased stops after an oral vowel are difficult to tell apart, and if the tongue is in t position while the glottis cuts off airflow - I genuinely don't know.

Tuck/Stuck

These are good for a comparison between an aspirated [tʰ] and an unaspirated [t]. In American English, tuck is [tʰʌk] and stuck is [stʌk].

Truck

American English does weird things with syllable-initial /tr/.

I want to introduce you to the "sh" symbol, ʃ. ʃ is a voiceless postalveolar fricative, which means it's created by air rushing through a narrow space when your tongue is behind the alveolar ridge. Incidentally, when you move your tongue from [t] position to [ɹ̠] position (ɹ̠ being the symbol for the version of non-rolled r that most English dialects use), it will naturally create the ʃ sound as it moves.

We have a special letter combination to the phonemic /tʃ/ in English. It's "ch". As in "change."

You almost certainly pronounce "truck" as [tʃɹ̠ʌk] "chruck" and just don't notice.

So what's going on with Martin?

So first off, Jonny is probably wrong about how the Archivist says "Martin." Complete deletion of the r in that position is standard in RP. I haven't fed The Magnus Archives into Praat or anything, so it's possible he's letting a hint of a rhotic accent bleed in to the Archivist's RP - but I really doubt it.

This isn't unusual! It's very common for people's internal concept of what sounds they mean to make, to get in the way of them accurately identifying what sounds they're actually making. No one thinks they've ever said "chruck" until you point it out to them.

I would probably transcribe the Archivist saying "Martin" as [mɑ:tɪn].

Jonny's attempt at saying "Martin" in an American accent was something more like [mɑ˞ɹ̠tʰɪn]. He did a good job of rhoticizing the vowel, but in his focus on the r completely messed up the second syllable.

I'd transcribe my own pronunciation of "Martin" as something like [mɑ˞ɹ̠ʔn]. It's been my observation that t-glottalization in American English is especially common when adjacent to nasals - and if there's one thing American English likes, it's syllabifying liquids in word-final syllables.

OK I've run out of steam now

This was fun. Sorry about the declining quality of explanation. Please feel free to ask more if you dare to reignite the flames of infodump

#infodump #linguistics #the letter t #phonology #english phonology #english dialects #dialects of english #ask button #ask boombutton #ask theboombutton #jonny sims

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genork-the-fandork · 3 years

Text

As an add on to the playlists I created for this particular day, I also wanted to do some writing for the 01 kids as well.

For those who don’t know, I love the Digimon Adventure tri. character songs. (I even did a full blown analysis of the lyrics.) So I decided to do some short one shots featuring a lyric from each kid’s character song.

You can find the songs here in case you haven’t heard them. I found the English translations on Wikimon.

I hope you enjoy! <3

Tai

"If you get lost, I want you to hold my two hands"

Agumon hadn't made it home yet. Tai was starting to get worried about the little Digimon, so he grabbed his coat and went to look for him.

As he looked in the usual places (namely, food stands and shops), he was reminded of a time when he and Kari were little. They'd gone to play hide and seek in the park, and Kari had hidden so well Tai had been looking for her for over an hour. By the time he'd found her, she was crying because she had gotten herself lost and didn't know how to get back to him. He'd had to hold both of her hands and lead her back to where their mom was waiting.

Not that he expected Agumon to be sobbing, but he hoped he would at least find him before he got hurt.

It didn't take long. In the same park Tai had once found Kari in, he found Agumon, kicking his feet back and forth as he sat on a bench. "What took you so long, Tai?" he said, the long-forgotten wrappers of crepes and candies resting beside him.

"There was no telling where you were, buddy," Tai shot back, gently rubbing his knuckles into Agumon's head.

The Digimon laughed and hopped off the bench, gathering up his trash to throw out. "I got lost, but I knew you'd find me, Tai. You always do."

Tai smiled. "I guess I do."

Even though he didn't need it, Agumon held Tai's hand all the way home.

Matt

"The seasons continue to change and we become adults"

"When did we become adults?" Tai complained, his legs draped over the back of the couch.

"About the same time we started college, I'm pretty sure," Matt quipped from where he sat on the carpet, staring out the window. He glanced over at his best friend, who looked put out by this answer. "Has it gotten through your thick skull yet?"

"You're one to talk," Tai muttered, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "I can't accept it if I refuse to believe it."

"Yeah, yeah." Matt shifted his gaze to stare out at the sunset. His hand lifted and aimlessly searched for Gabumon's head. He'd taken to petting the Digimon's head like this whenever he was deep in thought. The contact kept him grounded; he had no fear of flying away whenever he did this.

"I think it was that summer," Matt finally said, his hand stilling on Gabumon's head. Gabumon looked over at him, immediately understanding his meaning.

"Which summer?" Tai asked. "In case you forgot, there have been many. Nearly ten now."

Matt chuckled wryly. "That summer. Ordinemon."

He didn't have to look to see Tai's eyes turn sad. Matt made it a general rule not to mention Ordinemon in front of his best friend, if only because it reminded him of Nishijima. But he could tell by Tai's silence that he agreed.

Matt murmured, "The seasons kept changing, but we'd already grown up."

They both kind of hated how right the sentiment was.

Sora

"It's alright, my feelings for you will last forever"

Sora sighed at the mess before her. "Biyomon…"

"Sorry, Sora," her partner said meekly, almost shrinking into herself as she refused to meet Sora's eyes.

It was hard to be mad at a Digimon who looked so adorable when remorseful. Sora's mouth quirked up on one side as she crouched down and patted the top of Biyomon's head. "How about you help me clean this up?"

"Okay!" the bird Digimon agreed.

They worked together to clean up the mess Biyomon had accidentally made, humming along to some song they couldn't name as they did so. Despite her occasional clumsiness, Biyomon was quite adept at cleaning up messes. It made Sora thankful to have her around; an extra pair of hands—er, wings—came in handy.

When they were finished, Sora collapsed on a chair. She was suddenly exhausted, and she couldn't really pinpoint why. Maybe she was a tad overwhelmed from all the cleaning she'd done all day, and all the cleaning she had a feeling she'd be doing the rest of the day. Whatever it was, she just needed a moment to sit.

Concerned, Biyomon nervously approached her. "Sora," she began, "you're not mad at me… are you?"

Sora's eyes opened to meet those of her Digimon partner, so wide with worry. "Of course not. What would make you think that?"

"Well… you've just been so tired lately. I thought maybe you'd be mad that I made a mess again…"

"Oh, Biyomon," Sora sighed, folding her Digimon into her arms. "I hope you know I could never stay mad at you. I love you too much."

There was a relieved chirp in her voice as Biyomon said, "And I love you, too, Sora!"

Those three words lifted a good part of the exhaustion from Sora's shoulder.

Izzy

"That fragment of memory I made has disappeared"

Izzy frowned. He lightly placed his fingers on his temple and forehead, trying to pinpoint the sinking feeling in his stomach and the uneasy feeling in his heart. It wasn't a headache, surely, despite him holding his head. And he was fairly sure he didn't have a cold. So what was so wrong?

"What's wrong, Izzy?"

The words weren't coming to him to explain to Tentomon what was wrong. His Digimon buzzed his head, asking him rapid fire questions about his health. He didn't answer any of them, so focused was he on figuring out what was wrong.

"I… forgot."

"Forgot what?" the Digimon asked in surprise.

Looking up at Tentomon, Izzy murmured, "I forgot the first joke of yours I laughed at."

Tentomon landed on the ground and placed a gentle claw on Izzy's lap. "That's it?"

There were tears on his face now, and Izzy had no recollection of shedding them. "It was one of my favorite memories of the time we met."

"Oh, Izzy," Tentomon said fondly, reaching up to pat his cheek. "I'll tell you all the jokes you want."

"I'm sorry," Izzy whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the Digimon. "I didn't want to forget any of that."

"We'll make new memories for as long as we're together," Tentomon reassured him. "That's a promise from Digimon to human."

"Thank you."

Tentomon held Izzy until the pain of losing such a fond memory has faded along with the tears.

Mimi

"I do not want to forget that it happened"

Mimi hummed to herself as she finished stringing the beads on the cord on her desk. Three similar bracelets sat on the right corner of the desk, their beads glinting in the faint sunlight streaming through the window.

"Whatcha doing, Mimi?" Palmon's voice asked from behind her.

"Making bracelets to honor our friends," Mimi declared, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she finished the knot to tie the bracelet together. "There. Wizardmon, Pixiemon, Whamon, and Chuumon are done. Leomon is next."

"But Mimi," Palmon asked, peeking her head over the desk. "Why are you making them?"

"Because they sacrificed themselves to help us, all those years ago. I wasn't sure how to honor them until now."

Palmon blinked, still not understanding. "But… many of them were reborn, Mimi."

Her hands stilled for a moment. Her determined face melted into a sad one. "I know, Palmon." She turned to her Digimon partner and gave her a weak smile. "But I don't want to forget what they did for us just because they got a second chance."

"Oh, Mimi," Palmon sighed, wrapping her arms around Mimi's middle. "You have such a big heart."

"It's not much," Mimi admitted, stroking Palmon's flower. "But I want to keep their memory alive somehow. It's the least I can do."

"Then let me help you," Palmon decided, and Mimi smiled and nodded.

By the time they were done, Mimi had an entire rainbow of bracelets dedicated to their fallen comrades.

Joe

"I sincerely want the strength to protect you, too"

Joe woke up once again to a breakfast tray sitting on his nightstand. Gomamon had surely left it for him, as he had been doing for the past week. He'd been pulling constant all-nighters and late study sessions to cram for his exams again. If his Digimon partner hadn't looked so happy to help, he would've felt bad for constantly putting the little guy out.

It was one of those days where he realized just how much he loved his Digimon.

Yawning, Joe ate the breakfast Gomamon had gotten for him, wondering what was the best way to thank him. That was when he heard the crash in the kitchen.

"Gomamon?" he called, racing out of his room to see what the noise was all about.

The seal-like Digimon crawled out from behind the kitchen counter, favoring one flipper-like paw. "I'm alright, Joe. You have studying to do, right?" he asked, trying, and failing, to mask the pain in his voice.

"Let me see," Joe insisted, holding out his hand.

With a sigh, Gomamon handed him his paw, and Joe's face fell when he saw the cut. "Hold on." From the bathroom, he fetched gauze and some medical tape to wrap the wound. "Oh, Gomamon, I'm so sorry. This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so tired—"

"Joe, stop, this isn't your fault," Gomamon interrupted, staring up at his human partner and meeting Joe's desperate gaze. "I was clumsy. That's not your fault."

"I know, but…" Joe paused in wrapping Gomamon's paw. He whispered, "But I want to be helpful to you, too. Just like you are to me."

"Hey," Gomamon said, and Joe looked down at him again. The Digimon was grinning. "What are partners for, Joe? Is it so wrong for me to take care of you?"

"Only if I never get to return the favor," Joe teased, pulling Gomamon into a hug. "You better not scare me again like that, okay?"

"Sure thing, Joe," Gomamon laughed.

For the rest of the day, Joe carried Gomamon on his back so he wouldn't strain his paw. Gomamon told him it was very "doctorly" of him to do so.

T.K.

"What is important to me is right here"

"T.K.?"

"Hm?" T.K. looked up from his book to Patamon, who was flapping nervously above his head. "What's up, Patamon?"

"Don't you have a date today?" the little Digimon asked, looking very concerned about the shift in what was usually a very hectic social schedule.

A smile spread across T.K.'s face. "I canceled it. I didn't feel like going today."

