#and the mentor says 'hes already done that. why do you keep trying to bury him in psychiatric exercises?' and he just shouts back- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thethistlegirlwrites · 2 months

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Unwanted

“We’ve got a victim sample that needs testing,” Shay says, passing a vial of blood over the counter to Dina.

“A living one?” Dina asks, already turning around to the trays in the massive fridges behind her. There’s two of them, one with a heartbeat inside a red heart stenciled on the glass, the other with a black skull. A bit graphic, but a good reminder which one samples from the living and samples from the dead go into.

“Yeah.”

Shay doesn’t spend a lot of time in the labs, but he’s starting to pick up on the rhythms. Living samples get priority aside from dead that have upcoming burial dates, especially when family has requested answers needing to know if they ought to pursue cremation instead.

The two orange trays on the bottom of the dead fridge are new.

“Starting a new system, Di?”

“Oh, just improving on the current one. These are the ones that come over from county morgues and the prisons. Unclaimed bodies with suspected venom infection. We have a ten-day window to test them unless someone makes a claim, so aside from special cases, we can leave them a little longer.” She sighs. “I hate having to triage like this at all, but…”

“You’re doing the best you can. Everyone in here is.” Shay starts to leave, then stops. “Wait, you said ten day cooling off period for unclaimed bodies?”

“Yeah. Not sure why that’s the rule, but oddly enough it doesn’t affect the fledglings. They still turn like they were at the moment of death. I watched an autopsy and two days later saw the guy walking around downtown with his shirt flung open and not a single scar on him.”

That’s a weird story and if he was in a different mood Shay would have a lot of questions about it, but right now, he has a more pertinent one.

“I was buried a lot sooner.”

Di stops with her hand on the fridge handle.

She’s got that look on her face that she has when someone who’s come in for testing gets their results back positive.

“If whoever can claim the body waives the right to, the authorities can decide what to do as soon as they get that refusal.”

It’s worse than he thought. He wasn’t just unclaimed, just a forgotten footnote to his family.

For things to happen the way they did…he was outright rejected.

“I’m sorry.” Di’s voice is the soft consolation he didn’t ever expect to be directed at him. After all, it wasn’t like he could get worse news than ‘you are literally already a vampire’.

Apparently, ‘you are a vampire no one wanted’ is in fact worse.

He makes it through reports and picking Sierra up from the infirmary (again) in a haze. All he wants to do is go home and go to sleep and hope he doesn’t feel this awful when he gets up. His body may not have been left to decompose for ten days, and it wouldn’t really have mattered if it had, but he feels pretty zombie-movie-rotten right now.

Rotten enough he forgot they were planning to meet Joey and Nico for drinks this morning. Sierra’s insisting on going, chucking her arm sling in the back seat the second they get to the car. “I’m not missing celebrating Joey’s promotion for a little glass cut.”

“Little glass cut that needed fourteen stitches,” Shay reminds her, but as usual, she ignores him.

She’s excited, and riding adrenaline and painkillers and the success story of the mentor program (say what she will about not being a good fit for it herself, she takes a lot of pride in what their team has done to promote it), and he figures that’s why she doesn’t notice he’s being so quiet.

Then again, maybe she’s worried he’s thinking about the college kid that sample he dropped off came from, and trying to keep him from sinking into a broody little heap of depression if it turns out the kid is in for the same hell he went through.

If that’s the case, he appreciates the effort. But he doesn’t really want to talk to anyone tonight.

Still, for Joey, he’ll make the effort. She’s doing really well; her family is an excellent motivator and given she was already existing on the fringes of society, transitioning into the new kind of life she has to lead now seems to be a little less jarring than it is for some people.

She and Nico, along with Pete and Saanvi (neither of them had actual physical injuries and finish their reports inhumanly fast) are already waiting at a corner table at the Luna when Sierra and Shay walk in. Wren’s not there, but Emma gets a little touchy about fae and their magic in her bar, so she rarely makes an appearance here. Shay can’t blame her. She’s no fire fae, but one mini-tornado is enough.

He makes a mental note to tell Emma her new bouncer didn’t do a thorough enough job checking for their entry marks. He let Sierra in with Shay on blind faith that she was with him and therefore trustworthy.

He’s still subbing shifts when he can, but more and more of his nights are taken up on the task force.

Joey jumps up to wave them over, still wearing her blue “Nico’s Custodial” t-shirt that stands out like a neon sign under the lights. He can see why she hasn’t changed, the logo on her chest now has the words “Team Manager” underneath it. She’s got to be proud. He is.

If he could just forget about the whole rejection thing, tonight would be amazing.

They’re a couple rounds in (and one hilarious - for everyone but Pete - mixup of shot glasses) when Joey stops answering questions about her job and starts asking everyone else how their day was.

Sierra gives a wildly inaccurate version of how she got her injury, Pete and Saanvi tag-team explanations of whatever accounting-savvy thing it was they did to get the address of the place, and Joey even elbows Nico until he tells her about spending three hours on the phone with a supply vendor trying to find out how they were sent seven boxes of window cleaner spray bottles instead of ten jugs of bathroom sanitizer.

“What? I’m not going to work with you every day anymore,” she says when he protests that they literally work at the same company.

And Shay knows he’s not getting out of this one with his secret intact.

“How about you? You look like you got sucker-punched,” Joey says. “I mean, not like I saw that happen too often…”

Sierra chuckles, but it dies off as soon as she looks at him.

“She’s right. I didn’t scare you that bad, did I?” She looks at Joey. “I was totally embellishing that story for dramatic effect. I only fell down two flights of stairs.”

He sighs. He’s going to have to tell someone at some point, because the way this is going, it’s going to eat at him like the poison that ran in his veins.

“Long story but…uh…I found out in a roundabout way from Di that my family had to have rejected any claim on my body for me to get buried when I did.”

“What the fuck?” Nico asks. He’s the only one able to get a word out.

“There’s a ten day waiting period on unclaimed bodies unless whoever is contacted about picking them up refuses to.” He looked it up while he was working on his report. The legalese was hard to read, but the gist was right. “I was buried after three.”

Sierra’s hand is wrapped white-knuckled around the handle of her knife. “Give me names.”

“No.” Honestly she probably wouldn’t have a hard time tracking his parents down, and he doesn’t think she’d actually commit a murder over something like this, but… “Sorry about that. I just totally killed the good mood.”

“No, we’re sorry. That you got stuck with such a terrible excuse for blood family,” Pete says.

Shay catches Sierra and Nico looking at each other and kicks Sierra’s foot under the table. “No one is going on any vigilante vengeance sprees. It’s over and done with. A long time ago.”

“Not if it’s still hurting you like this, it’s not.”

Joey has a point.

He’d like to bury this six feet deep, like whoever was in charge of dead prisoners did with him, but you can’t bury pain. There’s no getting this out of his head. It’s a permanent piece of who he is, just like being a vampire. Unwanted, rejected, refused.

He’d known his family didn’t approve of any of what his life became, and honestly he wouldn’t expect anyone’s to. But they didn’t even want his body when it was all over.

“Screw blood family. We're a ‘blood’ family,” Sierra says. “I think it ought to mean something that you’ve drunk my blood and Pete’s.” She stops. “Wait. I just made our thing really weird, didn’t I. Shit.”

“I can’t decide if this is better or worse than the stain collection thing,” Pete groans. “Great job, Van Helsing.”

And once again, the table is laughing.

Sierra may have royally weirded out everyone, but Shay has to admit, she’s kind of right. If Joey can get her citizenship based on where she turned, where her home earth is, then maybe waking up undead is a kind of rebirth. Maybe you get a new family. If that’s the case, then Sierra and Pete are pretty much the first people he interacted with in a real way afterward. Which does sort of make them one very messy, complicated, sometimes dysfunctional family. Somewhere along the way, they’ve added Saanvi, and Wren, and he’s pulled in Joey and with her, Nico (even if sometimes their abrasive banter makes it sound like they want to kill each other).

He can live with that. Or…you know…not.

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies @writeouswriter @whump-place @the-lovely-wren

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday27 #left for dead #vampire whump #rejection #shane barrett #sierra aguirre-stoker #pete jemison #saanvi desai #josefina quintero #domenico pontevecchio

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cj-writes-things · 3 months

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Love over Law chapter 3

Series tw: animal death, violence, trauma, parental neglect

~~~

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2

A young tom winced as his shoulder collided with the ground and the older warrior leapt on top of him. Battle training was not going well today. He sensed anger in his mentor, but he wasn't quite sure why. Sharp teeth snapped much too close to his ear and he heard a frustrated growl.

"You let your opponent catch you off guard, yet again."

"Sorry?"

"When will you ever learn, you have to-"

"Maybe when you've actually taken the time to train me properly," yowled the apprentice, wriggling out from under his attacker. "All you've done so far is throw yourself at me and expect me to know what to do! I've only been your apprentice for three days; cut me some slack!"

The warrior sighed, the anger fading from his eyes as he realized the truth in his young charge's words.

"My apologies, Nightpaw. I wasn't thinking straight. Maybe Redstar was right and my head isn't what it used to be."

The old tom lowered his ears remorsefully. Nightpaw tilted his head, feeling a pang of sympathy for his mentor. No one wanted to feel useless; the old cat just wasn't ready to let go of his glory days.

"Well, you've gotta give yourself some credit; I mean, you're pretty tough for a gray old tom," Nightpaw said with a grin.

He wasn't wrong; Hickorytail's dusty brown fur was much more heavily gray-flecked than it had been in his youth, but he was still a strong fighter. He just needed to be reminded every now and again that his apprentice hadn't had nearly as much experience as he had himself.

The old tom chuckled softly, grateful that his apprentice didn't hold a grudge. "It's a good thing I have you to keep me in check. Sorry again for being so hard on you. If I'm ever being too rough, make sure to call me out on it."

"I'm all right, Hickorytail, but what were you so angry about? You seemed troubled even before you got the jump on me."

Hickorytail gazed at Nightpaw, puzzled. He hadn't even realized he was upset about something, yet somehow his apprentice had picked up on his agitation.

"Was I now? I don't suppose I noticed. I can't think of anything in particular that would've gotten my fur ruffled the wrong way."

Nightpaw was studying him now, his eyes- one blue, the other yellow- fixed on his elderly mentor. The young cat was deep in thought, strange for a tom his age. He came out of his trance-like state with a knowing look on his face and asked, "Do you think maybe you're unsettled because Redstar tried to send you to the elders' den? Are you angry that he thinks you're too old and weak to serve your clan? Are you... afraid? That maybe your time is running out?"

Hickorytail's green eyes went wide as he considered Nightpaw's questions; he was startled to find that the answer to every one was "yes."

"Why… I suppose you're right… How'd you figure all that out?" the old cat asked, incredulous. Nightpaw shrugged and answered, "My mother says I'm very observant. I was watching the other day, when Redstar told you it might be time for you to settle down. I saw the look on your face, noticed how you worked extra hard after that, bringing in more prey, doing more patrols, to try to prove him wrong. And… I saw how shaken you were, after we buried Lilydawn. I know you two were close, but it was more than just grief in your eyes. There was fear, as well. She had already moved in with the elders, but she was the same age as you were. I think you're afraid that accepting the new title is accepting that you're that much closer to the end."

Hickorytail's jaw dropped in shock, both at the bluntness of the younger cat's words and at his own realization of how true they were. How had this young, inexperienced apprentice seen- and put into words- what he hadn't yet comprehended in himself? Nightpaw was quite observant, but beyond that, he had a gift for understanding. The old tom was speechless as the tabby continued.

"There's no shame in being an elder. You have served your clan long and well, and it's high time you let us serve you. Don't be afraid, Hickorytail. Sure, you're getting on in years, but look at Stonefoot; he's a good bit older than you, already an elder, and he's still around and healthy. Just because you change your routine doesn't mean you're out of time. Your final day will come when it comes, and there's no point fearing or trying to prevent it. But would you rather take it easy and spend your days delighting kits with your stories, or refuse to face the facts and work yourself to death?"

Hickorytail was utterly taken aback. Nightpaw was wise beyond his moons, that was certain. And he was startlingly blunt in such a topic, but insightful, too. The elderly tom actually felt a bit better after hearing what the young cat had to say. He knew, deep down, that it was about time for him to retire, and for the first time, he thought he might eventually be at peace about it. How strange, that a cat so young could put all this into perspective.

For now, though, Nightpaw's wise side was turned off. He had said what needed to be said, and now he could go back to being a regular, rough-and-tumble apprentice.

~~~

Chapter 4

#love over law #LoL Secrets (arc 1)#warriors #warrior cats #wc fanfic #my writing #yes i know the writing in this chapter is a bit weird #and the characterization is kinda forced #but i dont feel like overhauling it so oh well #things will get better (probably)#anyway #now introducing our second mc: Night!

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primofate · 3 years

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Breaking up Part 2 Albedo x gn!reader

Sorry it took so long! Haha. Yeah tumblr effed over for me. But here it is! :D

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst? NOT PROOFREAD

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 1) (Part 3 - Final)

“Sucrose... Do you know where Y/N went?”

5 days 3 hours and 12 minutes. He’d been counting. He’d been counting since you left. It was only today that he had the courage to ask Sucrose about it.

Sucrose jumps at the sudden call of her name.

Albedo had not been the same. The frequent mistakes in the lab proved it. The constant slips of the hand and test tubes shattering on the floor told Sucrose that perhaps that was how his heart looked like too.

“...No, I don’t,” Sucrose simply says, then lets the silence of the lab fill the air. Only the bubbles from their experiments hanging. It was still for a moment, Sucrose going back to her calculations and research. Albedo sat in front of his alchemy set, blankly staring at it.

He doesn’t even understand what being “tired” feels like anymore. He hasn’t had a decent sleep. Every small movement in the house, every whisper of the wind he would bolt up in bed, thinking it was you coming in from the front door. Sometimes he would hear someone shuffling, he would stop and listen for you, but then realizes that the sound was the sound of his legs under the covers, trying to keep warm without you around.

Sucrose glances up at her mentor. He’s buried his face in his hands, his hair in slight disarray. She knew what was going to happen next. He was going to stand up and just walk away from the lab, and Sucrose was not going to see him until tomorrow again.

Tomorrow, the cycle would repeat.

Albedo couldn’t function. It was pathetic. He really thought that he must be such a sight right now, eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair down and clothes a little unruly. He ran away from the lab again. He abandoned his “important” experiment and went back home, retreating in his room, falling on his knees and slumping on the bed in front of him.

He buried his face into his arms and tried to piece his heart back together.

“Albedo, will you ever get tired of me?”

There was a soft hint of a frown on your face. Silly you, Albedo thought. Always worried about being apart from him. He only smiles and cups your chin in his hand, leans in close to press his forehead against yours to whisper, “Never,”

His fists clutch at the bedsheets, the fabric scrunching up under his hands. Every.damn.time. he tried to take a break, he would be reminded of you. Every thing reminded him of you. Breathing reminded him of you. It was as if you were right beside him and yet you weren’t.

It was him. He was supposed to be the one asking “Y/N, will you ever get tired of me?” He was supposed to be the one worried. But he hadn’t been because he had taken you for granted. He thought that you’d always just be there, waiting for him patiently as you always had but now that he was alone, he realized just how lonely this silence could be.

“You must have been lonely...waiting here for me in this silence...”

His voice was muffled by the sheets, and he didn’t know who he was talking to. He did that a lot these days. Saying things that he wished you could still hear.

The next day, just as Sucrose predicted. It was the same. Halfway through his experiment Albedo stopped, and stared at nothing in particular. She wondered if, whenever he did that, he remembered the things he said to you that day.

But, just as Sucrose thinks today would end up the same...

it didn’t.

“Big brother Albedo!” Klee stormed into the lab, the door slamming open really loud. “Oh...I’m sorry, I didn’t check the sign... I...” Klee stepped out to look at the door sign and found “KEEP OUT” still there. “Oh no...! I did a mistake! Sorry big brother,” the little girl fumbled with her fingers and swung from side to side to show her apology.

A hint of a smile appears on Albedo’s face and Sucrose was thunderstruck. There had been no expression on the Kreideprinz’s face for the longest time that the smile had felt so foreign. “It’s alright, Klee. Do you need help with something?” and his voice wasn’t hoarse. If there was anything that could cheer him up, it would be Klee.

He was done prioritizing his research over the people that really mattered.

“Look what I got! I’ve never seen such a pretty flower in Mondstadt before,” Klee showed off the blue flower to Albedo, eyes shining and wide. Albedo touched the petals as Klee held it up for him. “Ah, yes, Glaze Lilies. You can only find them in Liyue, Klee,” Albedo explains. Klee bounces excitedly.

“Ohhhh! That’s amazing! Y/N must have travelled there recently!”

The silence in the lab was deafening. Albedo’s hand drops from the flower as he looks at Klee, confused. Sucrose had stopped what she was doing, wide-eyed, staring at the young bomber. “...What do you mean, Klee?” Albedo whispered out.

Hearing your name said by someone else made it all the more real that you weren’t here with him anymore.

“Oh! See, Klee was in Windrise and... I was looking at the fishes...” Klee gasped a little, “Please don’t tell Master Jean!” she whispered pointedly but continued. “I saw Y/N there, and Y/N gave me a really big hug and gave me this Guh lays Lily,” the young girl got the name wrong, but Albedo hadn’t been listening anymore. He stood up and crouched down to eye level with Klee, hands on her shoulders. “W-When, Klee?” he clears his throat and tries again, “When did this happen?” Sucrose had also been listening and watching in bated breath. Klee gave one of her biggest, most innocent smiles, not knowing how crucial this information had been to Albedo. “Just now! I just came back from Windrise!”

Albedo didn’t feel the slightest sorry that he bolted out of the lab without explaining to Klee. She would understand and Surcrose was there. He sprinted towards the gates of Mondstadt like his life depended on it. In some senses, it really did.

I can make it.

He was panting hard. His footsteps thundering in his ears. His breath coming in quick ins and outs. His heart is about to fly off its cage.

I can make it. It’s just outside of Mondstadt.

Wind rushes past him, the pigeons on the bridge outside of Mondstadt, disturbed, flying away in a frenzy. Timmie shouting after him.

Please be there. Please.

It takes him longer than he wanted. He wanted to be faster, wanted to be there already but he was still running. Still chasing after that hope. The adrenaline he feels pumps in his veins and yet he is so out of breath that he needs to stop. His hands resting on his knees as he closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing even.

I have to keep going.

His legs were killing him. They were strained by the sudden rush of exercise and yet he still drags both towards Windrise. He could see the large tree at the horizon, but he was too far away to see if you were there. He continues to pant, steadying his breath, preparing for another burst of energy to run towards where he so desperately hoped you were. What if you weren’t there anymore?

What if he was too late?

What if he never saw you again?

“What if it doesn’t work...?” Albedo asks, pondering over the research and discussing it with you over dinner. He loved to talk about his experiments with you because you gave valuable insights on it, and really listened to him. You smile and give him the confidence that he needs, “Then you can try again, Bedo. You always find a way!”

He’s still panting by the time he reaches the steps leading up to the large tree. His eyes dart around. He circles around in place, wondering if you were around the area. He continues forward, stepping up to the big roots and yet again looked around, trying to spot your familiar tuft of hair/colour.

At the corner of his eye he spots something, behind the big tree. A Crystalfly. It was flying away and his eyes automatically follow it. There was a hand trying to reach out for it, but it barely grazed the Crystalfly’s wings. You stepped out from behind the tree, a little annoyed that you couldn’t catch the Crystalfly.

Albedo feels like he’s frozen in time. He stands there and watches the wind caress your hair. Watches as you tuck your hair back behind your ear. Watches as you turn around and start walking away. He snaps back to reality and moves forward, roots and sticks cracking under his feet as he struggles through the root laden path just to get near you.

You, hearing the disturbance from behind, turn around and was met face to face with the lover you left a few days ago. Something shatters inside you. You weren’t ready for this. You were far from ready to see him again. Why was he out here in the middle of the day? You stood still just as he did in front of you.

You notice how his hair is sticking to his face with sweat. The fast rise and fall of his chest. The pained look in his eyes. The closed up fists on his side. “Y/N--” his voice cracks and tears start to pool in your eyes.

You aren’t strong enough for this and you start to turn away.

Albedo rushes forward to trap you in a hug. His arms so desperately wrapped around you as his head rests on your shoulder. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t go. Come back with me, please,” there’s a different type of hopelessness in his voice. A moment later tears are streaming down your face.

“I-I can’t Albedo. I--” can’t put myself through that again. I can’t and don’t want to be alone at home all the time.

His body shakes and you realize it’s a sob that wracks his body. Your shoulder is slightly wet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please.” You’ve never seen him cry. Not like this. Not as he clings to you and admits defeat. “I...I couldn’t take care of you--It’s my fault. I know, but--”

“I like Windrise. It’s very relaxing.” You say as the two of you walk around the tree, collecting materials. “Is it?” Albedo responds, stopping momentarily to look up at the tree. “You don’t think so?” you curiously ask your lover. He ponders for a moment before smiling, “I think coming home to you is a lot more relaxing,” at the early stages of your relationship hearing something like that from him would cause you to blush.

You pry his arms away and look up at him. His head is dipped low and you can’t see his face clearly, concealed by his hair. You brush his hair away and lift his head up, and you see how streaks of tears run down his cheeks. You see the sleepless nights in his eyes. The hurt that creases on his forehead. You see what your absence has done to him, and all in one moment, you think that perhaps you were too harsh on him. That you should’ve talked it out instead of leaving so abruptly but you-- “I was hurt...” your lips tremble as you try to explain.

“I try, really hard, to make things easier for you. To care about you. I have never asked for anything grand.” You’re surprised at how level your voice is, despite feeling like you might break down just as he does.

“I’m aware,” Albedo wipes at his face, frustrated at himself. His tears have stopped. You were talking. That must be a good sign. “I don’t--Don’t deserve you,” but he steels himself and places his hands on your cheeks. God how long had it been since he touched you like this? and wipes away the tears that were silently falling from your eyes. “But I’ll take care of you. I’ll prove your worth. I... won’t make the same mistake again,”

And when Albedo said or promised something he was one of the few people that you believed in the most. He was trustworthy all the way, and was true to most of what he said. “You have my word... and if I do make the same error again then... Then you can leave. But right now I--” he moves to rest his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth and love that he had missed. “I’m asking for another chance,” he gulps. “Please,”

You stay quiet for a moment. Assessing the situation. But your eyes close at the closeness the two of you are in right now. There was no doubt that you still loved him. A few days would not change anything. A few days would not ruin the years that you spent together. But you were scared and guarded. You weren’t sure what would happen and if it was worth it. You were scared of being with him and being lonely. “...We... should talk and think a little bit more about this...” you conclude and give your answer, stepping away from him.

Albedo’s face grimaces in distraught, but turns into confusion when you take his hand and tugs on it slightly. “...At home, we can talk about this at home...Is that okay? Let’s go back first,” you would figure it out with him from there.

His head drops and he tries hard not to let tears escape again. He really didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve this kindness but he sure as hell would take it. He would take it and make it right again. He picks his head up and squeezes your hand, voice slightly soft and trembling, and smiles.

“Thank you. That’s perfect,”

and with his hand tight on yours, because he wasn’t letting you go again, the two of you make your way back.

Should I make a part 3 with fluff and write about the aftermath and how Albedo made it up to you? Let me know :D Message me :D Love me <3

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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Teacher's Pet

Aizawa's got eyes for his new teacher's assistant. Reader was is a former student of his.

tw: smut, noncon, drugging, yandere-ish, penetration

AN: My computer deleted the original version of this fic so I anger-rewrote it. Not edited.

