#as it creaks open to reveal a little body wracked with sobs you think you would face anything that would dare come for him or his sister | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tokkias · 2 years

Note

Hihi! I would love to see you write Lucy talking to Natsu about him leaving on that one-year training (seeing Natsu comforting Lucy ugh they're just so aa </3) anyway I really enjoy reading your fics, keep up the good work!!

hi there anon! thank you for the request! this ended up being a sort of fix-it fic for chapter 419, so i hope you enjoy!

349 days. That was how long it had been since Natsu and Happy had walked out of her life, and 348 since the disbandment of Fairy Tail. She had kept count, with red dashes marking each passing day on her calendar, until she made it to 365, when he promised he would come back to her.

Every day she hoped that his resolve would break early, that he would come home to her, find her in Crocus, and whisk her away on an adventure as though no time had passed.

It was day 349 when Lucy finally found that her dreams had come to fruition, in a blazing inferno that set both the arena and her heart alight.

It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t even had time to process what had happened until she found herself tangled within her sheets, with no company but the moonlight that peeked in through the curtains. Everything was falling into place, exactly as she had hoped, with Natsu by her side, but she couldn't stop the horrible dull thud that pounded in her chest. The more she dwelled on it, the more it began to hurt, not just emotionally but physically. Her chest began to tighten, and she could only equate the feeling to what she thought could only be a heart attack. The preoccupation with the agonising pain that she was feeling deep within her chest prevented her from holding back the sobs that began to wrack her body. When they began, the floodgates burst right open, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. They began as little more than quiet gasps for air but quickly transitioned into howling cries as a full year of emotion and heartbreak washed all over her at once.

"Huh, Lucy?" The sound of her sobs drowned out the creak of the bedroom door as Natsu made his way in, lured by the gut-wrenching sound of his partner, crying herself to sleep. "Lucy… Are you—what’s going on? Are you okay?" He frantically asked, but he was met with nothing more than her continued cries as she clutched at her bedsheets.

Things had been so good up until now. He had found Lucy by chance, earlier than planned; they had jumped back into it as though no time had passed, and she seemed so happy. So why? Why was she wailing alone in her bed, as though it were the end of the world? What had gone wrong? She looked terrible. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, and her face was painted with the most pained expression he had seen on her. This wasn’t what he had imagined their reunion would be like.

Gently, he sat on the edge of her bed and pushed her hair out of her face, revealing her red and puffy eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do? Lucy was someone he believed truly deserved the world; she brought so much light and joy to everyone around her, and she reminded him of all the good there was left in the world. Seeing her like this made his heart ache.

"C’mon Lucy, talk to me. What’s going on?"

Lucy's words came out before she had the chance to even think about them, burning her throat as she retched her grievances.

"Y-you just- you left me, Natsu, and you didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye, and I-" she paused, gasping for breath between her words and sobs, "and I was so lonely, I didn’t have anyone! Because it was Aquarius, and then you, and then the rest of the guild, and then I was all alone. I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do with myself, and the only person I wanted to talk about it with was you, but you weren’t there."

The rest she had found from her tears didn’t last long, and soon she found herself succumbing to them once more. Just earlier today, she had seemed like she had it all figured out, because of course she would; she was Lucy. She was the strongest and smartest person he knew; if anyone could have made it through this unscathed, it was going to be her. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Lucy spoke up again.

"But now you’re here, and I’m- hic I’m so happy, but I want to hate you for what you did, but I can’t because you’re my best friend."

Her words hit him like a knife through his chest, leaving him feeling as if she had just clawed her way through his insides, and ripped apart his heart. How was he so naïve to think that she hadn’t been hurting this whole time? For the first time, Natsu was at a loss for words.

With her face buried in her hands, Lucy let out a heart wrenching wail, and all Natsu could do was pull her into his arms. Her arms had made their way around his torso, holding him tightly, as if he might try to leave her (he wouldn’t, never again, not after seeing her like this), her nails digging into his back slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it. One hand found itself on the back of her head, tangled within her hair, holding her close to his chest, while the other rubbed circles into her back, in some meek attempt to make her feel better. What a fucking asshole he was, but here she was, looking to him for comfort, even after he was the one who hurt her in the first place.

"That was pretty selfish of me, huh?" He murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as if his voice was any louder, she might simply shatter to pieces in his arms.

"Yeah, it was."

Part of him hoped that she would put up a fight, tell him that it was okay, that she understood, and that she would forgive him. The realistic part of him knew that she didn’t have to forgive him, because yeah, he was a selfish, stupid idiot for leaving her, even if it was for the right reasons. He knew that from the very moment he left that note behind. She deserved so much better than that, but he also knew that if he had told her in person, he would have caved to her pleas to stay. How could he not? He was absolutely smitten with Lucy; he would do absolutely anything for her. He would set the entire world ablaze if it meant that he could see her smile, but instead he had gone and fucked it all up, and now she was here, crying in his arms.

And, fuck, it hurt so bad knowing that she was hurting because of what he did.

"I’m sorry."

"I know."

"I won’t do it again."

"You better not."

Her tears seemed to have subsided for now, and the two lingered in silence for a moment, still holding onto each other, as if fate were to tear them apart once more. His chin rested atop her head and he could smell her shampoo, the scent fresh; used within the past day or two; the same strawberry and vanilla that he had picked out for her before everything had gone south. He had missed that. Missed her. More than he could ever hope to express. He squeezed his arms around her tighter, and she responded in turn.

It was just them again.

Natsu & Lucy.

Lucy & Natsu.

The inseparable duo.

With her back at his side, Natsu had new resolve, and this time, he wouldn’t let her go.

#mya writes things #fairy tail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #i WISH she had gone in so much harder on him #but it's lucy and she's so fucking forgiving to everyone #and natsu deserves to know that he's kind of a pos for doing that to her #so thats what i tried to convey in this fic #request

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atomicdisappointment · 3 years

Text

The Reckoning

Summary: You’re in the middle of a depressive episode, reaching a point where you’re unable to function properly, basically just sitting, isolated, in your room and feeling like sh*t. You haven’t contacted anyone in a few days, and Katsuki gets worried (relationship w/ him is ambiguous, could be a good acquaintance, could be a husband/partner back from a trip or something, idk, it’s up to you).

A/N: This is kind of like a sequel to Ghosts and Tears, except it’s totally unrelated and in a different universe (unless u don’t want it to be... I don’t think there’s any conflicting information lmao). In this one, instead of you helping Bakugou through a panic attack, he comforts you during a depressive episode. This is pretty much just self-indulgent comfort character sh*t (sh*t being censored b/c there’s no swearing in the actual fic and I don’t want to have to add a swearing warning -_-). I needed this, and now you get it too! The title comes from that feeling when you’re not sure how someone is going to react to a piece of information. Here it’s the struggle with depression. It feels (to me) like once they find out there’s a reckoning, where everything’s on the line, waiting to see what they choose to do. Oh also:

second person, no pronouns or gender specific stuff mentioned anywhere =).

Warnings: descriptions of a depressive episode, feelings of depression, dissociation, light paranoia, flinching when touched, neglect of needs, isolation... I think that’s it?

WC: 943

You're sitting with your head in your hands, palms covering your eyes and fingertips carded through your hair as sobs wrack your body. There are no tears, only a tight pain in your chest as you heave in shallow, strained breaths. You’re a mess, with spit covering your chin, surrounded by plates of half-eaten food. You couldn’t bring yourself to shower, could barely get yourself out of bed.

It wasn’t this bad before. A few days ago you were almost fine, if not a little tired. You just felt empty, and that feeling only got worse until this point. The culmination, you hope. Not sure how much more you can take.

You didn’t want him to see you like this, but what did you expect? You haven’t reached out to anyone in days, taking a break from work, even. Your friends were scared. He was scared. And now he’s here.

It starts with a soft knock on the door, followed by a gruff voice calling out your name into the silence. Your body curls further, as if trying to shrink into yourself. Maybe I can disappear. Maybe he’ll go away.

You, of course, don’t disappear. And he doesn’t go away. The knocking only gets louder, ringing in your head. You want to scream. The noise, the situation, only adds to your pain. You don’t want to see him. You want the silence back. You want to crawl back in bed, hold yourself, and fall asleep. Maybe this time, forever.

There’s a crash, and then it’s like your prayers were answered. There’s no more knocking, no more shouting voices. Only silence. Vaguely, you recognize that the problem isn’t solved. Katsuki isn’t gone, and from the crash you heard, it’s very likely he’s actually inside now. Closer to you, closer to the Reckoning. But it’s silent, and with your hands over your eyes it’s like you’re alone. Sitting in limbo, floating in emptiness.

But then you hear footsteps.

He pauses in the kitchen, you can almost imagine him looking at the sink full of unwashed dishes, the lights still on, the trash full. Maybe there’s a fine layer of dust over everything, now, after it’s been sitting for a few days. You could imagine him swiping a hand over the counter tops, looking at his fingers afterwards with disgust. Maybe concern?

But you don’t want to imagine it, only grateful for the silence his detour brings.

When they pick back up, the footsteps are faster, hurried towards your bedroom. You hear them only in the back of your mind, already adapting to block out the noise, create your own silence.

The gentle creaking of a door, and then a silence heavier than any before it. A silence filled with confusion, and shock. Probably also pity, and discomfort, you can’t help but think even though you’re only semi-conscious. Maybe now he’ll leave. We can both pretend this never happened.

When you feel his hand touch your back, right between your hunched shoulder blades, it shocks you. You almost jump, but it comes out as a flinch in your enervated state. You can almost hear the whoosh of air with how fast he pulls his hand back.

You hear your name, almost a whisper. It echoes around your skull.

You can feel his eyes as he judges the situation, weighing it in his hand as he decides a course of action. He could still walk away, uninvolve himself in this difficult situation. Could focus his attention on his damage to the front door and away from the situation lying on the bedroom floor in front of him. He could pop it back into its frame behind him as he goes back the way he came.

He could also get angry. He’s always been known for having a temper, and you haven’t contacted him in days, only for him to find you selfishly neglecting everything around you, from your relationships to your apartment to your own health. It’s enough to make anyone angry.

But you’re surprised when you feel warm fingers gently wrapping around your wrists, guiding your hands away from your face. It’s so delicate and patient, you begin to wonder if it’s even him in the room with you.

You slowly open your eyes, blinking away the film covering them to reveal Katsuki. He’s crouched in front of you, his deep red eyes boring into yours while his hands still hold your arms in front of you. He looks… worried. Nit pitying or angry or uncomfortable like you expected. Just concerned. The look warms your chest slightly, and you feel your breath come a little easier.

His palms are so soft, and you can’t help but relax into his grip. As you do, he sets your hands down and moves his own to cup your face. They’re so big, wrapping around your cheeks and under your jaw, his fingertips running through your hair while his pinky rests across the tops of your ears. It’s so… tender. The action and the emotions it conveys are equal parts surprising and soothing. You feel like you’re melting into his touch, sinking into the soft, pillowy skin.

But even with this unexpected support, you still feel exhausted. Drained. Your eyelids are heavy and your limbs droopy. You feel yourself sinking into unconsciousness, barely registering the movement as Katsuki rests your head against his chest, still cradling it in his arms. His warmth, the security his touch brings, the steady beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his breaths. It all only serves to further lull you to sleep, pushing you into your first deep, comfortable rest in days.

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toorusbaby · 3 years

Text

end of the day

summary: after a very bad day, all you really want is for your boyfriend, kei tsukishima, to hold you in his arms. however, things don’t go the way you hoped they would.

warnings: self-angst, a very upset y/n, tsukki makes up for it <3

word count: 4,987

The loud jingling of your keys as you unlocked the door to your shared apartment weren’t enough to push the negative thoughts out of your mind. The sound of chirping crickets in the air weren’t capable of relaxing your nerves either.

It had been a long day to say the least, more exhausting than others. If you were running on batteries, the last of your juice was used up hours ago. It was safe to say that you were burned out.

You had left the apartment at seven in the morning, fifteen minutes later than usual because your phone decided to go missing. Since Kei was sound asleep after a long night at the museum, you were on the lookout on your own. In the end, your phone turned out to be on the kitchen counter, the battery half drained. By the time you reached the station, you barely missed the train by a millisecond, having to hail a taxi instead. If one thing went right today, you made it just on time to work.

On the other hand, with the combination of being reprimanded by your boss for missing an important deadline that slipped your mind, a coworker spilling hot coffee on your new blouse, and your thoughts jumbled due to yet another argument you had over the phone with your traditional mother the night before, it was as if your world had come crashing down in the span of a few hours.

It was eight in the evening when you finally left the office, arriving at your apartment’s front door thirty minutes later. The fact that you were starving only made you more antsy. All you wanted at that very moment was to be held by your longtime boyfriend, Kei Tsukishima, as you buried your face in his chest. You needed him more than ever.

Twisting the doorknob, the familiar creak of the wooden door made its way to your ears when you entered your apartment. The living room lights were on, symbolizing that Tsukishima was home. Letting out a sigh of relief, you gently shut the door shut behind you, locking it in the process before your eyes made contact with plastic bags on the coffee table.

Just as you were going to check what was inside, you stopped in your footsteps when you heard the voice of your favorite blond from the kitchen.

“Y/N, is that you?” Tsukishima’s head popped out slightly from the kitchen entrance, his honey brown eyes meeting yours. A tired grin immediately made its way to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, who wore his favorite grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His hair was a bit damp, probably from his shower. Without missing a beat, you walked your way over to greet him with the usual peck on the lips, holding your arms out for a much needed hug.

“Kei, I missed you—”

Suddenly, Tsukishima had brought his phone back up to his ear. Your heart dropped at the sight.

“Is he serious?,” Tsukishima scoffed into the phone. “The exhibition isn’t supposed to open for another five weeks. How are we going to make it work in only two? Fucking ridiculous,”, He grumbled, turning his body away from you momentarily.

If you thought the coffee that spilled onto your shirt spread fast, the pain in your chest expanded even faster. You understood that you weren’t the only busy person in the relationship; Tsukishima was both an employee at the Sendai museum and a volleyball player for the Sendai Frogs. Compared to him, you felt as if you had no right to complain about being tired. After all, you only had one job, which was working for a well-known design company. And after today’s fiasco, you weren’t sure you even knew how to do your job correctly.

Kei doesn’t need me bothering him right now, you thought to yourself. He’s busy with work, which is understandable.

The thought was bittersweet; how could you be so proud of your boyfriend yet feel so lonely?