"Is that okay?"' Patamon landed on the couch beside T.K., placing his front paws on his lap and staring up at him. "Are you sure she won't be mad?"

"I told her I had something more important to do," T.K. said cryptically, looking back down at his book.

"Oh? And what's that?"

Patamon yelped as T.K. suddenly wrapped him up in his arms, pressing his face into the Digimon's back.

"You silly," T.K. laughed good-naturedly. "Spending time with you is more important."

The Digimon blushed a tiny bit. "R-really?"

"Of course. You're my best friend," T.K. said, hugging him tighter. "Now, how about I read to you?"

"Or we can go get ice cream!"

T.K. laughed out loud. "Sure thing, Patamon," he said. "Anything for you."

Later, T.K. would remark that he had much more fun with Patamon than he would have had with anyone else that day.

Kari

"A shadow of the tears you've shed remains"

Gatomon had been silent all day. Kari was used to this from her by now. Some days they would sit in comfortable silence, staring out the window at nothing in particular or watching something nonsensical on the television. It was par for the course at this point in their lives, but that didn't mean that Kari was sometimes concerned about how sad Gatomon would look on these silent days.

To others, the cat Digimon didn't look any different. But Kari could tell from the look in her eyes, from the way she brushed one paw over the other, from the way her tail swished in a particular fashion, that she was sad. And she had a feeling she knew what it was about.

Today had been one of the more silent days. Gatomon had barely acknowledged Kari's presence all day. That's how Kari knew it was one of the bad ones. Normally, she would have left Gatomon alone to not disturb her.

But there were tears running down her partner's face, and she couldn't let them stay there.

Without warning, Kari scooped Gatomon into her arms and embraced her, cradling her as she would the family cat, waiting until the sniffles and warm tears stopped falling onto her shoulder. "Wizardmon," Gatomon mewled at one point, and Kari felt her own eyes prick with tears. Of course. Neither of them had ever truly gotten over it.

"It's okay," Kari murmured, pressing her face into Gatomon's fur. "I'm here."

Yes, it was certainly one of those days. One of those days where they mourned together for the friend who'd given himself for them. A friend who had been there for Gatomon where Kari hadn't yet been.

Yet, as Kari had assured Gatomon multiple times since that day, in the middle of the night after a shared nightmare, she wasn't going anywhere. And she never would, so long as they were together.

#digimon #digiweek2021 #gen writes #digiweek day 3 #digimon drabble #digimon one shots #some of these got angsty sorry a;sljkdf;asjd #i made myself cry as punishment asd;lfjkasd;fa

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

Christmas: LIVE (for charity)

Description: You’re a middle-of-the-road youtuber, not super famous, but not unfamous. Golden Closet and V are much more famous, and they’ve agreed to meet up and do a charity live-stream with you!

“For the Christmas requests would you be able to do a Youtuber au? Where like Tae or Kookie do a charity stream with Y/n? Sorry it came so late it 😭😭”

Warnings: Fluff and stuff

Posted: 12/22/2020

Tags: taekook x reader

2,159 words

A/N: For anonny, here’s your request! Hope you like it! and it didn’t come late!

You kept working on your streaming setup, preparing for your guests for the charity stream. You figured more people were coming for them than you, since you weren’t as big as them on YouTube.

First was V, from Tiger Vante: real name of Kim Taehyung. He did gaming streams with your other guest, and published music now and then that he had quite the following for. Thoughtful videos and compilations of photos, and videos of projects he worked on. He even had a fashion line and made videos about other fashion things, like his fashion through the week. Other fashions, reviewing music and such, as well as doing projects using antique equipment. He was doing a photo study with different old cameras as he was able to, and he posted a lot of inspirational videos.

Your second guest was Jungkook from Golden Closet productions. He did a lot of gaming, was technically a professional gamer, and he also did music and video production. He did everything: art, singing, dancing, gaming, photography, video production--and he was constantly experimenting with new things. But his gaming was the big ticket.

You were a smaller YouTube channel. You had a few covers, and you did a parody song a year or so ago that garnered some attention. You did reactions, and you did some gaming streams, though not as many as your guests. You did a lot of chill games, with other games interspersed. You also did some makeup stuff, mostly stage makeup stuff that you carried over from college. Cooking. You did cooking streams, and sometimes you failed, other times you were successful. But cooking streams were some of your favorites.

You’d started doing the videos as a sort of...accountability. Your therapist recommended it to help you feel like you were doing more, because despite working eight hour workdays five days a week, you still struggled feeling like you were getting anything done and you sometimes lost track of days. It had helped, you were able to keep better track of things and you’d tried new things because of it. And somehow your fanbase had grown to let you cut your hours at your office job and relax a little more.

But today’s stream was to raise money for kids in the hospital, which was why you had V and Jungkook coming. The three of you would be doing various activities together and doing challenges to raise more money.

You arranged the snacks as well as you could, and then put on your elf hat. You’d already raised two hundred dollars just by wearing an elf costume for the stream.

“Hello?”

You stood up and smiled. “Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“I’m Taehyung when I’m offscreen, I’d be happy if you called me that. Offscreen anyway. Thanks for inviting me today! Oh, this is Jungkook!” V introduced the other gamer.

Jungkook sort of dipped his head, looking awkward.

You smiled at both of them. “Nice to meet both of you. Thanks for agreeing to do this with me. I know you probably have better things to do.”

“No way, this is for charity!”

“It’s a good cause,” Jungkook added, sort of looking at you strangely.

“Oh, the outfit. Someone donated 200 dollars if I would wear an elf costume for the stream. My choice for the costume, look okay?” You asked, reaching up to adjust the hat.

“It’s super cute,” Taehyung gushed, then looked over at the setup. “Ooh! Nice! That looks great! Can I set up over there?”

“Go ahead, do you need help bringing in equipment?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Our hyungs are here to help us set up and carry things. We’ll be ready to go in no time.”

“Great, I’ll just stand out of the way.” You backed up and they signalled their group to bring in their equipment.

Between the seven boys, all of the equipment was set up in no time and the three of you were settling down for the stream.

They wished you three a good stream and then scattered.

The three of you sat down, syncing and getting your own set ups going.

“So, we’re going to start, give it five minutes, and then we’ll start playing that game you suggested over chat?” You asked, making sure you had that linked and setting things up so that you wouldn’t have to worry about anything once you were actually streaming.

“Yeah, sounds good. That camera is filming all of us, and then we have our individual ones, right?” Jungkook nodded to the carefully mounted and angled camera.

You nodded, handing cords to both of them for the camera connection. “Took me a while to figure this set up out. Here.”

Taehyung eagerly took it and plugged it into his computer and then let you quickly set it up.

Jungkook had it set up before you finished with Tae.

“Alright, it’s almost time. Ready?”

“Yeah, so...who’s starting things?” Taehyung asked, looking at you.

“My idea, so I can open it if you prefer,” You offered, checking how you looked on camera and then sighing. You couldn’t do much about it now.

“Ok, now, do you have any extra fun holiday stuff?” Taehyung asked, flicking the bell on your hat.

“A santa hat and reindeer antlers headband, and various other more girly things for me to alternate with throughout the stream.” You gestured to a bag and got everything ready. “Set the stream to start on the hour?”

Jungkook nodded then grabbed the santa hat. “Solidarity.”

Taehyung happily put on the antlers headband. “So cute! Okay, now it feels even more festive. How long did it take you to make the background?”

“Oh, I spent a couple hours, no biggie. I did something similar last year for my christmas stream. I just spiced it up a bit this year. One minute.”

They pushed their chairs closer to yours, all three streams using the camera that got all three of you.

You watched the timer tick down, hoping that it was successful and that you raised a lot of money for the charity.

The first fifteen minutes were nothing too special, it was interesting playing with other people while they were in the room and Jungkook kept mumbling thanks for donations in between decimating you and Tae, and Taehyung had a constant conversation going--partially with you--while he played.

You gave everyone a brief update since you hadn’t streamed in a couple days and people were asking about your puppy. “He’s fine. He’ll be home soon.”

“What happened to your puppy?” Jungkook asked, not missing a beat and decimating you in the meantime.

“Nothing serious, he got hurt while we were walking in the woods. They removed his dewclaw on the one leg and stitched him up. He’s already almost ready to come home. I’ll have him home for Christmas. Thank you for your donation, bluegrey613!”

Jungkook glanced over. “Hey, we probably have some requests right now. Since you’re dead can you check the chats?”

“Sure. Let’s see...they want V to do aegyo.”

Taehyung quickly did some, just barely escaping death.

“We don’t have mistletoe, sorry, guys,” You told Jungkook’s chat. “Besides, I kind of doubt they’d want to--”

“Who needs mistletoe?” Taehyung asked, pausing the game.

Next thing you knew donation signals were popping up on all three screens as the boys planted kisses on either of your cheeks.

You stared at the screen, blinking rapidly and trying to recover as both of them went back to their game like nothing had happened.

You swallowed hard and tried to focus on the requests that were flying up your screen. “Um...thank you...agustD for donating...after that request. Um...hopeworld requests that we...all do cutesy poses? He’s offering 50.”

“Make it 100 and it’s a deal,” Taehyung responded, finally getting annihilated.

You scanned the comments, waiting for a response from the same and making faces as requested. “Ooh, while we’re waiting they want to know how we met. Tae, you should tell them that saga.”

“If they’re going to make us do something cutesy, then they better be offering more than a hundred,” Jungkook grumbled.

“So...we started talking online, played a couple of games together recently--offstream so that we could discuss the fundraiser, I think we all have some clips from that game that we’re compiling and that will be posted later,” Taehyung started explaining, checking you and Jungkook for affirmation. “Then we actually met in person today! That’s about it! It’s not much of a story, but it’s a good start, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a curious look with Jungkook after witnessing the wink Taehyung threw the camera. “Snack time?”

Jungkook nodded. “Before he calls himself a snack.”

Your nose scrunched up before you could stop it.

Taehyung laughed, booping your nose. “Not me. But she definitely is.”

You shook your head. “No snacks for you.”

“Hey, hopeworld agreed to 100. Pose,” Jungkook intervened as Taehyung started to fake pout.

All three of you managed to do some cutesy pose and hold it for a couple of seconds until the donation alert popped up with many names.

“Ah...okay...that was popular,” Taehyung said, looking a little stunned as more notifications rolled in.

“Blame Jungkook, he avoids it usually so it’s rare,” You informed him, smirked at Jungkook.

He shrugged. “If I didn’t hold back the world would fall to my cuteness.”

You snorted and turned back to the comments. “RM is requesting that you guys...and I lost it. Whoops.”

“Ooh, here’s one from JinJinJara, he wants us to make couple-y poses--like exaggerated couple pictures!” Taehyung chuckled. “Lets do it!”

“I don’t need to relive prom, thanks, I was fine missing it the first time,” you joked.

“It’s for charity,” Taehyung pouted.

You groaned and then complied.

Not that you were complaining internally about two hunky guys taking mock couple-photos. There was something nice about being held by someone stronger.

The rest of the stream passed by pretty quickly, doing requests from the boys channels since only four people were requesting on your stream--the same five. It was hard not to feel like it was out of pity, the longer the stream went the viewer count on yours went down, and went up on theirs. You double checked your stream but it was fine.

But it was for charity. You didn’t mind being less popular as long as you raised enough money to do some good.

“We should do this next year, and more often! Ooh, could we do a New Years stream?” Taehyung enthused toward the end. You guys had reached your goal while playing another game, and were trying to casually close the stream.