You were always Aizawa's favorite. Never rude or lazy. And you always trusted his decisions. That's why - after a few years - when you decided to try your hand at teaching he volunteered to train you has his Teacher's Assistant. You looked the same, just a little more mature. You still looked at the man with the same doe eyed expression, waiting for his next direction. You were no longer his student and he didn't need to keep his mind from wandering.

Aizawa invited you over under the guise of grading papers. In attempt to make the task less boring, he poured two glasses of wine.

"Aizawa-sensei, how late is it?" You yawned.

Your mentor glanced at his phone, "You know you can call me Shota. It's only going to be 9, if you're tired we can finish this another day."

Nodding you attempted to stand, but plopped back down because the room began to spin. Maybe it was the alcohol mixing with your exhaustion but your body felt heavy and sluggish.

"I didn't realize you weren't much of a drinker," Aizawa laughed, extending his arm toward you. "Here, let me help you up."

You managed a few steps before taking a break to collect your bearings. On second thought, it couldn't be the wine, you only had a single glass. Then the room began to shift. Aizawa had picked you up. He was talking to you, something about being worried for your safety. You weren't fully listening, it was a pain just trying to concentrate.

When did you get on a bed?

You felt the mattress shift as Aizawa sat beside you. "I think you should just sleep it off here, I know you're pretty tough but right now you look like a confused little kitten."

Taking a deep breath you tried sitting up, "No, I shouldn't-"

The older man was on top of you. Tendrils of his hair reached down to graze your face. He smells so good, you couldn't put your finger on it but he smelled like comfort.

You snapped out of your trance when you felt a tug at your waist. Aizawa, your mentor, was pulled off your pants. When had he removed your shirt?

"Sensei, stop-"

Aizawa smashed his lips against yours. He had one had tangled in your hair to keep you from squirming away from his attack. "Are you gonna be a good girl and open your mouth for me?"

Heat was coursing throughout your body. You were embarrassed, upset, scared, but also curious. Of course your body was feeling good, but this wasn't what you wanted. You shook your head before he caught your lips again. You kept them firmly pressed together, denying his tongue entrance. But then dug his nails into your soft hips so hard that you had to cry out in pain. After exploring with his tongue he pulled away from you.

"See, that's not so hard."

To make everything worse, he had skillfully removed your bra while you were distracted.

He licked his lip as you took in your body, the only thing left was your underwear. Kneeling on the bed, between your spread legs, he place a hand under either knee. With a quick pull he dragged you toward him. Your ass was elevated, resting on the top of his thighs; gravity making your breasts perkier than they already were. If he had drugged you it must've fully kicked in because no matter how hard you will your arms, they wouldn't move.

His knuckles grazed between your thighs making tears escape your eyes.

"Oh kitty, you've soaked through your panties," he pressed a little harder against the material. "You always caught the eyes of so many of the boys. I wondered if you knew. If you acted naive around them as a way to tease. How many of them succeeded?"

You didn't respond.

Hooking a finger under you panties he moved them to the side, exposing your glistening pussy. Whimpering you begged him once more to stop. Maybe if you told him you were too tired he'd leave you alone.

"I know honey, once we're done it'll be bedtime. If you avoid my questions we're gonna have to stay up later. Tell me how many boys you let crawl between your legs. What'd they do that made you feel good?"

All the while his hand never stopped rubbing against you.

Your words came out choppy, between tearful gasps, "Please, Aizawa sensei, I don't want to. I promise, I never-"

A shiver racked your body when he began rubbing circles around your clit. You jerked away from him. You think you were strong enough to pull away but maybe he just wanted an excuse to reposition you. He leaned forward, giving your body a break and smiled against your neck, "Is my kitty a virgin?"

Humiliated you nodded your head. You never really stopped to think about your lack of a sex life, none of your peers ever caught you attention in that way. You just wanted to become a pro and prove yourself to your role model, the man on top of you.

"How perfect are you," he cooed. He moved to sucking an nipping at your breasts, leaving a trail of marks from your neck like a map. "How about we go slowly. I know they taught sex ed but real life is always different from a text book. Let me know if you have any questions, you know I'm a good teacher."

A calloused finger slid inside you. You focused on your breathing, everything was okay. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable. He moved his finger slowly, taking in how tight your felt. He didn't want your first time to be unnecessarily painful. You were mortified when he removed his finger from you and brought it to his lips. He groaned as his licked two fingers.

"You're doing so good, baby. Can you take a big breath for me?" Two fingers slid inside you, there wasn't much resistance but you felt the pressure change. You couldn't help with whine. "That's my good girl. We're gonna do three now, okay?"

Fuck. Three was too much. You felt like you couldn't take any more. Then, with his fingers still inside of you be began playing with your clit again. Your body tensed as electricity coursed from your core. The moan that poured from your lips was involuntary. More juices pooled beneath you. You kept shaking while Aizawa withdrew from you.

"Such a messy girl," he kissed you. "That's exactly what we want."

Becoming acutely aware that his erect cock was resting below your belly you looked for the first time. You weren't sure what to expect when it came to the size of any dick but certainly not what was before you.

"Wait, can we stop," you found your voice. "It's too big, I don't think I can do it."

"Trust me, it'll fit. It may be a little painful at the beginning because it's your first time but then it'll feel good. Just like how I made you feel good with my hands."

The anticipation was killing him. Aizawa was trying to keep your attention by praising you while he teased around your soaking entrance with the head of his cock.

You hissed, pushing weakly against Aizawa's chest, as he entered you. He moved slowly, frustratingly slow. He wanted nothing more that to push in to you, to make you hurt in the best way. Your walls felt so tight and warm against him that if he was a less experienced man would've already finished him.

Finally at his base you earned more praise, "Fuck, kitten, you're taking me so well. Already making me feel so good and it's only your first time. I'm gonna try to go slow but - fuck - tell me if it starts getting to rough."

After a few moments you began to acclimate and the pain eased up. But every time his hips fully met against you you were reminded his girth. You involuntarily jerked against him as that feeling of electricity began to manifest in your core. He was beginning to pick up the pace and couldn't keep from arching against him. Sparks shot through your body as he bit into your shoulder. Your walls spasmed around him. You could hear him praising you as almost completely pulled out just to thrust back into you. Repeating the motion and filling the near silence with the sound of your wetness.

Maybe something in your broke or maybe it was a defense mechanism but your started to rationalize the situation. You body did feel physically good. And lord know's you always had a thing for the hero. This would be perfect if he had gone about things the right way. You wanted some sense of control so you did the only thing you could think of.

"Sh-Shota," You moaned into his ear. Your nails digging in to his back.

"Fuck, say it again," he growled. No longer able to control his pace he moved harder and faster. Tomorrow there would be plenty of proof on your body that Aizawa had been there. "Be my good girl and say it again."

You weren't going to, but you were speaking before you realized, "Shota, I can't-"

If he kept going like this you knew hit your third orgasm of the night. You didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"You're going to. Show me that you can be a good little whore and listen to teacher."

As if on cue you were seeing stars. Aizawa moaned into you neck and buried his cock deep inside of you. There was a new sensation and your realized that he wasn't wearing protection. His hot cum was filling you to the brim. "Wait, I'm not on the pill"

After a few more pumps he froze inside of you, "That's so fucking hot."

He pulled out and a mixture of both your fluids followed. He rolled to the side of you and brought you close to his chest.

"I'm so proud of you, you were such a good girl."

You interrupted, maybe he hadn't heard you, "I'm, I'm not on the pill."

"That's okay, I wouldn't want you to be, you're all mine. You need to sleep, we can take a bath in the morning."

You were tired, even though it felt like your mind was beginning to clear. Like a cornered animal you felt trapped. Aizawa kept whispering as you closed your eyes. He mentioned something about next time feeling better for you. That he was going to take such good care of you. How he didn't share.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #bhna smut

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

Text

Delirium

@smallpwbbles happy birthday, take some delirious Wukong-

Word Count: 2k

Read on Ao3

MK paused in a mixture of shock, horror, and awe as he took in the sight before him.

Pigsy had his head in his hands, looking for all the world like he was totally done with the situation. Tang was standing beside him, trying to hide his increasingly obvious laughter. Mei had no such qualms, and was laughing out loud, practically on the verge of literally rolling around on the floor. Red Son stood next to her, holding up Mei's phone, which seemed to be recording, the fire demon trying desperately to look neutral to the situation, but a small smirk on the edge of his lips betrayed him, revealing his amusement. Sandy stood slightly off to the side, holding a blanket, ready to step in at any time.

And Macaque stood ramrod straight, appearing to be somewhere between 'embarrassed' and 'would somebody please strike me down already'- as Wukong leaned against him, saying a series of sloppily put together compliments.

MK took a deep breath, speed-running all five stages of grief in under an instant. (Possibly a new record for him.)

"I left. For five minutes." He said, taking note of how some places on the deck seemed to be dented, and was that smoke coming from over there? "How, exactly, did things end up like this?"

He received no answer, the others having jumped and turned to stare at him when he had spoken, having not noticed his return.

...Wait, where did Wukong-

"MK." Wukong said, and MK did his best not to jump as the delirious Monkey King appeared beside him out of nowhere and put a hand on MK's shoulder. "My, my dear su- ......succulent.....?"

"Successor." MK corrected, trying to ignore how the others were barely restraining their laughter. (Macaque, at least, looked somewhat sympathetic, but he also looked far more grateful for the fact that Wukong's attention had shifted away from him.)

"That's, yes. That's the word, yes." Wukong said, before grabbing hold of MK's cheeks, squishing them a little as he made sure MK was looking at him. "I am so proud of you."

"...Thanks?" MK said, questionably, pulling himself out of Wukong's grip. Wukong briefly glanced at his hands, seemingly confused as to where his successor had gone. "Monkey King- I'm right here. You should really be resting, until whatever this is gets out of your system-"

"Red Son!" Wukong exclaimed, the aforementioned fire demon making an audible noise of terror, slipping to hide behind Mei as Wukong spun around to face him-

Only to trip over his own two feet, slamming into the deck, denting it ever so slightly.

...For about the twenty-third time that day.

Sandy took this as his time to move forwards, gently laying the blanket down on top of Wukong, before announcing that he was going to try and make some more healing tea, (Wukong had dumped the first pot of it over the side of the ship, claiming that it was 'too bitter', 'wouldn't work anyways', and complaining that it didn't 'taste like peaches'), and the river demon left, going back down inside of the airship, leaving the others without his calming presence.

"...Okay guys, while Monkey King is....asleep..." MK wasn't even actually sure if Wukong was asleep, but he'd stopped moving and had become utterly silent since slamming into the deck, so- "I suggest we make it so that he doesn't hurt himself or us with anything on the ship."

"What, are you suggesting we should baby-proof the entire ship?" Pigsy asked.

"...More like 'Monkey King-proof', but yes, actually, that is exactly what I am suggesting." MK said, "We're going to need to cover all of our bases-"

"Uh, kid?" Macaque interrupted, grabbing MK's attention by lightly tapping on his shoulder. "If you're going to Monkey King-proof the ship, you uh, might want to start with the railing."

He pointed to the edge of the ship, and MK followed his gaze to see-

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me." MK said, just catching the barest, tiniest glimpse of Wukong, wearing the blanket around his shoulders like a cape, leaping over the side of the ship. "That's the fifth time he's done that today."

It wasn't all that hard to find him again. All they had to do was follow the destruction a delirious, overpowered monkey leaves behind.

Or at least, that was MK, Mei, and Macaque's strategy, up until they stumbled upon a perfectly normal, entirely untouched clearing.

"...What do we do now?" Mei asked, and Macaque made to give an answer-

Only to have to jump back, barely avoiding being impaled as Wukong suddenly appeared out of the surrounding woods, carrying a rather large tree. He had twigs, leaves, and dirt all throughout his fur. The blanket was seemingly missing, but neither MK, Mei, nor Macaque really wanted to find out where it had gone. The group of three took a cautious step back as Wukong locked eyes with them.

"Wanna see how up I can lift this tree?" He said, already lifting said tree above his head. (Everyone ignored how he'd seemingly forgotten the word 'high'.) MK and Mei shared a look as Mei slowly pulled out her phone, opening up the camera.

"I mean, we really shouldn't, but..." MK said, and Wukong beamed, shifting to hold the tree with one hand, taking the chance to show off. MK and Mei 'ooh'ed and 'awe'd appropriately, but Macaque rolled his eyes and looked away.

Which cause him to miss seeing the exact moment when Wukong's strength faltered, the tree falling upon the Monkey King's back, pinning him to the ground.

Macaque certainly didn't miss Wukong's screech of terror though.

MK and Mei had froze in shock, but Macaque reacted instantly, running over to the pinned monkey. The panicked mutters of "Not again, not again, please not again-" left little doubt as to what was currently going through Wukong's mind.

Macaque practically sent the tree flying in his rush to get it off of the other, and, not knowing was else to do when that didn't immediately quell Wukong's panic, flipped him over, desperately hoping that seeing the wide open sky, with no mountain in sight, would calm the Monkey King down.

And, well, it must've done something, as Wukong quieted, blankly staring up at the sky, without blinking.

"...Are you....okay?" Macaque asked, fearing that he had made things worse as he kneeled down beside him.

"...Have I... ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?" Wukong muttered, and Macaque paused.

"Ah- no. No." Macaque said, standing up. "No, we are not doing this again- MK, come get your stupid mentor, we're going back to the ship."

"MK- hey- hey kid-"

"What is it now, Monkey King?" MK sighed, tired. It had been unanimous that Wukong could no longer go even seconds without being supervised, and now had to be watched at all times. MK, unfortunately, had gotten the short end of the stick and had been chosen for the first watch, (They had drawn straws, and he had not missed the sighs of relief from the others, nor had he missed how Macaque had magically changed the length of the straws. He swore he'd get that shadow monkey back somehow), which of course meant that he was the first to have to put up with the delirious Wukong's complete and utter bullshit.

"Um- Would, do you think Macaque's fur tastes bitter like his rationality?" Wukong asked, from where he was laying on his back, on the couch, yet another of Sandy's blankets set on top of him. (They'd tried to cocoon him, but after enough protesting they'd given up on it for now).

"Wh-" MK started, confused, turning the sentence over in his head to make sense of it before responding. "...First of all, no, I think it would just taste like hair, second of all, did you mean to say personality?"

"....Yes...." Wukong said, slowly, before a wicked smirk came over his face, and MK felt fear settle into his bones. "Do you wanna see me make a hair buddy-"

"No!" MK yelled, and he may have lost all his powers, including his enhanced speed, but you wouldn't have known it from the way he practically flew to stop Wukong from blowing on his hair. "You are not going to be making any clones any time soon, okay? Monkey King I need you to look at me and confirm that you will not make any hair clones while you're delirious."

"...I will not make hair buddies while I'm serious." Wukong said, and MK sighed.

"Good enough, I guess." He said, sitting back down in his chair, slumping, momentarily closing his eyes in exasperation.

When he opened them again, Wukong was gone.

"Fuck-" MK said, jumping up and spinning around-

Only to see Wukong on the other side of the room, curled up on top of the other couch. He'd somehow gotten more blankets than before too, MK was certain there had only been two in the room before, but now there appeared to be at least seven.

MK didn't want to question where and how Wukong had gotten them.

What he would like to know though, was-

"...Why did you move to the other couch?" MK dared to ask, prompting Wukong to stick his head out of the pile of blankets he had buried himself in.

"Cause this one's more soft! The other one's too....too..." He seemed to blank on the word 'stiff', and instead said; "Boney. Boney couch. Bouch."

MK took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from breaking down then and there. It was, of course, at this moment, that he noticed Red Son try to sneak pass the open the door and down the hallway.

MK didn't let him.

"Red Son!" He said, rushing over (never taking his eyes off of Wukong), and looping his arm around the demon's. Red Son squeaked, but MK ignored it as he dragged him over to stand in front of Wukong. "Perfect timing, I think it was about time for me to have a little break, y'know? Would you mind watching him for me for a moment?"

Red Son was about to say no- but the look on his face, the look of someone who was oh so close to Losing It made him reconsider.

"...Sure..." Red Son said, slowly, "So long as it's only for a bit-"

"Cool! Thanks!" MK said, immediately letting go, turning and practically sprinting out of the room. "Good luck!"

Red Son had the ever looming sense that he had just doomed himself.

(He should have never accepted their offer to join them on the ship. But dammit, MK had offered some of that spicy candy he knew Red Son liked, and the fire demon just couldn't have refused.)

For a few blissful minutes, it was silent, Red Son staring at Wukong in apprehension, while Wukong hardly seemed to have noticed that anything had changed at all, still snugly wrapped in his nest of blankets.

And then Wukong lifted his head, a questioning expression on his face.

"...Does blue exist?" He asked, and a look that was somewhere between exasperation and pure terror made it's way onto Red Son's face.

"Noodle Boy, hurry up with your break and get back in here, your mentor's going existential!" He yelled, looking in the direction MK had gone, desperately hoping that the other would come back and save him from this fate.

"You can handle it!" MK's voice called faintly.

"...If blue doesn't exist......Then red doesn't exist......so does that mean you don't exist?" Wukong asked, under his breath, looking at Red Son with fear.

"I most certainly can not handle this!" Red Son yelled, "Could somebody please get over here?"

Nobody answered his call. Red Son honestly hadn't expected them to.

After all, he would've made the exact same choice.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out how to respond to the monkey that currently seemed to be having an existential crisis.

Only to jump as he heard an ear shattering scream of frustration ring through the ship.

This had the fortune of snapping Wukong out of his crisis, instead having him simply look confused. Red Son ignored the faint shouts from Macaque's room (something about 'fuck you've got a serious pair of lungs' and 'warn a guy next time') as he tried to calm himself down from the sudden scare.

Geez. MK had seriously needed that break.

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing #happy birthday!!

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princessofcurses · 3 years

Text

[2] Struggling Sweetly

Part 1

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader & Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader Preface: Part 2. You’re devastated after your darling has cheated on you but an old friend has come to cheer you up. Unfortunately, it's never that easy. content warning: out of character, college AU, infidelity, alcohol, angst, sexy time, size kink, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, blood, depression Word Count: 6.2k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡

The next morning, you woke up with your cheek still squished to Satoru's chest and your leg draped over him. He was asleep and lightly snoring. You marveled at him: his soft and fair skin, his silky and messy hair, and oh god his toned body. The way you felt looking at him right now reminded you of the first time you met him and were captivated by him. It was your first year at Jujutsu High and Satoru was a third year. He was assigned to be your mentor and look out for you, the main reason being that the higher-ups had an eye on you, suspicious of your inexplicable strength. You were meeting in the courtyard and your impression as he walked towards you was that he was a giant; he's well over six feet! As you came to face each other, he had to look down to make eye contact with you which made you pout.

"Wow, Y/N! You're like a foot shorter than me."

The choppy laugh he let out annoyed you a bit and you stood there, staring at him in silence.

"Gojo Satoru. I'll be your mentor and guardian from now on!"

He reached out his hand for you to shake. You took his in yours and firmly gripped it, feeling his calluses and thinking this man works hard. His thumb lightly rubbed over the back of your hand and you quickly retracted yours, putting it back to your side, feeling a bit flustered.

"Gojo-san-"

"Call me Senpai."

You rolled your eyes, adding to your unamused expression while he snickered. You called him by the honorific with a bit of a hiss.

"Senpai, I don't need a guardian. I can take care of myself."

He shook his head and leaned forward to be at eye-level with you, putting his hands on your shoulders. A small vein on your forehead popped out from your irritation because of his patronizing behavior but then you caught a glimpse of his eyes above his pitch-black lenses. You had already known of the Six Eyes but they were even more beautiful and intense in person. They held the sparkling ocean, or maybe it's the sky, and thin clouds passed through them. You turned to ice, feeling mesmerized by him and his presence.

"I'm sure you can but it isn't just cursed spirits you need to be wary of. There are sorcerers that don't have good intentions for you too."

Noticing that you were in a bit of a daze, assumedly from his presence, he chuckled and put his arm around you and began walking.

"Well, don't worry. I'll be the best mentor and guardian. Ora. I'll show you around the campus."

That marked the beginning of a crush that lasted 4 1/2 years. It would've been 5 and maybe longer, but six months ago when you started your second year in college and Satoru started his fourth and last year, you met Sukuna who was in his last year as well.

Your reminiscing was cut short when Satoru began to stir, transitioning from dreaming to awakening. A groggy and throaty noise escaped from his mouth when he outstretched his arms and legs. Slowly opening his empyrean eyes, you perked up when his met yours. He smiled and spoke with a deep and sleepy voice that you found erotic.

"Hm? Have you been waiting for me to wake up?"

"No, no. I woke up not too long ago."

You stammered, not wanting him to know you spent the last several minutes ogling him in his sleep. You both sat up and Satoru began looking for his phone.

"What time is it?"

You unlocked your phone and held it up to his face so he could see the time.

"SHIT! 9 AM!? I was supposed to be in Osaka at 8 for a mission. Yaga's going to kill me."

Satoru hopped out of bed and frantically looked for his clothes, tearing the sheets up and looking under the bed. He found them and hurriedly put them on. You spotted his phone on the floor and picked it up to hand it to him.

"What's the mission?"

"Exorcising curses responsible for the many incomplete domains and missing people in the area."

"Sounds like fun! Can I come?"

"Sorry, sweets. I have to go alone since it's a field assignment for class. I'll be back in a few days. Wait for me?"

He gave you a peck on the cheek and patted the top of your head. You looked puzzled, pondering what he meant by 'wait for me' but before you got the chance to ask or even say goodbye, he had warped away.

Does he want me to wait in my room until he gets back? No, that can't be it. Ugh. I don't get it.

You went back under the covers and stared at the ceiling, sighing as you began to feel lonely. You opened up your contacts list on your phone and scrolled through the names, wondering who you should hit up to hang out with. You winced as you slowly passed by Sukuna's name; you pressed on his contact and was about to hit BLOCK but then an incoming call with his name on it took over your screen. The screen became blurry and your heart began to beat against your chest. Not knowing what to do, you waited there until the call went to voicemail but a few seconds after the ringing had stopped, he was calling again.

Don't answer it. There's nothing important he has to say to you.

Your hand holding your phone was shaking and you gave yourself a pep talk to be strong but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to talk to him. If you answered, you hoped he would grovel at your feet and beg you for your forgiveness. But then what would you do? What would you want to happen afterward? You rid your head of the hypothetical situation and blocked his number after his second call went to voicemail. He had left one this time.

"Y/N, I know you don't want to talk to me or see me but I'm begging you, please give me a chance to explain. If you're truly done with me, can't we at least talk so I can get closure? Call me back. I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say he loves you. He had only said it a handful of times when you were still together. You tossed your phone to the other side of the room and brought the covers over your face.

“You love me, but you cheated on me? Why do you need closure, you idiot?”

You huffed in annoyance but then tears were escaping from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed the pillow Satoru used and buried your face in it, holding it to your chest tightly. His lingering scent made you feel a little better but you still sobbed into the pillow until you fell asleep.

The next week, after doing nothing except sleeping and sulking, you decided to go out to the club tonight for a few drinks and music so loud you wouldn't be able to hear your thoughts. You didn't have club attire so you pulled up in black cargo pants, a black tube top, and black platform boots and luckily, it barely made the dress code and the bouncer let you in. As soon as you stepped inside, you felt the stale air from all of the people crowded together. You squished in between some and pushed your way through others to get to the bar. Once you finally made it, you took a seat and ordered a strawberry margarita. Every so often, someone took a seat beside you to try and talk to you but you rebuffed each one with just a wave of your hand without even giving them a glance.