Almost as if he remembered that you were standing before him, the tall volleyball player turned back to face you. Tsukishima pulled the phone away from his ear and placed his palm over the speaker, walking towards you.

“Sorry about that, Y/N. I should be done soon—” You unintentionally cut your boyfriend off.

“Don’t apologize, Kei,” You spoke with the most enthusiasm you could muster. You hoped it was believable. “I know you’re busy with the upcoming dinosaur exhibition.”

When you lifted your hands in front of you to wave his apology off, your navy blue blazer had spread open, revealing the brown coffee stain on your white blouse. Tsukishima made brief eye contact with it, immediately frowning to himself; he knew you had been waiting for it to arrive for weeks.

The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you and you found yourself feeling much more sensitive than usual. Sadness flooded your chest, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with your boyfriend. If you did, you knew you would only end up crying; Tsukishima didn’t need to add you to his list of worries.

Unbeknownst to you, the blond noticed your stiff posture and the way you refused to meet his gaze. Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Seriously. But if you’ll excuse me,” your voice slightly wavered. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night. I’ll see you in a bit.” Flashing a small grin at Tsukishima, you made a beeline to your shared bedroom.

Even if you had tried your absolute best to give him a proper smile, Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He knew that you were faking it. It only hurt more to know that you were hiding your pain from him.

༺♥༻

Stripping your clothes off, you mindlessly left them in a pile on the edge of your king sized bed. Taking one last glance at the coffee stain on your shirt, you clenched your jaw in frustration. You weren’t sure you could hold your emotions in any longer.

Your feet padded across the room and into the bathroom, your hands moving on their own to open the see-through door of your shower, turning the knobs of the shower faucet. Finally, you stepped inside and shut the shower door.

Although the steamy hot water cascading down your back helped relax you the majority of the time, that wasn’t exactly the case in this situation. Your posture was stiff, your jaw was still clenched, and the crease between your eyebrows only furrowed deeper.

The only sound should have been the water falling onto the shower floor, tumbling down the drain. If that was the case, why could you hear the voice of your boss in your head?

‘I expected more from you, Y/N. A lot more. You’ve never let me down, not once. What happened this time? Do not miss a deadline as important as this again or there will be consequences. I hope you don’t make me regret promoting you.’

The disappointed voice of your respected boss morphed into your mother’s, the tone furious. Memories of her words from the other night played like a record on repeat in your mind.

‘Do you really think that living with your boyfriend at this age is acceptable? You and Tsukishima are only twenty three. A man and woman should not live together unless they’re married. I don’t think you two will last for long anyways. Your father may have been more accepting about it, but I think you made the wrong choice. You’re lucky I’m hiding this from your grandmother. What do you think she’d have to say, knowing her granddaughter was so easy?’

You blinked once. Then you sniffled twice.

You had finally reached your limit. Every hurtful word from your mother, every head shake from your boss, and even not being able to peck Tsukishima on the lips for a second, the way you usually did when you got home, echoed in your head. Before you knew it, hot tears leaked from your eyes and down your cheeks, small hiccups escaping your mouth.

What’s wrong with me?, you clamped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. That didn’t help much. Why am I such a fucking mess?

Wrapping your free arm around your torso as if to hug yourself, your knees buckled in a moment of weakness. Quiet sobs wracked through your body, annoyance filling you up to the brim when you couldn’t silence yourself. You really didn’t want Tsukishima to hear. Despite the heat of the water affecting your senses, you stood still, allowing the water to mix with your hot tears.

Little did you know, Tsukishima had been standing silently outside your door the moment you had turned the shower on. As soon as he laid eyes on the bunched up clothing on your shared bed, the blond knew you were bottling your emotions. You were always tidy; you never left a mess behind unless you were out of it. You were more similar to Tsukishima than you thought.

And because you were so similar, your boyfriend knew that you were trying to drown out the sounds of your crying as you stood under the shower head. Even if he hadn’t been able to hear your cries, Tsukishima knew you all too well, only because he was the same way. And he loved you far too much to let this continue.

Two quiet knocks on the bathroom door startled you, your hands rushing to wipe your face before you blinked. Trying your best to quietly clear your throat, you sniffled once.

“I-I’m in the shower, Tsukki!”, you called out. “Is everything okay?”

Tsukishima’s silky voice still managed to make your heart skip, even if he was on the other side of the door.

“Not really,” you heard him say in his usual monotone voice. “Mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened out of nervousness. You did not want him to see your puffy eyes; you were sure you looked horrible.

“Um, give me a second!” you called out. There was no use in hiding the fact that you were sobbing your eyes out; the reddened skin around them made it very apparent that you were bawling like a baby. The best you could do was rinse your face repeatedly until most of your sniffling went away.

After a few seconds, you cleared your throat. “Y-You can come in, Kei!”

When the door opened, revealing your tall boyfriend who placed one of his t-shirts on the counter, you bit the inside of your cheek. However, when he began to strip, you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. His toned, fit physique made your heart race and your pulse quicken. Even if you and Tsukishima had been dating for six years, living with each other for two of those, you couldn’t help but still feel a bit shy.

After all, Kei Tsukishima was your first everything. Your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first kiss. The first person to see your naked body, the person who gave you your first sexual experience, but most importantly, he was also your first love. You knew deep in your heart that the sharp tongued blond would also be your last.

Silently, you watched as Tsukishima opened the shower door. You stepped to the side, allowing his tall frame to enter the shower which was larger than most apartments would have. When the honey brown orbs you loved so much met your own eyes, you gulped.

“Kei,” you mumbled with a questioning tone. “Weren’t you busy with work? And didn’t you already take a—” He cut you off with his own questions.

“I hung up the moment you left the kitchen,” he spoke. ”You’re my priority. What’s going on, Y/N? Why were you crying?” Tsukishima wondered, his tone a bit sharp. Although his tone may have seemed a little harsh to an outsider, you knew that the blond was only worried for you. When he sounded frustrated, it only meant he was concerned. As a result, you only felt worse.

As Tsukishima reached behind you to lower the excessive heat of the water, you let your eyes wander everywhere but his face. This only made the volleyball player clench his jaw. Even though Tsukishima was known for his patience, he wouldn’t tolerate your avoidance of his question.

“It’s nothing, baby. Just a bad day, that’s all. I’m okay. Just a little tired— Kei!” you shouted when the warm water suddenly cut off. The cool breeze entering the bathroom from the open window was sure to give you goosebumps. “Kei, stop messing around. Turn the water back on,” you humorlessly chuckled. You really didn’t find it funny.

You reached for the shower knobs, wanting to avoid any confrontation. Your tears were the last thing Tsukishima needed to worry about, especially because he had to focus on preparing for the new exhibition. Your feelings simply weren’t that important.

As soon as your hand was about to reach the handle, Tsukishima grabbed onto your wrist, gently pushing your back against the shower wall. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden feeling of the cool wall tiles behind you.

“T-Tsukki, what the hell! It’s cold!” You shouted, your back instinctively arching. Your eyes were wide, finally meeting his golden brown ones.

About time, the blonde thought. He missed having your eyes on his.

Suddenly, the boy pinned you against the wall. Tsukishima’s stare was so intense, you instinctively rested your back against the cold tile. His bare body against your own caused your cheeks to redden. When goosebumps formed on your arms, the blond used his free hand to rub them away in order to warm your skin. The action was loving, despite his serious gaze.

“I’ll turn the water back on when you tell me what’s got you so upset, baby.” Tsukishima calmly spoke, his hand quickly moving to lift your chin up the very second you were about to look down. He knew you well; too well. “What is it that hurt you to the point where you’re hiding your tears from me?”

When he asked the second question, you noticed that Tsukishima had used a softer tone, one that was gentle yet doting. The feeling of the pad of his thumb gently stroking your chin brought you back to reality. You loved Kei with your entire being. Despite your fear that you would stress him out, you couldn’t lie to him.

After a moment’s pause, you were ready to open up. Your mouth felt dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “I-I just…” you trailed off. Your eyes wavered on his, your emotions threatening to take over once again.

Tsukishima could see the glossy screen making its way over your eyes. He knew that you always tried to display your strong side, but he also understood your sensitivity. For you to cry alone, Tsukishima would never allow it. But for you to cry in front of him, in his protective arms, he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. Even if things didn’t seem like they were going to go well, Tsukishima would make sure everything worked out. For you.

Everything he did, Kei Tsukishima did it for you.

“Kei, I just…” your voice was uneven. You blinked rapidly.

Tsukishima’s hand moved its way to cup your cheek in his palm. When he felt you trembling, the blond didn’t hesitate to turn the water back on to its hottest setting. Understanding that you couldn’t meet his gaze at that moment, the volleyball player used his free hand to lay your cheek against his chest. Then, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, pressing your body flush against his.

You shut your eyes, your heart aching in your chest. Your hands instinctively reached out to hold onto his biceps. You felt like a burden. The moment you felt a kiss on the top of your head, you broke.

“Kei, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered in a desperate voice. Your vision became cloudy with tears once again. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why can’t I do anything right for once?” you whimpered. Your throat began to ache from holding in your cries.

Tsukishima felt your shoulders trembling in his arms. In response, he held you tighter to his chest, his large hand reassuringly grazing up and down your bare back. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips when your body relaxed from his touch.

“First, it was an argument with my mom. You know how she’s always been about us living together,” you mumbled. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt the low vibrations of your boyfriend’s chuckle in his chest.

“Trust me,” the blond mused. “I know.” The memory of your mother throwing a temper tantrum the day you and him officially moved into your shared apartment was burned into his memory.

Even though tears were dripping down your chin and your sniffling had returned, a small smile made its way to your face. Tsukishima didn’t have to use his words to make you feel understood.

You cleared your throat, the smile slowly fading. “And then it was my boss. I-I understand why he was upset. I mean, it was my fault for forgetting about the deadline. But I just…” your grip on his biceps tightened and you sighed. “I hate knowing that I’ve let people down. I really don’t mean to.” Your voice cracked.

Momentarily, your boyfriend pulled your face away from his chest. The sounds of your whimpering made his chest ache. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wordlessly wiped from under your eyes and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead. Your eyes responded by welling up with a new batch of tears.

“Kei,” you breathed out. “Kei, you’re gonna make me cry even more.” You whined and felt your bottom lip tremble. With his large palms now cupping your face, Tsukishima only smiled softly down at you.

“So cry then. Let it all out, Y/N.” As soon as Tsukishima’s words registered in your head, golden brown eyes watched as tears leaked from your eyes that he loved so much. His thumbs held your head in place gently, his lips moving on their own to kiss both of your tear streaked cheeks, ignoring the salty taste on his lips. In that moment, Tsukishima only cared about making you feel better.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to have bad days. But it’s not okay to keep all of these emotions to yourself. Why do you think you have me, you dummy?,” the blond gently chided, his lips pursed together when you grinned. After a pause, he continued.

“I know that I’ve been really busy with work and I’m sorry.”

“Tsukki, you don’t have to apologize—”

The pointed stare your boyfriend gave you halted your words. When you fell silent, Tsukishima gently grazed his knuckles on your cheek. His eyes never left yours.

“But nothing is more important to me than you. Work can wait, you come first. You always will.” Tsukishima’s hands reached behind you to grab your strawberry scented shampoo. The two of you fell silent for a second, the only sound being your sniffling and the water tumbling down the drain. When your boyfriend poured some shampoo onto his palm, his fingers working to lather the substance into your hair, you swore your heart was going to burst. It was only the sound of Tsukishima clicking his tongue that brought you back to reality.

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve been calling yourself a burden or some shit like that, so stop it.” Tsukishima watched as your cheeks reddened from the truth of his words. He let out a small sigh, amused at the fact that he was correct, but upset that you viewed yourself as one. The idea of you putting yourself down over inevitable events didn’t sit right with him.

The feeling of his fingers lathered in shampoo against your scalp released the tension in your body, the scent of strawberry filling your nostrils and the silky sound of his voice filling up a void within you that had been empty just before. It was as if Tsukishima was picking up your broken pieces, placing them back together again.

“But trust me. You’re far from being a burden. If anything...” the blond trailed off, gesturing for you to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. Leaning your head back, you let the water wash the shampoo off. Tsukishima already had conditioner in his palm, ready to loosen the tangles in your hair.

“If anything,” he continued. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Tsukishima admitted. The blond could feel heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His long, calloused fingers worked their magic on the tips of your hair first.

“My favorite part of the day is waking up by your side in the morning.” Untangling your hair, then rinsing. “Every time you kiss me, I fall in love all over again like an idiot.” A peck on your forehead. “I love teasing the hell out of you, only because I know you secretly like it.” A smirk and a gentle spank on your butt. You pouted playfully.

“But holding you as we fall asleep,” Tsukishima breathed out, his forehead against yours. “The feeling of having you in my arms every single night?” His voice was a drug and you couldn’t get enough.

Your attention was only on Tsukishima. You didn’t even feel that the water was slowly growing colder. You wouldn’t care even if you noticed. You had the love of your life keeping you warm and that’s all that mattered.

“Knowing that you need me, just as much as I need you… You’re the only person I’d go soft for, but you’re also the best thing I could ever ask for, baby. Not even close to a burden.” You felt Tsukishima’s hand intertwine with yours, fingers locked together.

“I love you so much, Y/N. This will never change.”

You’ve heard Tsukishima tell you that he loved you hundreds of times. The love confessions often paired with either his famous smug smile, the sad eyes Tsukishima only showed to you after a rough day, or the tired tone in bed after a heated argument, after the two of you would apologize; both of you never went to bed angry.

Hearing Kei Tsukishima, the man with a sharp tongue who was known to conceal his true feelings, remind you of how much you meant to him and feeling him hold you so closely, your body moved before you could think.

Grabbing hold of his neck from behind with your free hand, you pulled the blond into a deep kiss. Tsukishima didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, his hands running through your wet, now silky hair as he pulled you closer by the waist. You tilted your head to the side, feeling his nose brush against yours as he deepened the kiss.

You were on cloud nine.

It was a long moment later when you pulled away, out of breath and cheeks ablaze. You quickly used your thumb to wipe away the small string of saliva on your bottom lip, embarrassed at how forward you had behaved. Tsukishima only had a smug smirk on his now swollen lips, his tongue poking out to lick at the corner of his mouth. He chuckled when you wordlessly buried your face in his chest. The blond immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I’d rather have you give me a sloppy kiss like that than see you crying, moron. Thank god you’re cute though, even if your eyes are puffy.”

You groaned into his chest, spanking his butt out of spite. His sudden jolt made you smirk.