“We…can discuss it…later. Anyway, thank you everyone who was watching and who donated. The donation links for all three of our channels will be open until the 26th! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas from Santa’s workshop!” Taehyung added brightly. “Remember to have all grandmas avoid reindeer crossing sites!”

“And be nice to the elves! They’re doing their best,” Jungkook added, cracking a smile as he flicked your hat.

You rolled your eyes and waved to the camera, then all three of you ended your streams.

“Man. That was intense,” Jungkook murmured.

“So, my five requesters, they’re the friends waiting outside, aren’t they?” You guessed, having done the math.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Why would you think that?” Jungkook asked.

“Because you guys jumped at every request they gave, usually egging them on for more money, but you were more reserved with every other request given to us. That usually indicates a personal relationship.” You leaned back in your chair, taking off the hat and smoothing your hair.

Taehyung shrugged. “They were going to donate anyway. They just wanted to get their money’s worth. They were technically on all of our streams, but you’re better at reading comments and playing the game so requests on your channel got through better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boys.”

“We did really well,” Jungkook said softly. “We make a good team. We just need to improve your playing on a couple games.”

You smiled. “Maybe. Alright. So, as far as new years goes, I’ve got a few games we can play while being in different places if that would work better. But also do it at a different time than when people would normally be partying because otherwise it would be a bust.”

“Okay!”

“Sounds good. Want to go grab some food with us? My treat?” Jungkook offered, smiling at you.

You pause, but then nod. “Sure. That sounds great. We can come back after to get your stuff if you like.”

“Sounds like a magical plan to me!” Taehyung grinned at you and then kissed your cheek again. “You really should have put some mistletoe in here. That would have made it extra festive. I’ll go tell hyungs the plan.”

You definitely weren’t blushing.

#Christmas story madness #christmas story #taekook x reader #taekook #youtuber!au #Reader x Jungkook #reader x taehyung #reader x bts #bts fic

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moonknightly · 4 years

Text

Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

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toysoldiers-rwby · 3 years

Text

[CS] 13. And Look Good Doing It.

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny Polendinda, Aurora Glade, Ciel Soliel, Ashley Xanthic Word Count: 4.8k

Goodbyes and beginnings.

Read on Ao3

Approval Rate: Unnecessary. Error: Enemy Unknown. Archive Encrypted. Memory Defragmentation 100% Complete.

“Day 377,” Penny said as the last words faded from her vision and her systems HUD disappeared. Her eyes telescoped, adjusting to her room rather than empty space.

The software maintenance ran a little longer than the estimated two hours. Though considering she was backing it up directly to a flash drive and encrypting it at the same time, it was within the acceptable margin of error. She detached herself from the maintenance station and set it on her folded cloths on her desk, waiting for instillation into Billy.

Sorrow and fear almost overwhelmed her for a moment. The last few days have been… sweet and sad. Aro kept PAWM’s spirits up, Focus almost fooling everyone about the time Ironwood had stolen from them.

Penny decided to focus on the memories that celebrated her 20th day of birth, according to the documents Xanthic had forged. Ciel looked rather annoyed that she was the youngest amongst the team was the most responsible. Aro and Xan corrected her statement as morally responsible which only annoyed the officer further.

With a giggle returned to the maintenance station. Usually Penny would enter sleep mode during her monthly tune up. With the cord plugged directly into her core, it had direct permissions and access to any necessary systems it needed. But this time Penny caught her bare reflection in the metal walls.

Aro’s favored nickname for May twisted Penny’s power unit. Doll. That was exactly what Penny looked like, artificial skin bare of organic imperfections and far too smooth over her metal chassis. She didn’t have muscles gave and flex like Aro’s back or shoulders. Her body didn’t tell a history with scars like Winter, or held secrets like May and Aurora. It was worse than a doll… even they had a belly button. Explicit dolls for adults could even be a substitute for intimate companionship-

Penny closed her eyes and immediately shut down that line of inquiries. During their remaining time together… even with an uncertain future, neither May or Winter was consciously pushing for sexual intercourse. In private and… faux private spaces; Aurora’s physical affection could easily overwhelm their judgment, May’s sweet behavior melted into something heated, or Winter would just tease and prod one of them until Aurora or Penny’s unpracticed restraint broke, but it never gotten far enough to be inappropriate. It was clear they all wanted to continue but the limited time they had left always soured the mood.

Her girlfriends had also reassured her that sex was an added benefit of a romantic relationship. She didn’t need to directly participate, they would be happy if she was in the same room watching, talking, or even left altogether. They only request she’d join in the ‘post orgasm cuddles’ as Aro put it.

Considering Penny’s fascination with their reactions… Observing is within her capabilities, at the very least.

Penny opened her eyes and watched the mechanical arm spin around her, slicing the artificial skin open with precision to only allow access to the panels of her chassis. As long as her core was intact, her body could be upgraded. Though… asking her father for such upgrades was… Perhaps Xanthic was a better alternative? If only she knew how much of her body was metal.

For a moment Penny analyzed the benefits of directly defying the General’s orders. Considering what the consequences had done to Aro and Xan, Penny immediately didn’t get far in her list of benefits.

The upgrades were done almost too soon for Penny’s liking. Another hour closer till departure. Penny went through the checks as if it would slow time.

Somehow her father had developed a small bio-fuel converter, allowing her to ‘ingest’ small meals. Penny tried it with one of Aro’s sweets, a hard candy that would hold off her oral fixation during class and made her kisses taste sweet according to May and Winter. Penny still saw no need for any gustatory sensors, but she the act of rolling her jaw, clenching and moving her tongue was rather soothing and satisfying stim. She crunched it and swallowed the pieces. There was no feeling of anything entering her systems, but no alarm that anything went wrong either.

Her coolant system was drained, radiator equipped with some ice Dust infused metal, and coolant system refilled with a mixture of more ice Dust. Apparently it was organic friendly and Aura reacting, as it was the same coolant flowing through her teammates.

Her joints were equipped to withstand more impact that better suited Penny and Aro’s fighting style. The only thing Penny could not test was her new gyroscope. Her partner’s Dust manipulation far exceeded any military equipment Atlas or any kingdom had. She could only hope it could withstand her partner’s constant fluctuating field. Though… if it failed she would need emergency work from Aro and Xan which would lead to them discovering her synthetic nature… and Ironwood would tighten his control over the pair. Penny desperately hoped her upgraded gyroscope worked as intended.

The last, but perhaps most important change was the belly button on her feature. Her fingers brushed over it, programing reading the indent as damage so she quickly rewrote the code to ignore her new belly button.

“Penny?” Dr. Pietro called through the door. A knock followed shortly after. “It’s… time.” He said softly.

“Be right there!” Penny called out. She slipped into her first layers for human modesty and then her stockings followed lastly by her dress and shoes. She tucked the flash drive into a pocket and opened the door.

Dr. Pietro gave her a bright smile and hug. Xanthic’s robots gave a deep and polite bow before walking in and taking her luggage. Dr. Pietro’s chair walked around Penny doing a mock inspection that settled his curiosity than anything.

“Upgrades working?”

“Yes, sir!” Penny chirped, rolling to the balls on her feet. “Everything is in optimal levels,” She saluted playfully.

Dr. Pietro laughed and lead her out of her room and into elevator to the exit… The walls where she spent her first seven months were nearly foreign to her. Has it always been so silent and… stagnate? The only warmth and comfort of this place was from her father. So Penny smiled and kept her attention on him, and the three little box on his lap.

“What’s that?”

“It’s uh…” Dr. Pietro laughed a little nervously, “For Ms. Soleil and Ms. Xanthic. An upgraded model of her eyes, some modifications to Ms. Soleil’s chakrams, and…Extra disk and memory storages for you. You’ve grown faster than I anticipated due to being exposed to a… wide array of characters so suddenly.”

Penny giggled behind a hand. The immediate image her simulators created was Xanthic arguing with everyone. The level of hostility is heavily depended on her level of boredom. She prevents herself from truly habituating to her environment, always causing trouble though lately she’d been too focus on passing her… responsibilities to the Happy Huntresses.

Her father smiled brightly at her reaction, “So Team APCX is doing well? I was rather worried at first…”

“Oh, please do not worry! It’s been absolutely wonderful!” Penny smiled. She felt her Aura stir in the chest from the near lie she told. Eventually Penny blurted out, “It was… hard. At first. But not anymore!”

Dr. Pietro smiled. “That’s a relief. It’s a shame APCX is leaving just as Ms. Marigold and Ms. Xanthic started to get along again.”

“… Again?” Penny asked.

“Oh yes! Before Ms. Xanthic changed her name and-” A loud crash just beyond the front doors interrupted her father.

"Her what horns?!"

“I’m running on 3 hours of sleep, I’m sorry it just slipped!”

“Hide behind me again and I will Slow you,” Ciel threatened.

The doors opened to reveal a small group of people. Her team, the Specialist supposedly advising them, and finally the Happy Huntresses. Of course the commotion would be caused by May and Xanthic. The hacker was surprisingly nimble, weaving through the small crowd when May looked like she was ready to strangle her. Or shoot her, Penny corrected as May knelt down, one half of her crossbowstaff aimed at Xanthic.

The hacker had run from the crowd and blindly towards the Polendinas. In a burst of gravity Dust she floated up before colliding with them. Aro waved at her former mentor and his daughter.

“Salutations Aurora!” Penny smiled launching herself into her partners arms. Her gyroscope kept track of the ground and the lazy twirls weren’t as disorientating. She found herself seated in Aro’s crossed legs, floating in the air for a moment while their foreheads was pressed together. Penny savored watching the slow way her eyes dimmed as Focus slept.

“Salutations, Penn.” Aro whispered with a happy purr.

“He… Hello, Dr. Pietro.” May muttered rising to her feet. She quickly trying to hide her weapon behind her back. Even fully retracted it still peeked from her shoulders. She walked to Xanthic and stiffly set her on the ground, awkwardly smoothing out the hacker’s clothing she may or may not have ruffled.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” Dr. Pietro said with a sigh. He gave the two disappointed looks. The two hotheaded bluenettes both flinched, the fight suddenly gone. May retreated behind Winter who laughed softly. Her father quickly approached Xanthic and Ciel before the hacker could flee too and presented her gift, “I know you said you didn’t want to change your eyes but… here is a version of the model you have. Same look, some new features.”

“… Thanks, Dr. Pietro.”

Aurora finally settled down and their feet finally returned to solid ground. Penny looked at Winter, ready to approach her but the Happy Huntresses intercepted. Fiona hugged her first but Joanna swept her up in a hug.

“We’re gonna miss you Penny!” Fiona said, voice a little flat from the pressure Joanna was applying.

“You’re such a rare flower in this cold*, cold kingdom*,” Joanna yelled glaring at Winter and May. Judging by their tentative glances at Xanthic it was because they were still at odds with her.

“Yeah, Swords. You really have a habit of livening the place up,” Robyn said. As always the leader was much calmer than her team and settled for patting her head and straightening her bow. “Take care of Aro?”

"Don’t you mean, Aro take care of her?" Aurora asked with a small pout.

“Your civilian ass needs all the help you can get,” Fiona teased. Aro rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a hug. When Joanna let go Fiona had somehow switched her hug from Penny to Aro. “Be good okay! Remember to eat all three meals, and to sleep. Don’t set buildings on fire! Unless…”

“They are SDC assholes.” Aro finished with a laugh. After another affectionate nuzzle Fiona jumped off and started to prounce towards Xanthic and Ciel. The officer quickly intercepted Fiona’s grabby hands. Aro gestured towards May and Winter, “Go on, I’ve… said my byes.”