Three margaritas later and you were feeling tipsy, thinking now is a good time for a cigarette. Stepping out of the stuffy club into fresh air, you pulled out a fresh pack and checked your purse and all of your pockets for a lighter, sighing when you didn't have one. You timidly began to ask the people around you but were out of luck because they either didn't have one or they wanted something in return for it. Unsuccessful in your pursuit, you took a seat at one of the tables with your unlit cigarette between your lips. You sighed, your elbow on the table and your hand supporting your head up, using your other one to scroll through your phone.

"Do you need a light?"

You stiffened knowing whose voice it was and you slowly turned your head up to see Sukuna standing before you, a smile with a hint of mal intent on his face. Shaken up and unsure of what to say, he used the pause to take a seat in front of you and he pulled out a lighter. You leaned in and your eyes locked onto each other’s as he lit your cigarette. Seeing your doe eyes ignited something in him and you saw a mischievous glint in his. Feeling uneasy, you closed your eyes and took a deep drag.

So unlucky.

"You're the last person I thought I'd see at the club. And alone too?"

"I was bored and needed to get out of my apartment. That's all."

"You look beautiful tonight."

Caught off guard by his compliment, you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, reminding yourself why you two aren't together anymore in the first place. His hand moved towards your face and you flinched a bit, but he gently brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear. You looked down feeling disconcerted, his slight touch sending a chill through you. You inhaled deeply, taking another drag and beginning to feel lightheaded from the alcohol you drank earlier even more.

"Thanks."

That was all you were able to mutter out. You felt awkward and didn't want to say anything at all. The feeling was intensified when Sukuna put his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh. He loved teasing you in public places. He held his hand out over the table for you to grab. You apprehensively took it and he brought your hand close to his face and kissed the back of it. He then set your hand on the table, putting his over yours. You stared at him as blush formed across your cheeks, overwhelmed by his presence. He smirked at your docility.

"You haven't been answering my calls or texts. Did you block me?"

You quietly answered.

"I did."

He shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"That's mean, princess. You don't know how much I've missed you."

He moved his knee farther in between your legs so it was lightly brushing against your cunt. He hummed in amusement when he felt your warmth, the desire in his eyes tempting you. You focused on keeping your cool but you were slowly losing your inhibitions. You hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and for a little while, you forgot what he looked like. But even in the dim light, you could see his features perfectly: his pink hair and undercut that you loved ruffling, his tattoos that you would trace over with your fingertips, his build under your small hands, and his aura that hypnotizes you. He cheated on you but that doesn't mean a hook-up was out of the question, right? You took a drag and puffed the smoke out, deciding to shift away from him and your rash ideas. You were brought back from your thoughts when a woman approached you two.

"Hi, baby!"

You tensed up hearing the woman speaking sweetly to Sukuna. She wore a white off-the-shoulder dress and looked elegant, contrasting the full-on black streetwear you had on. Feeling a tad jealous, you wondered if she was more his type than you were. They exchanged a kiss and you turned your head discreetly and cringed. You had a look of disappointment on your face that changed to a more friendly expression when she greeted you. Sukuna introduced you to each other but your cloudy thoughts didn’t let you catch her name. You tried your best to wear a polite smile though you really wanted to scream in anger or cry in dejection.

"You go ahead inside. I'll be there in a little bit."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then she scurried away, waving goodbye to the both of you. Sukuna then slowly turned to face you and you squinted at him with disgust. Before he got the chance to speak, you stood up to leave.

"I have to go."

"Wait, Y/N. She's no one."

Your thoughts were in a flurry, wondering how he could even say that after they had just kissed in front of you. Feeling disrespected, you scoffed at his absurd statement.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something. You don't have to lie to me anymore. We're done, remember?"

"You're the love of my life, Y/N. I'm only hanging out with her because I'm lonely and I don't have you around."

Tired of his nonsense, you took one last, long drag, finishing the cigarette and blowing the smoke in his face. You dropped the stoge to the floor, extinguishing the flame by rubbing it into the ground with your foot. Your face was hot with fury and intensity lined your voice.

"You missed me so you started seeing someone else? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you. Okay? You cheated on me. You hurt me. You replaced me. We're finished."

You made a sound of disgust and turned your back to him, beginning to walk away. But he stood up after you and roughly caught your wrist, pulling you to his Herculean chest. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating and the warmth he radiated made you want to close the distance between you two but you reminded yourself he was already here with someone. Regardless of what he feels, his actions say something entirely different. You wanted to push him away but he spoke with a harsh tone that stopped you in your tracks.

"No, princess. Don't you know how much that hurts me?"

Sukuna looked down on you, scrutinizing you. He didn't want to get aggressive but he had lost his patience and he hated not getting his way. His dark stare brought a bit of fear to your eyes but you were enticed as well. The energy around him exuded sinful intentions and though your fight or flight response triggered, it exhilarated you more than anything. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and breathy.

"It's cute how defiant you're being but I think what you really want is to be taken for it in the back of my car right now."

His crass words were provoking you into submission. He leaned back and took hold of your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head towards him and wearing a malevolent grin for you. His demeanor made you feel small and he knew it aroused you. He lightly pressed his lips against yours and hummed in contentment as you didn’t resist.

"I missed my little girl."

Stunned by the dominating air around him, you didn't kiss him back but you mindlessly followed him as he led you out of the patio area and to his car, his grip on your wrist still rough.

"Let's make up for lost time."

As you neared the vehicle, your thoughts began to flood. You knew this was a bad idea; your soul willed to reject him but your flesh was weak. You hadn't stopped missing Sukuna since you broke up and you wanted him so badly in this moment. You tried to justify it by telling yourself this was the last time for old time's sake and then you would really be finished with him. Your contemplation then transitioned to a vision of his date and you began to feel guilty, wondering how she would feel if she knew how low Sukuna could get. You almost brushed the thought off thinking Sukuna was yours in the first place but once he was about to open the door for you, Satoru's voice echoed in your head.

"Wait for me?"

Awakening from your stupor, you gasped and snatched your wrist back from Sukuna, Satoru's words finally making sense. You were dismayed at yourself as you almost traded your dignity for a little fling. You exhaled deeply and covered your face, tears collecting in your eyes. Ignoring the heartache in your chest, you steeled your resolve.

"I can't do this. If you really love me, you'd want what's best for me. And you're just not that. Not anymore."

His domineering presence disappeared and a bit of desperation was laced in his voice as he realized that you were no longer under his spell.

"Princess, please. I’ll do anything to atone."

"Save it for your next love."

You said it sharply but your chest ached as if you had just stabbed yourself with your own words. Tears ran down your face as you gave him a parting hug, cherishing for a few seconds the comfort you felt in his arms. You fit perfectly with him, his embrace on you snug yet tight and his chin resting on the top of your head. Not able to handle another second with him without sobbing, you teleported away. Sukuna stood there speechless, your warmth had left him and the rejection defeated him.

Once Satoru came back from his mission, he took you out to eat. He sat across from you at the maid cafe he suggested you both go to, though he insisted it wasn't because of the outfits, rather it was because of their delicious desserts. He ordered a crepe filled with strawberries and bananas, topped with chocolate sauce and powdered sugar, and strawberry and vanilla ice cream on the side. Your eyes grew in size at the sickly sugary and loaded confection and your sweet tooth ached for it.

"Why couldn't you have gotten me my own crepe?"

"I got the biggest size so we could share! You wouldn't have been able to finish one on your own anyway, sweets."

You shrugged and quieted your protests. Eating a spoonful of the sweet course, you closed your eyes and hummed in delight. Satoru smiled warmly watching you eat and then followed suit.

"How was the mission?"

“A cakewalk. I thought it’d be a little challenging because of the volume of incomplete domains but a first-grade sorcerer would’ve been sufficient. What’d you do while I was gone?”

You were in awe at his coolness and confidence he effortlessly exuded. But at his question, you let out a long exhale and rested your chin on your knuckles.

“I went to a club and saw Sukuna with a girl. She called him baby and they kissed right in front of me."

"Ouch."

He made a straight face and pursed his lips. You were apprehensive to tell him what happened next, but you weren’t one to lie or keep things from others. You sighed again, anxiously moving fruit around the plate with your fork.

"Worst of all, he tried to seduce me and it almost worked."

He leaned forward in interest, raising his eyebrow and looking at you intently. You nervously met his gaze, unsure of what he thought about the situation.

"Almost?"

"My mind was all over the place debating whether I should or not but I decided not to because I remembered you telling me to wait for you."

He chuckled haughtily and patted you on the head endearingly. You winced at his reaction, his unpredictability confusing you as usual.

"I said wait for me? I meant that I'd be back soon. I'm flattered you thought I didn't want you having sex with anyone else. Though that isn't my decision to make, is it?"

Your palm met your forehead, feeling a little foolish at your misinterpretation of his words. Though you couldn’t be sure that that was what he really meant. Regardless, you didn't want to seem desperate for him.

"Well, whatever. Hooking up with him would've been a mistake."

He nodded, taking a spoonful of crepe, fruit, and ice cream and holding it up to your mouth to feed you. You gladly accepted it, looking up at him and making eye contact as your lips slipped off of the spoon. He returned your lusty stare, telling you that he knew what was on your mind.

"Is this… a date?"

You innocently asked him, not wanting to get the wrong idea of his company.

"Yeah, it is."

You were surprised at the seriousness of his tone. Usually, he teased you by skirting around these kinds of questions.

"And I want to ask you out on another date tonight. Suguru is throwing a party! Everyone will be there. Let's go together."

"That sounds like a lot of fun, but you should go without me. I'm assuming 'everyone' includes Sukuna too."

A look of disapproval was shown on your face at his proposition and he pouted, voicing his objection.

"He might be there but what does it matter? Are you scared of him?"

You sighed in exasperation, knowing this was a bad idea. But you had already stood up to him twice now. Surely you could do it again if a confrontation happened. Though you would prefer not to put yourself in a situation like that at all, you didn’t want his mere presence to influence your actions. You pushed the plate of dessert towards Satoru to signal you were full and done eating. He happily ate the rest. You conceded to him.

"Fine."

"Yay! I'll pick you up at 9 then."

Later that night, Satoru arrived at your apartment an hour behind schedule. You were laying on your bed, hanging off the edge of it upside down when he walked in. He was wearing a fitted white dress shirt that you could easily see his muscular figure in and he had the first couple of buttons undone. Your eyes widened at his attractive appearance and you felt completely underdressed in your colorful shirt, baggy corduroy pants, and platform converse.

"Oh. It's that kind of party?"

His eyes lowered at your outfit and he frowned.

"I had a feeling you didn't have the right clothes for the occasion so I bought you something."

He handed you a black mini dress with spaghetti straps for you to wear. You took it and examined it, trying to decide if you liked it or not.

"You didn’t need to do that. It's not really something I'd buy for myself."

"At least try it on. Please? You can wear your platform boots with them."

You compromised and asked him to look away while you changed but he pretended not to hear you.

"Oh and Y/N? Don't wear a bra."

Your eyebrows scrunched and you pouted at him but you undressed down to your panties anyway. Satoru was obviously checking you out and you saw him lick his lips from the corner of your eye. He scanned you up and down, taking a bit more time viewing your breasts and ass that your panties couldn’t fully cover. You slipped on the dress and it fit a little too well, accentuating your curves and falling right at mid-thigh. After putting your platforms on, you looked at yourself in the mirror, content that you had at least one piece of clothing you were comfortable in.

Satoru came up behind you and hugged you, admiring your figure in the garment he had purchased just for you. His hands trailed the curve of your waist to your hips slowly while he pressed his lips against your ear, lightly licking your earlobe.

"You look delicious, sweets."

Taking one last look at yourself in the dress, and in his arms, you closed your eyes in satisfaction, your heart fluttering. He then grabbed your hand and led you out of the apartment to his car. After putting the key in the ignition, he drove fast, speeding recklessly towards Suguru’s residence. His driving unsettled you, but you were comforted when his hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. The drive was short and once you got there, you were on edge knowing Sukuna would see you tonight and would undoubtedly approach you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Satoru opened the car door for you and put his hand out for you to grab.

"You're welcome for the dress, by the way."

You turned your head and made a ‘hmph’ sound but then you batted your eyelashes at him and blushed, taking his hand and following his lead. Once you were inside and in view of your friends, you and Satoru unclasped hands, in silent agreement that you didn't want them to think anything was going on between you two yet.

"Fashionably late as usual. And Y/N! We haven't seen you in forever."

Suguru said as he lightly shoved Satoru. Suguru then embraced you tightly, picking you up and twirling you around. You yelped and Shoko came to your rescue, picking you out of his arms and giving you a tight hug as well. They both became straight-faced and asked how you were doing after the breakup. You chuckled nervously, putting your hand behind your head.

"I'm doing fine. Is Sukuna here already?"

"I haven't seen him yet. But wow! I've never seen you in a dress before. You look great."

Shoko nodded in agreement but then snickered after she surveyed you in the dress.

"Is it cold in here?"

Pointing to your nipples that were poking through your garment. Satoru and Suguru’s eyes fell to your chest and they both grinned. You instantly reddened and put your head down, calling them out.

"Stop looking!"

The three of them laughed endearingly while you crossed your arms over your chest to cover it. Shoko pulled you to the side while Suguru and Satoru began conversing with each other about their last missions.

"Seriously, Y/N. Are you okay? I heard Sukuna cheated on you and he's been seeing someone else already."

You sighed, a bit upset that your business was probably known by everyone by now.

"I saw them together at the club last week. It was terrible. Sukuna came with her but we almost hooked up in the back of his car while she was at the bar."

Shoko grimaced at the awkward situation. She put her arm around you to comfort you and you leaned into her.

"I just wanted to warn you that he'll probably show up with her tonight. And what about Satoru? You two are hanging out again?"

"Yeah, I'm slowly trying to reconnect with everyone I disappeared on when I started dating Sukuna."

She smiled knowing she'd be seeing you more often. Satoru and Suguru argued about who knows what but they resolved it quickly and rejoined your conversation.

"Well, you two should go grab a drink! Let's catch up later."

Suguru nudged you both in the direction of the alcohol. They had almost every kind but the only hard liquor you could keep down was tequila. Satoru knew that and had already poured you a shot.

"I'm only having a couple of drinks since I'm driving. I'll take care of you though."

"I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much."

You both said cheers and clinked shot cups. Downing the bitter drink, you made a face of disgust, wanting to cough it up. He then skillfully made two margaritas for both of you to sip on. You chugged it instead and Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at you, thinking he would definitely need to look out for you tonight despite your earlier protest.

"Do you wanna dance?"

You nodded and he led you into the dark room only dimly lit by red LED lights on the ceiling though you could see his intense eyes holding the heavens clearly. The faint light made the atmosphere erotic. He pulled you closer to him, his hand on the small of your back, and you awkwardly did a two-step dance. The unsynchronized movement didn’t fit with the music so he turned you around so your ass was on his crotch. He had to bend his knees a considerable amount because of your height difference. Regardless, he held you close and led your hips to grind on him. The slow swaying and the tequila setting in made you rid yourself of whatever awkwardness that was left.

"This dress looks a little too good on you."

He whispered in your ear as he began to get more frisky, one of his hands cupping your breast while the other crossed over your torso and rested on your hip. He held you close to him tightly, leaving no room between you two and wanting to get even closer. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing down it. You shivered a bit under his touch, sighing in gratification. Your hand found the nape of his neck and you held onto it, giving in to your lust as you felt his erection forming.

"Let's go somewhere else."

Grabbing your wrist, he eagerly led you out into the hallway where he pushed you against the wall, caging you between his arms. He kissed you feverishly, his lips smacking against yours and his tongue finding its way into your mouth where he brushed along your wet muscle. He lightly bit your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan, your body feeling loose and ready for more. Your hand trailed down his torso and over his groin, where you lightly grabbed his hard cock. He was a bit startled but then he smiled, kissing into you even more roughly, his hands cupping your face. You pulled away from his lips to lean over and whisper in his ear.

"Can we get out of here? I want you."

Your doe eyes and sweet voice feigning innocence made him drag you out of the house with a quickness.

As soon as you got outside, he gave you another impassioned kiss and grabbed your ass with both of his hands. You two were about to head over to Satoru's car when you heard a thunderous voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Satoru?"

Sukuna stomped his way over to you two and placed his hand on Satoru's shoulder. Satoru made a sound of disgust and brushed his hand off, turning to face him. He leaned over to look at the woman standing beside Sukuna and he scoffed.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend, Sukuna?"

Satoru spoke his name with a hiss and had the smuggest smile on his face seeing Sukuna seething with anger.

"She's not my girlfriend and what the fuck are you doing with Y/N? You're always getting your hands on my sloppy seconds."

You and Sukuna's date both winced at different parts of his harsh comments. This was probably the worst-case scenario.

"Don't be so full of yourself. Not a fan of your type, besides Y/N of course. And how could you cheat on the sweet girl? Let me guess, is it because you couldn't have the fucked up sex you want with her?"

The girl’s eyes widened, realizing Sukuna had cheated on you with her. You cringed at Satoru’s unintentional insult towards her, seeing how hurt and confused she was already. Your eyebrow raised at Satoru's comment and you inserted yourself into the conversation.

"What are you talking about, Satoru?"

Sukuna crossed his arms and shook his head. Satoru chuckled arrogantly and looked at you with darkened eyes.

"Why don't you tell her why you cheated, Suku?"

He mockingly called Sukuna by the nickname you had given to him. Sukuna sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb in frustration. He didn’t want you to find out like this but he was caught and couldn’t lie anymore.

"I have some kinks I didn't think you'd be into. I got drunk and couldn't control myself when I met someone with similar quirks."

Sukuna spoke as if his date wasn't even there. She glanced at you with embarrassment and dipped her head down so none of us could see her face. You huffed in disbelief and you shot him a dirty look, glaring at him.

"That's why you cheated on me? You didn't trust me enough to tell me what you desired? You didn't even give me a chance to decide whether I did or not?"

"Y/N, what are you even doing with Satoru? Was looking like a pathetic puppy following him around for years not enough indication of how he feels about you? How hopeless everyone thought you were until you started dating me?"

He deflected your questions and you balled your fists in anger, feeling like you were close to your boiling point and about to explode.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"Yes, pathetic. Running back to Satoru as soon as we're over? You don't think it's odd he went after you as soon as he found out we broke up?"

You slapped Sukuna straight across his face, his head turning and your eyes glowing red at him with rage. Your cursed energy changed the air around you hostilely and the three of them shuddered feeling it. Sukuna placed his hand over his cheek where you had hit him and he scowled. His date trembled at your actions and she tugged on his sleeve to ask if he was okay, to which he shrugged her off insensitively.

"I don't give a damn what you think of what I'm doing, Sukuna. You cheated on me for an asinine reason and then you berate me for actions that have nothing to do with you. I never want to see you again."

You spoke jeeringly. Satoru tried to grab your hand to comfort you but you plucked it away from him. He began to plead with you. Sukuna smiled slightly seeing that he successfully pitted you against Satoru.

"Y/N, I told you I'd make everything right. And I will, slowly and steadily."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in resentment. You were done with all of this and everyone, ready to leave it all behind.

"The both of you can go fuck yourselves."

Satoru looked at you with pained eyes while Sukuna couldn't even face you. You turned to Sukuna's date and sighed, putting your hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. You were both completely humiliated and she was on the verge of tears. You had a similar feeling but anger was the more prominent emotion.

"I'm sorry about all of this. You really don't deserve it."

She was mortified and began to cry, unable to speak. You turned your back to the three of them and began walking away.

"Don't follow me. I mean it. You two disgust me. I don't know who or what you think I am but I'm not a fucking toy."

"Y/N, please…"

Satoru's voice trailed as the distance increased between you two. You released your balled fists and one of your palms was red and stinging from the vicious slap you gave Sukuna. You then put your hands over your face, groaning loudly.

"What the fuck was all that?"

The walk home was miserable. You trudged back to your apartment, walking uncomfortably as the cold bit at your skin harshly and the dress hiked up your thighs. You constantly pulled the piece of clothing down to an almost modest length for the entire thirty-minute walk. The scene between you four replayed in your mind relentlessly. You wished you could just forget the past six months.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you fell down to your knees in front of the mirror. You examined yourself, thinking that you didn't like who you were or anyone very much at this moment. You banged on the mirror with the side of your fist, shattering the glass and distorting your reflection. Your hand began bleeding, shards of glass still embedded in it. And then, you began to sob hard, trying to catch your breath. Your chest felt heavy and your heart ached beneath it. Your phone hadn't stopped ringing since you left, mostly from calls and texts from Satoru, a few from Suguru and Shoko, and a couple from an unknown number which you assumed was Sukuna. You doubted yourself and the people closest to you.

"Am I not deserving of the love I give to others? Am I really just a pitiful person?"

You laid face down on the floor in despair. Exhaling deeply, you were unbearably exhausted and the confidence in yourself had completely dissipated. The depression began to settle in and you fell asleep in absolute defeat.

Note: Watch out for fluff next chapter <3

master list

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

#gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #sukuna #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #mine

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

Text

Fire on Fire - Chapter Eight

Chapter seven // Chapter nine

Warnings: suicidal thoughts.

It’s kinda rushed but it kinda fits with today’s prompt for rowaelin month! next chapter is going to be way longer :)

————

Rowan took a piece of towel and used it to remove the foam from his client's leg, revealing a tattoo he had been working on for four long hours.

It was a large bouquet of flowers, each one a different color to represent a member of the client's family, with writing in the Old Language with their names.

“Here it is,” He told her, holding a mirror above her leg so she could see all the details. Her smile grew as she took in her tattoo. It was one of his favorite parts of his job, the emotion on their face. He loved to be able to bring such feelings to the people he worked on.

“I love it.” She said and Rowan only nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. He put away his equipment, throwing away the little pots of ink that he hadn't quite finished while his client left, thanking him, before going to sign the last papers at the counter. When he finished, Rowan joined her and gave the invoice to Remelle, their assistant.

He left to clean up his workroom before entering the break room, heading straight to the fridge to take out his food. He had spent an hour yesterday cooking pasta, chicken and cutting up his favorite vegetables to make a salad. Cooking had always helped him to keep his mind busy and these last days it was more than necessary.

A few minutes after Rowan settled down at the round table in the middle of the room, fork in hand and his dominant hand busy holding an Apple Pencil while he multi-tasked eating and drawing for his appointments, Gavriel entered the room.

Rowan tried not to stare at him, exactly as he had done all week. But today it was more complicated as Gavriel sat down next to him, getting his full attention. He tried with all his might to concentrate on the drawing in front of him, but the temptation was too strong. "How's..." He cleared his throat, the words hard to come out. "How's Aelin?"

He avoided any eye contact, his eyes fixed on the tablet even if his drawing hadn’t progressed in the last ten minutes. He hated the feeling of worry in his chest. Rationally, he knew she was physically okay or Gavriel and Aedion would be by her side now. But she had been good at hiding her emotions, so good that her family didn’t see anything worrying. Apparently, he was the only one who saw anything, and it did nothing to help his worry about how she was right now.

After long seconds without a response, Rowan dared to look up at Gavriel. His head was turned toward Rowan, fork a few inches from his opened mouth. His entire face was frozen. Rowan just raised his eyebrows, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth. His boss shook his head, seeming to come back to reality. “Yeah. She is, why?” He could see the confusion on Gavriel’s face but Rowan wouldn’t answer that question so he just shrugged.