“I love you Kei, but please shut up.”

“Mm, I don’t really feel like it.”

༺♥༻

What once was steamy hot water had soon turned cold by the time you and Tsukishima left the shower. Freshly clean and your tears completely washed away by the water and your boyfriend’s sweet kisses, you were now dry, wearing the blond’s large olive green t-shirt and a pair of black panties.

Tsukishima had gone to the living room to make sure the doors and windows were locked, telling you to get comfortable in bed. Only in his grey sweatpants, the blond didn’t feel like wearing his shirt. You definitely didn’t mind.

On the edge of your bed, your pile of clothing from earlier was placed in a laundry basket, only to be replaced by the plastic bags you had seen on the coffee table the moment you entered your apartment. A very familiar scent was coming from whatever was inside and your stomach growled in anticipation.

No way, you wondered with wide eyes. Did he…?

“Did you really think I’d let you go to bed hungry?”

Your head swiveled back to face your favorite blond. There Tsukishima stood with plates in one hand, water bottles gathered in his other arm. Your excitement must have been evident on your face because your boyfriend gave you an authentic, loving smile, all signs of smugness gone.

“Baby,” your fingers happily toyed with the plastic bag’s tied handle. “Did you get curry buns?”

Tsukishima made his way over to you, settling the plates down on the bed. Then, he lifted his hand to gently flick your forehead. “Why don’t you open the boxes and see for yourself, hm?”

༺♥༻

The humming sound of the fan in front of your bed blowing cool air into the room filled the air. Very faintly, you could still hear the crickets chirping outside when you lifted your head. Glancing at the nightstand, the clock beside Tsukishima’s glasses read that it was a bit past ten thirty.

With a stomach full of curry buns along with other side dishes your boyfriend so lovingly spoiled you with, you sighed contentedly. In a sleepy daze, you laid your head onto Tsukishima’s warm, bare chest and closed your eyes. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat was one of your favorite things to do when the two of you cuddled; you found it endearing and intimate. Although he’d never admit it, Tsukishima felt the same way.

A protective arm wrapped its way around your waist, Tsukishima’s long legs tangled with your own. His free hand played with the ends of your hair, twirling it repeatedly with his fingers. You began to feel even sleepier, the food coma making an entrance. You slowly blinked, then turned your head to look up at your boyfriend who had a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You know I love you, right Kei?”

“If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have bought you curry buns, Y/N.”

Before you could give a sassy response, Tsukishima tilted your head to face him. Then, he gently pecked your lips twice.

“To make up for earlier. I’m sorry I missed it when you came home. Never again,” he mumbled, using his hand to move strands of hair away from your face.

You giggled quietly, your face tickled by his blonde hair that loomed over you. You loved it when he was physically affectionate. “Thank you for loving me, Kei,” you whispered. Your eyes were fixated on his, his pupils dilated in the room’s soft yellow lighting. “I love you. So damn much.”

With a kiss to his nose, you readjusted yourself so you could snuggle into Tsukishima’s chest. The volleyball player leaned over to turn the night lamp off before placing the blanket over the two of you, the scent of your strawberry shampoo creating butterflies in his stomach. When he looked down at you for the last time that night, you were already sound asleep with your arm securely wrapped around his torso.

Sure, the majority of your day consisted of mostly negatives. And yes, you had to say goodbye to your new blouse. Coffee stains on white were a done deal. But it wasn’t as if you couldn’t order a new one. Your boss would eventually get over your flaw at work; you’d compensate somehow and get back on track. And when was your mother not upset with you? It was hard, but it was worth it if that meant living with Tsukishima. Your mom would eventually come to terms with the fact that you were twenty three, almost twenty four. You were an adult after all; days like this were normal.

But at the end of the day, Tsukishima was always going to be there for you. Despite the difficulties you faced and the many downfalls that were yet to come, you knew that Kei was going to be there to hold you when you fell asleep. You’d do the same for him if it was the last thing you ever did.

Your faint breathing and the whirring fan were the only audible sounds in the room. With his golden brown eyes threatening to flutter shut, Kei Tsukishima gave one last glance at his cabinet across the room. Inside the third drawer underneath his volleyball practice clothes, sat a black velvet box with a diamond ring waiting to be worn on your left ring finger.

A smile formed on the blond’s lips when he leaned over to kiss the top of your sleeping head one last time before dozing off. He truly couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him when the time was just right. But for now, it was already the end of the day. Regardless, Kei Tsukishima was excited to share a new beginning with you.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukki x reader #tsukishima #haikyu x reader #haikyu #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #karasuno

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writings-of-an-introvert · 3 years

Text

Quick fic I wrote about that resurrection theory for RE8. I hope we get to see at least Lady Dimitrescu again considering just how much hype she got.

AO3 is linked as well.

It is strange, experiencing a beginning, or rather a new one. To return from oblivion is not a feeling many people get to experience, yet Alcina feels herself pulled from the void in to consciousness. It begins with sound, she notices; the sound of a heart beating, weakly at first, and then it begins to make an effort beating harder until it is like the drums of war in her mind; slow, steady, thunderous. Then, a breath, like a whisper through a window nearly silent; then soon it is labored and heavy, as though the one who was breathing was exhausted, taxed beyond their means.

Then came the sensation of feeling. With this dawning, she realized it was her heart and her breath thundering and rushing. She could feel her chest moving, rising and falling, heavy. She felt heavy all over. Her eyes refused to open though she willed them; for a moment she nearly believed she had opened them but simply faced a living void of madness, inky blackness still before her. She felt the muscles in her face work themselves; her brows knit together tightly holding tension in her forehead, the muscles over her cheekbones squeezed themselves together making her nose scrunch and her eyes clench tightly, her lips pursed and drew themselves into a thin line, her jaw clenched and unclenched. This tensing and untensing of muscles continued down her body, her fingertips twitching lightly. But her eyes remained shut. Her hands and feet felt cold, yet she could feel a weight over her body, a blanket perhaps. She is laying down on... something. It feels firm, it is not familiar.

Alcina laid there, hearing her heart, her breath; feeling her chest rise and fall. She still cannot will her eyes to open, not even when she feels a hand on her shoulder and a voice speak to her.

“Now, now, my Lady. You’ve still very little strength. Rest,” the voice said. Without much else, she is swept into a black dreamless sleep. The feeling of anything outside her body gone, she feels like she is floating, weightless, and suspended in air, or water; she could not tell.

Her mind began to wake next, where once thoughts of only the present and her immediate stimuli were processing, now were thoughts of the past. Memories unlocked themselves and spilled forth in front of her mind’s eye. She saw her daughters, laughing and smiling and running. She saw them awaken for the first time, the glassy looks in their eyes as they seemed to stare right through her. She heard Bela’s voice, /Mama?/ As she said it for the first time, elation filled her, she remembers that joy in that simple moment. Then she saw the ashes on the ground; in the library, the kitchen, the armory. Her gloved fingers sifting over them gently. They were gone. Something twisted and snapped in her chest. She saw /him/, scampering through her home, the evidence of his sins dusting his worn jacket. Then she saw him in the crypt. A sharp pain from her side wracks through her body. She sees herself above him, flying down at him. /She was going to kill herself and take him with her./ A scream tore itself, raging, from her chest.

Alcina tried to lash out, but something restrained her on the bed. Her strength still sapped away from her but the creaking of the bindings and the whining of their bolts told her it was perhaps coming back. She pulled harder, the scream now a pained howl. /How could life be worth anything without her daughters?/ She kept her eyes screwed shut, she wanted desperately to be swept back into oblivion, into the void of nothing. She didn’t want to be alive without them. She could feel large hot tears race down her cheeks; her howls turned into wails. She wanted to beg, she willed anything coherent to come from her mouth, but she could only muster the painful wailing, her pain beyond words. She felt the hand on her shoulder again but this time a sharp jab in her bicep followed it. A cold sensation ran its way down her arm and she felt heavy again. Her wails now choked sobs, she collapsed onto the pillow. The voice gently cooed to her.

“Hush now, my Lady, save your strength, all will be well,” it said. It was familiar, grating. Her mouth was dry and her lips felt as though they had been cut and torn but she mustered everything to speak.

“M-my... daught-ters...” she rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her lips and tongue sticking as she spoke.

“I know, my Lady, but you must rest,” it said, the hand still holding her shoulder as though she would try to sit up again. She choked and rasped a few more sobs as sleep overtook her once again, the sound of her heart and breath becoming all she could hear again. Images swirled in her mind, vague and hazy, they were memories. Some, her mind wouldn’t allow her to process, others she only recognized a feeling they brought to her. Then there was the smell. Familiar, delicious, tantalizing. She felt her chest rise quickly, letting her breathe in the scent deeply.

/Blood./

Alcina bolted upright, mouth wide open, hissing and snapping at the air, the nauseating hollow in her belly driving her mad. She felt that damned hand over her chest, holding her back. At this her eyes snapped open; the light of the world was simply too much too quickly. A white void met her vision, her eyes suddenly and sharply ached. She closed them immediately and shook her pounding head, letting out a growl of frustration.

“Ah, I feel I perhaps should have expected such a reaction. Welcome back Lady Dimitrescu.” Said the voice, now very familiar. She squinted one eye open, the white light faded to reveal a massive hazy shape. Her cracked lips curled further into a snarl.

“Tut, tut, my Lady. Come now, surely I’ve proven my loyalty.” said the voice of the Duke. Alcina’s vision cleared further to reveal the massive bulbous form of the Duke, who seemed to be navigating the room via a wheelchair. Alcina let the tension in her shoulders go as her vision continued to clear and adjust, she eyed the Duke wearily, face still twisted into a snarl.

“There,” he said, leaning over to grab a bowl from a small table beside him that Alcina couldn’t see. “Come, my dear, let’s have you eat.” He said cheerfully. Her face fell into a perturbed confusion as her arms pulled at the restraints around her wrists. The sound caught the Duke’s attention. “Ah, a safety precaution, I hope you understand. But soon they’ll not be a problem.” He said, continuing with that cheery tone. He brought the bowl before her. Alcina lurched forward, catching the restraints, her mouth opened wide again, reaching for the bowl now snatched away out of her reach, a hiss that sounded more like a growl streamed from her parched throat. “Now, my Lady, I understand your fervor, however, this behavior is quite unbecoming.” Said the Duke, sternly, though Alcina could see the smug expression on his face, he was enjoying this, “Please,” he continued, “Allow me."

Alcina straightened up, watching the Duke settle again in his chair and bring the bowl to her lips. He tilted the bowl gently allowing the blood to run over her lips. Her hands tried to dart up and take the bowl herself, but they caught on the restraints. Her arms shook as she tried to fight and pull against the bindings. She sucked hungrily at the rim of the bowl, loudly swallowing large mouthfuls of blood. The bowl was emptied within moments and Alcina gasped loud ragged breaths as the Duke set the bowl aside, he grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the sides of her mouth.

Alcina sat there, staring upwards through half-lidded eyes at the middle distance, feeling satisfied, still taking in deep ragged breaths. Finally, after what felt like hours, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“My daughters... were-” her voice was low and raspy, she tried not to pay attention to the way it wavered.

“You have just awoken, my dear. Please, lay back,” he said holding up a hand to silence her, she didn’t like being interrupted, but she did as she was instructed. She watched him dig for something in a pocket and pull out a small key. He leaned forward and unlocked the first of two cuffs holding her to the bed. He leaned back and moved to the other side of the bed to undo the other cuff. Once both her hands were free, she massaged her wrists where the leather chafed against her skin.

“If you are feeling up to it, my Lady, I can have a bath drawn,” he said. Despite the sustenance she had just received mere moments ago, her head swam at the very thought of standing. She could feel her knees tremble under the blanket.

“Not just yet, I think,” she said.

“Very well, continue your rest, I shall check on you again in the morning,” he said as he wheeled his way around the bed towards a door that stood ajar.

“Duke,” she called out, but he was faster than she anticipated and he disappeared through the door closing it behind him. Alcina sat back against the wall. Oh, what a sight she must be, no makeup, hair a mess, and wearing some plain threadbare nightgown. She felt her eyes stinging and her lip began to tremble. Her mind turned back to her daughters; only they had ever seen her without makeup, on days when she had not washed her hair, when she did not have the will to leave her bed. They’d come and curl up beside her, it was one of the rare occasions they didn’t bicker. She’d wrap them all up in her sheets and her blankets and hold them to her tightly, the next day she’d be up and have a full face of makeup on and her hair clean and curled before they awoke. Now, she was alone again. Alcina hugged her knees up to her chest and let her forehead rest against them letting her tears fall freely until she laid on her side and fell asleep once more.

Morning came far too quickly for Alcina’s liking. The Duke returned and had pulled the curtains away from the window, letting the grey light from an overcast sky flood the simple wooden room. Her eyes ached and she pulled the blanket over her head, burying her face in the pillow. He was humming some drole tune that grated against her ears. She rolled her eyes as she heard something shift beside her, figuring it was the Duke getting ready to pull back the blanket from her grasp, but he never did. Instead, he stopped, Alcina slowly drew the blanket back to look at him, he was staring at her with a gentle smile upon his features.

“What?” she snapped; her voice still hoarse from crying most of the previous night.

“I brought you a change of clothes, my Lady, something I think you’ll be far more comfortable in,” he said gesturing to a large bundle of clothes on the bedside table. She reached out and touched it. /Silk./ She tilted her head and picked up the garment, she recognized it immediately. She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, she pressed the white dress to her cheek. It was her favorite dress, comfortable yet elegant enough for her tastes. She turned to look at the Duke once more, opening her mouth to speak to him.

“I have drawn a bath just in the next room for you, my Lady, I think you’ll find the size accommodating,” he said over his shoulder in the doorway, “I encourage you to hurry, however, I have a request for your presence.”

Alcina stopped, who would want to speak with her? Surely, Ethan Winters succeeded in his mission, Mother Miranda must be dead. And to the rest of the world, so was Alcina Dimitrescu. Surely, there were no survivors in Ethan Winters’ wake. Perhaps she heard the Duke wrong, perhaps it was a jest. There was no one awaiting her return, surely. A cruel joke, to be sure, but perhaps she was meant to be the butt of every cruel joke, she had been so far.