“Did… did you ever answer May’s question?”

“I’m not leaving her,” Aurora answered quickly but calmly. Her sea-green eyes shined with tears that didn’t want to fall. “Never her. Atlas on the other hand…” She held the statement in her mouth with a distasteful growl.

“A lot can happen in four months,” Joanna said patting her shoulder. “Platinum for example,” She said with a large grin. Aurora blushed, glancing away. Penny could feel her Aura stir up some heat within her.

“Maybe we can turn it into a place you’ll actually come back too?” Robyn offered. The leader gave Penny a charismatic smile, “Go on, Swords. May is patient when she wants to be but make her wait any longer and she might cry.” Penny nodded waving the women bye as she approached Winter and May.

“Sorry but… can you go over Sector 17 again?” Joanna asked a little timidly.

“17 is mostly Xan’s responsibility though it heavily overlaps with 18 due to their high Faunus population.” Aro explained calmly. “A lot of family from the mines, a lot of heating leaks, not enough lien…”

Penny tuned out their conversation when May rushed forward, pulling her into a hug. Penny was a little surprised at how she lifted her off the ground and carried her onto the airship. Out of sight from her father, May gave her a proper kiss. Her kisses were always the most chaste, sweet and smiling. This time Penny could feel a heated desperation like the one she witness between her and Aro two weeks ago. Penny tried to quell it, holding her face and meeting the kiss just as hard.

When May had to breath Penny pulled back and was returned to the ground. A soft chilled hand drifted to Penny’s cheek, guiding her eyes up. Away from the cameras and in the privacy of the airship, Winter’s military façade fell away to a sad and resigned lover.

While Winter didn’t literally sweep Penny off her feet like Aro could the way that Winter would cradle her cheek and tilt her chin up would had the same effect. Penny rolled onto her toes and she’d forget to breath. Winter’s lips may be the coldest of the three but that only made Penny chase her more. Eventually Winter pulled back to breath and the two huntresses held Penny tight for a moment.

“Aurora said you two had a gift for us?” Winter said.

“Oh yes!” Penny smiled. She dipped into the cockpit for a second, looking under the seats. With her sharp eyes she barely made out the slumbering mechanical pet. She picked it up and set it down at May and Winter’s feet. To them it appeared as a roughly shaped metal rectangle with some fur on top. Their suspicions eased when Penny opened a hidden panel on the back of his neck and inserted the flash drive into it. Slowly the goat horns extended out from his head, “Billy 2.0!” She said with a large smile.

He was no longer a pocket sized mechanical pet but stood near the same height of a medium dog. Aurora modeled his appearance after the Kiko goat native to island areas, such as Menagerie. The top was covered with fur that tapered to make it look like it had a metal underbelly and sides. Billy’s new chassis was retractable, malleable or layered. He stretched, the fur moving and metal shifting in a way that mimicked organic flesh to a jealous degree.

Upon seeing Penny the no-longer-tiny-goat happily prounced, his speakers bleating. Then he looked up to Winter and May, head tilting side to side as hard-light question marks popped up next to his head.

Whenever Aro or Xan wasn’t preparing the Happy Huntresses to take over the responsibilities and… less reputable activities, they helped Penny upgrade Billy. Xanthic altered an unused AI core with intelligence far greater than even the most intelligent bred dogs.

Ciel had offer to test it at her place in Mantle to keep the others from finding it. During testing Billy was able to correctly clean the floor, return an assortment of clothing and footwear to their proper places and work the dishwasher. Aro did the physical upgrades and because of their preference for Dust, equipped Billy with a cuddle warming function and the hard-light emotes.

May gasped, eyes wide. “That’s so… cute!”

Hearts appeared next and Billy did a little happy dance. He nuzzled her legs affectionately. Billy made shook his head at her and clomped his feet when May didn’t respond. A hard-light instructional picture of ‘How to pet animals’ popped up and Billy wiggled his head and ears expectantly. “Wow… what a brat,” May said. She finally pet him and he danced happily again.

He wandered back to Winter blinking expectantly. Penny giggled at her face. The Specialist looked down at it a little confused, conflicted, and surprisingly overwhelmed. Tentatively she knelt down and held out a hand to which Billy immediately nuzzled against.

“… His fur is soft.” Winter murmured in surprised. “I’ve always wanted a pet as a kid. I was thinking about getting one after graduation but never had time.”

“Don’t worry, as a completely inorganic entity his needs are minimal.” Penny said.

“But he still has needs?” Winter asked a little amused. She was a little shocked when Billy nodded his heads. A few images appeared by his head. It consisted of sleeping, more petting, and walking.

At the sound of someone approaching, Winter immediately slipped back into her military persona. It was disheartening, but adorably so when Billy threw a small fit at the lack of attention and headbutted Winter’s leg softly. Her composure broke a little, looking down at her new pet.

Aro laughed at the entrance, “He’s also too smart for his own good,” She said. Winter’s façade melted into a sad smile. She readily accepted Aurora embrace as she wrapped her arms around Winter’s neck. The two shared a content smile before Aro leaned up for a quick kiss… but considering how Aurora likes to expose as much as that tattoo as possible Winter followed and pushed until her back was against the wall.

Penny saw a flash of teeth as it sunk into Aro’s bottom lip. The Faunus tried to stifle a groan, ears fluttering a bout. It was only when Winter’s hands grasp the clothing tight under Aro’s breast did May and Penny intervene.

“Ahem,” May cleared her throat. Winter pulled back and looked down at the disheveled former businesswomen. There was an unmistakable blush outlining her cheeks and blossoming on her chest, creating a lovely contrast with her tattoos. Her lips were a little swollen with the kiss. With a satisfied hum Winter stepped back leaving Aro dazed enough to slide down the wall a few inches.

“Come, Billy.” Winter said guiding him off the ship. She did give Penny one more kiss, a tinder one to the inside of her wrist before finally leaving the airship. Penny heard Fiona and let out a gasp and tiny squeals and she knew Billy was dancing and bleating at her. May laughed at Aro, pressing their foreheads together as she helping the Faunus to the pilot seat and straightening out her clothes.

Similarly May stole one more kiss with Penny, lingering as much as possible before she heard Xanthic and Ciel walk up the ramp. The two Spymasters frowned at each other. Xanthic smirked, “Please keep Fiona from burning sector three to the ground. They have the most racist clubs.”

“I… make no promises,” May mumbled. The huntress gave Ciel a much more civil farewell and left, giving Penny and Aurora a longing glance.

“First stop, Argus,” Aro said. “Next stop Beacon.” The airship lifted off but hesitated. From the windows they saw May quickly wiping her tears, a broken smile on her face as she waved them off with one hand, the other hand tightly holding Winter’s. Winter was much calmer, a somber smile and a small playful salute bye.

Penny wrapped her arms around Aro, careful not to jostle her control over the ship. The pair blew their girlfriends a kiss before finally rising in altitude, seeing a real smile break over May and Winter’s face even if the pair was a little embarrassed. With a sad sigh Penny took her rightful place in the co-pilot seat. Aurora put on some soft house music.

At first the flight was tense and sad. When it droned on to long Xanthic made an displeased noise and stood to hover at the cockpit. “You know I hate tension unless I’m the cause of it. So fucking quit it.”

“Sorry if I’m sad that I needed to leave the women I’ve been in love with for years!” Aro snapped back, eyes flashing. Penny and Ciel was a little taken back by the vicious anger. Penny had a hard time recalling a similar outburst, but the one with Turk filtered in.

Xanthic had known her… and dating her- and wasn’t fazed. She merely posed against the metal frame and raised a brow. The hacker let the radio roll on for a bit while Aro slowly simmered down. Penny watched with a small smile as Aro’s words finally registered and a blush appeared on her cheeks. “… You did tell her, right? That you loved her?”

There was a whine as Aro sunk into her seat a little. “No…” Xanthic looked at Penny for confirmation. Penny wrinkled her nose, trying to remember a direct declaration of love. There were many acts and words that shown it but nothing explicit. Penny shook her head.

“Too be fair action speaks louder than words,” Ciel said. Penny glanced behind and Xanthic moved a little so she could see the officer. Ciel was laid back flicking through the TV for something to watch. She stopped at a station committed to celebrities and gossip. They flicked through several pictures of Aro draped on May, their arms linked together, or trying to taunt the women into a kiss. A few of them involved hand holding with Penny, arms wrapped around her shoulder or a calm and affectionate smile… it seemed to be in a much more platonic perspective when compared with May.

“You obviously love all of them.” Ciel said. She finally clicked past the gossip stations. There was nothing about Winter’s romantic life. Penny looked at Xanthic who met her eyes with an unspoken challenge.

Xanthic broke it first, looking back at Aro, “You should have just gotten her name tattooed on your ass cuz she clearly owns it.”

“How crass, there’s two other people,” Ciel’s eyes lazily shifted to Penny, acting as if it was an afterthought she just remembered. “A collar is much more versatile.”

Aro made odd whines and the two chuckled at their leader’s expense. Satisfied with the change in mood Xanthic laid down on the sofa, feet up in Ciel’s lap. The officer glared but didn’t entertain the hacker with a fight or argument and continued flicking through something to watch.

Penny finally decided to have a fluid stance on the hacker’s attitude and behavior. There were a few times Penny was grateful for her need to be the center of attention and urge to keep things from habituating. Penny gladly added this occasion to the list.

The flight to Argus was faster than projected, but they were in a nonstandard airship built by one of the greatest minds in Atlas. As the bay doors open and light filled the airship Penny had a sudden realization.

“I’m on a different continent…” She whispered softly.

“First time out of Solitas?” Aro asked. Penny grinned up at her and bounced in place. The Faunus smiled and took her hand. Before APCX stepped out Focus woke up and shined through her pupils. “I promise to make up for Cordovin.”

Penny frowned. It took a moment for Penny’s systems to access her preinstalled data and scroll down the list of Specialist to find Caroline Cordovin. A long list of… notes, were hidden under high level credentials.

“Ms. Aurora Glade!” The women greeted just as APCX stepped off the ramp. Penny smiled politely down at the women, but she didn’t have the magical concentration Focus gave Aurora. Ciel and Xanthic openly scowled at the next words that bellowed from the tiny women, “The shining jewel of what Atlas could bring to the world!”

Glancing at her partner, Penny saw Focus flash, reattuning for a subservient role in this conversation. Aurora laughed gently, scratching the back of her head in faux embarrassment. There was no blush and no flittering ears. Instead she was trying to fluff out her hair to appear softer. Despite the buzz on the sides of her head, Aro’s hair was still thick enough to accomplish that.

"Oh and company," Cordovin added, gaze lingering with distant at where Aro and Penny’s hands intertwined.

“Team APCX,” Xanthic quickly correct. Cordovin just waved the hacker off leaving her to scowl in open surprise. Ciel and Penny tried not to snicker or giggle at her face.

“Thank you, Specialist Cordovin.” Aro said, business voice smooth and low. “I will ensure your compliments reach my former mentor on my next return to Atlas.”

Cordovin smiled brightly and seemed to preen. “Of course you will! A civilized Faunus like you knows proper etiquette.” Penny moved racism to the top of Cordovin’s… notes.

“Ms. Glade!” A civilian with tangled mess of clearance badges and other tags ran up to her, followed closely by two of guards. “A moment of your time… or hour,” CCT Technician Terra Cotta asked, pushing up her glasses.