Rowan managed to stay quiet a few more minutes, even if he could feel the awkwardness in their air, but another question was burning his throat. “Have you ever met Arobynn Hamel?”

This time he looked up to see Gavriel look at him as if he was an alien, but thank the Gods, he didn’t comment on his interest. “Once or twice, but very briefly. Generally, that was just when he was picking Aelin up.” Rowan nodded, still trying to understand what Aelin had meant by The furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are. She hadn’t said anything else, leaving him more confused than anything.

“How did she met him?” He tried to appear casual as he asked that, taking another fork of food in his mouth. The food tasted sour as Gavriel kept watching him suspiciously. He couldn’t ask these questions to Aedion, knowing his friend he would be too defensive of his cousin, especially if Rowan was the one asking the questions. Gavriel knew about Aelin and Rowan’s disdain for each other but he knew less than Aedion, he hadn’t seen the two of them yell at each other or hadn’t witnessed them doing absolutely everything to ruin the other’s day.

He didn’t dare to ask Lysandra either, he was sure the woman would stab him with her hells if he even dared to pronounce Aelin’s name.

So Gavriel was the safest choice.

He seemed to think about who to tell him before opening his mouth. “At a party, when she was sixteen or fifteen, I think.” He took a bite of his food. “Arobynn’s an old friend of her father, both went together to college and were best of friends there, but they lost contact and met again at a gala. They talked about Aelin and found out she wanted to work in the same industry as Arobynn. He’s been her mentor ever since.”

Fifteen? Maybe Rowan’s mind was just fucked up to think it was weird, maybe he was just influenced by what Aelin said the other night. He might not have found it weird if she hadn’t said anything. He was just thinking too hard, trying too hard to find an explanation for what’s happening to her.

“You think he’s good to her?” Gavriel was a wise man, he was trying so hard to be part of his son’s life and it included taking care of Aedion’s cousin. Surely, he didn’t notice the little things Rowan did, but maybe he noticed something else. Rowan’s boss only shrugged.

“He found her a place at her university, made her TA, and gives her a job every summer. So, yeah. I guess so.” And he was paying for her education, a fact Aelin hid from her family. Why would she? It was what didn’t make sense, what was weird with all that. “I’m even sure he’s the first person she went to see when she left her parents in Terassen.”

What?

“What do you mean, ‘left’?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It wasn’t the only thing that didn’t make sense, he knew for a fact Aelin came to the house first. He hadn’t talked to her that day, he and the boys were sent to their room as if they were teenagers the moment a crying Aelin knocked at the door. He had lingered longer than necessary in the staircase, long enough to see her in a dress, shoes in hands, and cheeks filled with black makeup that had run down her cheeks.

Next thing he knew, Aedion spent a week at his father, trying to get Aelin better. Rowan had thought about this night for too long, Rowan always thought Aelin had partied too hard (because from her outfit, it was quite clear she had partied) and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for her parents. Even without wanting to, it had been impossible not to know about Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Pictures and videos of her in more than indecent dresses for her age were on page one of every magazine, when pictures of her sniffing coke had leaked it had even been made to National News. She had been sixteen at the time, and it had only been one of many times she had been caught doing what she shouldn’t have.

Before Gavriel could answer, the door opened to let Aelin appear in the doorway. She was holding flowers in her left hand, a smile on her face as she saw her uncle. Unfortunately, her face froze when she saw Rowan. Rowan’s entire body stilled, eyes roaming all over her body. She seemed okay, not skinnier than the last time he saw her, not hurt.

“Oh,” she said, opening and closing her mouth multiple times. She swallowed before clearing her throat. Only a blind person wouldn’t see her anxiety. “I didn’t think you ate there.”

He usually didn’t, having enough time to go back home. It was more comfortable to eat there, but he had been burying himself under work since he woke up in her empty bed. “You thought wrong.”

She was uncomfortable, and he both wanted to make her feel that way for hours and wanted to comfort her at the same time.

Sensing both of their unease, Gavriel stood up and went to leave the room. “I brought you those, your favorites,” Aelin said, giving her uncle the flowers. “I went to your favorite flower shop.”

Gavriel smiled and kissed Aelin’s cheek, earning a smile out of her. “Thanks.” He looked back at Rowan, he knew it was a warning glare but he didn’t care. He needed to speak with her. Gavriel left, pretending to have something else to do but it was all an excuse to let them speak.

“So, you’re alive.”

Aelin snorted. “I don’t know if you look relieved or sad.”

He fought his lips from rising. “Anything to say?”

Aelin looked at him, her bottom lip between her lips and her hands fidgeting. “Your shirt is ugly.”

It was his turn to snort. Of course, she wouldn’t go straight to the point. He arched a brow, waiting for a real answer. Even though he was the one sitting, he held more power than her now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he said as he closed his tablet, letting his fork down on the plate to have his hands free. “I just want you to act like the adult you are, and it doesn’t include running away in the middle of the night after telling someone you want to die.” His voice was hard, it made Aelin flinch.

“I never said I wanted to die.”

“You said you didn’t have the strength to live, Aelin.”

“Yeah, never said I wanted to die.”

“But do you?” He had to ask, because if she did… He would do what was necessary, he couldn’t let her die. She was already killing herself slowly, between the sex and the alcohol… She told everyone she was sober from drugs but she had been lying for so long to everyone he had a hard time believing it.

Rowan got his answer when she avoided his gaze, focusing on the floor. His heart broke, he needed to help her and he doubted sending her to a psychiatric hospital would help.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice heavy with emotions. With his head, he made her sign to sit next to him, and to his surprise, he complied. She turned her chair to face him, their knees brushing. He could see the dark circles around her eyes from that close, her lips dryer than usual and dotted with small wounds that he knew were due to her teeth.

“I’m coming back home.” He told him, finally looking at him. “I was around, I finished school yesterday and had to sign some things at Arobynn’s office. So I bought Gavriel’s favorite flowers to thank him, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“You hoped I wouldn’t.” He stated and she only nodded. She looked broken as if she knew she could let her guard down after what happened between them Monday. He was happy she knew he would be here for her.

“I was ready to call the cops when I woke up alone, Aelin,” Rowan confessed. He needed her to understand people suffered from her actions. “I was going to until I heard Aedion complain to Lysandra about you leaving him for his father.” He exhaled a loud breath, trying to forget everything he felt that morning. “Aelin, I thought you were dead somewhere.”

Her hand gripped his, he couldn’t hide the surprise from his face. She kept her hand in his, her small fingers enveloping his. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, they had never touched like that. “I’m sorry,” her weak voice said. “I panicked. I didn’t think…” He looked back at her, letting her time formulate her thoughts. It was hard enough, she didn’t need to be pressed. “I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest. Nobody ever did, you said it yourself. Aedion was annoyed I was at Gavriel’s, not that I was gone. It’s always been this way, I’ve always been… free.”

It wasn’t freedom, it was negligence. But she didn’t need to hear this now, so he kept his mouth shut, just nodding in understanding. He linked their fingers together, delighted to see the surprise on Aelin’s face, at least they were even now. He squeezed her hand, accepting her apology. Two weeks ago he would have thought Aelin did it on purpose to have attention, but he began to realize he was wrong about her.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow.” He said, changing the subject. He had to get back to work soon, and he didn’t have the time to unpack everything he wanted right now. Aelin still looked at their hands, feeling too hard to describe on her face. She nodded.

“Lysandra and Dorian spent the week throwing a huge party for you,” It wasn’t exactly a surprise, Aelin knew there would be a party but probably thought it would just be her and her close friends. Lysandra and Dorian had another idea in mind. “If it’s too much, we can ditch. We’ll find an excuse.”

Finally, her eyes looked back at his face. She had a small smile on her face, Rowan’s heartbeat eased at that. “No.” She shook her head. “A party is what I need right now.”

Rowan wanted to disagree on that, but she was an adult. She knew what was best for her. “Then let’s party.”

Her eyes widened. “You usually don’t come to my birthday.” She was right, he had avoided these parties full of teenagers as much as he could, but he wanted to stay with her.

“I thought were an English major,” he teased her, pulling at her arm slightly making her smile. “What part of ‘you don’t have to be alone anymore’ don’t you understand?”

At that, she smiled so brightly Rowan could have sworn it lighted up the entire room.

————

tag list: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #fire on fire #aelin galathynius

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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

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Hiii!! I really love your tumblr posts and I'm pretty new to the Batfam (meaning I have only read fics and textposts about them, no comics) and I wanted to ask about the year Bruce/Batman gets "lost in time". I know general things of what the kids have been doing–Dick became batman and fired Tim from robin, giving it to Damian, everyone thinking Tim was crazy for believing Bruce was alive, (don't really know what Jason was up to though, was he still murderous towards Tim? Does the pit still affect him? Also I have no idea about Cass and Duke, were they introduced at this point??) Anyways, my real question was why was Bruce lost in time, what villain put him there? And how did he get out? And how long was he "dead"? Was Bruce in another reality or like just asleep the whole time? Oh! And how soon did this happen after Damian got introduced to the family–a couple months?

I'm so sorry this is so long, but I hope you answer and thank you!!

(I’m going to try and cover all my bases here by going into how exactly Bruce “died,” what went down during the Battle For the Cowl, what the Batkids did while Bruce was gone, and how Bruce came back. Hopefully it all makes sense?? We’ll see how it goes lmao.)

Part 1 - What Happened to Bruce:

So there was this event called Final Crisis (which I won’t go completely into since it would make this post a million times longer than it already is), but the bottom line is that Darkseid wants to overthrow reality and release his Anti-Life Equation, which would overthrow the whole planet and turn everyone into slaves. (If you’re interested in knowing more about the storyline, here’s a Reddit thread that explains it WAY better than I could.)

What I CAN tell you is that during his final confrontation with Darkseid, Bruce is hit by an Omega Beam and turned into a burnt chicken nugget killed. Poor guy.

Final Crisis #6

Clark and Diana bring the body back to the Batcave and break the news to the Batfamily. Batman #687 covers a good portion of the aftermath such as Bruce’s funeral, the Batfamily grieving, and Dick coming to terms with his new responsibility of becoming Batman.

Batman #687

Part 2 - Battle For the Cowl:

Musical chairs time, fellas! After word gets out that Batman is gone, Gotham erupts into chaos. Dick doesn’t want to take over the mantle, Tim needs Dick to take over the mantle, and Jason says “fuck it” and takes over the mantle himself because somebody around here has to. He becomes this murderous psychopathic Batman and starts taking out criminals with deadly force because someone’s gotta do the job, so it might as well be him.

Batman: Battle For the Cowl #1

(Okay honestly, this series had some pretty bad characterization overall, which sucks since it’s such an important storyline. Jason is portrayed as this violent psychopath, which...okay, he was kind of insane after the Pit and all, but not to this degree. Personally, I choose to owe the bad characterization to Bruce’s death because as much as Jason resents Bruce for all he’s done, he does still love him and losing him would be devastating, which would exacerbate his already fragile mental health. As for Damian, this happens roughly three years after his first appearance, so we can assume it’s been a few months since he first joined the family. He’s still relatively new at this point, so nobody knows how to write him yet. He ends up being depicted as if his main two personality traits are Bratty and Assassin-Child and that’s it. It’s all just a mess.)

Anyway, Tim tells Dick to become Batman and stop Jason’s reign of terror. Dick says no, so Tim follows Jason’s lead by saying “fuck it” and putting on the cowl himself. He goes to confront Jason, which ends in Jason beating the crap out of him (again) and leaving him for dead after Tim declines his offer to become Jason’s Robin. Dick goes to save Tim and ends up fighting Jason.

Battle For the Cowl #3

Dick wins, Jason disappears, Tim is fine, and Dick finally gets his head out of his ass and becomes Batman.

Part 3 - What Happens to Each Batkid While Bruce is “Dead”?:

Dick:

As I said, Dick becomes the new Batman a month after Bruce’s death. He’s got big shoes to fill, and it takes some time for him to get used to his new role. He and Damian end up flipping around the classic Batman and Robin dynamic, with Batman now as the fun counterpart to Robin’s edginess. Dick, Damian, and Alfred relocate to the penthouse above the Wayne Foundation building, operating out of a secret Bat-Bunker in the basement.

Batman #688

Jason:

After Battle For the Cowl, Jason is still batshit insane and determined to make Dick’s already stressful life even harder by becoming a supervillain with an ugly costume and an even uglier hairstyle. (I know it’s just because the artist sucked, but still. Jason is horrifying to look at during this time.) He mostly just gets on Dick’s nerves by running around Gotham with his new sidekick Scarlet and killing criminals as Batman and Robin wannabes. Eventually, Dick has Jason committed to Arkham Asylum and he hangs out there until Bruce returns.

Batman and Robin (2009) #5

Tim:

Tim...doesn’t do great after Bruce’s death, mentally. Dick makes Damian Robin, his reasoning being that Robin is more of a sidekick and he sees Tim as his equal. By making Damian Robin, Dick hopes that it will give him the stability he needs to keep him from straying back toward the “bad” side. (It’s the right move ultimately, although his execution was pretty messed up since he didn’t discuss it with Tim beforehand, but he’s allowed to make mistakes. Dick’s father just died and now he’s in charge of picking up the pieces of their broken family. It’s a lot to handle.)

Long story short, Tim has a breakdown, realizes that Bruce is alive, dons the Red Robin identity, and cuts ties with his family to travel the world in search of proof. It’s a rough time.

Red Robin #1

Damian:

Our little guy becomes Robin! So proud of him! As I explained earlier, Dick makes Damian his Robin with the assumption that it will keep him out of trouble, and he’s right on that account. He mentors Damian, teaching him how to channel his violent instincts into something productive, and it works! Slowly but surely, Damian makes the transition from bratty assassin to actual hero!

Batman and Robin (2009) #22

Cass:

Duke sadly was not introduced at this point in time, so he missed out on all the pandemonium. Cass, however, has been Batgirl for years by now, but she got kind of pushed aside by the writers after Bruce’s death. Bruce disappears shortly after adopting Cass, but once he was “dead,” the writers sort of moved Cass around for a while, not quite knowing what to do with her. First she was with the Outsiders. Then they got disbanded and Cass tried forming a new network of heroes to take over for Batman if needed. Then she helped out in said network during Battle for the Cowl, taking care of a newly ravaged Gotham. Then Cass gave the Batgirl mantle to Stephanie Brown after she became disillusioned with the role, thanks to the loss of her father and mentor. Then Cass picked up and moved to Hong Kong to “follow Bruce’s plans” by continuing whatever work he had set up for her there. It was all very vague and confusing, and Cass more or less got swept under the rug during this time. Thanks, writers.

Batgirl (2009) #1

Part 4 - How Bruce Came Back:

When the Blackest Night storyline happens, the Justice League realizes that the corpse buried under Bruce’s grave is apparently not the real one and that he’s actually alive out there somewhere! How wild is that! This is further proven by Dick after he places Bruce’s body in a Lazarus Pit to revive, which has the same result because it’s very clearly Not Bruce and they should have listened to Tim from the start.

Batman and Robin (2009) #9

Anyway, what actually happened is that the Omega Beams that Darkseid shot at Bruce didn’t kill him, but rather blasted him back through time to the prehistoric era with his memories wiped. The Omega Energy inside of Bruce ends up catapulting him through various time periods, which is all part of Darkseid’s plan. With each time-hop, Bruce builds up more Omega Energy in his body which, when he gets back to his original time period, will be unleashed and destroy everything.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #5

It’s been a little under two years since Final Crisis, though in-universe it’s uncertain exactly how long Bruce has been “dead.” We can assume it’s been a year, give or take. The way he comes back is too scientific and complicated for me to understand, so uhhhh the bottom line is that Tim and a few Leaguers save Bruce at the Vanishing Point and the day is saved! Hooray!

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #6

(If you want to read about how it actually goes down, then I seriously recommend reading Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne. It’s only six issues, so it’s a quick read and it explains the situation far better than I ever could.)

Bruce eventually reunites with his family after spying on them for a period of time as Insider to see what has changed in his absence:

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

After that, things quickly settle back into their new normal. Dick and Damian stay on as Batman and Robin. Bruce goes back to being Batman as well, with him handling Batman Incorporated business and Dick continuing as Gotham’s defender. Tim keeps the Red Robin outfit, Steph stays on as Batgirl, and Cass becomes Black Bat. Jason stays in Arkham for a while before filing an appeal to be moved to a regular prison. He kills 82 inmates in less than a week and gets transferred back to Arkham, which he promptly escapes from. It’s a ride, I tell ya.

Aaaaand that’s about it! I hope this answered all of your questions!

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nevermindirah · 3 years

Text

part 3, "Kid": How every character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood relates to the main character, Nile Freeman

Stop writing people calling Nile "kid" 2k4ever

Andy calls Nile a baby one time, minutes after first dreaming of her. Andy then calls Nile "kid" three times, all to her face, all in the first few hours of their acquaintance. Booker calls Nile "kid" once, on the porch outside the bar. That's it. The context for these lines is super interesting, and calling Nile "kid" in fic doesn’t make any sense without the original context.

When Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker wake up from first dreaming of Nile, Joe and Nicky immediately start sharing facts they noticed, and Joe starts sketching. Booker is in his feelings but he contributes a few things to the saying-facts-out-loud rally.

Andy is 100% in her feelings. She starts the conversation with "No, not another one." Then once the boys have gathered a bunch of facts and Booker says "I felt her die" Andy comes in with this:

Andy: [stares at nothing straight ahead, voice is remote, detached.] She’s a Marine. [Joe and Nicky look up together.] Combat. Or near combat duty. Afghanistan. [Shakes her head slowly, wearily.] It’s been over two hundred years. [Whispers, anguished, buries head in hands.] Why now?

Got it. Joe and Nicky are the competent soldiers, Booker is the semi-competent drunk, Andy is the boss. Andy is the fucking depressed boss. It's in this context that Andy, having analyzed the information her direct reports just gave her, made the determination that Nile is a Marine in Afghanistan, and let her team have a brief back-and-forth about whether to change their plan to go retrieve the new one before announcing the decision that is ultimately hers to make, refers to Nile as a baby.

Andy: Get to France. Use the Charlie safe house. I’ll meet you there. [Joe examines his sketch, blows pencil-dust off it. She stares at Booker.] Find Copley. [Joe tears out the page and hands her the sketch. Andy stares at it.] Jesus. She’s just a baby.

Andy's metric fuckton of I AM BEYOND DONE just leaps off the page/screen. Keep that existential exhaustion in mind as we see her early interactions with Nile.

Nile: [stands, panting, regards Andy suspiciously.] Who are you? Andy: I lead a group of immortals. An army, I guess. Soldiers. Fighters like you. [softer tone.] Look... [Andy steps toward her; Nile steps back.] You’ve got questions, kid. I get it. [tiny smile, small nod.] You want answers? Get back in the car.

Andy: [lightly] And I was the one who cut your throat. Right? [stares at Nile, who stares back, then looks away; she has no answer for that.] Listen, kid. You already believe in... [points upward, follows it with her eyes.] You should just keep following that illogic. [Pulls her jacket over her shoulders as a blanket, turns on her right side, back to Nile, lies on the pile of duffel-bags like a reclining chair.] You’re already on board with the supernatural. [Speaks with eyes already closed; it makes no difference to her.] If I were you, I’d get some sleep.

[Nile stands slowly, glaring at Andy, sets her body as she prepares to continue the fight.] Andy: You really want to do this, kid? [Andy’s eyes are bright, her expression relaxed but anticipating; she looks like she thinks this will be fun.]

Andy is looking at this retrieval mission as something that must be done, but quickly and with as little disruption as possible to her team's ongoing mission to find Copley and protect themselves from exposure. And then here comes Nile Freeman, competent as hell, taking no shit, questioning everything, stabbing her and escaping a moving vehicle and just fucking fighting her at every turn.

"Jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" feels pretty reasonable in that context, yeah? At least from Andy's perspective. From Nile's, you're fucking right you're gonna ask some goddamn questions before getting on a drug-smuggling plane with someone who just shot you in the head.

It's worth noting that Andy doesn't precisely say "jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" — she says "I need you to get back in the car please." She says "can you please not do that again" when Nile fucking stabs her. She's exhausted and frustrated and just trying to get through this and back to her main mission, and from what we see of her so far she's generally gruff as a person, but she's not an asshole, and she’s really showing Nile some respect here, all things considered. I mean, imagine being this polite when someone stabs you. This is a tired adult trying to get another tired adult on board with a sensible plan.

Andy: Argh! [Andy grabs Nile’s knife hand.] Fuck! [throws it violently aside, forcing Nile back a step. With the knife still in her, Andy sighs deeply and looks at Nile. Nile recovers her balance and stares that Andy is hardly reacting to having a knife in her.] Can you please [grabs the knife with left hand, yanks it out] not do that again? [throws the knife on the ground.]

Once they fight on the plane, Andy never calls her kid again. Andy is already starting to regain some of the energy her long life has worn away from her after just 10 minutes on screen with Nile. Andy went into this retrieval determined to be someone Nile can rely on, and that still stands, but by the time they’re in France she’s realizing she’ll come to be able to rely on Nile too. She introduces her to the boys as Nile and that's that.

The only other time we hear the word "kid" in the entire movie is near the end, outside the bar with Booker.

Nile: Yeah. [takes a breath.] Talked to Copley. Said he could fix it. Make it look like I was killed in action. [nods gently to herself] My family will mourn, but, uh... [tiny shrug, head-shake.] ...they’ll be able to move on. It’s just like what we did with my dad. [sighs. Turns to look out over the water. Voice wavers.] I just really want to hear my mom’s voice one more time. Booker: [looks down, pauses, turns to lean next to Nile.] You’re a good kid, Nile. [looks at her, speaks earnestly.] You’re gonna be great for the team.

Sébastien le Livre, whose greatest tragedy is that his children disbelieved and rejected his love for them, would be very moved by Nile's concern and love for her mother. "You're a good kid, Nile," in the sense that she's honoring her parent in a way he, a bereaved parent, appreciates.

There's also the fun shippy reading that he's preemptively friend-zoning her because there's about to be several lifetimes between him and spending any more time with this woman he was having an obvious "oh no she's hot" reaction to over dinner in Goussainville, but I, a feral BoN shipper, like the first reading even better.

But the point is, calling Nile "kid" is an element of the movie that says a lot about the characters using that word. When it gets repeated in fanfiction, it says something about the author.

If you're reading this and reflecting "oh shit I wrote the team calling Nile kid without thinking about it at all beneath the surface" I have a really cool suggestion for you: just edit it. Or at least consider not doing it again. We all make mistakes. We all run with things that we pick up in canon or see in other people's fic that seem funny and harmless, and once we think about those things more deeply we might find that actually it's kinda fucked up, or not what canon was trying to say, or fine on the surface but not fine if it becomes The One True Fanon. Having characters who are either white, men, or both call the adult protagonist who's a young Black woman "kid" all the time carries a weight to it. Please let's let that weight fall off Nile's fully-grown shoulders.

Next up, orders, suggestions, assistance, and other flavors of mentoring Nile and/or telling her what to do. Credit and appreciation to StarWatcher for transcribing the movie here on AO3, all my line quotes are pulled from there.

#nile freeman #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #book of nile #dirah discusses tog team dynamics #tog meta #tog #mine #userhayls

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

#corporate synergy (9)

#corporate masterlist summary: you’re making many strides- this month brings new work milestones and new personal milestones. after a night with new friends, you find yourself in jungkook’s arms. word count: ~5.6k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking, suggestive content in the form of making out, grinding, this is an 18+ story dont forget a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @cutechim for your endless support <33

Work isn’t so bad in the coming weeks, you quickly decide. When you have colleagues around you who have become your genuine friends, it becomes a little more bearable to tolerate your ungrateful boss.