She tentatively swung one leg after the other over the edge of the bed. Her feet met cold, polished wooden floors. She took a moment to ground herself, her legs still felt shaky but she pushed herself to stand, bracing against the wall. She grasped the dress and clean undergarments in one hand and leaned against the wall with the other as she made her way to the door to the bathroom. And to her surprise, as she ducked through the doorway, the Duke had been truthful. A giant claw foot ceramic tub sat in the cramped space, steam rising from it. Alcina breathed in the steam and could smell the soap and oils he used in the bath. She placed her dress and undergarments gently on the sink and slipped off the dreadful cotton nightgown she had been wearing.

The water felt divine as she sank in to her chin, she took a deep breath and dipped her head under the surface. She held her head under the water for as long as she could, listening to her heart as it beat in her chest. She came up out of the water with a small gasp, her eyes fluttering open. She found soap, shampoo, and conditioner and got to work scrubbing herself clean. She took her time lavishing in the hot water and scented oils, and when her fingers had begun to wrinkle, she pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub and let the water drain. She stood, dried herself, and wrapped her hair in the towel to let it soak the water from her hair. She walked back over to her clothes and carefully put them on. Once she was dressed, she found a small golden canister at the bottom of the sink, as though she had knocked it over and hadn’t noticed. She picked it up, it was a tube of lipstick, familiar in her fingers, she opened it.

Alcina let out another little gasp of surprise, it was her custom lipstick, from the castle. From home. Her eyes snapped up to the mirror and she quickly put the lipstick on. She pressed her lips together to ensure it was even, and then she smiled. Her smile quickly faded, there wasn’t much reason to smile anymore. She sighed heavily and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked different, while still tall and strong looking, her skin was no longer gray; pale still certainly, but there was color in her cheeks. She traced a finger delicately over her cheekbone. How long had it been since any natural color had graced her features? Surely, long before her daughters were ever a glimmer in her eye.

There was no curling iron, but there was a comb. She thought about trying to wrestle with her hair without the proper product in it. /Perhaps it won’t be so bad if it's still wet.../ She hummed a moment. /No, better to let it dry the way it is and try again when I have the proper supplies./ She unwrapped her hair from the towel and let it flow gently over her shoulders, perhaps she should at least braid it. So, she did, loosely and messy with pieces sticking out here and there, but at least it was away from her face.

Alcina knew she had taken quite a while, perhaps she had kept her “audience” waiting, but she was hardly sure there actually was one. She strode over to the door of her room to meet the Duke, she opened it and saw him waiting just on the other side, hand still in the air as though he were getting ready to knock.

“Ah, there you are, looking ravishing as always, my Lady,” he said. Alcina nodded.

“Thank you, Duke. However, under the circumstances, I am aware I do not look my best,” she said. He waved a hand at her.

“Nonsense, now, come along. There are some lovely individuals just longing to see you,” he said. Alcina looked down at him, brows knit together in confusion.

“Who exactly?” She asked.

“All in good time, my dear,” he said. Alcina scoffed and rolled her eyes in frustration. She hated secrets, but because of their agreement, Alcina couldn’t use her usual methods of forcing out secrets. She walked slowly beside the Duke, trying to keep pace with him and not walk too far ahead. The house they were in was large, but it was not her castle. Where exactly she was, she didn’t know, but at least she could walk comfortably upright here. She walked beside the Duke for what felt like quite a long time, but as they approached the first floor, Alcina could hear chatter. Something about the noise made her chest tighten. She lengthened her stride, walking ahead of the Duke, he did not seem to protest, and even if he did, she didn’t hear him. A laugh rang out and Alcina found herself nearly flying down the staircase, taking two at a time, her bare feet hit cold marble with a small smack. Her eyes widened; it couldn’t be... She could hear the voices distinctly now as she rounded towards the kitchen, but she still couldn’t see them, tears rolled down her bare face once more. /It wasn’t possible./ She called out to the voices.

“Bela!” Her desperation made her voice crack. The voices halted.

“Daniela!” Her voice broke as a sob escaped her. She could hear quick footsteps approaching.

“Cassandra!” She cried. She broke into a run towards the sound of the footsteps. Her dress tangled in her legs and was caught under her foot, both her feet were swept out from under her as she tried to round another corner. She hit the floor with a loud thud that seemed to shake the room. She was dazed for just a moment as the breath was knocked from her. She felt something fall on top of her, warm and soft. She looked up with blurry tear-filled eyes and saw a head of red hair burying itself under her chin, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. There was a jolt of force from beside her as someone else clung to her, all of them shaking. She looked and saw a flash of dark brown hair settle over her shoulder. And finally, one last jostle and Alcina turned again and saw bright blonde hair covering shaking shoulders.

“My sweet girls!” She cried. "Let me look at you, come here.” They all looked up and moved to sit in front of her, tears streaming down each face, each set of eyes red and puffy, all four of them gasping and sobbing, clinging to each other. Alcina grasped each woman’s face in her hands tightly and brought them to her face to kiss them all over and wipe their tears away. Once she had kissed each of them a million times and her mouth was sore from pressing it against her daughters’ faces, she pulled them in as tightly as she could and cried. It was like a dream, sitting there with them again and Alcina prayed that it wouldn’t end. She heard a sound behind her, her head whipped around to look, tightening her hold on her daughters as if they’d be whisked away again. It was the Duke, he simply smiled and nodded to her and turned to leave the room and let the women have their reunion.

Alcina turned back to look at her daughters once more, they all looked at her, eyes wide and red.

“We missed you, Mama,” said Bela sniffling. /Mama/, like music to her ears. Alcina placed a hand on her cheek.

“And I have missed you more than life itself, draga mea.” She said.

#lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #resident evil #re8 dimitrescu #re8 #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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fandom-imagines · 3 years

Text

Illogical

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: L Lawliet X Yagami!Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence and death (but it’s death note :P)

Being Light Yagami’s sister was hard for both younger girls.

Y/N and Sayu were immensely proud of the older man, all whilst being envious. However, Y/N was less envious due to her own intelligence rivalling that of the older Yagami. That was one of the reasons that he chose her. In fact, that was the reason he had her help him create a new world, one of which they would both rule together.

Understandably the younger sibling was afraid.

She had noticed the genius changing during a short amount of time, but she had simply dismissed it, blaming it on teenage hormones. But it never got better, it got worse. Before he would spend time with the family, taking time out of his busy schedule to bond with them, but now he was constantly in his room ‘studying’.

“Light?” Y/N’s voice sounded from behind the door which was shortly followed by a knock. “Can I come in?”

A chuckle left Ryuk’s lips at Lights panicked expression that was simply caused by the voice of the younger girl behind the door.

Light had been so busy for the last few weeks that he had completely forgotten about their agreement to spend some time together whilst the rest of the family were away.

“Yeah, come in,” he called back, wincing at the sound of the door creaking open to reveal the Y/H/C-haired girl.

“What’s up?” A grin was plastered on her lips as she flopped onto his bed, narrowly missing touching the death note that he had carelessly left there whilst he took a short break from killing criminals.

“Be careful, Light.” The shinigami’s voice caught Light’s attention, eyes glancing to the tall figure, “Anyone who touches that notebook can see me, as well as hear me.” Another laugh left his lips.

As though it was planned, Y/N’s fingers reached for the book, “Hey, what’s this?”

Her eyes widened as she glanced up at the tall death God who simply gave her a small wave along with a ‘hi’.

“H-hello…?” Y/N’s shaky voice left her lips, something that Ryuk shook his head at. “Light? Wha…”

Unbeknownst to her, Light was already situated on the floor in front of her. He gently grasped her cheek, tilting her wide eyes to look into his own.

“Y/N, I am Kira. Will you help me create a new world?”

It had felt like forever since that day. Names no longer meant a thing to her, just a string of letters to write down to end somebody’s life.

Things got even more tricky when her and Light had been asked to join the investigation by L himself, someone that Y/N began to unwillingly develop a small crush on. Considering that he was searching to kill her and Light, she guessed that this crush was probably a bad thing.

Some may think that things could not get worse from there, but oh boy, they can.

“Y/N,” L’s deep voice brought the girl from her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

He was seated beside her, cake placed on the desk in front of him, yet his attention was focused solely on her.

“Are you okay?” Those three words that left his lips shocked her, unable to make eye contact with him she decided to instead glance down at his lips, nerves taking over her.

Lawliet caught onto her anxiety immediately, placing his cold hand on top of the warmth of her own to calm her, something that he often did.

Not only did it get her to relax, but he also enjoyed touching her, not that he would ever admit that to anybody of course. Especially not when you remember that she was the sister of his main suspect for the Kira case. However, he had never suspected her of a thing. Too blinded by love? Perhaps.

“Ryu?” Confusion filled her Y/E/C orbs as she leant up to face him, only to see his own gaze on her lips.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew what that meant.

She heard a chuckle behind her, one she immediately recognised at Ryuk’s. Said chuckle only became louder as he witnessed the detective and the death note holders’ lips touch.

The entirety of the task force, including L, stood around Light, Y/N slightly situated to the side of him whilst he laughed.

“That’s right,” a smirk covered his lips, “I’m Kira. But I’m not the only one.” Light’s eyes darted towards his younger sister who stood as still as a statue, fear filling her body as she realised that her boyfriend would want to kill her, and she would have to kill her boyfriend.

“Y/N…” Lawliet’s voice held a hint of betrayal in it as he spoke, watching as she stepped towards Light who handed her a death note before pushing her to the side again.

“Do the honours,” Light grinned, glancing towards L, prepared to watch him fall to the ground from a heart attack.

Light believed that the relationship between the detective and his sister was fake, something she was using to their advantage to win the war. Little did he know that she loved him, she loved him more than she loved her own psychopathic brother.

An idea flashed into Y/N’s head as she nodded, feeling Ryuk stood behind her who was enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

She brought the pen to the page, ignoring everyone’s pleas for her to stop as she wrote. The look of betrayal and hurt on the raven-haired man struck pain into her heart, but she knew what she was doing was right.

“Goodbye, L. Kira will always win.” Light’s manic laugh sounded again as he spoke, ignoring Ryuk’s own laugh which everyone could hear also.

Light’s laugh came to a halt as he began coughing.

“Y-Y/N…?” A look of betrayal filled his face before being covered in anger as he glared at her. “Ryuk! Kill her.” He coughed again, becoming desperate as he realised what she had done.

She had written his name, not L’s.

“Sorry, Light.” Ryuk chuckled, “I always said I wasn’t on yours or L’s side, but Y/N truly wins this one.” Another chuckle left his lips as he patted Y/N’s hair in a comforting manner, tears falling down her cheeks as she watched the life leave Kira’s eyes.

Both the book and pen fell from her shaking hands, body dropping to the ground as she burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to.”

Nobody moved an inch, scared that this was all an act.

“Please, don’t hate me.” Hands reaching up to her hair, Y/N began to pull tightly to relieve, at least some of, her anxiety.

Matsuda had walked towards Light, checking his body for a pulse.

There was none.

“Y/N,” Lawliet was the first of the task force to speak, “breathe.”

Another sob left her lips as she desperately clawed at her hair.

L climbed up onto his feet, making his way towards her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her, “Light can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I killed him, Ryu. I killed my own brother.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks, body wracked with sobs that only increased as Ryuzaki pulled her into a tight hug.

“You did what you had to.”

The rest of the task force stood still in horror at what had just happened.

The girl they had never suspected was responsible for the killings. Not only her, her genius brother also. From what they could piece together, it was unwilling on her part, anybody could deduce that much. It was evident from the genuine remorse she showed that she regretted everything.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N’s hands left her hair to wrap around the detective, afraid that when she opens her eyes he’d be gone; afraid that he would hate her. “I didn’t want to hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

L shushed her, pale hands moving to massage her hair in a soothing manner, “it’s okay.”

The two remained like that for what felt like hours, both as afraid as the other to pull away in case this was all a dream, in case they would lose each other.

“I love you,”

288 notes · View notes

helnjk · 3 years

Text

She Used To Be Mine - R.W.

Ron Weasley x fem!reader

based on the song She Used To Be Mine from the musical Waitress & part of my showtunes fic list ! i’m sorry in advance for the ouchie

Word Count: 3k

Summary: when ron leaves to go on the run, she’s left a shell of the person she used to be.

Warnings: there’s major angst (but maybe a happy ending? you’ll have to find out), injury, & mentions of the war/final battle

lyrics are bolded & italicized

flashbacks are italicized

–

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

The field was quiet. It was as if time was frozen in their little bubble, not a breeze in the air nor a rustle in the leaves. Y/N hated it. The silence allowed her thoughts to wander in the direction she couldn’t bear to think about.

–

The Burrow was alight with music and happy conversations. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was in full swing and the crowd had made the most of this opportunity to celebrate life and love, even in the midst of a war.

Y/N could tell something was wrong with Ron. He hadn’t uttered a single word to her the entire night, only tightly gripping onto her hand.

They were sat at one of the tables, empty save for them. The rest of their friends were mingling with the distant Weasley relatives, grabbing a drink, or dancing on the floor. The silence was unbearable for her, something in her mind nagging at her to say something, anything.

To her surprise, Ron was the first to speak.

“I need to talk to you,” He said.

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to face him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, brilliant.” His reply was too quick, too immediate, and he realized his mistake right away, “I-erm. No actually, no it’s not.”

The pounding in her ears stopped her from hearing much else. The lively music and the chatter of the crowd faded around her, time had stopped. Her eyes blurred in and out of focus and her pulse beat almost unbearably in her neck. Through the fog, she could make out a few words here and there.

“We can’t be together anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s for the best.”

This had come out of nowhere, everything had been fine leading up to that moment. Where had it all gone wrong? In the span of seconds, her entire world seemed to be crumbling in front of her.

“I don’t understand,” She managed to choke out, her eyes searching for any sort of answer on his face, “Was it something that I did? Is there anything I can do?”

Her voice grew more and more desperate, her body was flushed with heat. She could tell that Ron was uncomfortable, he was fidgeting in his seat and his eyes kept glancing towards the nearest exit, but she thought she deserved an answer.

“Look, Y/N,” Ron began, “With everything going on right now–”

“Oh don’t give me that excuse,” Y/N snapped and immediately shut her mouth. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she refused to believe what he was saying.

“It’s not an excuse!” He was agitated as well now, no longer antsy in his seat but face flushed with frustration, “I’ve got a job to do and I don’t want to–”

Whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by the arrival of Kingsley’s patronus. In between hearing his message and the chaos that ensued afterwards, Y/N had lost sight of Ron.

When the last of the Death Eaters had disapparated away and all that was left was silence, the searing pain of heartbreak overcame her and she was left an empty shell of herself.

–

A soft grip on Y/N’s shoulder brought her out of her thoughts.