“Sorry ma’am. You lack the proper clearance levels for this area-”

Aurora interrupted the guard with a gentle laugh, but the hand in front of her face seemed to hid baring fangs. “Military still giving you issues?”

“Ms. Glade had far more pressing matters she needs to is scheduled to be attending,” Cordovin snapped. With a wave of her hands the guards cornered the technician.

“I’m sure Iron, G-General Ironwood,” Aro quickly correct, Focus briefly flashing at full potential before shrinking down to her pupils again. “Would greatly approve of any measure taken to avoid a communication failure between Kingdoms.” She said demurely. Penny must have been making a face because Xanthic and Ciel tried to hide their snickering.

“Hmm…” Cordovin rubbed her chin in thought. “Very well. Just remember you’re true purpose here, Ms. Glade.”

“To help protect Atlas and her people outside the kingdom.” Aro gave a graceful bow. Penny looked to the sharp tips of the horns that glistened in the sunlight. "How could I ever forget about the Kingdom that has done so much to me."

Of course Cordovin wasn’t tactile enough to notice the words. Penny smiled with some satisfaction as the women seemed content and turned to leave. After all military personal followed their leader away, Aro straightened. APCX and the technician laughed softly, Focus vanished and soft snarling expression on curling Aro’s lips.

Terra snorted, “Come on, let’s get you and your friends out of here.” She said leading them to the gates away from the Atlesian military base.

“We aren’t friends,” Xanthic quickly protested crossing her arms.

Terra gave a teasing smile, looking at the halo and horns “Girlfrie…” Her words drifted off as she finally noticed Penny and Aro’s intertwined hands. Possibly because Penny purposely pulled Aurora closer and her face may have been in an angry pout. “R-Right… teammates!” Terra quickly turned around trying to hide the panic look across her face. “Sorry. Aro always had a thing for blue hair and… you kind of remind me of Silvio Watts…”

Penny hummed angrily, glaring up at the halo. Aro laughed softly, giving her an affectionate and reassuring nuzzle. Followed by a kiss when Penny pressed their lips together.

“Actually Terra… Xanthic is more than capable of helping you with the CCT issues,” Aro said. Terra raised a skeptical brow at Xanthic. The technician seemed unnerved by the way her prosthetic eyes stared back. “She’s kind of… an unofficial protégée of Author Watts.”

“How did you manage that?” Terra asked Xanthic. “Dr. Watts only took on his nephew and just barely. He was so hard on that poor boy.”

Xanthic blinked slowly at her. “Good thing the dead can’t stop people from rifling through their research,” She responded coldly. Terra gave Aro an alarmed and concerned look and she gave a shrug of her muscular shoulders.

Ciel gave Penny an amused smile. “Never a dull moment with the anarchist.”

“What? A new school and kingdom not entertaining enough for you,” Xanthic said with an offended drawl. “At this point you should pay me for being your personal entertainment.”

“I’m not paying for a shitty escort.”

“Bitch, did you just…”

Penny smiled, rolling her eyes at the pair and looked around to take in the sites. Once away from the military base, she could clearly see the mixture of cultures. The buildings looked to be Minstral with Atlas functionality added in. Penny rested her head against Aro’s shoulder and enjoyed the kiss to her head.

Day 1 away from Atlas. Day 1 free from General Ironwood.

With a grin and a nervous laugh Penny pulled Aurora forward, to explore the new city.

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #aurora glade #apcx #ciel soleil #ashley xanthic #pfenning #qued

11 notes · View notes

whumpywhumper · 4 years

Note

Ohh can we have some uh 'painful wound cleaning' for the BTHB? That is such an underused trope, but damn is it good -S

So this ask has been sitting in my box for like. . . a year? Sorry it took so long 😅 @badthingshappenbingo prompt

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @captivity-whump @insanitywishes @oceanthesarcasamfox @walkingchemicalfire @voidwhump @imagination1reality0

Huge thanks to both @0idril0 and @rosesareviolentlyread I couldn’t ask for a better hype team

Follows directly after: Help Me Find You and here is the Masterpost

PAINFUL WOUND CLEANING

V***V

“Oh, good. You’re awake, darling.”

Amused, Lucien looked down at the witch as he leaned against the door frame. He watched as his newest acquisition moaned pitifully, wet tear tracks glistening on his cheeks from the overhead fluorescent lighting. Lucien knew that the first injection was always the hardest on his prey, the victim’s body not knowing how to make sense of the toxin, the venom wreaking havoc on their senses. The witch was no different. Markus was visibly trembling, curled on his side, his tall frame wracked with spasms as he tried, and failed, to move away from the door.

He wouldn’t be able to for a while yet. There was enough venom in Markus’s system, by Lucien’s instincts, to keep the witch down for days. He had absolutely flooded the other man with it in an effort to neutralize him long enough to get him to the nest, and even a day later, the smell of it was thick and heavy with every pulse of the witch’s heart. The venom did more than keep Markus down though, it marked him as Lucien’s, and any other vampire would be facing the Elder’s wrath if they tried to claim the witch’s blood for their own.

Markus was Lucien’s to do with as he pleased. To hurt, to bleed, to take apart piece by piece. That possessive thought made him rumble deep in his chest, the sound making Markus flinch and softly gasp. The predator part of Lucien’s brain picked up on the pain, disorientation and confusion his darling was expressing. The vulnerability. All for Lucien.

It was delicious. Intoxicating. He wanted more.

His venom glands throbbed with the burgeoning desire to release more of his toxin into the long column of Markus’s throat, to throw the writhing anguish of the witch into a tailspin so that every lungful of air was an agonized gasp, every flutter of skin over thudding arteries was a bruising throb. It would be easier if the witch gave in, let his brain accept the chemicals that would light up the pleasure center in his brain, so that all he would feel was ecstasy. But this had its own appeal, its own power that added to the high of magic in Lucien’s belly. The Elder had downed something powerful enough to make lesser predators afraid, and Lucien had turned it into his own private feast of pain and blood.

Lucien let his lips pull away from his fangs in a smile, eyes coating with black as he allowed the predator under his skin to stretch, appreciating the moment. His tongue pressed against the swollen glands in his mouth, skittering jolts of pleasure running down his spine. The Elder knew the effects of his own venom intimately. Not as vicious as a Red like Christine’s, not as intoxicating as a White’s. His venom rode the line, and the harder Markus fought against it, the more it would make him feel sick and drugged, like every movement was tearing his muscles apart.

Based on the pained whimper that punched out of Markus’s chest as he squeezed his gorgeous, green eyes closed, he was fighting it hard.

It was easier, usually, to control his prey if Lucien glamoured them into giving in, glamoured into going under with waves of pleasure so that they were malleable and compliant, but that wouldn’t work with a witch. All but the weakest would be able to fight off a vampire’s glamour, one of their few defense mechanisms, and Markus was anything but a weak witch.

The magic in the other man’s blood had almost knocked him on his ass as he’d tasted it. Rich and earthy, full of subtle notes of honey and spices. Even a day later, Lucien’s slow metabolism was still working through the residual magic, the high thrumming through his system. Not to mention the fact that Markus had put up a hell of a fight for being unprepared, injured, and taken by surprise. Lucien could still feel his face burning from the direct burst of sunlight to his skin, his glamour blowing apart, the way he’d been thrown through the air with only a word. It was fucking impressive.

If Markus had been prepared for him in that alley? Lucien wouldn’t have been able to take him, and the Elder wasn’t going to refuse this gift of coincidence.

The dynamic pull of the promise of strong prey had Lucien scenting the air, and the sweet smell of magic laced blood made his mouth water and his venom glands swell further. His eyes were drawn inexorably to where he’d quickly bound the gunshot wound in Markus’s shoulder. The temporary dressing was soaked through, dark red blooming through the white gauze.

Lucien wanted to feed, but the wound needed to be cleaned or the witch was going to die of infection before Lucien could enjoy him.

He stepped forward, dropping the heavy, black bag dangling from his hand onto the hard concrete with a thump. His rumble turned into a purr when the witch flinched, little noises of pain tripping out of his mouth like daisies in a field, and pushed the door closed behind him. Trapping them together in the small room. They would be moving back to the nest soon, but he wouldn’t give Markus any opportunity to escape, however unlikely.

Markus whimpered when the door slammed home, muscles tightening under his faded t-shirt as he shifted away from the noise. Lucien tutted, moving slowly toward the witch like one would a wounded animal. “Don’t worry, darling,” he crooned, “I promised I’d take good care of you, didn’t I?”

Kneeling next to Markus, he pressed his fangs into his lower lip to still his growing grin as the witch blinked rapidly, eyes wide as he tried to focus on the predator above him. He reached down to put his fingers through Markus’s sweat damp hair, but the witch jerked back, crying out as the venom tore through his body.

Lucien chuckled softly, finishing the movement to wrap a handful of silky strands around his fingers. “You can’t get away from me that easily, darling.” The witch’s breathing was turning sharp and panicked, and Lucien drank in those unfocused green eyes that stared up at him with dazed terror before pulling his hair, stretching the long column of his throat so he could see the sealed bite wound over his jugular.

Markus groaned, eyes squeezing shut, and another possessive thrill ran up Lucien’s spine, his purr deepening as he pressed his thumb against it. The pulse of blood under the other man’s skin was so alive, frantic and pumping with abandon. The witch’s breath hitched when he moved his injured arm, ostensibly to push away Lucien’s hand, the scent of fresh blood filling the air as he aggravated the bullet wound.

The vampire shuddered, glands filling with more venom as the urge to bite became almost unbearable. He swallowed thickly, tasting the venom that spurted out onto his tongue. “God, you’re not going to be good for my self control, beautiful.”

The witch’s eyes cracked open to glare up at Lucien, his weak flare of defiance subsumed by delirious terror. “Fuck off,” he panted, trying to pull away from Lucien’s hold on him. The Elder couldn’t have that. He tightened the grip he had on the witch’s hair, other hand sliding from his neck to grab a hold of his bicep tight enough to bruise. “AH!”

“We’ve talked about you being nicer to me, Markus,” he murmured in warning, “that’s no way to treat the person caring for you.”

Markus turned his face down toward the floor with a tight groan, but he didn’t try to get free again, his breaths coming in short, staccato jerks. From this close, the Elder could hear every strangled noise that Markus’s corded jaw held back, could feel how his lax muscles faintly trembled under his grasp. Licking his lips, the vampire loosened his hold on Markus’s bicep, running his hand over the warm, exposed skin of his arm as he examined the stained gauze wrapped around the witch’s shoulder.

Lucien didn’t like using a gun, the waste and damage of it irritating him, going against his usual methodology. But, after Chicago, he wasn’t in the mood to run down his preferred prey.

He let the glamour hiding his claws fade away, the sharp tips allowing him to cut through the blood glutted gauze easily. Markus flinched at the soft skkrt of ripping fabric, hair pulling taught under Lucien’s other hand. “So jumpy,” the vampire taunted, drinking in Markus’s pained moan as he pulled the pressure pads away from the injury, “I told you I was taking care of you, Markus. The least you can do is believe me.”

Markus whimpered, eyes wide with impotent fury as he drew agonized breaths through fear clenched teeth, weakly struggling to get away from Lucien’s restraining hands. The defiance was beautiful. Even overpowered and terrified out of his mind, the witch wasn’t surrendering to him. Making Lucien fight for every inch of dominance.

It thrilled him, made every noise a surrender.

Lucien couldn’t hold back his chuckle, his claws shredding through Markus’s t-shirt to expose the witch’s shoulder, ignoring the weak squirming and half-voice protests as more and more skin was revealed. “S-stop, fuck--nnn!”