Even his snide comments haven’t been able to bring you down as of late.

Your midday pick me up often comes in the form of lunch with either or including Jin, Namjoon, Sana and Jungkook and whoever they bring along.

Jungkook. Since you had stopped by his apartment when he had been sick, something definitely shifted between you both. If he had been running through your mind before, he was a near constant presence in your mind now. This crush of yours has morphed into something unrecognizable and unfamiliar to you. It scares you, the intensity and the suddenness of it.

But your fear is outweighed by your affections for him, and it’s something you find yourself wanting to embrace. The instinct to run, to bury it and ignore it had reared its head more than once after you had made the bold move to visit Jungkook in his own apartment.

Well. It was bold by your standards. Spontaneity doesn’t come easily to you, but it seems like Jungkook has you breaking your own unwritten rules. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know how your lips break into an easy smile when his name lights up your phone or how sending a good night text to him is your favorite part of your night routine.

When you had told Jin that you had visited Jungkook when he was sick in his apartment, even Jin couldn’t mask his surprise-

“You brought the guy soup?! Are you kidding me?! What if he was a murderer? Then what? I can’t believe I’d have to explain your murder to Grandma. Why would you put that burden on me? I’m too hot for that-”

“Seokjin!” You shriek through laughter, “You’re being so dramatic for no reason! Besides Jungkook is too soft to be a murderer-”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if I trust your credibility anymore. You’re the one who’s in so deep that you went to visit the man when he was sick,” Jin says, “Though, that’s very cute and domestic of you to do so. Did you bring him Grandma’s galbitang?”

“Obviously.”

“Damn. Now I’m not the only one who gets the galbitang treatment, huh?” Jin says knowingly, “You’re a sucker.”

Despite your protests, you know he’s mostly right.

Jungkook stopping by your cubicle during quiet, uneventful afternoons is more often than not. Or, you find yourself in his cubicle with two cups of steaming hot tea. One for you and one for him. Sometimes you both gossip in whispers about the members of your respective teams or do some impromptu work on the submissions project. Or you both just talk- about anything that comes to mind.

It’s so easy to laugh with him, to tease him like you would a friend, and to look at him like you would a lover-

“I heard there’s gonna be a big re-org by the end of this quarter,” Jungkook whispers, as if it’s a secret. And honestly, it probably is.

“Oh? Which little birdie told you that? Namjoon? Or Yunho-”

“Namjoon did, but you can’t tell anyone,” Jungkook insists.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a big mouth,” You roll your eyes.

“You’re lucky I trust you,” Jungkook shoots back immediately, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Your heart is suddenly in your throat but you maintain an unaffected facade.

“You think people will lose their jobs?” You whisper incredulously, “Re-orgs are so hard to stomach sometimes…”

“I hope not,” Jungkook sighs, “We’re all just cogs in the wheel that is capitalism, huh?”

“Well. I’m glad we’re cogs in this shitty wheel together, Kook.”

And there had even been several times when you had both found yourselves at the gym together, a happy coincidence as it was. Jungkook had felt much more comfortable with correcting your form, and seeing him sweaty with strands of dark hair plastered to his forehead only sent a string of lewd thoughts into your empty head.

If you nearly dropped a dumbbell from your sweaty grip onto your chest as he spotted for you because you caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s flushed cheeks and his easy smile directed only at you, then that was your own business.

And to your surprise, you’ve been getting meeting invites on your calendar from Hae-ri, the head of business development, herself. You’ve always hated networking, but Hae-ri had seemed so genuine when you met her in Tokyo that part of you wanted to maintain that relationship with her.

For some reason, it seemed that she had taken an interest in you. You’ve had many quick chats in her office or virtually if she’s traveling. You’ve come to think of her as a mentor, even if it’s only been a few months of getting to know her. The initial awkwardness you felt, the need to fill in the gaps of conversation had slowly washed away the more you talked to her. Your conversations mostly consisted of work topics- things that you found curious, or things you felt could be improved. You always leave her with a small idea or a thought to chew on until next time. But surprisingly (at least to you), she starts asking you for your perspective and your advice on challenges that she’s having.

It gives you something to ponder about, something that you haven’t allowed yourself to ponder about since you left school and took this job.

It makes you wonder if you’re meant for more. For so long, it felt like you were only surviving. Only trying to keep your head above water. But if you’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that it’s okay and encouraged to want and seek more.

High risk, high reward. But with high risk, comes the potential for things to fail. With high risk, comes the potential to be hurt and let down. Is it worth it? Is the journey worth it?

You think it might be, for how good you’ve been feeling lately (for the most part).

Yuna had quickly brought you into her own friend group, as if you’ve known her and Yuri, Seohyun and Sooyoung for as long as they’ve known each other. You’ve never had a group of close friends like them, let alone a group of girlfriends.

Now, you knew what people meant when they said that every woman needs a group of women around them. It hadn’t made sense to you before, but now… Now it does. And you’re not especially close with them, but they make you feel good. They make you laugh and they make you want to be close with them.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but it’s a feeling that gives you those familiar first date jitters.

So when Yuna had asked you to join them for a Friday night out, your first instinct was to hesitate and decline. But the more you started thinking about it, the more you found yourself wanting to go and enjoy a night out with new friends. And you had asked Jungkook for his opinion-

“Should I go? I mean, I don’t want to like… Be the pity invite. They’re all already so close…” You trail off a little nervously, itching at your chin.

“Being a pity invite fuckin’ sucks,” Jungkook agrees, “But it sounds like Yuna invites you because she genuinely wants you there. I don’t think she would’ve asked you to come if she didn’t want you there.”

“But what if it’s only because of Jin-”

“Even if it is only because of Jin,” Jungkook says, “Does it matter? Besides, you talk about things outside of Jin, right?”

“Yeah-”

“Just go. You’ll have fun, sweetheart. I know you will.”

You contemplate sending a picture of your outfit to Jungkook as you get ready- and why did you want to send a picture to him- for what? You don’t know. But you do know. You look good, you know you do- with the silky navy blue of your blouse a pretty contrast to your skin and your makeup done meticulously well.

In the end, you get distracted by Yuna’s texts that she’s arrived at your home. You told Grandma you’d likely be staying the night with Yuna. Grandma had only looked at you fondly, with unsaid pride in the lines of her eyes and her smile. You had made her promise to call you if anything happened, to which she promptly shooed you out of the door and into Yuna’s car.

Yuna grins at you and helps you put your bag in the backseat- which you really don’t need help with. But you appreciate the gesture anyway.

And so the night begins.

It’s three tequila shots, half a glass of soju and some water later before you realize that you’re well on your way into the warmth that comes with being drunk.

Your lips are permanently etched into a smile, laughter tumbling out of your throat easily and genuinely as you stand with Yuna and her friends in her apartment. Her apartment itself is so very her- very colorful and vibrant, with baby blue throw pillows over a pink couch and a mint green rug. Her apartment is relaxing and inviting, much like her. It’s only fitting.

You had learned about Yuri, Seohyun and Sooyoung- how they had known each other since college but Seohyun and Yuri hadn’t really connected with the group until after graduation. When they had all moved to Seoul for work. There is clearly a deep, understanding bond between the four of them and you’re benignly envious of it. But you don’t let it get you down- not the way it might have before.

You’re also happy that you and Yuna can get along outside of Seokjin. If you’re being honest, that was one of your main worries. That you would need Jin to act as a buffer for you and Yuna. But Yuna brings you into their tight knit circle with her innate warmth, and you want to feel it, too.

“Pick your poison, babes,” Sooyoung grins wickedly at you, standing behind Yuna’s kitchen island. Behind all of her bottles, laid out neatly for your consumption.

“I think you can venture a guess,” You say, handing her your cup.

“Tequila,” Yuna and Sooyoung say together.

“Wow. You know me so well.”

Sooyoung clearly has a heavy hand- you wince when you sip your mixed drink but you’re no quitter.

“Cheers,” Yuri says, “Cheers to us, and cheers to the fountain of youth, in the form of tequila and soju.”

The rest of the night goes in a blur of dancing, loose limbs and close touches. You can very clearly remember sending selfies and videos to Jungkook, who instantly replied with heart eyes and words that made your face heat up in the crowded bar.

“Who you texting,” Yuna says, wrapping her arms around your shoulders so you’re facing her. She holds you close and you have to steady yourself by holding her waist.

“Jungkook,” You say quickly, “Just wanted to say hi.”

Yuna looks at you knowingly but says nothing, only dancing with you. Yuri joins you from behind, holding your own hips tightly. You sway with them, throwing your head back happily and singing along to the song blasting on the speakers.

Your head feels hazy, but you feel happy.

“G’nna call Jin,” Yuna slurs to you, “T’ pick us up-”

“Wanna see Kook,” You say stubbornly, already pulling your phone out. You have to close one eye to see the words on your phone screen, and even then, it’s kind of blurry.

You call Jungkook, or at least you think you do. But he answers, a sweet sound of your name ringing in your ears.

“JK,” You breathe into your phone, as if he can hear you over all of the noise.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Having fun-”

“Jin’s comin’ t’pick us up,” You cut across him, leaning against the wall for some stability. You can’t tell if you feel this weightless because of your drunkenness or because of him. “But… I don’t wanna g’home with them. Wanna go home with you.”

“You want me to come pick you up?” Jungkook asks. Anticipation and then happiness blooms in his chest, that you want to see him.

“Yeah,” You reply instantly, “Wanna see you. Miss you.”

“You saw me a few hours ago, at work,” Jungkook teases and laughs when he hears your noise of protest.

“But I wanna see you,” You’re on the verge of whining, and you’re not above it.

“You’re obsessed with me,” Jungkook says, unable to keep the smile off of his face, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Jungkook has a small smile on his face the entire drive to the bar.

Jin and Jungkook both arrive at around the same time, parking a few blocks away from the noisy bar and hopping out quickly.

Jin looks at Jungkook as if he is transparent, and it unnerves him. Jin says your name first and then, “You’re here for her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, she called me,” Jungkook says, not backing down from the obvious heat in Jin’s eyes.

Jin looks at him, long and hard. Despite the bustle of people around them on the busy street, Jungkook knows what this is. It’s one friend, a brother really, looking after another.

Jin claps his hand over Jungkook’s shoulder, and the tension immediately evaporates as if it had never existed.

“Let’s go get our women, huh? Jin says with a grin.

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief.

Jungkook sees you before you see him- your head tipped back in laughter, alcohol slick in your eyes and you nearly stumble but maintain your balance by holding Sooyoung’s shoulder for stability.

You look so pretty, as you always do. But tonight, you look relaxed and carefree and it looks nice on you.

And you sharply turn your head to him when Yuna whispers in your ear with a smug grin of her own and your eyes connect with his. You take him in unabashedly, leaving the conversation you were in to be next to Jungkook.

He meets you halfway, threading through the few people standing in between you both.

Your smile is blinding, full of flowers and tequila- of course, you nearly lose your balance trying to get to him as fast as possible. Luckily, he’s close enough to you that he can grab your waist before you fall on your ass.

It seems that almost happens all too often in his presence.

“It appears,” You murmur, “That I’ve almost fallen for you.”

“Yeah, how many times do I have to catch you before you bust your ass?” Jungkook says, eyes dancing and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“A million and one,” You reply. You’ve had plenty of water from when you had called Jungkook to now, and while the tipsy haze has begun to lift, you still feel the edge of alcohol clouding your mind.

“Cheesy,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He doesn’t mind the way your hands slide up his arm, as if reassuring yourself that he’s right there. That his hands are really circling your waist and that he had really come to pick you up.

You wrap your arms around him for a wordless hug and sway for a moment in his arms. He smells nice and he feels safe. He tightens his arms around you, wrapping himself around you almost completely.

Your heart flutters at how nice he feels, his chest slotted against yours.

“I’m glad you called me,” Jungkook murmurs, only for you to hear.

“Glad you picked up,” You reply sincerely, meeting his eyes, “And glad you’re here.”

You shine in his arms, bright, bold and beaming. You surprise him again and press your thumbs to his cheeks, before pecking his cheek quickly.

“Let me get you a water and then we’ll go,” Jungkook murmurs, his hand drifting to the small of your back. The satin-y material of your shirt is thin in his fingers- where is your jacket? Had you even brought one?

“Okay, Bambi,” You reply dreamily. You lean against him at the bar, head on his shoulder as you both wait. You tighten your grip on his bicep and he moves his hand to circle your waist and pull you into his side. He likes the way you slot next to him, your quiet heat something he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to.

The sparkles in his doe eyes never seem to fade away when he’s with you. Your head is filled with nothing but his reddened pout, the way his hair falls into his eyes, and the way his palm feels on you. His lips move as he speaks to the bartender but all you can feel are the absent circles his thumb makes on your hip.

Your throat goes dry, and the urge to cling to him and hold him close, for you and your eyes only is too great. The man contains a universe in those eyes, and you always want to gravitate towards the magnetic pull of his axis. The overwhelming urge to kiss him washes over you in gentle waves, the desire igniting your veins.

But you wait. In your tequila-addled mind, you decide to wait. Not here, not now.

“Here, princess,” Jungkook says easily, the pet name slipping out without him meaning to. You gasp in surprise with wide eyes and your cheeks light up. Something in your belly is satiated by that and Jungkook knows it.

Interesting. You never fail to surprise him.

“Thank you,” You mumble, “Honey?”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat and he squeezes your waist in approval. You smile at him, a little bashfully and god, does he want to kiss you. He wants to kiss the gloss right off of your lips, he wants to taste the tequila on your tongue. He just wants you.

But not here. Not now.

You’re trying your best to not be handsy in the car. What is it about a man with one hand on the wheel? Specifically, what is it about Jungkook, with one hand on the wheel and the other dwarfed over yours in your lap?

His hands were big. That much you knew. But having his hand in yours like this, encased over yours- they just seemed that much bigger. The feeling of his hand in yours sends sparks through your skin. You melt with his touch, with the soothing sound of his voice.

You have to ask him to repeat himself more than once, because you’re too busy enjoying the feeling of his hand in yours.

He chuckles to himself, already aware of your apparent distraction. The tips of his ears are warm and his belly is fluttering. But he’s not ready- when Jungkook parks his car and helps you out of the passenger seat, you don’t let his hand go. Instead, you bring his knuckles to your lips and kiss it softly.

“Thank you,” You mumble, meeting his eyes, “For taking care of me, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand after that, not in the lobby, not in the elevator, not even as he unlocks his door. Not even as he gives you water and a snack to chew on. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, looking at him as if he’s hung the moon and stars for you.

“D’you have clothes? I left mine at Yuna’s,” You ask once your face is freshly washed. Despite your difference in skincare routines, you had not so secretly stolen some of his cleanser and moisturizer.

You suppose you’ll have to skip on toner tonight.

“No, I don’t, even though you’re standing in my bedroom,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you swat his shoulder.

“You can just say yes-”

“It’s more fun to stress you out,” Jungkook says and rummages around for a shirt and some shorts for you to wear. He pulls out a freshly washed pair of shorts and an oversized grey t-shirt for you, but you’re smirking at him deviously.

“What,” Jungkook says flatly, “Why are you looking at me like that-”

“I don’t want those clothes,” You murmur, mischief swirling in your eyes, “I want the shirt you’re wearing.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” Jungkook says, hoping you don’t catch the stammer in his voice. He moves closer to you, curling a hesitant hand around your cheek. You lean into his touch, tilting your head just a fraction and hum at the warmth of his palm against your heated skin.

He pulls away just for a second to peel his shirt off of his torso and despite your bravado from earlier, you’re not prepared to be met by his bare chest or the full breadth of his tattoos.

In fact, you squeeze your eyes shut to cope with the sudden sight of his beautiful, golden skin and the lines of corded muscle.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be offended,” Jungkook’s voice comes from right in front of you. He puts the fresh shirt on and his hand resumes it's comforting place on your cheek.

“Shut up,” You muster out, “Turn around, Jeon.”

And he does, hearing your pants drop to the floor, along with the rest. You neatly fold your clothes and place them on his chair before changing into his clothes. And Jungkook hears you inhale deeply- his clothes smell so much like him, the scent of his cologne heavy in the minuscule fibers.

“You can turn around now,” You mumble softly, “Honey.”

If Jungkook thought he was ready to see you looking at him with tired eyes and a tired smile wearing his clothes, he was kidding himself. He won’t deny that he’s daydreamed about it before- seeing you in his clothes, in his bed, in his arms, in his arms, in his arms…

And now you are. Even if you’re a little tipsy. He can’t wait to kiss you, feel the mold of your lips against his, feel how they slot against him- but not now, not tonight.

“Jungkook,” You say, tugging your hand in his. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are still mischievous. “Should I sleep on the couch? Is it untidy of us to sleep in the same bed?”

“Haven’t even taken me out on a date yet and you’re already trying to bed me, huh?”

“It didn’t take much, Kook,” You laugh.

“No,” Jungkook says, “I suppose it didn’t.”

You’ve never been this close, this open to anyone. It unnerves you a little, even in your foggy mind. But maybe not as much as it would normally.

You feel like you can just be with Jungkook. Without questioning it, wondering if it’s right or wrong. And you think he might feel the same way, too.

You’re “sleeping” on your side, facing away from him. Jungkook notices how rigid you are, as if you don’t know what to do. He also knows you’re still awake, even if you pretend not to be.

He touches your shoulder tentatively, reassuringly. “Hey,” Jungkook murmurs.

You hum in acknowledgement, feeling like a live wire about to explode. What do you want? What are you doing?

Nothing. It’s so easy with him. What are you so nervous for?

Jungkook can read your thoughts easily, your body language a practiced poem to him. “You alright? Is this too much?” Jungkook murmurs, pulling his hand away.

You miss his warmth already. No, you realize. It’s not too much… You want more. You want more, you want everything he’ll give you.

But he misunderstands, taking your silence for hesitation. You feel him begin to slide off of the bed, likely to take the floor or the couch. But you turn abruptly, shooting up and grasping his forearm tightly.

“No,” You say softly, “Don’t go, Jungkook. Stay with me.”

“You sure?” Jungkook hesitates, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, “I’m sure.”

And so he settles in his bed once more, and you still sense apprehension radiating off of him in waves.

“Are you sure?” You murmur, turning to face him. You’re close enough to him that you can see the count of his long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. Maybe you’ve rushed into this, whatever this is. Before you can spiral down that train of thought, Jungkook cups your cheek and your breath hitches.

“I’m sure,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinted a dusky red, “I… I like seeing you like this. In my clothes, in my bed.”

“I like seeing you like this, too,” You whisper, feeling a little shy. But you return his gentle caress with a warm hand over his chest. Your touch sends happy little shockwaves pulsing through him, and he wants to chase that feeling with you.

“Thank you,” You whisper, somehow even softer, “For taking care of me. I probably interrupted your night...” You shift closer to him, plucking the courage to allow the press of your chest to his and to gently run your fingers through his soft hair.

More shockwaves.

Jungkook resists the urge to say what he really wants to say. Instead, he gives you a blinding smile, one that has you smiling back. “No, there’s no interruption. There’s only you.”

The sheer conviction of his words leaves your entire body buzzing and your face aflame. You’re not sure of many things, but you’re sure of this-

“I’m gonna kiss you,” You mumble sleepily, “Tomorrow, I’m gonna kiss you.”

And somehow, with that declaration, you fall asleep with your head tucked on his chest and he’s left with a small smile on his face.

Jungkook is awake before you. It’s a cloudy morning, shades of grey hidden behind his blinds. It makes him want to curl into you, just how he was moments before. He had woken up to his arm loose around your waist, his chest around your back. You were so warm, so pretty in his clothes. So unassumingly his, if you’d have him.

He peels away from you hastily. His face immediately heats up, he’s certain the tips of his ears are red from his proximity to you.

Specifically, your ass is pressed into his half hard cock, and he can’t bring himself to pull away. Not when the sweet image of your ass swallowing his cock is a previous fantasy that is so close to becoming a reality.

You squirm in your sleep, or at least, he thinks you’re asleep. You sigh lightly before getting comfortable and Jungkook knows he’s in trouble. With you, he’s always in trouble.

Your hand comes forward to your face and you rub your eyes tiredly. Jungkook’s throat goes dry- what should he do? Feign sleep? Roll away from you? Or-

You make the decision for him though, and lift your hand behind you to feel around for him. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips when you find his chest, and then a soft murmur. A complaint.

“What?” Jungkook chokes, “I can’t hear you.”

“Come closer,” You mumble, your voice hoarse. It sounds like thick, golden honey and Jungkook wants a little taste. He envelopes you, encasing you with his legs and his arms around your waist. Your hand drops on top of his much larger one and you sigh dreamily.

“Jungkook,” You say, not really sure where you were going with that train of thought, because the warmth of his body against yours feels too good to do anything but sink into.

Jungkook nearly purrs into your neck.

“Good morning, princess,” Jungkook says. God, he wants to get used to this.

“Morning,” You reply, threading your fingers through his and squeezing. You push back against him, grinning to yourself when you feel him freeze up behind you. He holds your hip tightly, to stop you from moving.

Jungkook is only a man, only a man with a giant crush that he knows you reciprocate.

“What are you doing,” Jungkook asks breathily.

“I’m just lying here,” You say innocently and grind into him. Jungkook takes the bait, of course he does, and melds his hips to yours. A sharp exhale tickles your ears when he rocks into you lightly. It only lasts a few moments, a funny, sweet feeling swirling in your belly. It spreads to your toes- it’s all because of him, because of his touch. His touch sends a warm buzz all over.

You never want to let it go.

“You remember what you said last night?” Jungkook asks breathily, his lips nearly pressed to your neck. Remnants of your perfume along with the scent of his sheets lingers on your skin.

“I said a lotta things last night,” You tease, reaching behind to thread your fingers through his hair lazily. He groans, bucking his hips just a little faster. A breathy moan escapes from your throat and you’d be a little more embarrassed if you weren’t enjoying how he felt around you so much.

“You did,” Jungkook hums, “You were really talkative-”

“I remember,” You say and finally turn in his arms to get a good look at him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are tinted a pretty pink. But your gaze immediately lands on his eyes, his beautiful, big, brown eyes. The same eyes that look at you with something similar to magic in them.

“Said I was gonna kiss you,” You continue, “So ‘m gonna kiss you. Can I? Can I kiss you?”

He nods eagerly, eyes wide and lips parted in anticipation. He wonders if you know how long he’s thought about kissing you, about feeling those surely soft lips against his.

And now his dreams with his dream girl are coming true. You press your lips to his, almost bashfully, and gasp into his mouth when he grabs your waist as if he can’t get enough of you. And he can’t- he can’t believe this is real, you in his arms, you kissing him like this.

It’s soft, it’s magnetic, it’s you. Your skin is soft under his fingertips as his hand shifts to cradle your cheek. Your hand is fisted in his shirt before you wrap your arms around his head and push your fingers into his hair hurriedly.

Your hands are everywhere, trying to hold as much of him as you can. You can’t get enough either- the warm heat of his mouth is too enticing for you to let go of. You’re on a cloud, in a daydream all on your own. Filled with nothing but pastel stars and dark skies and him.

Jungkook devours you, slowly, surely and all at once. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you sigh, swallowing his own moan. Jungkook holds you close but presses your back on the bed and hovers over you when he pulls away slightly to catch a breath.