“You alright?” Tonks asked, sending a concerned glance her way.

Y/N shook her head in an attempt to clear it from any unwanted thoughts and sent a soft smile in the direction of her friend, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She could tell Tonks wanted to say something more but had decided against it, and she was thankful. She wasn’t in a mood to talk. Well, she hadn’t been in that kind of mood in a long time, and she could tell that other Order members were getting concerned.

Most days she sat alone in her tiny flat, staring out the window. The hours would pass her by too slowly and she itched for something to take her mind off things. Most nights she spent pacing a hole into her floor because she couldn’t sleep.

Not when all she thought about was how inadequate she had been for Ron to have left her like that. Like she didn’t matter to him at all.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Y/N, the telltale crack of apparition sounded at the house they were in charge of staking-out. The pair of them sent glances at each other before grabbing their wands and breaking into a sprint in the direction of the sound.

The moment the two of them crossed into the threshold, it was a flurry of spells and curses hurled in different directions. She could barely make out who was sending out what colorful jet of light in her direction, her mind had simply gone on autopilot.

Y/N knew how intense this mission could get, but she had willingly (and almost forcefully) asserted that she would be the one to accompany Tonks. Anything to get out of her house and not have to think for just a moment.

The next thing she knew, she was fading in and out of consciousness. She could vaguely make out a pair of strong arms carrying her and hear shouts of concern that sounded as if she was underwater.

–

Molly Weasley nearly brought her whole house down with how loudly she had screamed when she saw Bill carrying an unconscious Y/N through the wards of her home, Tonks right at their side.

“What happened?” She demanded, rushed towards them.

No one said anything as the three of them struggled to bring her inside and onto the soft surface of the couch. When they were satisfied with the arrangement, Molly repeated her question.

Tonks was the first to reply, “They were too many at the raid, it was overwhelming. I barely made it out with her, and I had to call Bill for back up.”

“We couldn’t bring her to Mungo’s, it was too risky. Who knows how many people You-Know-Who has on the inside.” Bill continued, and the Weasley matriarch nodded her head.

The three of them collectively let out a breath, but they knew that they weren’t out of the woods just yet.

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back

For a chance to start over

And rewrite an ending or two

Ron knew he had made a mistake. Well, more than just one.

First, he buggered the last conversation he had with Y/N and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again. Or if she would even look him in the eye if he did. He didn’t want to end things that way, but he felt like he had no choice. Keeping her close to him was effectively putting her in the line of fire, and he couldn’t bear to do that to her. Not when she meant so much to him.

Then, he let that stupid locket mess with his head and his insecurities, and now he had no idea how to find his way back to Harry and Hermione.

With a defeated sigh, he took a step forward and twisted to the right. The familiar sensation of apparition enveloped him and soon he found himself just outside the wards of the Burrow.

“Ron?” Molly gasped, looking out the window to see her youngest son slowly trudging towards her.

Then, her eyes subconsciously darted towards the stairs, as she knew that Y/N was just a few floors above, lying on Bill’s old bed. This was going to be interesting.

“Oh Merlin what has that boy gotten himself into,” She muttered and moved towards the door.

Before Ron could even raise his hand to grip the doorknob, it swung open to reveal Molly. His eyes searched hers tentatively for any sort of signs of anger or ill-will. He found none and his body sagged in relief.

“Mum,” He choked out and immediately he was engulfed in one of her signature hugs. In that moment, everything seemed to crash down on him and he was wracked with sobs.

He felt like a little boy again, clinging onto his mother for comfort, and she let him. She rubbed his back gently and kept her other arm wrapped tightly around him.

When he had somewhat calmed down, he found himself on the couch with a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands.

“Want to tell me what’s happened?” Molly asked, taking a seat next to her son, “Where are Harry and Hermione?”

Through a few more tears and more cups of tea than necessary, Ron regaled what had happened to them on the run. Molly’s heart broke for her son and for the mistakes that he had made, but she knew that his intentions were in the right place. She could also tell that guilt was plaguing him for a completely different reason as well.

And so, after reassuring him that he would be able to find his way back to his two best friends, she decided to share the news of their house’s latest guest with him.

“I have something to tell you as well, dear,” she began, “It has to do with Y/N.”

The moment she finished retelling what had happened to her, Ron was out of his seat and was nearly sprinting up the stairs. The door to Bill’s old room creaked as he pushed it open, but it didn’t do much to stir any sort of reaction from the person inside.

Ron’s eyes scanned over Y/N’s tiny figure, curled up at the corner of the bed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he approached, his mind still not having processed what his mum had told him. The person he knew her to be–strong willed, witty, and confident–did not align with what he saw in front of him.

And he vowed that he would do whatever it took to get her to be that person once again. To right his wrongs and rewrite how their story ended.

–

The sun had just started to rise above the horizon and the other residents of the Burrow were not yet awake. Y/N stumbled midstep as she attempted to make her way into the bathroom. She thought that she was perfectly capable of bringing herself to wash and get ready for the day in the shared bathroom, but she was proven wrong.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt her body falling. She was still recovering from whatever curse had been shot at her, therefore she wasn’t in full control of all her limbs yet. But she was stubborn, and she overexerted herself everyday.

Before she could hit the ground and cause even more damage to herself, a pair of strong arms caught her.

Ron’s bright blue eyes locked with hers and she felt her heart stutter.

It had been almost a week since his unannounced arrival, and she hadn’t spoken a word to him. She could barely even look him in the eyes without wanting to burst into tears.

Quickly, she gathered as much strength as she could muster and she stood, albeit shakily. No words were exchanged between the two of them, but Ron didn’t let go of her until she was safely in the bathroom.

When the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was all too confusing, being so near him after all of this time. She didn’t know if she had it in her to actually have a conversation with him, not without bringing up feelings she worked so hard to repress.

Still, when she finished washing up and opened the door to the bathroom, she was not as surprised to find Ron still standing there.

“C’mon, I’ll help you to your room,” he spoke, holding out his arm. When she hesitated, he let at an almost inaudible sigh, “We don’t have to talk. I just want to make sure that you don’t have another incident like earlier.”

Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment, weighing her options. Ultimately, she knew that risking another fall was not something she wanted to do, so she gently took his arm. True to his word, Ron didn’t bother trying to speak with her, but on the inside, his heart was stuttering at being in such close proximity with her.

And so began his habit of being her caretaker.

Over the next few days, it was rare to see Y/N without Ron by her side. He was the support that she needed, both physically and emotionally, though she never spoke to him directly. Her communication came in gentle touches, squeezes of the arm when pain would shoot up her spine or hitches of the breath whenever the redressing of her wounds would sting a little too much.

He made up for the silence on her end, whispering words of encouragement and comfort.

“I’ve got you.”

“You’re doing so great, love.”

“Let me help you.”

Little by little Y/N’s resolve began to crumble.

One night, as he dropped her off at her room for bed, she caved.

“Ron,” she said, watching his retreating figure. His whole body tensed before he slowly turned around.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyebrows knitted in concern, “Are you hurting? What do you need me to do?”

Her heart cracked at the sight of the man in front of her, so selfless in his love and care for her, even if she had been so cold and distant in return, “I–I wanted to talk.”

The simple sentence seemed to have broken whatever wall that stood between the two of them.

Ron swallowed, “Right, right. Of course.”

“You can come inside, you know.” She cracked a smile in his direction.

The moment he took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, Y/N had no clue what to say. It was as if everything that had plagued her mind for the past week had disappeared.

Before she could open her mouth, he spoke, “I wanted to apologize.”

“What?”

He nervously fidgeted in his seat, “For–Well, for how things had ended between the two of us.” Another pause. “I didn’t say what I meant to say and everything kind of just ended so quickly, and you didn’t–you don’t–deserve that.”

“Right.” Y/N nodded her head, her mind going on overdrive.

“And,” he swallowed again, nervously, “When I heard about how you got hurt, I–I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not having you in my life. Being on the run, I would stay up all night hoping not to hear your name on the radio, and when I got home, it was like my worst nightmares were coming true.

“What are you trying to say, Ron?” She asked, meeting his eyes for the first time since he sat down, “I don’t understand.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Y/N. And I want to fight for us, for our future together.”

To fight just a little

To bring back the fire in her eyes

Y/N was stood by the door frame, observing Ron as he packed and repacked his bag. Too much time had passed since he was last with Harry and Hermione, she knew that. It was time for him to try and find them, to go back on the run and make sure that they found whatever it was that they were looking for.

Still, her heart ached at the thought of him leaving again.

“Honestly, Ron, you’ve packed that bag enough times. You have what you need,” She teased, finally willing herself to enter the room.

His head snapped up, not knowing that she had been standing there, “Just nervous. I don’t wanna forget something and not be able to come back.”

She only hummed in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

“I’m going to miss you.” She mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

Ron sighed and tightened his hold on her, “I’m going to miss you too.”

She leant back, making sure to look him in the eyes, “You better come back to me. Merlin knows I’d figure out a way to murder you in the afterlife if you don’t.”

The pair of them stared at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. He shook his head in disbelief at her statement, “Of course you would. And I promise I’ll come back to you, I just have a job to do.”

Neither of them moved from their position. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for as long as they could, slightly swaying from side to side. It wasn’t said, but both knew that Ron would have to make his leave sooner or later.

When the time finally came, he let out a breath and pulled away slightly.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered.

“I love you too.”

Then, his lips pressed against hers softly and her eyes closed. This wasn’t just a kiss to them, it was a promise. A promise to fight for each other, to fight for their futures. A promise that they would see each other again and that they would live the lives they planned out together.

–

It was chaos.

The amount of relief and celebration that those who found themselves in the Great Hall after the Dark Lord’s fall felt was euphoric. People gathered together in groups, tears in their eyes, hugging and laughing and letting out sighs of relief.

Y/N’s eyes nervously scanned the room for the familiar blue eyes she was desperate to find. She sat with the rest of the Weasleys, near the cot where Fred had laid, but he soon joined them in their vigil waiting for the last of their brood to arrive.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled from across the room.

She spun around to see Ron nearly sprinting towards her. A relieved laugh escaped her lips just as he reached her, tackling her into the biggest hug she had ever received. Unable to stop them, tears escaped her eyes as she gripped onto him, unbelievably grateful that she had this wonderful man in her arms again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She whispered as they released their grips on each other ever so slightly.

“Me too.”

And then his lips were on hers and they shared a passionate kiss.

–

general taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon

message to be added or removed!!

#kai's showtunes fics #ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley fics #ron weasley fic #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x y/n #tw injury

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fidothefinch · 3 years

Text

The Blame Game

Warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault (offscreen), hospitals, non-linear narrative

2 Hours After

Tim hated the hospital.

The vent in the floor was shooting a steady stream of cold, artificial air into his face, but it did nothing to counter the scent of bleach, blood, and the beef broth left untouched on the tray beside the bed.

The children’s wing of the hospital was more colorful than the adult side, at least. Playful gel shapes clung to the windows, making the light passing through dappled like stained glass. The walls were painted a cheery yellow, and the fluorescent light above them had clouds printed on the covers. The beds were a little smaller, too, but Damian still looked incredibly small in his.

Tim couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Not again. Dick was still on his way from Blüdhaven, and Bruce had stepped out of the room to talk to the case workers. He had asked Tim to keep an eye on Damian in case he woke up.

Tim wasn’t going to screw that up, this time.

Read on Ao3

2 Hours Before

“Get off!”

“Give me the remote, Drake. It is my turn to choose a program!”

“Star Trek isn’t over—hey!” Tim shouted when Damian kneeled on the healing bruise on his thigh in his attempt to reach the remote Tim held over his head. “I said get off, demon!”

Damian only reached higher, his fingers brushing the bottom of Tim’s wrists. “Father said I could have my turn after thirty minutes!”

“Go—” with a well-aimed shove, Tim successfully dumped Damian backward onto the floor. “Go watch your stupid show on your tablet.”

“No!” The tips of Damian’s ears were red with the injustice of it all. Tough luck. “It is my turn!”

“Boys,” boomed down the doorway, and they both stiffened. Bruce took one look at their positions and sighed. “Tim. It’s Damian’s turn. He’s been waiting for this virtual gallery tour for weeks.”

Tim scowled. “I was here first. It’s the annual Star Trek marathon and —”

Bruce plucked the remote from Tim’s hand, still held high over his head, and tossed it to Damian. “You can watch on any of the tv’s in the house. Damian asked for this one first.”

Tim grunted in frustration. He was missing the next segment of his episode. “Fine,” he half-muttered.

He tossed the blanket in his lap into Damian’s smug face a little harder than would be friendly on his way out.

1 Hour After

Bruce caught Tim before he could get further than a few steps away from the door to the guest bedroom, effectively blocking his view of the bedroom and the bathroom beyond, where he could hear Alfred and running water. “Good, Tim, you’re here.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asked. There was something else, under the sound of the running water. Sniffling.

“I need you to go to Damian’s room and grab some clothes for him. And a toothbrush.”

“Why?”

“Just—” Bruce grunted. “I’ll fill you in on the way to the hospital.”

When he turned to leave, Tim caught sight of a plastic zipper bag.

The sweatpants Damian had been wearing earlier were inside.

Mechanically, Tim nodded, backing away toward Damian’s room.

1 Hour Before

Tim pulled out an earbud at the knock on his bedroom door. “What?” he called, not bothering to keep his irritation out of his voice. Couldn’t he just watch his show in peace for once?

Bruce leaned inside just enough his shoulders peeked through the doorway. “Tim? I’ve got to run out to pick up something from Lucius. Can you keep an eye on Damian while I’m gone?”

Tim rolled his eyes, still angry that the brat had kicked him out of his marathon spot. “If this is some kind of attempted forced-bonding, you’re getting more obvious.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t be out long. Just make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. Can you do that much?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim said, waving his hand in Bruce’s direction. He was already putting his earbuds back in. “I’ll make sure the brat doesn’t burn the manor down.”

Bruce lingered in the door a few more seconds, looking like he wanted to say something, but Tim wasn’t about to make it easy for him by acknowledging it. He put his earbud back in and turned his attention to his show.

45 Minutes After

Tim woke up with a start. Drool spanned his cheek, dried and crusty with age. He wiped it away with annoyance and pulled his earbuds out before he could get sucked into another episode of his show, still running on his laptop in the background.

Man, he had needed that nap. He felt significantly better already.

Whatever had woken him up repeated, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Bruce and Alfred, speaking in hushed tones in the hallway. They were normally much quieter, if they didn’t want to be heard. This sounded more like the tone they took when they were trying to calm somebody down.