“I have to see it to treat it, darling,” he purred, releasing the other’s black hair to settle along the join between the witch’s shoulder and neck, preparing to hold him down. Slowly, carefully, he palpated the area around the bullet hole, fingers staining red as they smeared through fresh blood.

Markus’s eyes screwed shut, throat working on a muffled scream as he tried to jerk away from the pain. “Now, now, darling,” Lucien scolded, pressing him down, exerting enough pressure to bruise as he controlled the other man’s movement. Despite Markus’s weak struggles, Lucien kept the witch on his side so he could see the entry and exit wounds before dragging the bag he’d brought in closer. Straddling Markus’s stomach, his powerful legs caging in the witch’s torso, Lucien reached over to slide open the zipper, revealing his medical supplies.

Before he got started, he slowly pet through Markus’s sweat damp hair, his thumb brushing over his tear streaked cheek to spread the salty moisture. “I guess I should have expected that you wouldn’t be able to hold still yourself,” he murmured, feeling the clench and release of Markus’s abs as the witch panted through the pain. He brought his hand back to Markus’s throat, making the witch still under him as his claws pricked against the delicate skin.

Lucien revelled, for a moment, in the satisfaction of holding his prey down. His eyelids fluttered, and he swallowed a sticky gush of venom as he took in a deep breath of blood scented air. The simple act of pinning Markus against his best efforts to get away soothed some of the predatory drive that was pulling at him, telling him to feed and subdue. The undeniable control settling some fractured part of his soul.

Groaning under his breath, his blood stained hand followed the line of Markus’s arm to find his wrist, squeezing hard enough to hear the bones grind together. “Though, I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy your struggling, beautiful--” he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the bloody ball of Markus’s shoulder, “--it will probably hurt less if you don’t.”

“Lemme go,” Markus whimpered, voice thick and slurring, his wrist flexing in Lucien’s grip. Behind him, the Elder heard the other man’s feet seeking purchase on the floor, but Lucien’s weight was more than enough to keep his weak prey in place.

“Darling,” Lucien crooned, a smile in his voice, “you’re not going anywhere.” His long fingers spread around Markus’s throat, squeezing until the witch’s breathing turned into a harsh wheeze. “Now, shhh, stop struggling.”

Markus’s Adam’s apple bobbed against his palm as the witch struggled to breathe, his eyelids fluttering as his oxygen was restricted. His lips separated, mouth slung open on a desperate gasp as he started shaking in earnest. His already weak struggles weakened further, ugly wheezing his only movement until Lucien let up. He didn’t remove his hand completely, but the witch stayed still, a low sob coloring his next inhale. “Good boy,” Lucien praised softly, “good boy.”

<~>

“Good boy,” the man murmured, his voice barely audible over the frantic pounding of Markus’s heart, “Good boy.”

Markus whimpered, red hot shame filling his lungs as he dragged in another mouthful of air, his head pounding from the lack of oxygen. His body refused to do more than shake, too weak and addled to do anything other than obey the implacable command to stop struggling. The hand resting on his throat and the impossible weight straddling his torso reinforced the fact that he was helpless. At the mercy of someone much stronger than himself.

He wanted his magic, but he couldn’t sense the energies in the air, the touch of bare skin against his own igniting nothing more than rabbit-like fear. Mindless terror infested Markus’s muddied thoughts, scattering them like roaches. Nothing made sense without his magic, he’d never been without it, and every rational, decision-making part of Markus’s brain was on the verge of jibbering screams.

I want Illyn back, please, fuck, just stop.

His bad arm was manipulated at the wrist, trapping it with the other man’s knee against Markus’s belly, and a ragged moan dragged itself out of the witch’s mouth like reluctant roadkill. The noise entwined with the lingering ache of his esophagus as air rasped through his vocal cords, and he swallowed past the cottony taste of dehydration.

With his eyelashes clumped together against his cheeks, Markus couldn’t see what his captor was doing, but the sudden jettison of liquid against his shoulder made him cry out as the throbbing bullet wound ignited. Markus screamed, bucking up against the heavy weight over his torso, his pained shout transforming into choked sobs as the assault didn’t let up. The liquid spread down his chest to soak his shredded shirt and puddle on the ground. Markus shuddered, every jerking inhale an agonized moan through numb lips as the flush moved to the exit wound.

“Easy, darling,” crooned the honey-coated voice, strong hand still an unforgiving shackle around Markus’s neck, “just have to clean it out.”

Markus swallowed back more dazed sobs, the hollow ache in his shoulder spreading up his neck and down under his sternum, stealing the strength from every heartbeat as more acidic pain pulsed through him. He flinched when something clattered in front of his face. Blinking open tear blurred eyes, he made out an empty bottle of saline, the innocuous plastic so out of place that it didn’t even make sense to the overwhelmed witch.

A wet breath hissed through Markus’s teeth, and he shivered. His damp skin chilled in the cold air of the concrete cell, eyelids fluttering as the cold rooted its way through his shocky system. Stop, please, stop. He couldn’t tell if the words pushed past his rebellious tongue or were left to burn their way through his skull, but, mercifully, nothing else was poured into the raw wound in his shoulder.

Black licked at the lingering remains of his excoriated consciousness, and Markus felt the bruising grip on his throat release as something was pressed firmly against his shoulder. He couldn’t hear the faint, half-formed moans that caught in his throat, and he didn’t have enough control of his body to resist as his arm was moved. The hollow ache transformed into a numb kind of overwhelming agony that wasn’t soothed even as he realized the bullet wound was just being bandaged.

His eyelids fluttered, pain rocking through him again as a hand ran through his hair, the strands at the back of his head grabbed and tugged so that Markus’s slack features were drawn up toward the light. The breath stuttered in Markus’s chest, the movement like spiked chains pulling tight from the base of his skull down his spine, forcing his scant attention on his captor.

There was the impression of blond hair and pale skin before black coated eyes registered, and Markus’s heart sped frantically, fear curdling sour and heavy in his stomach. He made a truly pathetic sound as the vampire, the belated realization sliding in to join his venom laden blood, leaned over him, breath ghosting across his face. He tried to move away, but the air was knocked from his lungs as he was shoved from his side and onto his back.

Markus gasped, lungs refusing to expand for an infinite moment until his diaphragm ripped free of his spinal cord, and a harsh, agonized gulp of air forced its way down his throat. His head was drawn further back, the angle awkward and painful as a low, malicious laugh caressed his ears. “Something you’re scared of, darling?” A cold hand forced its way under the ragged edge of Markus’s ripped, wet shirt, resting heavily over his sternum. “Your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.”

“S-stop,” he stuttered, voice faint, strained, “you can’t—“

“Shhhh,” long fingers pressed over Markus’s lips, silencing his tattered protests, “I can, and I will. You can’t stop me, Markus,” he chuckled as black eyes examined him, a slow, lazy smile revealing long fangs, “you can’t even try.”

Cold, bottomless dread seated itself in Markus’s chest. Taking cozy residence as tears slipped down his temples, and he trembled.

“You can call me Lucien, little witch,” the vampire said, voice thick with anticipation as he lowered his face, nose brushing along the line of Markus’s exposed throat. The witch was instinctually conscious of the thud of his pulse, how thin the skin was that separated his life-blood from sharp, piercing fangs, “and, you and I, we are going to get very well acquainted.”

#Markus/Lucien Series #Painful wound cleaning #manhandling #choking #poisoned #vampire whump #urban fantasy setting #witch whumpee #bad things happen bingo

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 6

Day 6 of whumptober and part 6 of the oof!au. (Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan.)

I.... arranged this preface a little different today because we’ve moved into the peak of Anakin’s nastiness, today and tomorrow. He’s laying the ground work for his own defeat, but we’re not there, yet. It’s also a brief return to using the right prompt on the right day! Look at that! Technically “Get It Out” probably applies, actually....

Warnings for torture, abuse of a prisoner, non-con (of a particularly twisted sort), being mind controlled into hurting someone you love in some pretty awful ways. PLEASE heed the warnings. Dead dove, do not eat, etc.

No 6. PLEASE….

“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

The med-droids rarely had reason to file reports on Mustafar. Vader didn’t care what they did to the troopers. He left those reports, taking a twisting sort of pleasure in it, to filter through to 2224, who… Likely did nothing with them. Why would it? Vader demanded only reports on Obi-Wan’s progress, as time went past.

Apparently, he had died twice while they worked to preserve his life after Vader crushed his throat to make him stop speaking about Shmi. Still, they had managed to get him stabilized, managed to keep him alive, which was as it should be. He was only permitted to die when Vader decided he was, and--

And Vader was not ready for that moment, regardless of Obi-Wan’s foolish decisions. He tossed the report aside, ignoring a comment about severe damage to Obi-Wan’s vocal cords - apparently they were not sure they could repair them - fury curling around in his gut and through his bones. He’d known Obi-Wan was a monster, but to say such things about his mother--

She hadn’t deserved anything that had happened to her. Her entire life had been a punishment for crimes uncommitted. Finding her in the village of the Sand People had proven to Anakin that the galaxy needed direction, a strong hand, someone to make things right--

He swallowed, his respiratory and cardiac systems entirely out of order, the image of his mother chained up, brutalized, rising in his mind, memories he didn’t want and fought so hard to bury. He shut his eyes, shaking his head, and when he opened them again he was staring at the rack where Obi-Wan had hung.

For an awful, lurching moment, his mind supplied an image of his mother, hanging there, instead, and of Obi-Wan strung up in the Sand People’s hut, and he lurched a step backwards, a scream caught in his throat as he lashed out with the Force.

No one came to check on him, despite the cacophony of noises that must have echoed out from the room. When he did call the troopers in, later, he only said, “Remove that. I never want to see it again.”

He listened, staring out at the lava, as they dragged the twisted pieces of the rack, still covered with Obi-Wan’s blood - not his mothers, never his mother’s, he could have never hurt her, never - away.

Obi-Wan had done something to him, Vader realized, later, when he found himself down in the infirmary, staring at the bacta tank where Obi-Wan floated, healing slowly from the latest wounds he’d forced Vader to inflict upon him.

Obi-Wan had - had gotten into his head, somehow. He must have found a way around the collar. He’d used the poison of his words to steal Vader’s ability to think clearly, to rest. He could not stop conflating the images of his mother and Obi-Wan, which was -- ridiculous.

They were nothing alike.

Obi-Wan had never done anything but fail him, but turn Padmé against him, but try to hold him back and confuse him, diverting him from his true purpose. Vader stared at him, fists clenched, and resolved to make Obi-Wan pay for everything he’d done.

Including the new nightmares, playing out each time Vader closed his eyes. Vader tried to make him pay, after the med-droids repaired him, but his voice wouldn’t work, even after the droids said he was recovered. Vader sent Obi-Wan back, for more work, eaten up by the nightmares and memories echoing in his head.

He needed to make Obi-Wan pay. Somehow. He had time to think of something appropriate, while Obi-Wan recovered.

The nightmares remained, terrible, confusing things put in his head by Obi-Wan, through another campaign. Vader returned to Mustafar in a foul temper, feeling so full of anger at the injustice of it all that he almost vibrated with it.

He found he did not care if Obi-Wan had recovered or not, barking an order that Obi-Wan be delivered to him, immediately. He’d taken injuries, been sloppy, during the campaign. Some of the rebels had gotten away, because Obi-Wan would grant him no peace, had him spinning out of control.