But you pull him back towards you impatiently by the collar of his shirt and press your lips to his. Jungkook re-centers you, slowing your impatience and kisses you languidly as if you have all of the time in the world to learn the soft lines of his equally soft lips. His name comes out of your mouth in a breathy whisper- he’s on his knees to hear you say his name like that as many times as he can.

Jungkook pulls away for a longer breath, peering down at you with wide eyes and bitten lips.

“J-Jungkook,” You say with a splitting grin. It just feels right, it feels natural with him. “That was fun. I wanna do that again... baby.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling and honest and it makes your heart flutter. Jungkook presses his lips to your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, your nose- and in between you laugh airily, wrapping your arms around him to keep him as close to you as you can. Wrapping your legs around his tiny waist, you keep him molded to your chest.

He loses himself in you, in the gentle but firm caress against his heated skin.

“Your hands,” You murmur with a smirk, “Your hands are so big…”

Jungkook snorts and rolls his eyes, nipping at your neck playfully. “Shut up,” He says, voice muffled.

“You’re really hot,” You say a little more seriously, “Like… really, really hot.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says almost shyly.

“So you agree? You think you’re really pretty?”

You screech with laughter when he playfully pinches your waist. “You’re really pretty,” He repeats to you, “Like… really, really pretty.”

“Oh, I know,” You grin and cup his cheeks for a quick kiss. You won’t deny the way your heart pounds at his quick, genuine declaration. You wrap an arm around his broad shoulders, rubbing the expanse of his back and enjoying the feel of his thick muscles under your fingertips.

“Kiss me again,” You demand softly, “You’re good at that. We’re good at that.”

And so he does, he kisses you softly, deeply and pulls peals of laughter and soft moans of his name from your throat and into the minuscule crevices between both of you.

Jungkook wonders if his past self would’ve ever dreamed of this moment- of his dream girl in his bed, wearing his clothes, kissing him as if he was the sweetest nectar to grace your lips.

tags: @koo-zy

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts x reader

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

The Long Way Home

Chapter Two: Professor?

AN: It’s my birthday and I’m feeling great so I decided to post today rather than tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has taken an interest in this story and thank you for the support!

Trigger Warnings: drug use/abuse, mentions of verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

Hank put his head down, "Told you there was no ‘Professor’ here," he remarked with a shrug, starting to clean up a table that was covered in things.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, shocked to see his old mentor in such a state.

Hank stood in silence for a moment deliberating whether he should explain or not. With a sigh he placed a bottle down and looked at the desk below him.

"He lost everything. Raven, Erik, his legs..." Hank trailed off, thinking of someone else that he lost, but he decided it was best not to mention it. "He built the school, the labs...this whole place," he continued, pouring himself a drink. "Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted...and it broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help do something so I designed a serum that treated his spine. Derived from the second formula, that was for me, that controls my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back but he just couldn't take the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs but its not enough...he's just lost too much," Hank looked back up at Logan, and smiled distantly before taking a sip from his glass.

Upstairs, Charles was pouring himself a drink, in an attempt to forget the memories he didn't wish to think of. As he downed a good portion of the alcohol, suddenly, it all came rushing back, the buzzing of hushed tones he so terribly wanted to push away was beginning to torment him.

Charles' arm immediately shot out to reach for a cloth to wrap around his arm. After struggling briefly to tie it around his arm, he pulled it tight with his teeth as his hand shakily reached out to a small table where a syringe and a small vial rested upon. Charles grabbed the needle and the vial of serum before filling the needle with liquid and pressed it into his skin, letting the solution take its effects.

He laid back in his chair and looked over to his nightstand, but he had to look past the countless bottles to see it. There under the only source of light in the dark, musky room was a small, untouched framed photo of Raven. The Raven he knew. The memory of when they first met had rolled through his mind. His mind then drifted to Erik and how he stole Raven from his life. He stole Raven, made her into a completely different person.

But Erik also gave him Claudia. Charles would have probably never met her if it weren't for Erik's vendetta against Sebastian Shaw. But alas she was another loss. Charles remembered the shine in her eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled, and how strong she seemed the way she carried herself. She was a friend to everyone she met.

Charles closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears and the memories of the two people he loved most. Raven and Claudia. He knew he couldn't save Raven on that beach in Cuba, but Claudia, she could've stayed.

Back downstairs, Logan couldn't but feel that Charles and Hank were tiptoeing around someone and he didn't understand why. Logan glanced down at Charles' desk noticing something that he hadn't before. A picture frame lying face down on the desk, reaching his hand out Logan grabbed the silver frame and flipped it to face him. In the picture was a young, African-American woman who couldn't have been no older than twenty-four.

She had neck length black hair that was styled in a windblown look, her bangs parted to the side. She was looking back at the camera with a wide grin, holding an ornament as she decorated a Christmas tree that was in the picture as well. The Charles he knew mentioned a woman he knew long ago before Logan made this journey, a woman who Charles cared for deeply. Claudia. That was the woman's name if Logan remembered correctly, he wondered if they were one and the same.

"So, this is Claudia," Logan commented, looking up from the picture. Hank froze. He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years. By the looks of Hank's expression and his reaction, Logan's suspicions were confirmed. "Heh, I didn't know the professor liked them young," he quipped, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hank snatched the frame away from Logan.,"God, It wasn't like that," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Yes, there was an age gap, but they were very much in love with each other," Hank explained, looking down at the photo briefly and sighing. "They truly made each other happy," he added softly, before placing the photo face down on the desk again.

"What happened between them?"

"Remember that depression I told you that Charles fell into?" Hank asked, resuming his cleaning.

"Yeah,"

"Claudia was there, she was there for all of it. She tried to stick by him, she really did, but she just couldn't take it anymore," Hank paused, as he exchanged a brief look with Logan. "They fought a lot, she was sick of Charles' behavior of being a drunkard. She was tired of feeling more like a maid to Charles than the woman he claimed to love. And well Charles, one moment he's the loving man Claudia fell in love with and in the next he's a mean drunk," Hank explained, picking up empty bottles. "As tough as a woman Claudia is, I knew that some of the things that Charles said got under her skin. She was miserable here, but it all came to a tipping point in 1967," Hank continued, throwing the bottles into a trash bin.

"She left him, didn't she?"

"Yes, by the end of '67 she was gone," Hank answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The night she had left, it felt strangely peaceful. The atmosphere in the mansion didn't feel so heavy. That was until I heard Charles' bedroom door slam open and the both of them shouting. Claudia was done, she was over it. She told Charles that she couldn't keep pretending that they were this happy couple, so for her own sake she was leaving him. She said, if he wanted to remain on his path to self-destruction then be her guest, but she wasn't going to be apart of it. She wasted years of her life trying to help a man who doesn't want it," he recalled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk in behind of him.

Logan frowned, "And how did Charles take that?" he questioned, feeling like he already knew the answer.

"Not well, not well at all," Hank replied, shaking his head again. "He said some pretty hurtful things to her. He told her to go ahead and leave, he didn't need her. Charles called Claudia a 'useless woman' and claimed that maybe he'd be happier if she wasn't here. I...I’ve never seen Claudia look so hurt, so betrayed in all the years I've known her," Hank looked down sadly, now crossing his arms against his chest. "She actually began to tear up and responded quietly saying 'that makes two of us' before she reached down to her finger and slid off her ring and threw it at Charles," Hank sighed, his mind replaying that night.

"Claudia, Claudia, wait! Please, Claudia, just slow down! Please, just listen-" Hank begged.

"Wait! Charles and Claudia were married?" Logan asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"No, just engaged," Hank explained. "They dated for three years, and then Charles proposed to her in '66. As you can tell now, it didn't work out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The last thing Claudia said when she left the mansion was 'this whole thing was a mistake'," Hank added, with a frown as he folded his arms against his chest.

Logan sighed looking at Hank and shook his head. He was sent here for a reason, and now he can't seem to get the job done. He was risking many people's lives if he didn't change this now.

"I'll help you get her," he heard a voice from behind. He smirked and turned around, "Not for any of your future shite, but for her," Charles announced, coming down the stairs.

Logan mused over this and nodded, "Fair enough," he agreed.

"But I'll tell you this. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles questioned, his tone growing bitter.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together," Charles stared at him, surprised at the unexpected words. Logan scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arms together. "You are not going to like this, but you told me, practically begged me to get Claudia as well," Logan added, waiting for Charles' reaction.

He scoffed and shook his head, "That, I cannot do,"

That was a pain he had buried away and didn't wish to dredge back up anytime soon, he felt the same for Raven and that old wound was most definitely raw now. He had managed to control his emotions now whenever Raven was mentioned, to a point. But Claudia? That was something else entirely. She was his first love, the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he almost married.

"Charles, listen to me," Logan told him, looking down. "You are going to regret this just as you did when you told me to get her. If you want to save her, this is your only chance,"

Hank frowned at his words and Charles' angry expression dropped, forming into a sad and confused expression.

"Save her?" Hank asked, asking what Charles was not able to.

Logan nodded turning to look at him, "Claudia didn't make it, she's dead," he informed, shaking his head.

"Dead?" Charles repeated, sounding suddenly breathless from this revelation.

Charles clutched at his chest and inhaled deeply, suddenly not feeling too well. Like the world around him was spinning and he was stationary, Charles closed his eyes, guilt swarming inside him.

"Claudia is dead because of me,"

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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failedintsave · 3 years

Text

I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #skwistok #dethklok #metalocalypse

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 29

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Talltail’s vision was blurry from lack of sleep, and the sunlight streaming through the sparse trees stung his eyes. He trailed behind the border patrol of Fawnleap, Aspenfall, Appledawn, and Mistmouse, sniffing and re-sniffing every bush they passed.

“You already sniffed that tree,” Fawnleap said.

Talltail blinked at him and took a heartbeat too long to respond as he tried to process the sentence. “Just double checking” he mumbled.

“You look like a half chewed badger carcass,” Aspenfall commented. “No offense. But you could probably use another grooming when we get back. StarClan knows I could use a nap too.”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” Talltail replied, not hiding the sharpness in his tone very well.

Fawnleap looked at him a bit longer. “We’re all a bit nervous on this border, but I think it’s been quiet for a while. Don’t worry so much.'' He was clearly trying to ease Talltail’s obvious nerves, but it wasn’t working.

Talltail would never feel at ease on the border with ShadowClan. He tried not to look for the place where Brackenwing had fallen. Even now he swore ShadowClan scent marked the grass, waiting to see Darkpaw signal another ambush. Mistmouse insisted it was just floating over through the tunnel, and a lone apprentice didn’t make an invasion anyway. Talltail didn’t believe that wretched apprentice cared about his clan's rules. But there was nothing to be done about it. His lack of sleep did make him a little more paranoid than normal, as he constantly second guessed whether his senses could be trusted. Worse was that his clanmates started wondering too.

“Are you still having those nightmares?” Fawnleap whispered after Talltail had finally left the bush alone. “I overheard Briarpaw saying you were having bad dreams. What are they about?”

“Foxes,” Talltail lied, “just a whole load of foxes. I think I fell asleep on moss that smelled of one.”

“I had a fox dream last week!” Fawnleap gasped “It was the size of a deer, but it had a lizard tail for some reason?”

Talltail tuned Fawnleap out as he went on about foxes with lizard feet and wings or whatever nonsense had crept into his head that time. Fawnleap made valiant efforts to engage with Talltail and pretend like everything was still fine between their old friends, when his siblings had both since given up on him. The chatty tom usually did most of the talking himself since Talltail didn’t carry conversations well these days.

When they reached the end of the patrol, Appledawn turned back to him as they started to split off.

“Talltail, we’re going to play leap-stones in the heather meadow, would you like to come? Dawnstripe’s going to meet us there.” She offered

“Yes, the rains have finally been away long enough for the ground to dry. It’s a nice day for it.” Mistmouse encouraged.

Talltail shook his head. “Thanks, but there’s a mole nest I was meaning to check out. I’m going to hunt for a while.”

“Alright, but if you change your mind...We could always use another player.” Appledawn said and the two mollies padded off together after Fawnleap, who had already bounded ahead.

The offer was made out of politeness, he was sure. Talltail watched them go a bit sadly. He did want to go, and lounging in the meadow with the sun right overhead sounded preferable to tracking back through the mole hills. But his restless energy wouldn’t let him be idle and content, no matter how his eyelids drooped.

Mole hills were easy enough to find, but the digging was less fun. Talltail’s nightmares were still floating around in his head, and were unfortunately not as simple as being chased by foxes as he’d told Fawnleap. The scrape of his claws in the shallow soil brought the images he’d seen the night before flashing through his head. In this dream, he’d been digging for moles, or maybe rabbits, sure that if he didn’t make this catch, he would starve and die, and so would everyone else. But his claws turned brittle, cracked and bloody, and became useless to him as if he were trying to claw the ground with wet leaves.

He hissed in pain as his paw caught on a rock. He wasn’t in the mood for eating moles at all right now. But so persistent were his dreams that he wondered, maybe if he successfully caught a real mole, it would ease the guilt he felt from failing in his dreams. How about that? Guilt for failing a hunt in my dreams, for StarClan’s sake.

He was thinking so hard about not thinking about his dreams, that he ended up too distracted to catch the field mouse that shot past him. Talltail turned in an instant and leapt after it, letting his instincts guide his claws. If he didn’t catch something soon, he would lose it. But the mouse was gaining on a thick bramble patch he’d never be able to get inside. Suddenly a golden blur shot out and pounced on the creature, Talltail nearly fell over his paws trying to stop himself before he crashed into Dawnstripe. She held the mouse in her jaws and twitched her whiskers in amusement

“That was a close one,” she said as she dropped the limp mouse at her paws. “These bramble patches are such a pain to hunt in, aren’t they?”

“Y-yes. Good catch.” Talltail said. “I...I thought you were meeting Appledawn in the meadow?”

“I will. You don’t want to come?”

Talltail sighed “I told myself I’d catch a few moles on my way back. Still haven't had any luck…”

“There’s a hunting patrol headed back now, the clan will last the day, especially if you take this mouse back.”

“I...just feel better when I’m hunting.” Talltail said hastily.

Dawnstripe hummed “I still get the feeling you're trying to prove something. But you have, Talltail. You're a warrior now, it’s greenleaf and the clan is cared for. You can have fun sometimes too.”

“Hunting is fun.” Talltail said quickly.

“Yes, but so are other things. Your clanmates feel like you're a stranger sometimes, you know.”

Talltail hung his head in defeat and frustration, but he relented a bit. “Dawnstripe...I feel like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing as a warrior.”

Dawnstripe blinked at him in confusion “What do you mean? You’re patrolling, and hunting a lot.”

“I know but...Before all my focus was on becoming a warrior. I had a stricter schedule as an apprentice, and an obvious goal to focus my sights on. Now I’ve accomplished it, and I don’t know what my goal is anymore. I don’t know what I should do differently, without you telling me each day what my task is. I hunt when I can, but I feel like I'm wandering aimlessly.”

“You can do independent tasks now.” Dawnstripe replied simply, “Reedfeather will assign you to a specific one when it needs getting done. You are doing what you're supposed to be doing, Talltail.”

Then why doesn’t it feel like enough? He didn’t want to confess to her how unsatisfying his warrior ceremony had been. It would sound like an insult to her, to say what she had been preparing him for wasn’t enough. Especially when he had no idea how to describe why he felt the way he did.

“You’re right, of course Dawnstripe. I guess warrior is still a title I'm not used to.”

“You know if there’s one thing I learned from mentoring you, it's that you are often your own worst enemy. You’re a brilliant hunter, and you only start misstepping when you overexert yourself and over think.”

“If I knew how to turn my thoughts off, I would.” It was harsher then he wanted it to be and he instantly regretted it.

But Dawnstripe didn’t flinch away. She head butted his shoulder affectionately. “I know it troubles you. You know Talltail, even if I’m no longer responsible for you, I am still here. You can talk to me.”

His anxious scent wouldn’t stop giving him away, and he held his tail under his back foot to keep it from lashing in frustration at how transparent he was. “I know, Dawnstripe. That means a lot. But I’ll keep hunting for now, practice keeps my paws busy. I’ll meet you back at camp this evening. I’ll take your mouse back for you. Have fun with Appledawn.”

Dawnstripe gazed at him for a heartbeat longer and padded away towards the meadow. Dawnstripe had done enough for him. He couldn’t ask her to try and ease him anymore.

He returned to hunting moles, but even if he caught one, he knew it wouldn’t really help the itch he felt.

The more days went by, the more sure he was that his father really had been right all along. Moor running wasn’t satisfying him, but he didn’t know what would. Perhaps his persistent dreams were telling him that. Whether he was chasing or being chased, he always felt helpless and useless, and he never saved any cat he saw being buried. Running did him no good. He was just never fast enough.

***

Talltail returned to camp in a bad mood. Cloudrunner and Redclaw were unimpressed with him as well. He’d gotten carried away in the team hunt and missed Cloudrunner’s signal to him. He had been so sure that he would have been able to catch that rabbit on his own if he’d just been a little faster. But it had outpaced him and he’d accidentally driven it away from the other two, so the patrol returned with nothing. However short Talltail was with Cloudrunner who had been passive-aggressively scolding him the whole way home, he was more frustrated with himself. He avoided hunting in teams as much as possible these days for a reason.

To make matters worse, Woollycloud was waiting for him, offering him a friendly smile, but his bushy tail swished anxiously. Here we go, Talltail thought with a subtle eye-roll.

“No luck?” Woollycloud mewed sympathetically. “Well, every cat has bad days.”

“I seem to have a lot of bad days lately.” Talltail mumbled to himself.

“Are you...doing alright Talltail? Dawnstripe tells me you’ve been distracted on team hunts lately and…”

“I understand. I’ll take more solo hunts by myself to make up for it.”

“That’s not what I mean. She’s worried is all.”

“There’s nothing to worry over. I suppose I’m just not as good a hunter as I used to be.”

“You’re not ageing Talltail.” Woollycloud was clearly trying very hard to keep his tone light. “I only get the feeling… events from the past still weigh on you.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it again Woollycloud.” Talltail said through gritted teeth.

Why was the old tom always badgering him? Couldn’t he be occupied enough with badgering Palebird? He was always trying to coax her into hunts or games. But Talltail didn’t want to be treated like a fragile mouse.

“I know things have changed very quickly in WindClan. Three moons may not be enough time to recover from a particularly hard passing but--”

“No, maybe it’s not!” Talltail snapped.

It was always going to come flooding out if he kept getting bothered by some cat. Talltail was a badly built dam ready to burst apart when the current edged one more branch out of place. “Maybe it is for you, to just forget everything my father worked for, let Heatherstar erase it all and just go on like none of it mattered and do nothing about it, but it’s not so easy for me to ignore. It’s not fair. You may be content to lie around and take advantage of Palebird while she can barely feed herself, but I have other things I wish I could focus on!”

Woollycloud flattened his ears. His eyes widened with hurt and Talltail instantly felt a fresh wave of guilt crash over him. That was so unfair! How could you say something like that!? Woollycloud wasn’t conniving, and he would never try to take advantage of any cat. Palebird had lost her best friend and mate on the same day. He was trying to be there for a grieving clanmate however she needed, StarClan knew she needed something, and Talltail certainly wasn’t helping. But he was too angry to take it back, he just wanted Woollycloud to leave him alone and not bother with him anymore. Maybe hurting his feelings was the only thing that would make him see that.

“I just want to help you, Talltail,” Woollycloud's voice cracked.

“Well I can’t be helped! I was always taught that when something goes wrong, I need to do something to fix it. I can’t fix Heatherstar, and I can’t fix the state of the clan. Nothing I do will be enough. You know, It’s not fair for a cat to do something horrible, and then just be allowed to go off and live their life happily, with no one acknowledging what was done wrong. It’s not right, I don’t care what any cat says. I can’t sleep anymore! Something must be done.”

He whipped around to stalk away, leaving Woollycloud standing there. The old tunneler didn’t come after him again. Talltail stopped and stared at his paws as his own words sunk in, he hadn’t dwelled on the thoughts directly but saying them aloud, it made sense. It was the only loose end he couldn’t ever tie up here.

When he lay awake in camp that night, he could not make himself lift his eyes to face the stars. He did not know what he was afraid to see, but he couldn’t do it all the same. The pinpoints of light reminded him of the gaze of that terrible creature in his dream by the Moonstone. That stupid, confusing dream...But it came to him there in the walls of Mothermouth, it couldn’t have meant nothing. With all the time available to him for his mind to wander, he traced his memory back to the nursery tale that had triggered one of his first memorable night terrors. It was a silly story, clearly an exaggerated telling. But all clan stories came from something, and all of them had meaning buried within. It was about a cat that had returned from the brink of death and all he brought with him was rot, rot eating him from the inside out. He became first a nuisance, and then a real hazard to all of his clanmates. Talltail remembered the desecrated remains of the unstable stone-skinned cat of his dreams, how the very moor wilted and died under its careless touch.

If it was for the best that he left, if he could bring his clan no real good, then let that destructive potential at least be turned on some cat that deserved it.

Maybe that was what it all meant. The restless emptiness he felt... Maybe he could fill it with something else. For just a moment it was snuffed out and replaced with burning fury; the thing that had offered to fill the hollow feeling in his chest before when he sometimes spotted the rogue in his dreams. Cold claws pressed against the hole inside him. This time Talltail did not try to chase it away or suppress it. It wasn’t enough to simply hope that StarClan could punish a cat that had run beyond their skies... Someone had to do more.

The moor itself had felt strange and hostile for moons. This idea had already taken root in the back of his mind long ago, ever since he woke up to watch the visitor leave from camp, and again the night he got his name, but he’d been too hesitant. Trying, and failing, to be the best warrior wasn’t working. But this was a new direction. Something to look forward to, better than the useless nothing he saw for himself otherwise, dragging himself through day after pointless day. And he’d hold onto this new light as long as he needed to. He could sink his claws into it and hold himself up. It wasn’t just an option, it was the only option.

“Talltail…”

Talltail looked up. It was Woollycloud again. He’d still been watching him, debating trying to approach a second time. Despite everything, he was persistent as ever.

“I don’t want to push, I really don’t,” he said, eyes tired and pleading. “Please, if you would just talk to some cat, maybe not me, but--”

“I will Woollycloud.” Talltail replied quickly.

His tone was surprisingly lighter. It was easier to muster up a more falsely positive tone, as the relief that came from having a new direction in sight washed over him. This had to be what these restless feelings were pointing to. He was sure Sandstone would agree.

“I promise.” Talltail insisted when Woollycloud eyed him suspiciously, “I know how to make it better. I’m sorry, really I am, for having been such a pain. I owe you a lot. I promise I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I want you to look after my mother.``

“W-what? I mean, thank you Talltail, but...”

“I’ll go talk with Heatherstar. Thank you.” He said and quickly padded off, leaving Woollycloud again to stare after him.

***

Talltail had to quickly admit to himself that speaking to Heatherstar was a lie. He’d just watched Plumclaw stomp away from a discussion with their leader about which tunnels they were allowed to keep open. Heatherstar didn’t look happy herself, but she was firm on the matter. Talltail couldn’t help feeling some frustration towards her as well, for not allowing him to try and uphold his fathers legacy. But who are you kidding? His little voice in his ear hissed, Even if she had let you try, you would have made a mess of things. Heatherstar was protective of her ruling, aware not every cat was happy about it. The last thing she’d want to hear about was a warrior thinking of leaving, so soon after swearing his warriors oath.

As he stood there facing her den, a rumbling raspy voice made Talltail jump.