Curious, Tim stretched deeply, satisfied with the cracks his spine gave, before slinking off his bed and venturing out into the hallway again. But his carefree feeling evaporated as he noticed that the voices were coming from the guest bedroom nearest the stairs. The door was open.

Small, bloody fingerprints were smeared across the doorframe.

45 Minutes Before

“Drake.”

“Brat.” Tim turned up his laptop volume, thoroughly enjoying the affronted look on Damian’s face at being ignored.

“I have a request.”

“Mh-hm.”

“Take me to the art museum.”

Tim did look up at that one, somehow both surprised and unsurprised at the same time. “Hm,” he hummed, pretending to think about it. “No.”

Damian scowled, crossing his arms. “I will do your chores for the next week.”

“No.”

“Two weeks.”

“Still a no.” Tim pulled out an earbud and pretended to be sad. “Bruce said we can’t leave the grounds while he’s out.”

“No, he did not.”

“He did.”

Damian pursed his lips, studying Tim for any hint of the truth. Tim kept it all clammed up; there was no way he would sus it out of him. “If you will not take me, I will go by myself.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with that.” Tim rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Bruce will take you, if you just wait until he gets back.”

“The special exhibit closes at four. I cannot wait,” Damian proclaimed.

“Sure.” The next episode of Tim’s show was starting. It was the season finale; he couldn’t miss anything or he risked missing iconic moments. “Bye, then.”

Damian tutted before stomping away.

30 Minutes After

Tim had bulldozed through another few episodes of Star Trek before anybody interrupted him again. He was drowsy from sitting still so long, halfway to sleep. There was a knock on his door, and Tim was ready to tell Damian off again before it cracked open, revealing Bruce.

“Have you seen Damian?” Bruce asked.

“Nope,” Tim said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. He snuggled deeper into his blanket pile. “But I haven’t smelled smoke, either, so I think we’re fine.”

Bruce’s mouth drew into a flat line. He hummed as he hurriedly left again, pulling Tim’s door shut behind him softly.

30 Minutes Before

Tim pulled an earbud out. He could have sworn he heard the front door shut.

“Damian?” he called.

He got no response, but then, he wasn’t really expecting one. Moody kid.

He didn’t feel like investigating further. He ignored it.

3 Hours After

“You should eat something.”

Tim’s fast-food hamburgers that had long since gone cold, sat untouched in his lap. They weren’t at all appealing. He shook his head, the movement so small that he swore he could hear his spine creak between his ears. “I should have been watching him,” he whispered.

Dick shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair, made all the worse by his refusal to sit in it like a normal person. He settled, feet propped over one of the arms, and hummed in a way that neither affirmed or refuted his claim.

“If I had been watching him, none of this would have happened.”

“Hey.”

Tim’s head snapped up at the sharp command.

Dick looked at him sternly. “None of this is your fault.”

“But—”

“None of it.”

It wasn’t true. Tim had to make Dick understand why he was to blame. “I knew he had left,” he confessed. The words tasted like soap in his mouth. “I heard the door, and I. . . I didn’t do anything to stop him.”

“Okay.”

“And Bruce asked me to watch him, and I told him that I would. But I didn’t, and now he’s. . . .” Tim couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Now he’s hurt, and I could have prevented it.”

Dick regarded him a moment, arms crossed lightly over his stomach. He tilted his head to the side. “Damian could have prevented it, too.”

Tim scrunched his forehead. “What?”

“If he had followed the rules. If he had done what he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Tim’s mind went blank.

“So, really, it’s Damian’s fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Tim hissed.

“Why not?”

“He’s too young.” Tim fumbled over his words, the obvious reasoning. “He didn’t ask for this to happen to him. He isn’t. . . He wasn’t. . . ”

To his surprise, he lost his words to a low sob.

Dick slid from his chair and to Tim’s with the grace of a dancer. He wrapped his arms around Tim, squeezing tightly. Hushing him.

“He was my responsibility,” Tim sobbed into Dick’s shoulder. “I could have stopped it. It’s my fault.”

Dick continued to shush him through the shudders that wracked his body. One hand rubbed his back in calming, grounding circles.

“It’s nobody’s fault but the man who hurt him,” Dick said. “Without him, none of this would have happened. He’s the only one to blame.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispered, squeezing tears out between tightly-clenched eyelids. His hands clenched Dick’s shoulders hard enough it had to hurt. Dick didn’t comment on it.

“It’s not your fault,” he said instead. He squeezed back, a little harder. Something hoarse had made its way into his voice, as well. “It’s not your fault.”

He repeated it until, gradually, Tim thought he might believe it.

#batfam #tim drake #dc #fido writes #who needs therapy when you can write fic #adding these tags too late but to be clear: dick doesnt blame damian either.#the thought of blaming damian is ridiculous and he knows that tim kniws that. he is trying to illistrate why it isnt tims fault either

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lupin-for-president · 4 years

Text

Pretty Pink Paper

(Jeddy)

—

James Sirius knew it was foolish, falling in love with his blue-haired best friend, who also happened to be seven whole years older than him. It was the type of situation that would only end up hurting James in the end, he knew that better than anyone.

But he just couldn’t help it.

It was impossible for him not to fall in love Teddy—especially with the way Teddy acted around him. The way Teddy spoke to him. The way Teddy touched him. The way Teddy smiled at him. The way Teddy looked at him.

Teddy treated James like he was the most important person on the entire earth.

And James drank it up like honey.

Everything about Teddy was so addicting to him. There wasn’t a single thing about the scrawny little punk that James didn’t wholeheartedly love and adore.

The way Teddy always laughed —a little too hard— when James would be the one to tell him a cheesy joke.

How Teddy would always match his eye color to his outfit and make sure to ask James’ opinion on it before leaving the house.

The way Teddy’s nose would scrunch up whenever James would be applying his blush and eyeliner for him, muttering a “Hold still, Ted” as he held the cap between his teeth.

How Teddy’s arms felt draped loosely over James as he leaned over to show the boy how to play a certain piano chord correctly.

The way Teddy would struggle to stay awake throughout an entire movie —no matter the time of day— and always ended up falling asleep on James’ shoulder.

How Teddy would use any spare minute of his free time to teach James more new tricks to do on his broom so that he could impress his friends.

The way Teddy would stick out his lip —and beg and plead— until James finally caved in and played with or braided his hair, Teddy smiling smugly at the tiny victory.

How everytime Teddy was upset, the first person he would go to would be James, and he would bury his face into his chest and cry until he felt better.

The way Teddy would interrupt James’ reading by running into his room and playing air guitar while singing at the top of his lungs.

How Teddy made a chocolate cupcake for James’ birthday every single year —refusing help from anyone else in the house— and ended up burning it each and every time.

The way Teddy ruffled a hand through James’ messy brown hair every time he walked past him, flashing him a cheeky closed eye grin as he did so.

How Teddy was always there, no matter what.

It wasn’t James’ fault that he fell in love with Teddy. It was the cruel fault of the universe for having put someone so exceptionally perfect into his life, then expecting him not to be affected by it.

It was James’ fault, however, that Teddy happened to find out about these feelings.

Teddy shouldn’t have been sneaking around in James’ room, sure, but James was the one that had forgotten to put the old, tattered brown shoebox back in its hiding place under his bed.

That exact brown shoebox was the very gateway to the most extreme form of embarrassment that James Sirius had ever had the displeasure of facing throughout his entire sixteen years of life.

It was the shoebox full of his love letters, all of which were —very blatantly— addressed to Teddy.

He had just celebrated his birthday a week prior and he was more than thrilled to be lounging at home during his summer break from Hogwarts. He and Teddy had been basically inseparable since the beginning of summer —not that that was anything new— and James was genuinely very happy.

That is, until he came back up to his room from having grabbed a plate of cookies in the kitchen, only to find Teddy —sitting on the edge of James’ bed, a brown shoebox in his lap, and pink slips of paper in his hands— with furrowed brows and his lip tucked between his teeth.

Teddy hadn’t heard James come in at first. In fact, he didn’t even know he had entered the room until the sound of glass shattering pierced through the air, James having dropped his plate full of cookies due to the sudden trembling of his hands.

A small piece of James was hoping —praying— to whatever gods above that maybe Teddy hadn’t really read any of the letters at all. But from the wide eyed, red faced look that Teddy gave him upon getting caught, what little hope James had flickering inside him was immediately distinguished.

He felt sick, nauseous, and insanely lightheaded as he bolted out of the door, making a beeline for the bathroom. A singe of pain surged up from the bottom of his foot as he realized he had stepped on a shard of the broken plate during his hasty escape, but he didn’t dare pause to check it.

He could hear the heavy footsteps following quickly after him —and the faint shouting, too— though it was muffled from the pounding of his heartbeat ringing in his eardrums. As soon as he made it to the bathroom, he shut the door and pushed his foot up against it, turning the lock just in time to be greeted by a chorus of loud banging.

“Jamie! Jamie, open up!” Teddy shouted from the other side, hands bashing against the wood.

James couldn’t answer due to him falling to his knees in front of the toilet and emptying out the contents of what was —most likely— his breakfast from earlier. He didn’t stop hurling until there was absolutely nothing left, his forehead drenched in sweat as he panted to catch his breath.

“Open the door, Jamie! Come on, it’s me. Just open the door, we can talk this out!” Teddy blurted, his hard knocks not missing a beat.

“Go away,” James answered back weakly, his voice strained.

Rivers were trailing down his cheeks now, dripping into the corners of his cracked lips. As the sobs wracked through his body, he pulled his knees up firm against his chest, fingers digging deep into his upper arms as he tried to calm himself down. A small pool of blood started forming under his right foot from the cut, which only caused his blood pressure to spike even more as he glanced down at it.

It had been a while since he had experienced a panic attack that was this bad. It had actually been almost a full year, in fact.

Normally, the only thing that would successfully calm him down was if Teddy cupped his face firmly in his hands and whispered countless soothing words to him as he forced him to maintain eye contact. Teddy would always constantly switch the color of his irises —sometimes even making them swirl— in order to make James’ attention focus on anything else but the initial cause of the attack.

But this time, Teddy was the cause of it.

And now James was having to calm himself back down all on his own.

And it wasn’t working.

And he couldn’t breathe.

And his chest hurt so bad.

And all he could think of was the sight of Teddy.

Brown shoebox sitting in his lap.

Pink slips of paper in his hands.

Reading each and every one of James’ sinful and foolish desires.

And the thought of Teddy being absolutely disgusted with James for even daring to think about him in even the slightest bit of a romantic way plagued James’ poor mind.

It was all too much.

And the world felt like it was spinning.

And the only thing keeping him rooted was the pain from his nails digging into his skin and the sound of Teddy’s worried screams.

It felt like it went on for hours.

But that’s because it did.

Ginny finally came home from training four hours later to find a shaking and stressed Teddy, tear tracks tattooing his flushed cheeks as he hysterically explained what had happened and how he had tried to use a spell to unlock the bathroom door but that he couldn’t even think straight enough to use it and James had been quiet for a long time now and he was so bloody worried that he had done something while locked in there by himself and he couldn’t break into the bathroom to check on him and his mind was reaming with the worst possibilities and—

Ginny cut him off with a hug, giving his torso a quick squeeze before pulling back and asking which bathroom James had locked himself in. Teddy shakily informed her it was the guest bathroom on the second floor, and the two of them raced up the stairs to see what could be done.

Of course, Ginny was able to cast the spell perfectly on her first try —it was a spell she had learned in her first year at Hogwarts after all— and the pair both let out the greatest sigh of relief when the door creaked open to reveal a sleeping James, seemingly unharmed apart from the gash on the bottom of his foot.

Ginny crouched down beside him, pressing a hand to his forehead gently before brushing away some of the hair in his eyes.

Teddy recognized that helpless and drained look of James’ unconscious body instantly. It was a look only he was exceptionally familiar with. He had seen it quite often —more often than he would like— whenever he would cradle James after he had tired himself out from an attack, immediately falling asleep against Teddy’s chest. Teddy was always the one there to make everything better.

But this time, that wasn’t the case.

“It’s all my fault,” Teddy whispered, his voice raw, “This is all my fault.”

“Teddy, honey, no,” Ginny shook her head, standing up to place a hand on Teddy’s flushed cheek. “It was an accident. You didn’t know what was going to be in that box.”

“It doesn’t matter what was in the fucking box,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have been snooping through his stuff anyways. If I hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have caught me, and then he wouldn’t have had a panic attack without anyone here to—”

“Teddy,” Ginny cut him off, “We can play the blame game later, alright?”

“But—”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not right now. Please, can you just carry James to his room? Then you need to go get some rest, too. Before Harry comes home with questions as to what’s going on with his sons.”

Teddy stared at her for a moment before nodding, stepping around her and towards James’ sleeping form.

Regardless of being a grown man, he still found himself always listening to Ginny’s orders, no matter what.

He knelt down and looped an arm under James’ legs, his other wrapping securely around his back. He rose to his feet slowly, not wanting to wake the snoozing boy in his arms. Much to his surprise, James subconsciously buried his face into the front of Teddy’s sweater, releasing an incomprehensible string of murmurs before relaxing in Teddy’s arms once again.

Teddy nearly started crying again right there.

He silently brushed past Ginny and down the hallway, towards James’ bedroom. Upon entering, he made sure to stay clear of the broken glass littering the doorway.

He laid James down in bed gently, pulling his wand out of his back pocket and waving it strategically at the wound on James’ foot, watching as it immediately scarred up, all traces of blood vanishing. He then turned towards the broken plate and crumbled cookies on the floor, flicking his wand to gather the remnants up and —ever so gracefully— discarding them into the trash can.

Running a hand through his bright blue hair, he turned back to James, his eyes trailing all across his young, peaceful face. He tugged the blankets up over his sleeping form, tucking him in nice and warm. Brushing his fingertips along James’ forehead, Teddy leant down, moving the messy brown curls away to expose his smooth tan skin.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered —hardly above a whisper— as his lips ghosted against James’ forehead, “I am so sorry, James Sirius.”

When he pulled away, the cause of this entire dilemma caught in the corner of his eye. The brown shoebox that was still placed on the corner of James’ bed. Teddy knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but to reach out for it anyways, his hand diving in and grabbing the first piece of pretty pink paper that was sitting right on top.

All at once, Teddy felt his world shatter as his eyes took in the messy scrawl. He even had to place a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to break through, a single tear descending from the corner of his eye.