Well. He fully intended to regain his control of this entire situation. Of Obi-Wan. Of his thoughts. He opened the windows to the lava flow below, all the way, wanting the convective heat to blow in around him, wanting the charred air to fill his lungs. He stood before the window, his hands clenched at his back, feeling just as full of fire and upheavals as the volcano, so far below.

He did not turn to look, when the door opened.

“I see you’ve redecorated, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice strange. Hoarse. Quiet, only barely over a whisper. Infuriating as his words.

Anakin spun on his heel, snarling, feeling the hot air lift and tug at his cloak as he spat, “I’ve indulged your impertinence long enough, old man. You will call me by my proper title.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, blue eyes unblinking and faded. There were dark bruises under his eyes. His cheeks cut sharp, especially without any beard to hide them. Troopers held his arms. 2224 gripped the chain at his neck. And yet, still, Obi-Wan stood with his back straight and his shoulders back, his head high, as though--

As though he had any right to dignity.

Obi-Wan said, staring right at him, his voice quiet and raspier than Anakin had ever heard it, “I will call you by your name. It doesn’t matter what you do, you cannot avoid who you are. Anakin.”

Something hot and pure as lightning ran down the back of Vader’s back, dug teeth into him and spread through his gut. He could not allow Obi-Wan to keep mocking him in his own place of power. He could not allow Obi-Wan to have this hold on his dreams, to hurt him, somehow. He took a step forward, growling, “I am Lord Vader. Anakin is dead.”

That weak failure of a boy was gone. He’d burned down in the lava flows. All that had remained was the core of Vader, strong enough to do what needed done, to herald the galaxy towards order and peace.

Across from him, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, managing to look supremely unimpressed, chained and bound and otherwise naked, utterly at Vader’s mercy - he’d proved that over and over - and still refusing to acknowledge his utter defeat.

But why would he, Vader thought, sharply. He’d obviously done something. Struck out at Vader’s mind. Planted nightmares there, left him dry heaving as he woke up, plagued with - with the ghosts of guilt and regret and--

And he had no room for those weak emotions in his life. He would burn them out, destroy them in the fire. Destroy Obi-Wan in the same fire, if required. If he would not be remade into an appropriate shape. He considered the plans he’d made, during the campaign, breathing hard, hesitating for just a moment as he said, “I give you one last chance. Kneel and greet me properly.”

Obi-Wan drew in a little breath, scowled, found some way to straighten his spine yet further and said, “You are Anakin Skywalker and you will never--”

Vader activated the collar and watched him fall, watched him spasm across the ground, watched him struggle for breath, when the pain stopped. “I tried to be reasonable with you,” he said, the heat of Mustafar curling around him, the heat of his rage kindled within him. “Remember that. But, obviously, you require a firmer hand. You will call me Vader, before we leave this room.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, rocking himself up onto his knees, blood dripping from his nose, splatters of it across the ground. “I will never,” he rasped, mouth quirking, infuriating.

Vader exhaled, harshly. His hands clenched and his gut burned with anger, fury that Obi-Wan would push him to this, would not just accept-- “You’ve brought this on yourself,” he said, “and so I’ll let you stop it, at any time. Call me my proper name, and you may return to your cell.”

“I--”

“I don’t let my men enjoy themselves nearly enough,” Vader barked, talking over Obi-Wan. He could guess what Obi-Wan had to say, anyway. “2224,” and, oh, he liked the way just saying the numbers made Obi-Wan suck in a breath, something in his posture stiffening. “I need your assistance.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Obi-Wan said, pushing to his feet and swaying once he got there, and for a moment Vader just stared at him. There was something darkly amusing about Obi-Wan trying to step in front of 2224, trying to protect an empty vessel. Especially considering what Vader planned. “Anakin, leave him--”

“The prisoner is being disruptive. Pacify him.” Vader enjoyed the brief flash of despair across Obi-Wan’s expression, the swell of it through the Force. Obi-Wan turned, looking towards 2224, just in time to take a blow across the jaw. He made a sound, low and stunned, covered by the impact of a fist into his gut.

“Wait--” Obi-Wan panted, words cut off when 2224 kicked his knee out, sending him down. 2224 was moving jerkily. Hesitating before each blow. Malfunctioning again. “No, this isn’t--”

Vader watched and listened, respiration increasing, as Obi-Wan tried to curl away from the blows, as 2224 followed him down, pulling him around, blows landing over and over and still Obi-Wan made no move to beg, to listen to instruction, to--

Well. Vader had known he’d likely require… further convincing. He grimaced.

“2224, you’re programmed to recreate,” Vader said, the words tasting like ash. “Aren’t you? Under Order 312.” Sidious had insisted that such actions could assist with appropriately subduing an entrenched populace. Vader had seen it work, on Ryloth. He could remember the way the insurgents there had screamed. Cried. Wept--

2224 stopped, froze in place, one fist drawn back still, black glove wet with blood, hand shaking. It was a broken damn thing, unable to process a question and continue a simple task. Vader scowled. He’d have disposed of the model already, if merely seeing 2224’s ugly, scarred face didn’t make Obi-Wan’s emotions twist, every time.

“What’s Order 312?” Obi-Wan panted, voice thick with pain, but neither of them answered.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” 2224 said, after a long beat for processing, with less emotion than a droid, expression utterly and completely blank. Still, Vader could not help but notice that its index finger was twitching, jerkily, and for no apparent reason. There was a smear of blood, under its nose.

Defective.

Perhaps Vader would have to make Obi-Wan watch as it was decommissioned. Permanently.

The thought held no small measure of appeal. But it could wait. At least a little while. He knew, very well, how his old master had felt about 2224. Before. He worked his jaw, once, twice, and then said, “Execute Order 312 on the prisoner.”

“What’s--” Obi-Wan started again, words cutting off when 2224 grabbed him. “Cody?” he said, sounding confused, feeling lost in the Force. There was a sharp little thrill of hope through him, at every touch of 2224’s hands, and Vader felt his lips pull back from his teeth.

He’d put that hope out, every single spark of it.

Obi-Wan jerked as 2224 gripped his shoulders, shoving him over onto his stomach. Vader watched Obi-Wan’s chin hit the floor, heard him make a sound, felt his spreading alarm. “No,” he panted, struggling in earnest, and Obi-Wan was strong, had always been strong, even without the Force, but… his arms were bound, he’d just been beaten, viciously.

And Vader was almost certain the troopers had always been stronger.

“Stop! Don’t--Cody!” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked, as 2224 put a hand on the side of his head and pressed down, its other hand pulling robotically at its armor. “Please,” Obi-Wan gasped, voice failing with another crack, and, oh, he was shaking, Vader noticed, shaking all over, his eyes gone white all the way around, breath sharp and choppy. “Cody, don’t!”

2224 hesitated. Froze into place. Vader scowled and snapped, “I gave you an order! Carry it out!” And Obi-Wan cried out, sharp, ragged, when 2224 pushed into him, without a word, without a single move towards kindness. Vader watched, stared, unwilling even to blink, waiting for Obi-Wan to give in. Waiting for him to break. Waiting--

He made an awful, guttural sound, when 2224 bottomed out, still pressing Obi-Wan’s face down, its other hand gripping at Obi-Wan’s hip, that index finger still tapping, endlessly, even as it set a fast, brutal pace. And Obi-Wan didn’t beg. Didn’t break. Instead, he gasped, “It’s not you. It’s not you -- it’s--this isn’t--”

“Is this what it was like?” Vader asked, making himself watch. How often had he wondered, over the course of the war? How many times had he imagined his high and mighty master, bent over and fucked, taken. It had irritated him, at the time, that Obi-Wan would let someone else touch him, that he’d spread his legs and beg, when he hadn’t wanted Anakin. It had left him hard and aching, back then.

It still did, he found, cock twitching beneath his suit as he watched and listened.

Obi-Wan had never handled himself properly. Never realized what was good for him. Vader snarled, listening to the sounds Obi-Wan made, gutted and soft. Wet. Refusing to answer.

“Have you missed this?” Vader demanded, taking a step forward, listening to 2224 pant like an animal, just rutting mindlessly into a warm body, still with no expression on its face, the white of its left eye staining red. Perhaps that was what it had always been like, Vader could imagine that. Vader spat, “I suppose 2224 deserves permission to have you like this whenever it likes, that’s what you let it have before, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth worked, soundlessly. Resisting, even still.

Vader went to one knee, watching, and snapped, “Answer me!”

Obi-Wan spat towards him, instead of saying anything, salvia pinkish with blood, splattering across his boot, expression twisted up as, behind him, 2224 made the smallest sound and stilled. Just… stopped moving, completely, the task finished.

“Go clean yourself up, Cody,” Vader ordered, eyes on Obi-Wan as 2224 pulled out of him, taking in the flash of pain across his expression. He collapsed sideways as 2224 rose, laying there, sprawled across the floor, exposed and bloody already, drawing his legs up, hunching around them.

Vader swallowed, harshly, and said, bile in his mouth, “Say my name.”

Obi-Wan laughed. It was a terrible, cracking sound. His eyes barely focused when he said, in a hoarse whisper, through a crooked smile, “Anakin Skywa--”

Vader activated the collar, for just a moment, white-hot rage moving through him, and gripped at Obi-Wan’s shoulders, shoving him flat onto the ground. He felt the way Obi-Wan jerked and jumped, beneath him, noticed the slickness of blood and spend, and -- and refused to hesitate.

Obi-Wan wasn’t moving, by the time he finished. Vader stood, feeling strangely shaky, split open inside, and looked down at the limp body. Obi-Wan was just… staring forward, breath shaky and hitching. Vader was sweating, heavily, under his suit. He could smell the stink of himself, and hated it, one more thing caused by Obi-Wan.

He stumbled back a step, but there was no one to see but the troopers. And they did not care. He said, turning away, “Take him away.” He added, as he heard them dragging Obi-Wan towards the doors, “To the med-droids. But tell all the troopers to enjoy themselves. After all, one of you is the same as all the rest.”

And, perhaps, that would be enough to teach Obi-Wan his place.

His mouth tasted of ash. He swallowed it down into his gut.

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #no more #stop please #clone wars #fic #non con #torture #mind control #oof!au #dead dove do not eat #codywan #vaderwan #please heed the warnings #nothing pleasant happens here

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bribe-the-door · 4 years

Text

the things that we’ll never know [001]

the one where best friend!harry apologizes

a/n: hi friends :) it’s been a minute... hasn’t it? i’ve been going a bit stir crazy waiting for quarantine to end and the world to feel normal. so, to deal with the angst i have toward the current state of the world, I give you: fine line era angst.

let me know if you’re interested in seeing more from me! i sure miss writing and i think it might be something i get back into these days :) xoxo h

***

Are you still watching?

A banner pops up on your laptop screen, pausing the credits of yet another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You scroll to the corner, click “yes”, and settle back into your spot; the corner of a well-worn grey sofa. A small grey cat, lovingly named Bean, readjusts her head and falls back asleep against you. The familiar two-beat drum sounds and Netflix shines in its red glory, the only light to illuminate your small space.

It is probably better this way, the darkness.

Having remained almost completely stationary for the past three days, the apartment is showing signs of abandonment and disarray. The space, normally light and airy despite its tiny size, feels cramped and stuffy. Plants droop in their pots as the sun sinks deeper into the sky and you’re too bothered to turn on the string lights. Instead you stay put, wilting, too.