“Are you looking for council with our leader, or are you going to stand there like a moon-struck hare all day?”

Hawkheart was lying in the shadow of an overhanging stone, watching Talltail with his dark yellow gaze.

“I…” Talltail stuttered, “N-No. No, I was just spacing out.”

“Hm.” Hawkheart sounded unconvinced. “Well make up your mind. Doubt left to fester can be dangerous. WindClan needs warriors who know where they belong.”

Talltail stared at the old medicine cat. His words felt too pointed to be without meaning, as if he knew what was on his mind. Perhaps he’d agreed with Talltail’s feelings all along. Hawkheart wanting him to leave wouldn’t surprise him.

“Why?” challenge creeped into Talltail’s voice, “Do you know what I would want to ask her about?”

“Not exactly, no.” Hawkheart purred, as rough and unfriendly as a purr could be, “I don’t actually know everything. I just have unusually reliable hunches. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But you’d better make some decision. Don’t just stand there with your paws rooted to the ground forever. Cats are starting to look at you funny.”

Talltail looked over his shoulder and saw Heatherstar had glanced in his direction. She blinked questioningly at him, as he stood a couple fox-lengths from her den. He dipped his head to her awkwardly and turned away.

He was never going to get Heatherstar’s blessing. It was foolish to try. He didn’t have the guts to tell her to her face what he was planning to do, because he had to do it no matter what she said. No worthy warrior would think of it, but he never felt like a worthy warrior to begin with. Perhaps the faster he did what he wanted to do, the faster she could forget about him. If WindClan continued on when they lost two great and noble warriors in Sandstone and Brackenwing...then losing one like him was nothing they could not move on from. He padded away.

chapter list / previous / next

#cw depression #cw self loathing #FRU29 #chapter 29

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter One (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of trauma

wc; 8.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Well, it’s been five years since you won the Hunger Games.

What an anniversary.

It honestly feels like you won them yesterday. You can recall all your memories as if it hasn’t been years since you stepped foot inside of the arena. Which is no doubt a bad thing. Before you’d ended your therapy a while ago, the therapist told you that you’re holding onto trauma. It’s not going to go away overnight. In fact, they wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t go away at all.

Which Reed didn’t like to hear at all, of course. The whole reason he’d gotten you into therapy was to work at you getting better. Unfortunately, neither of you would be reaching that goal. Not with how demanding the boarding school would get as the years would come on.

At first, you thought that everything you’d written down at the very beginning would be enough to suffice. However, the more you think about everything that you’d been through, the more that the details become clearer. Suddenly you’re remembering things that hadn’t existed in the first place.

Reed and Mox hate this habit of yours. They thought you would have buried and left it behind by now. But it’s impossible to do. You’re responsible for hundreds of kids and teenagers. The more you remember at this point, the more they’re able to learn from your mistakes and fix it themselves.

With every passing year, and bringing home a new pair of coffins, you can’t focus on yourself anymore. You think that every year is going to be different and new, that the tributes going in that year are a pair of winners for sure. But then you’re stunned right back into embarrassed silence.

District Four is being forgotten. Once again, you’re questioning why it was ever considered a career in the first place. You can’t produce victors, no matter how hard you try.

It’s frustrating, and almost not worth your time anymore.

Anchor thinks that he’s fixed the problem, though. The both of you know better than anyone that the training centers in the career districts typically train their tributes for years. There’s a reason why their volunteers are seventeen and eighteen, rarely ever sixteen. It’s because they’ve spent years training to be where they are, and they’re sure that they’ll win.

So, you switched up the rules this year. No one under the age of seventeen that goes to the boarding school is allowed to volunteer to go into the Hunger Games. If you’re chosen by chance and want to go in, that’s their deal. The only instance where it’ll be ruined is if someone else volunteers over them. If anyone over seventeen wants to go in, that’s their choice to make. Not the boarding school.

Of course, there’s no guarantee what will happen because of this. You’ve been getting at least one volunteer a year since the boarding school opened. But they’ve always been on the younger side, and have only been in the program for a year or so. They could win, but they’re not nearly as knowledgeable as the teens that have been in the program for years.

They’ve been able to watch and observe the mistakes of others. You think that if one of the seventeen or eighteen year olds that signed up when they were twelve or thirteen were to volunteer, they’d blow the competition out of the water. Show the Capitol and the career districts that you’re coming back for a round two. Bigger and better than ever.

Then again, the seventeen and eighteen year olds never express interest in volunteering because they’re nearly out. One or two years and they’re finally free of the reapings. No one would willingly throw themselves into an arena when they’re on the brink of being away from it. The chances of accidentally getting yourself killed in the arena is always an outcome, prepared or not.

Either way, you hope this year is different and you’re able to break the four-year streak of double coffins.

You head downstairs, fingers still securing the pin in a reliable spot in your hair. When it doesn’t budge no matter how you move your head, you call it good.

Downstairs is already awake. Reed is cooking breakfast, Mox is probably sitting at the table. You can faintly hear the sound of Alyssum talking. It’s only as you reach the bottom creaking steps, does she realize that you’re awake.

“(Y/n)!” She shouts, abandoning what she was saying before.

You find yourself crouching to look into the tiny mirror in an alcove. The pin doesn’t look out of place, in fact you can’t really see it at first glance. Only when you go to touch it, do you find where it is.

Alyssum comes around the corner, a wide smile on her face. It’s clear she hasn’t done her hair yet, waiting on you.

“Where’s your stuff?” You ask.

“Bathroom.” She says.

“Okay, let’s get it done real quick.” You push her towards the bathroom, “We’ll be in there in a minute!”

“No rush.”

You carefully comb through Alyssum’s hair, being gentle when you find snarls. Even if she were in pain, you know that she wouldn’t voice it unless it really hurt. Doesn’t mean that you purposely go ripping the brush through her hair like Reed used to do. You tie her long hair to the back of her neck, and then you loosen it up to make it look better.

“Can you tie this over the rubber band? I’m trying to match with Laleh.”

Alyssum holds up a silk white ribbon. If she had asked you to do this last year, you would have had to tell her no. Naida had to teach you how to do a variety of hairstyles for the boarding school. Sometimes the younger girls aren’t able to tie their hair back, and sometimes they don’t want it to be a ponytail.

Needless to say, you’re starting to feel like a mother. Once the bow is tight over the band, you hold her in front of the mirror, staring into her eyes, “If the bow comes undone, go to Naida or Calandra, stay far away from Reed and Mox, okay?”

She nods once, you let her free so that she can join your brothers at the dining table while you clean up the bathroom counter. It’s a quiet morning, no one really speaks at the table, which isn’t unusual for reaping mornings. Alyssum tends to get upset because you won’t be at the house for several weeks, and you’re already stressing out about what the arena will be like this year.

You know that things would be so much easier in the Capitol if you just had a partner that worked with you. Finnick does absolutely nothing, you’re not even sure if he stays in the apartment half of the time. You never see him, rarely in the morning, you think you hear him leave at night.

He won’t help, he won’t trade with Anchor. You’ve asked him, Anchor has asked him, even Mags has asked him. If he would just give up his mentoring spot to Anchor, you’re sure that you’d come out with a few victors. When you’re doing all the work by yourself, it’s chaotic.

It’s hard to hold a schedule. You’re running between the stylists and prep teams, constantly taking advice from Elysia. When you’re not keeping an eye on the tributes, you’re watching their odds on the scoreboard go up and down depending on how much the sponsors like them. And then when they’re actually inside of the arena, you’re staying up all hours of the night to not miss a single thing. Just in case you miraculously come across a sponsor that sees potential in one of the tributes.

Not to mention the whole boarding school, which is a whole new ordeal. He comes up with the idea, promises to be there to help train no matter what. But after he broke up with you that year, he gradually stopped showing up. So now, the future tributes of District Four are not only out of a valuable side of a story, but they’re also dealing with two overworked victors who just want one break.

It’s bouncing between you and Anchor, sometimes even Mags will have to take over for a day. Which isn’t much help, considering the stroke she had last year. She tried speech therapy, but figured out that it wasn’t working as well as it should early on. Mags gave up on it, the only way she communicates anymore is through notes.

How is that going to work? You’ve got hundreds of teens and preteens relying on an old woman that can’t even speak. Her techniques are out of date, as well as Luther and Scotch. The kids have better chances with you, Finnick and Anchor. Anchor hasn’t been inside of the arena for ten years, and the kids have heard your two strategies a hundred times by now.

If Finnick were to just help. Just a little bit, you’re sure that it would make a difference. But he has such a vendetta against you or the tributes because he won’t budge. You’re fucked, he’s backed you into this impossible corner. Every year since you two won, you’ve brought home double coffins. It’s fucking embarassing. You don’t know how District Four was ever considered a career.

It’s childish, he’s so childish. He hasn’t kept his promise and he’s weaseled his way out of it every single time. And you keep letting him get away with it.

It clicks.

You keep letting him get away with it, you’re not holding him accountable. He doesn’t fall through on his promises because you don’t push them onto him. And when he tells you no, you back off because you think that there’s no point in trying. He hasn’t made an effort in the past, why would he make one when you ask.

You press your lips together, smiling. This year is already supposed to be an experiment to see what happens with the tributes. If everything goes well with this year’s tributes, you think that you’ll try something new yourself.

“We have to stop by Naida’s place before heading over to the stage.” Reed says, standing from the table, taking his plate with him, “We can take Alyssum with us.”

“Okay.” you agree, standing up too. Mox cleans up the rest of the table, taking it into the kitchen to help Reed.

Alyssum comes over, throwing her arms around you tightly. You hug her back, being careful not to ruin her hair, “I’ll be back in a few weeks. Promise me that you’ll be good for Reed and Mox.”

“I promise.” her voice is muffled, face pressed to your stomach.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” you lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She lets go of you, a frown on her face. But it doesn’t look like she’s going to be crying this year, “I’m leaving!”

“See you later!” Reed shouts back.

You leave the house, shutting the door behind you. As you squint through the bright summer sun, you head down the stone steps and to the left, towards the opening of Victor's Village. This year it’s Anchor’s turn to walk Mags to the stage, since you did it last year. Since they’re relatively slow, though, you’re sure that you’ll be able to catch up in no time.

You’re right, you come across Anchor and Mags more than halfway to the stage. It seems like Mags is doing just fine walking on her own, and Anchor is talking to her. Anchor hears you approaching pretty far back and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s you.

“Good morning!” you jog to catch up, “I see you got an early start today.”

“Haha, shut up.” Anchor says, but cracks up when you do.

Anchor goes back to what he was talking about, and you quickly find out that it’s about the boarding school. It’s an in-depth explanation about your plan this year. Mags knew the basics, but now it’s all about details. You’ll be lucky if you get two tributes that showed promise during training. Otherwise, you’re left with the gamble of the reaping bowls.

Luther and Scotch have already beaten you to the stage when you get there. No Finnick in sight, which you can’t say that you’re surprised about. The five of you get on the stage, leaving the far left seat for Finnick to take when he gets here. Mayor Burrula comes on stage, getting ready to take his spot in front of the podium.

The reaping area in front of you fills. There’s familiar faces in all the age categories, in your mind, you count all the seventeen and eighteen year olds that you know go to the boarding school. It’s a fair amount, most of them are really good at what they know, especially the ones that have been with you for a couple of years now. None of which have ever expressed an interest in volunteering, though. And if they did, it was never to you or Anchor.

Finnick finally shows up when it’s five minutes out from reaping time. The moment after he sits down in his chair, he scoots it two inches away from you. It’s his own personal yearly tradition… on top of all the other ones of neglecting his mentoring duties.

After the anthem, Mayor Burrula kicks off the reaping with the annual Dark Days speech. It’s boring, you try to look awake. As a joke, you can hear Anchor mocking soft snores. You crack a smile, shaking your head when you elbow him to get him to shut up. Burrula wraps the speech up, introduces Elysia as if she hasn’t been District Four’s Capitol escort for the past couple of years, and then sits back down.

She smiles as she does every year, standing in front of the microphone, “Good afternoon, and Happy Hunger Games. Ladies first.”

You hold your breath, all previous emotion draining out of your body. She heads over to the bowl, her gloved hand dipping into the bowl. She hesitates over the paper, trying to find one that’ll hold the golden tribute. If you have a girl volunteer this year, it’s not going to matter. She could pick a twelve year-old and they could be replaced by a seventeen or eighteen year-old.

She picks one, carefully pulls her hand out of the bowl, and resumes her spot in front of the microphone. She takes her time peeling off the black tape, not wanting to rip the paper. She reads over the name, and with the distance between you and her, you’re not able to see the name.

Still, you mentally cross your fingers. It’s a new year, a new plan. Please, please, please.

“District Four’s girl tribute is Shilin Brisby.” Elysia pronounces the name carefully, and then looks up to the section of girls.

The name isn’t familiar, and there’s no movement in the girl section. You wait, leaning forward slightly to see if the crowd will out her. But before that can happen, the magic words are being shouted, “I volunteer!”

In the eighteen section, out comes a brown-haired girl with a confident smile on her face. The peacekeepers escort her from the way back to the very front. She takes the stone steps easily, tucking her hair behind her ear so that she can see where she’s stepping.

Her name comes across your lips quickly, “Annie Cresta.”

She’s been with the boarding school since she was thirteen, which is five whole years of experience. Five whole years of training, of watching her start out small and hardly able to defend herself, to career-worthy. She’s still not very strong, but she’s resourceful, and smart.

She stops in front of the girl’s bowl, standing up tall. She let’s Elysia ask for her name, which she repeats for everyone in District Four and in the Capitol. You can’t help the grin that comes across your face. This is the year of change.

“And now for the boys.” Elysia says, moving over to the bowl on the right. She carefully pulls out this paper too, not as hesitant as before. She when stops in front of the microphone again, the tape comes off easier. She reads over it, and then speaks, “District Four’s boy tribute is Paslee Milillio.”

There’s no gap this time. You can see a hand shoot up in the seventeen section faster than the words leave his mouth, “I volunteer as tribute!”

You breathe out a laugh, covering your mouth. This one is an easy guess, Marsh Milillio never stops talking about how his younger brother, Paslee, is going to be the next victor prodigy. Paslee’s thirteen this year, he’s been with you guys for a year. And he does show promise, so Marsh isn’t lying.

Marsh gets brought up to the stage, stops in front of his bowl and says his name clear into the microphone. Two volunteers, two very good tributes. This year, the golden beam of light is on District Four.

Elysia wraps it up, wishes for a Happy Hunger Games again, and then backs up to allow Annie and Marsh to shake hands. They do, and you can see that Annie has this smirk on her face, something mischievous. You can only imagine how Marsh is looking at the moment, especially since they’re friends.

Once they’re done, they have to face the district again as the anthem plays for the final time. When the anthem is over, they’re brought inside of the building to say goodbye to their families. You’re supposed to take a minute or two saying your own goodbyes, or head straight to the train to make sure that you leave on time.

You stand, a bright smile on your face, “Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuck this up.” Anchor says, he’s got a grin going, “Please.”

“Holy shit!” you repeat, laughing, “Annie and Marsh? Talk about striking gold!”

It’s going to be an easy year. They understand the rules, they know how to color inside of the lines. You’re not going to have to baby them at all. Not even Marsh, even though he’s seventeen. You’ll be able to focus on more important things.

You give Anchor a hug, and then Mags too. You tell Anchor that he should probably visit the families, and then hold a celebration at the boarding school the night of the interviews. You wave goodbye to your family, who are hanging out on the outskirts of the reaping pen, and then go to meet the car that’s waiting for you.

Finnick is already inside, looking out of the window. The car takes off towards the train as soon as the door is shut. On the way to the train, you work on how you’re going to uphold the deal you made with yourself when it comes to Finnick. You’re not going to let him wreck it. He’s going to help, or he’s going to regret it.

You and Finnick head right inside. As Finnick does every year, he heads straight towards his room. He only makes it one step before you’ve got an iron lock on his wrist, keeping him from going any further.

He turns, confused, eyes trained on your expressionless face.

They say that time heals all wounds. That the longer you put the problem off, you’ll eventually forget about it, and it’ll magically evaporate and disappear like it never existed in the first place. But they’re wrong. Time has let you grow bitter and angry and tired and cold.

The last time you talked to Finnick was years ago, when he told you for the final time that he wouldn’t be participating anymore. To leave him alone and let him do his own thing inside of the Capitol. The mentoring responsibility is now yours, consider him a ghost.

He owes you.

“Work with me this year.” The words aren’t harsh, and they even leave a little room for discussion. A part of you wants to add the word ‘please’ to the end, but you won’t be begging.

“What?” His face twists, and you can see the annoyance before it’s even appeared, “I thought we went over this already. The answer is no.”

You’re not begging. You’re also not backing down. You’re holding him to his promise this year. And if that means getting aggressive and mean, he’s about to meet a new side of you.

You face drops, hand tightening around his wrist. You lift, and pull him closer to you. Finnick might have height, but you have strength through persistence, “Let me rephrase; you’re working with me this year. It’s not a question.”

“You say that now, but you can’t make me do anything.” He twists his wrist, trying to get it free, “Let go.”

You inhale through your nose, keeping your voice quiet and level so that the microphones outside won’t pick you up, “You will help me this year, or you will wish you died in that fucking arena. I’ll make an example out of you, Finnick. You think it’s bad now, wait until I make you the punchline of the fucking joke.”

You yank him closer, he stutters to catch himself so that he doesn’t smack into you, “Your free trial is over. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.” He’s glaring, pissed. You let go, pushing him back in the process, “You can hide and wallow in your room now, but when we get to the Capitol, shit changes. Whether you like it or not.

“You’re under me. And you’re working for me, on my terms this year. Don’t like it? Cry me a fucking river.”

You hear the car doors outside of the train, slam shut. The tributes are here, you don’t need to be here waiting when they come inside.

“Clocks ticking, Finnick. You’ve got less than twelve hours to do what you want before your free time is mine.”

“You’re so fucking cocky. Last time I checked, I’m my own person. You can’t tell me what to do.” Finnick shakes his head, face scrunched, a slight shade of red, “Maybe this shit would have flown with Anchor, but I’m not your fucking boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not. And I’m ashamed you ever had that title in the first place. At least Anchor is fucking reliable.” You spit, and you physically see his face fall. Whatever he wanted to say next doesn’t appear on his lips, “I’ve grown up, Finnick. I’ve shouldered all of your bullshit for the past couple of years, and you’re telling me you can’t pull it together just once? It’s garbage.

“I’ve given you your space. Now it’s time to own up or get off of the fucking program. I’m not dealing with this for the next fifty years. I’d rather die before then.” You stop walking, “Once again, you’re helping me this year, or you’re going to regret it. You can think of it as an empty threat, but I’ve had years to get creative.”

He doesn’t say anything back, just leaves the train car. You let him get a headstart, not wanting to have to walk side by side with him to your rooms. By the time you start walking too, the tributes are just ending their time on the station. You leave before they see you, and take your time taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

You don’t get angry often. It’s hard to be when you’re normally surrounded by people who take the circumstances you live in, seriously. Anchor helps and keeps you company, your family friends keep you grounded, your siblings are a reminder as to why you won in the first place. All of them are working for the better, the only one ruining the current is Finnick. Go fucking figure.

In your room, you lay down on the bed and close your eyes. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, and before midnight you should be inside of the Capitol. Tomorrow is the Tribute Parade, the starting point and the decider of how the rest of the trip will go. All you can do right now is hope.

You end up dozing off, only being woken when Elysia comes to the door to bring you to the table before the tributes. You get up, fixing your hair on the way to the dining room. You’re the only one at the table when you get there, and you don’t wait for everyone to show up. You’re no psychic, but you’re pretty sure that Finnick won’t be eating with you guys this evening.

Annie and Marsh take the only real seats that are offered to them. Annie to your right, Marsh to hers. The only chair that’s empty is the one across from you, where Finnick would normally sit. And of course, to your left is Elysia, always sitting at the head since she’s the escort.

Like how Elysia warned you during your train ride to the Capitol for the first time, she tells Annie and Marsh to ration out their hunger. The food will keep coming, and the portion sized will only get bigger as time goes on. You go ahead and tell them--like you tell the tributes every year--that the food is rich too, so they probably shouldn’t eat large portions anyway.

“Finnick didn’t look very happy.” Elysia says, she’s obviously talking to you.

“We spoke for a couple of minutes.” you dip your spoon into the bowl of soup, “If I were him, I’d be pretty pissed off too, but it’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”

Elysia nods, “Any big changes this year?”

You look at her, “I’m going to have an extra pair of hands, I don’t think that I’ll be running around this year.”

Elysia’s smart, she gets what you’re saying almost immediately. You watch the small smile spread over her face, but she doesn’t say anything more about the topic itself, “I suppose some attendants can run him some food.”

You finish up dinner, and then have a little bit of lava cave for dessert. Annie and Marsh are full, but not to the point where they’re going to be sick. So, you all pack it up and bring it to the next train car to watch the reaping recap. You let Annie and Marsh take the seats they want on the couch, but you stand behind it with Elysia.

You’ve grown to realize that sitting down during important events like this, makes you more nervous. It’s more or less the reason why you hate sitting during the reaping.

You watch and observe, listening to what Annie and Marsh have to say about their competitors. They don’t seem all that worried, honestly. They guess strengths and weaknesses, forming a plan of their own. A part of you wonders if they had the reaping planned out, if they made a deal to volunteer together. Like you said, they’re friends. It makes the most sense.

The obvious kids to keep an eye on, as per usual, is Districts One and Two. As the years go on, the more the tributes look vicious. Last year was a fucking nightmare when it came to watching them killing the other tributes around them. It’s no surprise they won, considering they were a fucking tornado in a playground.

“We’d like to be mentored together.” Annie says, looking over her shoulder at you.

Elysia left after the first time they played the recap, she saw all that she needed to. You vaguely remember her mentioning something about checking up on Finnick to make sure he’s eaten. It’s whatever, if he wants to start off on the wrong foot, it’s him that’s going to be regretting it, not you.

“Sounds good to me. Got a plan going on yet?” you cross your arms, eyes landing right back onto the screen in front of them.

“Marsh and I are allies, we think that’s going to work out the best.” she says, “Right?”

Marsh nods in agreement.

“This is your time to shine, not mine.” you raise your eyebrows, “We should arrive in the Capitol in the next few hours. We’ll start getting down to business tomorrow morning. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.” Marsh says.

“You should probably shower if you haven’t already, and get to bed. You’ll need all the sleep you can get, tomorrow’s going to be exhausting. You can find your rooms?” you get ready to go.

“Yes, thank you.” Annie says.

“Goodnight.” you start your way to the door, nearly leaving when Annie calls your name, “Hmm?”

She’s got a sheepish smile on her face, “Thank you for training us.”

“You’re going to be excellent inside of the arena, you two.”

Back in your room, you lay out the clothes you’ll wear when you get to the Capitol. You take a shower, starting off standing and soaking in the warm water. Which you eventually turn hotter, and sit on the floor while it rains on you. For a while, you stare at the granite tile, but end up placing your head on your knees.

You can’t let these kids down. You’ve worked with them for four and five years, you’ve grown to know them. You watched them grow and become better at their chosen skills. You know their families, and you know that if you lose both of them this year, the whole boarding school is a joke. You’ve been working towards this idea for the past five years. You should’ve had it perfected years ago, yet here you are, still going through the trial and error process.

“Please, let one of them win this year.” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut, “Just one of them, either of them. One of them has to come home. One beacon of hope to keep me going, please.”