The last part of the love letter read:

“One of these days you’re going to find all of these, and I need you to promise me something when that time comes. Please, don’t blame yourself for the attack I have afterwards, because I can assure you it isn’t your fault.”

Teddy shoved the note into his pocket before closing the box and sliding it back under James’ bed. Sending one last glance to his sleeping best friend, he silently left the room, doing his best not to blame himself for everything that had happened.

Just like James had asked.

#do you want the slightly less sad part two?#this is my most favorite thing i have ever written #honestly starting to like jeddy just as much as i like wolfstar #theyre just so fuckin cute #james sirius x teddy #teddy lupin #teddy x james #james sirius potter #edward remus lupin #harry potter next gen fic #harry potter next generation #hp next gen #teddy lupin x james Potter #jeddy headcanon #jeddy #jeddy fic #jeddyfest

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tokyoghoose · 4 years

Text

this fic contains spoilers for my hero academia: vigilantes and mentions death

[ 7:00pm ]

It's raining. It's hard against the glass of the windows in the cramped apartment and it scares the two cats that usually lounge on the sill. The wind is wild and causes the trees to dance with intensity and you could call it a storm but there's no thunder or lightning and it seems like the sun is still trying to peak through the large, overbearing clouds. It wouldn't be that big of a deal except it hasn't rained in weeks, and today isn't just some other day in the year—not for Aizawa.

It's May fifth and the sun should be high in the blue sky because that was the best type of weather, especially on a day like today. But no, it's raining and it gives him a sense of dread and uneasy nostalgia. He wouldn't really mind the rain if it was any day but today. It makes his head hurt and his chest clench.

He stalks through the door of his home, turning to lock it before calling out to you and slowly peeling off his hero gear. He wanted to work some more but his body fell to fatigue and his eyes were burning. He was honestly lucky enough to capture that last villain. It doesn't help that his head is foggy and he ran out of eye drops and medicine for the oncoming headache. He just wants to sleep.

"Y/n?" He calls again, gripping the edge of the dining room chair, still on edge. His white knuckles on relax when he hears the padding of feet and a towel rustling in your hair. You smile when you see him and his chest feels just a little bit lighter.

"Hey, baby. How was patrol?" You lean up to kiss his cheek before helping him take off the rest of his clothes to reveal his black tank top underneath. It's become some sort a routine when you both are home at the same time. It's domestic and Aizawa enjoys it more than he'd like to admit. It provides comfort and reassurance that you're really there with him, even on an off day. You two could have a fight and you'd still help him get out of the clothing.

He kisses the top of your head, shrugging the question off. It's a clear sign he doesn't want to talk about as he ruffles your wet hair and heads towards the shower. He doesn't expect you to remember the birthday of a guy you didn't even know, and Aizawa hardly spoke about him unless he was absolutely smashed from alcohol—even that was a rare occurrence. During those times he always happened to spill his guts and confess things he never would have—that's how the two of you got moved in with each other, how he confirmed he wanted to marry you and start a family, and his past as a UA student involving Oboro shirakumo and the weight the name carries on Aizawa's shoulders. That was so long ago, he doesn't blame you for pushing it out of your mind. He wishes he could do the same.

He stands under the showerhead, letting the water drown him. For a moment he wishes he could melt with it and swirl down the drain in following. Every year it's like the memories become more vivid. He can hear his voice still clear as day, just like during that battle. He clenches his fists, gritting his teeth. Fourteen years later and it's like it happened yesterday. He should've done more, he should've been able to save him. Then again, if it weren't for the broken gourd he probably wouldn't have saved anyone.

So caught up in his thoughts, Aizawa hadn't heard the soft knock at the door before it's pushed open with a creak. He also hadn't realized he's been crying until you're gentle voice makes him aware.

"Shouta? Are you okay?"

He cowers away uncharacteristically, running his face under the hot water before turning it off. It drips steadily but the silence in between still feels empty. Empty. He hates the feeling of emptiness. Then there's a crack of thunder that accompanies his thoughts and he also hates that it makes him jump. It's like his late friend is yelling at him for not opening up.

It doesn't take much to coax him out of the tub and once he's dressed you wrap him up in your arms.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

It's not that you don't believe him but you don't. Your eyebrows furrow and your expression ultimately betray how you feel about his reply. But you don't pry because he hates that. It takes him time to open up and just trying to force it out will only make him out up his guard—no matter how long you've known each other.

"How about some tea, hm?"

———

The two of you have settled on the sofa, curled up into Aizawa's side in silence while listening to the storm outside—it seems likes it's only angrier now, whipping about. It's an intense storm but something seems familiar about it.

Aizawa's just staring ahead, obviously in his head. Sure, it may have been a long day but this is more than that. He can brush off a couple of villains that have gotten away because he knows he can count on someone else to get them—even if he beats himself up about it for a bit. No. This stare is focused, yet blank. It's deep-rooted in his mind.

You tap the side of your mug timidly, debating on if you should ask again. You would like the reassurance that your husband's truly okay, but more so you'd like to give him another chance. You reach for his hand, cupping it tightly beneath yours and giving a firm, reassuring squeeze so he knows you're there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It comes off quieter than you mean it to and for a minute you're not sure he heard you. You open your mouth to try again just in case when he cuts you off:

"It shouldn't be raining on his birthday."

For the first time that night, you really look at your husband and even though he's facing the blank television you can see the thin glossiness in his eyes. Tears of frustration, you're sure of it. He's only cried a few times—although most of the time it's because his eyes are so dry, he can't help it. This time, however, it's real, genuine tears. You urge him to continue with another squeeze of his hand, moving to out your mug down to wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"He hated the rain. It should be sunny with blue fucking skies."

Aizawa speaks quietly but there's a bark in his tone, frustration, and something like sadness laced in. You decide it's grieving. He moves to pinch the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. When he closes his eyes a few hot tears slip from the corners of his eyes.

"Every year—it's haunting. I-I couldn't save him and it's a constant reminder in the back of my head. He sacrifices himself for a group of kids and I just barely beat the villain? I feel so weak, y/n.

And every time those kids go into battle..- it's all I can think about. All it takes is one training to go wrong and we've been close too many times.." He chokes upon his words, a silent sob wracking his body and his shoulders stutter. This year it's all too much for him. Usually, he can take May fifth with gritted teeth and one sleepless night, but it seems like everywhere he looks it's another memento. It's painful and draining and it tears away is tough, calm demeanor slowly. It wears him down.

He feels like a rock combating a hurricane and he's eroding.

You're at a loss for words, pulling him into a hug and soothing out his hair, cooing gently into his ear that it's not his fault and he's been holding onto the burden for too long. There's only so much he could've done at that age.

"I can't let it go. Shirakumo is apart of me; I can't just forget about it- him like that. If it was the other way around, he would've been dragged down. He would've fought back. He would've saved me."

Aizawa's words are muffled as he continues, slowly turning into silent shudders. It's so uncharacteristic of him that it almost scares you. You move to lean the two of you against the couch, letting him get it all out.

It hurts to see him so vulnerable and so unlike the man you know and the hero the media has made him out to be. His sorrow resembles more to the storm outside more than his anger and annoyance ever could—the storm that he's created and burned into his head, bringing him down whenever he has doubt. It's not raging- just...sad, tragic.

So you wipe his tears again and lay him to your chest, brushing his hair from his shoulder until his breath goes quiet and until this May fifth passes slowly, painfully like the others prior and the future ones.

At least the rain has stopped.

———

announcements!

some of this is definitely ooc for shouta but i really wanted to have someone cry 👁- bc im a sadist ig

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

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gglitcha · 3 years

Text

there are times where she doesn’t feel the need to seek out her favoured company in this universe right away ; her streak of morbid curiosity and her natural urge that stirs in her to investigate each world she pokes her head into cannot always be denied . independent exploration is a private thing ...

tucking herself away from judging eyes and the mortifying ordeal of being known , however briefly , to take the guise of somebody else . it’s a simple series of edits to her code that manage to conceal her otherwise unmistakeable identity . though the gentle glow she exudes cannot be dulled , the rest of her defining characteristics strip away under her ministrations .

bigger , peakier eyes , lined with dark shadows , their gaze nothing short of lifelessly haunted . darker hair , straighter , limper , shorter , less flouncy from the static electricity that clings to her build like one of the leeches that plague this place . her feet are bare . the dress is dull in colour , patched all over and grubby , with all the flattering appeal of a potato sack in it’s design . her nose is longer in length and her mouth is a grim , determined line ... and the complexion of this disgusting human skin is pallid and sickly .

couldn’t look less like herself if she wanted to . she keeps her feet planted on the floor , suppressing the almost innate urge to kick off from the ground and float through each area , and instead paces softly from area to area within the boundless hellhole that is this little nightmare .

it smells like shit . the poignant odour of death , no , outright slaughter , clings to every corner of every room . an inhuman sound of intermingled disgust and horror croaks from the depths of her throat as she clambers over a cart of body bags , entombed , frail little carcasses , and leaps to snag her grip around the door handle . it swings open to reveal yet more corridors . she presses on . data swims in her head , details of the code are all but murmured into her ear as she drinks in her surroundings .

it is around here that she finds them .

roger , with his freakishly overgrown appendages , is busying himself wrapping up ... something . a very bloody , fleshy looking something . better not to confirm her suspicions , she figures , though there might not be too much harm in throwing him off his meticulous work for a while . luring him into a chase . smashing things over his great big head in the hopes it’ll shatter his thick skull . curling her fingers into him and wiping him from existence altogether in a torturous blaze of white hot agony as his code is frittered and burned and bled out of this pathetic world , why not , why NOT ,

a faint shifting at her side pulls her attention from the grotesque janitor , and glitch glances across , form tensing and bracing to make tracks under the assumption it’s something hostile . maybe a leech ... or just one of those strange little oddities that flee before her . nomes . what awaits her expectant gaze is something else entirely ; a shivering child , hugging their knees closer , cowering in a cage like an unruly animal long since beaten down into something fearful and docile .

her brows knit . her eyes dart upwards , and there are yet more of them . tear - streaked cheeks , resigned posture , and perhaps the heaviest , most forlorn silence she’s ever had the displeasure of contributing to . it’s almost suffocating , the despair they exude . revolting , sneers something within her almost instantaneously . a kneejerk reaction . pathetic . leave them to it .

but she can’t stop staring .

one of them must sense her staticky eyes boring into their hunched form so intently ; they eye her , then sit up and stick their starved fingers through the meagre spaces in the bars . they don’t say a word . can’t say a word , she assumes , on account of that blind bastard flapping his ears only a few feet away . but a cry for help , unspoken or otherwise , is a universal language that needs no further clarification once one bears witness to it . the other child blinks out at her , and glitch swallows .

her fingers itch . she wants to tear this shivering captive to pieces for the crime of even breathing , just like she always does , with every single one of these primitive humans she stumbles across , but ------ but , perhaps all the destructive intent crackling in her magic , the ruinous power of her touch alone , can be directed toward ... something else .

“ ... ” glitch draws closer . “ ... move back , ” she instructs under her breath , making a slight ushering , shooing motion with her hand to indicate . uncertain , timid , the other kid obliges , backing up against the other side of the pint - sized prison . her fingers close around the cold , oppressive steel , trembling with the desire to eradicate , and they will , they will , but not in the way they’re so accustomed to ,

she feels them burning under her touch . splintering , buckling , the code bleeding into nonexistence , the act of damage as easily enacted as breathing itself , and the cage is wide open to rush out from . a tremulous , artificial breath heaves from her lungs . the other child stares , wondering , taken aback , caught off guard ------

------ before skittering out , shoving past glitch full force without so much as a word of thanks . they don’t look back . their footsteps are soft , almost muted , they tiptoe with care and skirt meticulously around every grievous creak in these telltale floorboards .

some of the others look to be sleeping . they jerk awake fearfully when she crumbles their cage with a faint crackle of distorted static , the shattering of endless neat lines of binary , though they catch on quickly and make similar reckless mistakes . as though the act of uttering a word to their saviour might make her think twice about what she’s done for them . and honestly , it might . so she’s glad they put plenty of distance between her and them .

it’s for the best .

one of them , however , is utterly unresponsive . for a moment , she thinks they’ve died in there . that they’re rotting away , beyond help already . frowning deeply , glitch touches a hand to their shoulder , and gives them a gentle shake .

“ hey . get up . ” ... nothing . yet a quick check of their vitals , their code status , indicates they’re very much alive . a huff of impatience heaves from the girl as she shakes the captive child again , more firmly , now .

“ c’mon , you’ve got to go while you still can . before that freak of a janitor comes to snap your neck and bag you up ... are you listening ? i know humans are pretty stupid , but this really freaking takes the cake ------ not leaving when the chance to is served up on a silver platter , ”

their stifled sob interrupts her insistent nagging . the child shoves her away with one hand , turns away so as not to face her , scrubbing fiercely at their face as though simply hiding the evidence of their bout of weeping will cause this intruder to forget she heard it entirely . a moment of hesitance , on her part ; she’ll just leave them to it . you can lead a horse to water , but you can’t make them drink ... in the words of some undoubtedly feeble - minded , perfectly average human she hardly cares to credit for the sentiment .

------oh , please . she’ll be wondering what the hell became of them for the rest of her miserable farce of existence if she doesn’t do something . with an unintelligible yet rarely understanding murmur , glitch slips her hand into theirs , and tugs imploringly once more . “ please . please , come with me , come with me right now , before ------ ”

... roger’s been very quiet over there , now that she’s thinking about it . doesn’t he like to still and swivel his ears when he hears the slightest disturbance going on ? not quite daring glance over her shoulder , far more aware of how quickly he’ll snap this stupid toerag in half as apposed to fearing for herself , glitch yanks without warning , pulling the other child from their prison with a startled yelp , a brace for impacting the hard floor wracking their frail form ,

glitch grips their hand , still caught in midair , hovering , and they barely graze their nose against the ground . they look up at her wildly , demanding explanation , but there’s hardly time for that .