Your laptop is wedged between a plate and bowl from a long-since concluded meal. A lone coffee mug sits cold, the dregs of drip coffee stagnant in the bottom of the cup. It will leave a ring of discoloration when you try to scrub it clean. There is a mess of cords under your legs; a charger, heating pad, headphones.

You’ll untangle them later, you tell yourself.

A sudden rush of action on-screen catches your attention, diverting your thoughts for a few minutes. An ambulance rushes to the hospital and interrupts a love triangle moment. Someone is caught in a longing gaze across the emergency department. Chaos ensues and there’s a dramatic cut to the next scene of hands furiously moving through surgery.

Your phone buzzes next to you and you glance at its screen, blue light casting a gastly glow over your face. It’s nothing important and you swipe to close the app.

A glaring red “1” catches your eye.

Your thumb hovers over the message app, knowing exactly what this text says. It’s remained unread, untouched, for three days now. An internal battle heats up in your brain, and, avoiding the turmoil altogether, you shake your head and lock your phone. It’s tossed aside as you push off of the couch. Netflix continues to play in the background.

You make your way into the kitchen (Bean following, curious) and scour the cabinets for something else to add to your pile of dishes on the coffee table. They’re bare except for a stale, half-eaten loaf of bread, some peanut butter, a box of elbow macaroni, and a can of peaches. A stray protein bar is likely hiding out somewhere in there, too, but you close the cupboard in defeat.

Since when were you so easily shaken by a simple “hi”?

A single laugh floats from your lungs. It happens again, this time out of disbelief.

And then it turns to a sob.

There is nothing simple about this greeting.

[three days earlier]

“Y/n,” Harry sighs. His hand rakes through his curls and leaves them disheveled. “It’s not that difficult of a concept.”

You feel your heart lurch into your throat, the second time this evening. The silence leaves only another opportunity for Harry to drive the wedge deeper between the both of you. He seldom leaves an argument without having the final word.

His eyes find yours amidst the tension. It’s uncomfortable and feels similar to the way your father scolded you as a child. His gaze locks you in place; cold.

“You’re acting as if you can’t see what I see,” he says, voice hardly a whisper. It grows in volume as the emotions well up within his chest. “Feel what I feel… It’s not /there/ anymore, y/n.”

Your lips part in attempts to interject, but are closed just as quickly.

“You’re not here anymore.” Harry’s head shakes and his eyes continue their grip on yours. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried and tried and nothing seems to stick. Not a single goddamn thing! I can’t figure you out, y/n. I’m going crazy trying to understand where I went so wrong.”

An angry fist pounds the table beside him and you stand in your place; fear paralyzes you and you are one with the cold kitchen tile. It’s a standoff now and neither of you move. You can’t move.

“Do you not have anything to say?” he spits, disbelief tinting the outburst. His eyes pity you, searching your face for any semblance of attention. Emotion. Something.

“I…” you begin, swallowing back the lump that’d made its presence known minutes ago. Your mind draws blank as his eyes bore into yours. This feels completely out of left field.

“Nothing?!”

“Harry, please.”

His hands fall to his sides in a final defeat. “No… No. No, y/n.” He’s talking to himself, muttering under his breath. He begins to turn away from the table, phone in hand. The counter is his next pursuit, likely in search of his keys, you presume.

“Where are you going? You ask, snapping to attention when you realize the familiar path he’s taking. He’s done this before. Many people in your life have taken this path, actually.

It’s the one ending in a slammed front door, an empty foyer. You don’t shake those feelings easily.

Harry laughs, “I’m not sure. But I’m not staying here.”

You take a step toward him and try to form a coherent sentence, but your tongue trips in the process. You don’t come up with much, but it’s an attempt.

“But, what about us, Harry? I love you!”

His body turns slowly to face you. He’s got his belongings in hand—the weathered notebook he keeps with him at all times, his keys (in a loop around his fingers)—and a sweater drapes itself over the crook of his elbow. Harry’s hands are full, but his eyes fail to show any sign of life.

“How do you know what love is, y/n?” He asks, tone dripping with doubt. “How do you know what that could possibly mean when you show yourself no love?”

His accusation holds the same comfort as burning your tongue on coffee. Stubbing your toe on the doorframe. A paper cut washed with soap.

When you fail to answer, Harry earns his final word in this argument.

“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t love herself. I can’t fix you, y/n.”

Instantly, your chest floods cold. It’s an interesting sensation, as your cheeks run warm from anger while the rest of you ceases to function. You’re confident your heart fails to beat any longer; your lungs constrict like a snake around its prey.

“I’m done trying.”

Harry leaves you in the kitchen, the sounds of his boots echoing further and further away from where you stand. The front door shuts with a firm slam and serves as his ‘goodbye’.

You’re left standing in your spot, frozen as your thoughts race silently through your head. It feels like TV static buzzing in your ears and you can’t turn down the volume.

How is silence so deafening?

***

The phone sits in your hand as another /ping!/ sounds. It burns in your hand as you realize whose name sits above the few words on your screen.

Harry (7:54 PM): Y/n… Can we talk?

Your mouth tastes of pennies and you relax your jaw, grimacing at the now-sore part of your lip imprinted by your teeth. The red “2” shines angrily from its spot at the bottom of your phone. With a sigh, you tap on the square and reveal a text-thread you wish you never have to read again.

The blue and grey boxes hold words and emotions from days ago and, in your separation from them, you’re unprepared for the visceral reaction deep within your chest. Your heart drums underneath the cage of your ribs, constant, but worried. Like it knows something you don’t.

Feelings are pushed to the wayside and you begin to type back a response.

You (7:58 PM): Sure.

The grey “typing” bubble appears almost instantly after yours delivers. /He’s been waiting for you to respond/ you realize.

Harry (7:58 PM): It’s such a relief to hear from you, y/n.

Harry (7:59 PM): I miss you.

Grey’s Anatomy plays across the room from you, another heated argument on-screen, but it is drowned out by the thudding of your heart. It’s working in overdrive now.

For days, you did nothing but attempt to forget Harry’s existence: his clothes sat in a pile at the bottom of your closet (despite the overwhelming urge to pull that grey jumper over your shoulders at this moment); your mirror sits bare now that the polaroids of you both are nowhere to be found; his favorite coffee mug, along with his small collection of shot glasses and a teacup with the matching spoon, have been packed away and sit in a small cardboard box beside your kitchen counter.

Your apartment has been picked apart, day by day, to rid Harry of the space. It feels impossible, though, with how much time he spends (spent?) here.

Another text pops up:

Harry (8:07 PM): Y/n, are you there? I really want to make this right.

“Ugh!” you groan, loud enough to make Bean stir from her spot. “Sorry, baby, I’m just…”

Just what? you think to yourself. Just… Frustrated? Confused? Hurt?

Bean nudges your elbow with her tiny head, rubbing against your arm to try and earn some affection. You reach behind her ears and scratch small circles until she begins to purr. It’s hard to focus on anything present right now; you find yourself mulling over things from weeks ago. Swept up in memories once sweet now stab at your heart with a vengeance reserved for the most heinous of crimes.

There was the date at sunset in the park, complete with a chilled bottle of prosecco to celebrate your graduation and a slice of pie from the bakery down the road. The time he surprised you at work with balloons, a bouquet of peonies and eucalyptus (your favorites), and a stupid grin of his face “Just Because”. Remember when Harry decided to decorate your entire apartment for Valentine’s Day because you’d mentioned in passing no one had ever done anything for that holiday growing up, and it was your favorite? There were roses everywhere; Bean had a pink bow on her head, and Harry insisted on baking a heart-shaped cake.

Why did something so seemingly perfect cut even deeper on second thought?

You sigh again, shaking your head at the phone.

“What do I do, Bean?” She chirps in response and you let out a single laugh. “You have it so much easier, you know? No boys to break your heart, no job to take up all of your time.”

You pick her up and hold her in front of you, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. Her sandpaper-tongue brushes over your nose and she meows again.

“Okay, sorry.” You put her down and she curls up in your lap, purring against your stomach.

Things move in slow-motion as you think, and you’re not entirely sure how much time has passed. Phone in hand, your fingers anxiously hover over the screen and anticipate a string of words. Each time, though, they feel wrong, and you delete the entire thing.

”I just want to make things right.”

It feels like an internal battle to decipher what Harry means with this pleading. There’s a part of you who wants nothing to do with him, another who desperately wants him back, and the most confusing part, who feels like you were the one in the wrong here. Love is a tumultuous thing; intense, passionate. It feels utterly terrifying in the simplest of ways. Was your lack of self-love really what caused such an uproar in the first place? Had you been blind to your own hatred this whole time?

A knock at the door interrupts your ponderings.

Bean looks up suddenly, ears flickering at the noises from the hall. She jumps from your lap and runs to the dining table, hiding behind its oak legs. You can hardly see her, only the glimmering green of her eyes as they move to survey the apartment.

It takes minimal thought to figure out who stands on the other side of the door and you aren’t sure if it’s wishful thinking or fear of confrontation.

You stand and cautiously approach the hall, legs more like jell-o than limbs. Another knock sounds and the hair on your arms stands on end. This feels like a scene from a horror film; ominous. In attempts to steady your breathing, you don’t reach for the door at first, knowing full-well who stands on the other side.

The floor creaks underneath your right foot, and you swear under your breath. A quick “shit!” before you remember why you’re being so timid in the first place. A grimace crosses your face in wait.

Harry sighs from outside the door. “Y/n, I know you’re right there.”

You don’t say anything and instead look through the peep-hole. His face looks defeated, eyes searching the door for you as if he knows your every move.

“Can we please talk?”

The doorknob seemingly glows in response to his suggestion, simply begging for your touch. It feels entirely wrong to refuse conversation with the boy who, for the past few years, so gingerly held your heart and cared for you more than any family member could have.

He just wants to talk, you remind yourself. A quick talk.

You twist the lock on the knob, a metallic “yes” answering him instead of your own words. Next is the deadbolt, then the chain. The knob feels heavy in your hand as you turn it, but there isn’t any going back now.

Light floods into your apartment from the common hall, accompanied by the stale smell of cigarette smoke. Harry moves only his gaze to meet yours.

“Hi.”

You swallow before answering and realize how tightly you’d been holding your jaw the entire time. “Hi.”

His hands are in his pockets, and, illuminated by the harsh fluorescents of the hallway, he should have looked intimidating. But his shoulders hung low and his eyes were unsure.

Clearly neither of you were ready for this.

“Can I…” Harry starts.

You gesture forward, backing up against the door and allow him to enter.

He hesitates slightly before moving into the entryway, hovering for just a moment. The stiffness in Harry’s shoulders fades slightly as the door shuts behind you but the tension in his presence only increases.

Harry turns to face you, and, against your best interests, seconds pass as minutes. Slowly enough to study over his eyes; shadowy in the dim lighting of your hallway but ever still green. They invite you in like a warm mug of coffee after a chilling walk home from work and you find yourself biting back a grin. It all feels wrong, having him so close.

But, the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

“Can I?” He asks, more succinctly this time.

You nod a single nod, stepping a single step closer. He reaches forward to cup your chin in his hand, tipping your gaze up at his for just a second. That same emerald draws you in just like moments before, a safe embrace.

A welcome home.

Harry stays like this for just a moment more before dropping his hand, a sigh leaves his lips. You’re disheartened at the buildup leaving just as quickly as it’d come on.

“So about that text...” you laugh. He shares a laugh, too, but there’s a hint of pain in his tone.

You anticipate they’ll be a lot more hurt tonight.

***

feel free to let me know what you thought! this is just a little piece and it’s been fun to work back into the writing scene <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction

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