You sit there for a while longer, until your fingers begin to prune. You dry your hair and gently tie it out of your face. After you’ve gotten dressed and brushed your teeth, you sit in the corner of the room, staring out of the window, watching as the sky darkens further. And then you see the lights of the city.

You gather your things out of the room, folding the outfit you wore, and then tucking it into a canvas bag. You make sure that the ring is on your finger before you leave the room behind. You’re the first to make it to the train car, arms crossed and still staring out of the window as you wait for the others.

Finnick shows up next, standing on the far side of the room, quiet as ever. Elysia brings Annie and Marsh around, just in time for the train to stop. The cheering of the Capitol citizens starts immediately, loud clapping and whistling and shouting their names.

Since there’s cameras, Annie and Marsh leave the train with Elysia first. You and Finnick follow, getting your own car. And even though the tributes left before you did, your car makes it to the Tribute Center first. Knowing that Elysia will make sure that they’re signed in properly, you and Finnick head straight to the apartment.

The elevator is quiet, tense, “Marsh is seventeen years old. He’s been in the boarding school since he was thirteen, just like Annie. They’ve decided to be allies, they know each other well. He’s good at fighting, I’ve seen him against the others, he’ll be able to measure up to the others in the gymnasium.”

You run your finger along the silver handle inside of the elevator, briefly wondering if people actually use it or not, “Annie is eighteen. She’s smart, quick on her feet. She’s reliable when it comes to recalling survival skills. She looks like she doesn’t have a lot when it comes to fighting, but that’s only the surface. Annie will never choose violence as her first choice, but as a last resort, she’s deadly.”

You look to Finnick to see that he’s already got his eyes on you, watching. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s planning on telling you that he’s not going to follow your plans. He might as well save his breath, because he’s going to listen. He might think he has an option now, but you know how to work around problems.

The elevator reaches the Four floor, “Goodnight, I’ll see you at the table tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it.” He says, following behind you loosely.

“You should be dressed and ready before noon. I trust you can find your way to the Tribute Parade by yourself.” You pause, and then look at him, “If not, I could walk you there.”

Finnick stops right next to you, angry and leaning over you like he’s trying to intimidate you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you slip out from underneath him. You hop up the last step, practically skipping as you round the corner to go to your room for the next.

You don’t scare easily.

You change into comfier clothes and then go straight to bed. With the blankets pulled to your chin, you’re out in no time. You wake up on your own time, since Elysia doesn’t really have to baby you anymore. After laying out your clothes, you take a shower and make sure to not touch your hair.

You’re the second person out in the dining room, with Elysia already at the table. She’s drinking her coffee quietly, eyes on the tv in the living room. It’s loud enough to hear from where you sit, and it’s just an overview of last year's tribute parade and costumes. The woman talking is definitely not Claudius or Caesar, so you know it’s going to be a good morning.

“Laurel sent word early this morning, said she’d like to see you as soon as possible before the Tribute Parade.” Elysia says, setting her mug on the table, “I’ll get the kids up.”

“Thank you.” you say to her, and then repeat it for the avoxes when they begin to bring out breakfast.

Annie comes out first, looking fairly put together. She gives you a polite smile and sits by you at the table, “Good morning.”

You nod, eyes on the tv, watching as the woman skips over the first two districts. Their outfits tend to be the same thing every year. It’s a comfort for District One to dress their tributes in expensive fabric and make them look as Capitol-ish as possible. As for District Two, it’s always a gladiator thing, it’s just a different variation this year.

And even with how boring it is, they still manage to come out as the favorite every single year. For a city that loves the adventure and the unpredictability of the Hunger Games, they’re pretty boring when it comes to allowing the careers to do the same thing every year. At least District Four has the brains to try something new, even if it doesn’t work all the time.

Elysia comes back out, taking a seat at the table, “Marsh will join us in a moment.”

If Laurel wants to talk to you, it’s probably about the costumes. She knows what she wants, but sometimes seeks out advice if she’s caught between two ideas. No matter what happens, Pleurisy will have to match her, and she won’t object to changes. Laurel is older than Pleurisy, which sort-of got her a certain amount of respect from Pleurisy.

It makes Laurel’s job a whole lot easier, you think. They have to match costumes at the Tribute Parade, and it’s better if you coordinate the formal outfits for the night of the interviews. Especially if the tributes are going to be working together inside of the arena. Laurel’s a sure person, if she wants it, she’s going to get it. She’s also a visionary, likes to see her works come to life.

Right after breakfast, you should get down there quickly so she isn’t waiting for long. If you’re making a costume decision, then the prep teams are going to need to be able to shift to fit the new needs. As soon as Marsh is out here, you’ll say what you need to and then go. You can always eat later if you’re hungry.

Marsh comes out of the hallway, barely awake but he looks as put together as Annie does. You wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin, finish up your orange juice, and neatly stack up your plates for the avoxes to take.

“Today is the Tribute Parade.” you start, catching their attention, “After breakfast, Elysia will take you down to the Remake Center. The prep teams will take care of you, no matter what happens, don’t resist or complain. Let them do their jobs, they have rules to follow.” you stand up from the table, “I’ll see you again before you get on the chariots.”

You’re about to tell them that if they have any questions, they should ask Elysia. But Finnick comes down the steps, heading straight for the dining table. It’s perfect timing on his part, you get ready to leave, “If you have any questions, Finnick will have the answers. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

His eyes meet yours, already glaring. He doesn’t turn around and go back to his room like you halfway expected, but sits at the table and waits to be served. You think that he won’t let the tributes down, so you go ahead and leave. If Finnick doesn’t step up, Elysia will gladly do it.

Laurel and Pleurisy are standing in the hallway with the prep teams when you get there. They open up to make a space for you to stand, and you patiently wait as Laurel finishes telling Annie’s prep team what they’ll be doing with Annie. The basic stuff, some extra points if they have the time to later on. You know what the team will make room for the extra stuff either way.

Pleurisy is doing the same thing with Marsh’s team, but it’s not as heinous. They’ll find a way to draw out Marsh’s grooming so that Annie and him finish around the same time. Just so Marsh doesn’t sit around and wait for the Tribute Parade to come around.

Once they’re done, the magical opinion question is brought to the table. Laurel shows you the two options this year, and immediately you can see why she was caught between them. The first option is based off the coral reef, with bright colors and shelves that stick out in places that aren’t awkward. You know that this would be an eye-catcher, and there’s not a spot of blue to be found.

The second option is something less interesting; ropes. Brown nets that’ll be strategically placed around their bodies to make them seem dressed, but really they’ll practically be naked. The only reason this could ever appear to the Capitol citizens is because of a nearly revealed tribute. Which they’ve seen hundreds of times by now.

“Definitely the coral reef. The colors are bright and might even drown out everyone else a bit.” they back away from you, looking pleased, “It’s bold, though.”

“They’ll look amazing by the end of it. We’ve got big plans for them.” Laurel then turns to the prep teams, “Get ready to receive the tributes.” the teams scatter, leaving just you three in the hallway, “Elysia tells me you’ve got Finnick working this year.”

“Not just yet.” you admit, gently shaking your head, “He’s not very happy, I’m going to start slow but by the time the games roll around, he’ll be under my thumb. I can handle the week in the Capitol, but I start to spread myself thin when the tributes get in the arena.”

“Will he be at the parade?” Pleurisy asks.

“Should be. If not, it’s not that big of a deal.”

You spend the rest of the morning with the stylists, following them around, watching as they prepare the costumes. As it nears noon, you get word that the tributes are just about done, which means you three have to scatter. You bid them goodbye, and head back to the apartment to have lunch before meeting the tributes below the Remake Center.

The whole place feels empty, with no sign of Elysia anywhere in the common rooms, and lord knows where Finnick is. You turn the tv on again to hear what Caesar and Claudius have to say about last year’s costumes, and the predictions for this year. You sit at the table, and eat quietly, trying not to hate the Capitol anymore than you already do.

Even after you’re done eating, you sit at the table for a while. Which seems to pay off in the end, as the mystery of where Finnick’s been the entire time, is solved. Still leaves the question on where Elysia is. But if you were to take a guess now, when the Tribute Parade is less than thirty minutes off, she’s probably with the stylists so that she’s on time to the parade.

You lean your head against your hand and watch as Finnick takes his time making his way up the stairs. He’s obviously trying to avoid talking to you, because if he doesn’t look in your direction, you’re probably not going to bother him. At least, that’s what he thinks. Unfortunately, you know how to play mind games and have a fair amount of patience.

The constant silence seems to make him curious enough to look anyway. His eyes lock with yours, he stops moving up the steps. As the staring contest begins, you can see the guilt in his eyes. But as quick as it appeared, it’s suddenly gone. It doesn’t matter, because you’ve seen everything that you needed to already.

You give him a smile, “There’s fifteen minutes before the parade. Plenty of time to get cleaned up, and go, so you might as well.”

“You were waiting here for me?” he asks, face twisting.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I just ate lunch.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the tv.

He leaves, you watch as the stands fill with bright colors and animated Capitol people. To think that it feels like yesterday you were the one rolling through the street, dressed as a marble statue straight out of Atlantis. You can still remember the way your stomach twisted right as the chariots began to move.

As the years have come and gone, you’ve become more used to the cameras. Whether you like it or not, the Capitol will always be with you. They might not follow you around in District Four anymore, but they sure do keep tabs on you when the games roll around. What is (Y/n) doing this year? You’re sure they noticed your happy expressions during the reapings when Annie and Marsh volunteered. You wonder if they were suspicious that you weren’t really surprised.

You can’t say you’ll be as indifferent when the games roll around. It’s going to be harder to hold yourself together, as it is every year. And if Marsh or Annie win? It’s going to be a celebration, there’s not a single doubt about it. And depending on what happens in the arena exactly, especially with the other careers, you’ll be rubbing it in.

Finnick comes out when it hits ten minutes. He doesn’t look all that different, just less disheveled than he had started as. You and him take the elevator down below the Remake Center, and you’re able to see that there’s a handful of tributes here already, waiting by their chariots.

Annie and Marsh are dressed brilliantly. As always, Laurel knows what she’s doing, and she’s managed to make it look like they could easily blend into the reefs themselves, if they wanted to. Annie’s hair is done up in braids, with bright colors weaved in and out. As a headpiece, she’s got an orange reef hair comb tucked in neatly.

The colors on their bodies are strategically placed to make them blend into each other. Annie’s got a dress that bells out at the bottom, with unique, hand-painted designs that must have taken hours. Even Marsh has brightly colored makeup around his eyes, smeared with colored glitter mixed in.

“Huh.” Finnick lets out, “You picked this?”

“This is not what was sketched out.” you look at him, raising your eyebrows, “But it’s pretty cool, huh?”

You elbow him slightly, and then head over to Annie and Marsh, “You guys look amazing!”

Annie turns, giving you a red-faced smile. Marsh on the other hand, rolls his eyes and picks at the coral band on his arm. Since they can’t do special effects on the tributes, as the chemicals might irritate his skin, the stylists have to get creative with how they get props to stick onto the tributes. It typically turns out to be tight bands like the ones Marsh is wearing. It doesn’t cut off circulation, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

With this, Pleurisy slaps Marsh’s hand to get him to stop fiddling with the band. If he messes it up now, it’ll have to come off completely. There’s absolutely no time to go back and fix anything that he might fuck up. Marsh seems to catch the clue though, because he laces his fingers together and tries not to touch anything else.

The opening music starts, notifying you that it’s time to get the tributes onto their chariots. Laurel and Pleurisy shift anything that needs to be moved, and then they’re making Marsh and Annie get onto the chariot. You watch as they shift around, finding the way they’ll be standing for the parade.

“Any tips?” Annie asks hopefully.

“Follow your gut.” you say, “If you feel like smiling or waving, do it. This is your time to set what you’ll be like for the rest of the Capitol trip. As soon as you’re in the arena, it can go away.”

They don’t ask any questions, and even if they had any, their time is up. The doors behind them have finished opening, District One’s chariot is starting to move. You and the others back off, wishing the tributes good luck. You’re all subjected to watching the chariots on the tv.

You cross your arms, yawning slightly. You’re ready for the day to be over, at least the next three days or so is going to be slow. All you really have to do is get up and make yourself presentable until they’re shipped to the Training Center. The only real working day is the one the day before the interviews. And that’s because you’re going to be figuring out how you can help them be ready for the interview.

Annie and Marsh seem to be in their element for the most part. Annie is obviously shy, Marsh doesn’t mind it at all. She waves and smiles and does just as much as Marsh does. They stop in the City Circle, the anthem plays, President Snow gives his speech, the chariots go around the circle one last time, and then come back.

“Not bad.” you say to yourself, “Not bad at all.”

You leave Finnick standing there, giving the tributes a wide grin. The prep teams are already singing praises, so there’s not much to say. Muchless room to say it. Elysia thinks that they’ve had an influence on the Capitol already, which is a relief. As long as they’re drawing in some attention, you’re good.

Back inside of the Four floor, your tributes head off to take their showers. Finnick meanders around the rooms, you settle onto the couch in the living room, watching the chariot rides again. As always, Claudius and Caesar have been captivated by District One and Two’s amazing stylists. They barely make a comment about District Four.

You end up with your head in your hands. You know that just because the moderators didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean that other people didn’t take a closer look. But their biased opinion tends to have an effect on people after a while. Continue to make dim comments about districts, and you’ll end up like District Twelve.

No one wants to be District Twelve.

Dinner with everyone--with the exception of the prep teams--is enough to keep you awake. You go ahead and indulge yourself in red wine, trying to seem like you’re enjoying yourself. As soon as the alcohol sets in, making your head spin a little, you go ahead and give it up. You’re not really a drinker, anyway.

As soon as the cake is served, you’re sure that dinner is pretty much over. You go and watch the replay of the parade again, Elysia goes ahead and tells you guys what the people she’d talk to said. It’s all very good things, and you begin to suspect that she’s just being nice for the tributes.

“Don’t give them false hope.” you say, cutting her off completely, “Claudius and Caesar did nothing for us. Annie and Marsh have to do good on their training scores, and even better during the interviews if they want to make a lasting impression.” you look at the tributes, “The pressure of performing well has only just begun.

“You guys should get to bed, we’ll see you at breakfast for instructions. Try to get a good night of sleep.”

Annie thanks Laurel on her way out, Marsh barely does the same. You absently watch the tv while you wait for them to be gone completely. Finnick’s already gathering his things, “I’ve got to go.”

“Be there at breakfast, I’ll fill you in the best I can.” you tell him.

“Sure.”

He leaves too, and you’re left there with Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy.

“You know how to clear a room.” Laurel says, you crack a smile.

“Well you wanted to talk.” you look at them, “So let’s get to talking.”

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

i’m an idiot. i screw everything up.

Titans 3.03

still here, still doing this. these reviews take a fair bit of time that i cobble together across days (like, ten minute chunks during breaks, etc) and i tend to struggle to keep up with episodes as they come out. this means that by the time i’m done with one, most of my stuff is jossed (or geoffed in this case? idk) or outdated and the post sinks like a stone into oblivion. so! i’m going to change things up a bit with this one and write as i see the episode rather than collecting my thoughts later. in my experience with spn, that was a faster way to get them done.

anyway. let’s see how it goes! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS ahead.

1. an auspicious start with some grave-digging!

digging up a grave and breaking open a coffin is some serious, back-breaking work--that dick did it on his own, likely straight after that fight with red hood, is a testament to the sheer intensity, stamina and discipline that he’s capable of. like, we like to joke about dick cooking cauliflower crust pizzas and making gar and rachel spar and memorise sun tzu--and despair at the obvious consequences of some of bruce’s parenting skills--but imagine crime-fighting almost daily without any superpowers, performing some of the most intense parkour in bulky, uncomfortable armour, doing detective work, pushing through every last barrier of exhaustion and then getting up to repeat it all over again the next day. dick probably thought he was going extra-easy on rachel and gar.

1.5. then again, dick probably had a hundred different easier ways to confirm whether jason was still buried or not, from using equipment to merely asking connor to have a quick look with his x-ray vision. but, no, he’s too caught up in confusion and terror, not really having come to terms with jason’s death in the first place, leave alone the possibility that he could be alive after all. he can’t possibly let the others know until he’s confirmed it himself, even if it means digging all through the night until his arms are jelly, thinking over and over again about jason’s eyes, jason’s voice, from behind that red mask.

... besides, dick has good reason to believe that he could’ve been hallucinating. wouldn’t be his first psychotic episode, after all.

that just imbues this sweaty, desperate, fingers-scrabbling-in-gravedirt scene with that much more poignancy, and a fair bit of bone-chilling terror. dick is horrified to realise that jason’s grave is empty, but a part of him is also probably relieved.

1.75 (... also it’s curious that we’re never shown any of the team asking to see jason’s grave after they come to wayne manor. i guess it’s because the writers--and the audience--know that jason is actually alive, but these people don’t know that. i don’t know if it’s sad or infuriating or both that they’re barely shown mourning him.)

2. oh GOD the sheer TENSION in kory saying, “i don’t want to say it, but--” and dick quickly interrupting, “it was jason. i saw him,” and hank giving him this loaded sidelong glance. i love how dick’s precarious mental health from last season is still this big elephant in the room but at least nobody’s blowing up in his face and questioning his every decision yet

2.25. i love the relative matter-of-factness with which they’re discussing a possible resurrection. and, of course, ra’s al ghul is brought up and quickly dismissed

(still wouldn’t put it past this show to bring him up at the very last second as the real real mastermind)

2.5. “maybe they can bring donna back” OH KORY

2.75. didn’t they have this same conversation about killing/not killing rose last season? man, the og titans make me tired.

and i don’t know if it’s just hank, but there’s a definite in-group/out-group vibe going on with the og titans, where they’re not only ready to consider killing anybody who threatens the group but makes it difficult for new people to fit in. donna and kory got along well with each other, but the dynamics between hank/donna/dawn and gar/rachel/rose were somewhat strained, and with jason, they were really fucking terrible. it makes sense when you think about how the titans started and how they broke up the first time--both were fairly disruptive events, i’d imagine, in that they probably got together to break away from their mentors and strike out on their own, and when they split up, it was the first time they felt directly responsible for the loss of an innocent life.

but the titans that dick is leading now is explicitly about mentoring a young generation of heroes, about second chances and found family. dick definitely wants to reach out to him first, and i have a feeling he’s going to be forced to make some sort of terrible Choice later on in this episode.

2.8. (honestly tho, this also seems like hank struggling with his own guilt re: jason; if red hood is not the kid that he failed, it’d be easier to fight him.)

HANK NO

4. honestly this season is already ticking off so many things on my wishlist, but i really wish dick would sit down with the newer members of his team and trust them with important information the same time that he’s telling them to the other members. gar searching for help and reassurance from a man who just dumped all of his responsibilities on his son overnight and went AWOL is a sad sight

4.25. has it only been just 48 hours????? wow! jason’s definitely been planning the red hood gig for a long time now...

5. ezekiel, my man! shady looking guy gets into your cab without a destination in mind... no problem, get right in! said guy gets a call to go to the observatory when he’s barely even looked out of the window so far at gotham... yep, a damn tourist! i want more ezekiel in this show.

5.25. (of course jason has upturned table lamps all along the floor... we have to *gritted teeth* balance the TEAL with the ORANGE don’t we?)

5.5. “dick’s a fucking psycho--he could be following you right now.” hank... has no objection to that lol

5.25. hank, hank... this is bad-decision-palooza. i can’t imagine that hank actually thought that jason was reaching out to him for help, given that the last time hank and jason had any substantial interaction hank had been one of the people accusing jason of sabotaging the team. but for him to go seek out jason and go along with his demands without any backup, weapons or equipment? not the best idea he’s ever come up with.

(add to that getting into the swimming pool of a condemned gym... oh yuck.)

((yes, i have enough self-restraint to not cap his ass.))

(((cap his ass! HA!)))

5.5. do you think jason has bugs/monitoring equipment planted in wayne manor to monitor the titans, or remote access to the cave’s systems? wouldn’t put it past him.

6. oh man, hank came back before dick and the others could meet ezekiel! this is TRAGIC

6.25. i mean, it’s plot-convenient that connor was able to give so much information about the bomb from just looking at it once, but i also like to think it’s the luthor-side of him coming to the fore. it also reminds me of that (in)famous scene from the new52 run of Nightwing comics, where a bomb was attached to nightwing’s heart and luthor disabled it by killing nightwing (temporarily). it’s a neat little callback.

6.55. “where i come from, you go after family? there’s no mercy.” BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM ISN’T IT

6.75. i mean, dick’s making sense: this is a game, and they need to get it off playing out on jason’s terms. but having a member of his team in his face, doubting his reasoning and every decision? a very familiar sight.

6.8. krypto with an a+ sense of humour? also a very familiar sight.

7. wayne enterprises... providing the military with... bombs that can be implanted in humans? a BIIIIG yikes. i guess it’s not too many steps above developing clandestine intra-dermal trackers and implanting them in your own sons, and bruce probably thought they could be used as part of negotiation tactics, but still... YIKES.

7.5. on the other hand, conner being asked to build a deactivation advice seems part of a growth arc that started from last season... he knows so much, but part of growing is learning, and part of learning is using what you know to create something new.

8. oh man, my heart broke at hank going “i’m an idiot... i screw everything up.” like. for him to go like this, after being brought down to such a low last season? struggling with pain and addiction and his relationship with the love of his life? it’s so sad.

9. oh, oh, oh! ronnie from schitt’s creek! i love her!

9.5. “one of jason’s minions” took his body out of the morgue... how deliciously morbid that he planned out his own death like this!

10. TALK TO HANK, DICK

honestly, tho, i’m quite impressed with dick here. trying to think beyond just the most alarming part of the crisis at hand, keeping his cool, delegating tasks, frequently touching base with different members of his team... well done.

10.25.... whoops, spoke too soon. i’m genuinely confused here, tho. where did the van full of gold bars come from? why did they stop there and get out? how did dawn even know about this?

on the other hand, it’s cool to know dove has bulletproof feathers!

10.5. eh... curran walters isn’t really selling red hood’s menace to me so far. but then again, if titans version of red hood is vulnerable-kid-with-father-issues-trying-to-overcompensate, then yeah! yeah, it makes sense.

11. “when bats have sex, they gotta have something to hang from” OH GOD HANK

... because i want smiley!gar on my blog :)

11.5. awww. i feel sorry for hank but NONE of these fuckers deserve gar except maybe kory

12. ohhh FUCK! look at jason being exactly one step ahead of the titans at every turn. nice.

no really, i love the building stakes and the building mystery - i feel like the deathstroke arc from last season should’ve been more like this. the flashbacks about jericho and rose came too late and after too much build up, which resulted in a very underwhelming and confusing season throughline.

13. HANK AND DIIIIIICCCKKK

“you’re doing your best by me. always have.” WAILING HERE

it also kills me to think that hank thinks that his imminent death is because of his failure to keep the team together (when he was clearly struggling with his own issues and was spiralling towards rock-bottom) and his fear that he will once again be the cause of the team falling apart.

also:

14. “i grew up... you can, too. you just have to face your fear.”

yep, got scarecrow’s grubby little fingerprints aaaaalllll over this.

14.25. nightwing’s got specialised batarangs! yay! (somehow i can’t see this universe’s dick calling them “wingdings”)

15. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh man, that was devastating. well done, show. fuck, well done, jason.

this is going to bring up all sorts of “if onlys” for the team. i can’t wait for some fucking aftermath.

#titans #titans spoilers #dick grayson #hank hall #dawn granger #garfield logan #conner kent #jason todd #a tragic jalebi #meta

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