“ we’vegottagowe’vegottagowe’vegottago , ” she gabbles , leaping to the floor and landing beside her newfound company , and a mangled shriek escapes her as a huge hand that dwarfs both children slams down close by , intent on cupping around them . perhaps they finally got their shit together , or perhaps the commotion finally kickstarted some sense of panic or drive to live that got them going ------ regardless , the escapee grips her hand tightly as she rushes them through the area , blipping in and out of existence to make subtle jumps forward and put as much space between them and him with the dumb little human in tow .

the weight of what she’s doing , what she’s done , almost chokes her .

they escape his pitiful attempts at searching easily , his sluggish pace hindering any chance of keeping up with the crazed bundle of mismatched code donning features that aren’t anywhere close to her preferred human guise lest ... somebody ... catch her doing this . her hands are shaking . this other child must notice , because they offer her comforting squeezes and bump against her lightly as she continues pulling them through the endless stretches of environments , not sure how to disengage , detach , what to do with herself .

they thank her with a soft voice , hoarse from misuse , scratchy with dehydration , croaky from earlier tears . glitch pretends not to hear . they tell her they hate it here . glitch pretends not to hear . ( THEY’D BE BETTER OFF DEAD . THEY SAY IT THEMSELVES , ) they tell her she sure is quiet . glitch can feel her eyes stinging with terrible , terrible , wet , hot things ,

they ask for her name . glitch shakes her head .

i have to go now .

go ? go where ? you’re leaving me ?

well , sure i am . you can take care of yourself . or if you can’t , well ... you know . some tragic fate will befall you .

don’t leave .

no , i have to . and--- and don’t tell ANYONE about this . about me . i mean , it doesn’t matter , because ... they wouldn’t know it’s me , even if you ... just ------ button it . and don’t you dare die , you little cretin . not after i went out of my way . see you around .

see you around , see you around . it feels like a command . an instruction . a wordless , desperate , choked up cry of i’d better see you around .

#we all stare directly at her #i get to do whatever i want and you all just have to deal with it . / glitch ic #child death tw #death tw #murder tw

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eboyhitoshi · 4 years

Text

Heh., ive been in an angst writing mood lately

Blame Placement // Katsuki Bakugou

Master List

Warnings: Crying, Swearing

Summary: Bakugou opens up to (Y/n) about how he blames himself for All Might’s retirement

Rating: Angst

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Katsuki didn’t show up for class. His house arrest ended a few days ago, so it didn’t make sense why he just plain didn’t come to school. He hadn’t texted you all day, you hadn’t seen him before you left for school or for a few hours when you returned to the dorms. It was like he’d fallen off the face of the earth. The only thing that clued you that he was still there was the music playing softly behind his tightly locked door.

He, very clearly, wasn’t ok, and you being his caring partner, had to check on him. Though, he was making that a little difficult by locking you out of his dorm room. You were on the same floor as him, just a few doors down and across the hall. On your way back to your own room for the night, you stopping front his door. You softly knocked on it before speaking.

“Katsu, I know you’re in there. I know you probably don’t want to because you’ve holed yourself up in there, but if you want to talk about it you can talk to me anytime. I’m gonna go to my room now, I love you Katsuki” you spoke softly before starting down to your room. You passed a few of your classmates on the way, waving to them while wishing them a good night.

The door to your room creaked as you pushed it open, slipping inside the small dorm. You sat at your desk for a few hours, finishing a project for Present Mic’s class before finally going to bed around one in the morning. Even then, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, thinking and worrying about Katsuki. For a while you laid still, facing the wall with your eyes shut, just hoping to fall asleep.

That’s when you heard it. The familiar creaking of your door. You slowly sat up and looked towards it. Just as you expected, it was Katsuki, who was now latching your door shut and locking it. When he turned around you saw his puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Knowing him, he’d walked all the way to your room with his head down to avoid anyone seeing him like that.

He slowly walked over and crawled into your bed next to you. You laid back down, facing him this time. He wrapped his arms around your waist and his face in your chest. You jutted your bottom lip out sadly, looking at his normally confident form so, broken. You put one hand on the back of his head as your other arm wrapped around his shoulders. Your one hand tangled into his hair, running your fingers through it comfortingly.

He sniffled, his shoulders started shaking as his body wracked with a loud sob. Your heart felt broken as he cried his heart out into your chest. He was so vulnerable in this moment, like anything that came at him would break him even more. Your eyes slightly welled with tears at the sight of him like this. He was so tough, so strong, but even the strongest people have a breaking point. Katsuki found his.

“It’s all my fault” he choked out before coughing once and sniffling again. You slowly ran your fingers through his hair, helping him calm down slightly.

“What is ‘Suki?” You asked quietly. He cried into your chest for a few moments before he answered the question.

“H-he, retired because of me. Because he had to come and save me” he said, glancing up at you for a split second before going back to having his face hidden. “My hero, everyone’s hero, had to retire because of me” it clicked in your head what he was talking about now.

When Katsuki got kidnapped by the League of Villains and in the same night had to watch his hero crumble, it took a huge toll on him. He thought that all of that happened because he got kidnapped in the first place. All of the blame that should be on the league, the ones who actually kidnapped him and probably traumatized him for a long time, he was putting on himself.

“I was just too weak and got myself kidnapped, then he had to save me and his career ended right in front of my eyes” he mumbled, his crying slowing down finally, but not completely stopping.

“You weren’t too weak Katsuki, and it’s not your fault at all that All Might had to retire. I know it had to have been hard to watch his final moments as a hero happen right in front of you, but those final moments weren’t your fault” you comforted softly. He nuzzled his head into you more, taking a deep breath as he did so.

“Do you, do you think I act like a villain?” He asked softly, lifting up his head to look you in the eyes. His eyes were beet red and super puffy from crying what seemed to be all day. Tears were still softly rolling down his slightly chubby cheeks as he looked up at you, awaiting the answer.

“Of course not baby! You’re the most driven hero in training I’ve ever met! What would make you think that?” You exclaimed quietly, careful not to wake anyone in the other rooms up. He looked away from you for a second, staring at the wall behind your head for a minute.

“That’s why Shigaraki said they took me, because at the sports festival I acted like a villain” he revealed in a hushed mumble. You frowned, your eyes slightly welling with tears as you saw how affected he was by all of this.

“Don’t listen to him Katsu, he’s a murderer, you can’t trust what he says” you said, cupping his damp cheeks in your hands tenderly. “Besides, you weren’t acting like a villain at all, you were just upset. That doesn’t make you a villain” you comforted, sipping a few stray tears away gently, careful not hurt his bound to be raw by now under eyes.

“Is it alright, if I stay here with you tonight?” He asked, grabbing one of your hands with his own. “I don’t wanna be alone again” he added sadly. You nodded quickly, never taking your eyes off of him.

“Of course Katsuki, my room’s always open for you” you replied, a small reassuring smile on your face. He gave you a weak smiled back along with a little nod. You placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he physically relaxed a little.

“I love you” he commented, scooting back closer to you and resting his face against your chest again. You moved your arms to hold him close, never wanting to let him go as you let out a breath.

“I love you too ‘Suki” you whispered.

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou oneshot #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #mha katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha angst #bakugou angst #bakugou #katsuki

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its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years

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I hope I'm doing this right this is my first request Dx but I was wondering if you could do a Shalnark scenario with lots of pining. It's up to you how it all goes I love your work 💕

You did it just fine! I’m happy you decided to request I love receiving them! I apologize in the delay for your answer as well, I’ve been busy lately~ anyway, thank you so much! I’m glad you like the blog 😊 also, warning, I know we’re trying to be super positive, but this is not positive 😅 honestly I didn’t know much of what pining was so I looked it up and worked with it but this is a little painful. Not too too bad, but still kind of like, ow.

He’d left you within the past few months. He didn’t say a word to you beforehand, just packed up his bags and got ready to go when you’d come home from work. You remembered crying for hours upon hours, trying not to shout and disturb the neighbors. That proved difficult due to the fact that you and Shalnark had been together for so long. He didn’t seem to have any issue in leaving either. Just up and left you there, alone, in the tight trailer you’d managed to afford. A storm had passed overhead recently. You were scared for not only him but yourself, alone in the unsturdy trailer. The walls creaking with the wind, leaving you afraid it might collapse. Continuing onto the morning, the rain was still drizzling and the distant thunder rolled through the sky, making your body jump at the deep sound.

You’d wondered for the entire night why he’d just left. What if he just didn’t like the way you two were living? Thoughts like this had crossed your mind every night. Shalnark hadn’t really done anything to get you to think that way before. He never even showed any form of disinterest in you or the home you shared. Had his boss called him on a mission and he just didn’t want to tell you? Was it something you said to him? Was there someone else? Your head started to hurt from all of the thinking, so you decided to finally get up out of bed. A clap of thunder forced you back under the covers however, leaving you whimpering to yourself. Despite the fear, you knew you couldn’t just let yourself cower under the blankets all day.

You mustered up the courage once again to do something productive, leaving the warmth of your bed behind. Your head down in longing, you made way for the small crowded kitchen to begin breakfast for yourself. Another clap of thunder sounded from far away, too far to scare you anymore, though you jumped anyway. To anyone looking into the yellowed windows of your home, you may as well have been a walking corpse. You hadn’t showered at all these past months, you’d only ever eaten when you felt in pain, and you’d not left your bed for work unless you were threatened to be fired. You told your boss what had happened and she knew you were prone to depressive episodes like this, but nothing had ever lasted this long before. You had been so happy with Shalnark. You hadn’t felt any form of that deep depressive dive in a long time. Why did he leave?

The kitchen was starting to collect dust and you noticed the sound of squeaking in the cabinets. Mice. Of course. Sighing, you reached your aching arm out to open the fridge door, revealing much of nothing besides a few eggs, leftovers from months ago, and some condiments.

“Boiled eggs will do fine…” you told yourself, voice raspy from not speaking or crying in weeks. Your hands shook when you grabbed onto the delicate item, trying not to drop them while you shut the door with your foot. The rack for the pots and pans was starting to break, and you made note to buy another when you got the chance. Boiling water from the rusted tap and then fixing up an egg or two for yourself before letting them sit in cold water for longer than need be. Suddenly, you weren’t hungry anymore. Your stomach stopped growling and your head stopped hurting. They sat submerged in the water. You’d hoped the mice wouldn’t somehow eat them while you went back into your room.

Instead of risking your food being eaten, you simply took the bowl with you into your room. That way you could see if anything got to it. You kicked the door closed again and set the bowl on your bedside table, slumping down into the sheets against the headrest. There wasn’t much of anything for you to do at all today, so you sat in solemn, waiting for something.

What were you waiting for though?

Motivation?

The storm to stop?

Shalnark?

All of those things were plausible answers, but the last you didn’t think would result well. He wouldn’t come back. Your body ached for him. Just to feel him touch you or kiss you or anything. You’d take anything right now to just have him come back. Your limbs started to shake from the fatigue catching up with you. It was either that or with the simple longing for his return. Your body wracked a sob and the tears started all over again. You grabbed a pillow and flung your face into it to muffle your cries, saving the neighbors from your howling.

The sound was awful. You knew you had an ugly cry, but this was something else. This didn’t even sound like you. The pain in your throat and in your chest pulled against your skin, creating a throbbing sensation. You heard a small pop from the pillow case but paid no mind to it. You couldn’t move to look anyway. Everything was starting to hurt at this point, not just mentally, but physically. You wished he’d just come back. Even for just a few minutes, that’s all you wanted.

You don’t know how long you cried for, just that your body wouldn’t stop shaking or even spilling tears when you had finished. Your face was puffy and your nose wouldn’t stop running by this point. Your nails had created indents and tears in the pillow case from gripping so tightly, as if it was your lifeline right now.

There wasn’t much you could do, not with the weather like this and surely not with your body and mind so broken. There was only really one thing you could do.

Sleep.

That’s all you wanted. If the mice got to the eggs you’d just made, so be it. At least they wouldn’t go to waste. Sniffling, you set your tear stained pillow back up against the headboard, trying to let yourself relax a little by lying down and facing Shalnark’s side of the bed. There was no emotion left to feel. You hadn’t touched his side in months, and you didn’t plan to. His body’s indent was still there. You were afraid if you so much as set your hand next to it, it would leave. Just like he did.

Soon enough, you let the warm feeling of unconsciousness dip you under, back into a peaceful sleep.

No dreams.

No nightmares.

No pain.

Just the simple order of nothing.

#Shalnark #hxh #hunter x hunter #pining #painful #heartbreak #request #my work #longing #break up

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bittersweetmelxdy · 5 years

Note

If it alright could I get how gavin and mc would react if someone kidnapped one of their kids? Would this trigger the child's evolve whoes to say??

Note: Evol inheritance hasn’t been explained yet, so I assumed there was no correlation and Evol is not passed from person to person, this information may turn out to be wrong in the release of future chapters :)

Title: I promise you’ll be safe with mePairing: Gavin x MCNotes: Title taken from Safe with Me by Megan Nicole

There was nothing anyone could do that would remove you from your phone. Gavin watched uneasily as you had barely moved in over 24 hours, only getting up to use the restroom, and even then, your phone was clutched desperately in your hand the whole time. Your complexion was pale and sickly, and you had eye bags under your eyes. Gavin carefully sat beside you, having just got back from work to find you in the same position he left you in. Ellie had been dropped off at Minor’s for the time being, something he wasn’t too comfortable with, but these were desperate times, and Minor had promised to take his “godfather duties” very seriously (why did he only have one male friend?).

“Love, you’re making yourself sick, come here.” Gavin said softly, folding you into his arms.

His heart hurt at the sobs that wracked your body, you just kept repeating “Our baby!” into his chest and he could feel your pain. Gavin had thrown himself into finding his son, hence why he was out all day, but he forgot to check on you. Caleb was your baby, he was only 5 years old, the same age you were when you were in that facility, and he knew you were having flashbacks. So Gavin just rocked you gently whispering gently in your ear that he’d bring Caleb home don’t worry. Just then Gavin’s phone rang, your head shot up from his chest, hope brightening your eyes, since you knew Gavin had told the squad, “Only call me if you have news about my son.”

Gavin picked up the phone to hear another agent say, “Agent B-7, we have pinpointed the location where your son is, we’re just waiting for you to come so we can storm the building.”

“I’ll be right there.” Gavin was already on his feet and putting on his coat, this being the only thing he had taken off.

Once at the doorway he turned to you, and crushed you into a tight hug, and pressed a kiss atop your forehead, before resting his against yours and locking eyes with you.

“When you see me next, I will have Caleb, I promise. I’m going to bring him home.” He affirmed to you, and he smiled softly eliciting a slight shaky smile and a nod from you, and with one last kiss to the top of your head, Gavin headed out.

The doors of the building rattled at the force of being slammed into the walls, and the squad of heavily armed Evol agents filed into the building, Gavin in the lead. He yelled orders to arrest everyone on sight, and to use their Evols when necessary, as he ran further into the dark building, praying that his son was unharmed.

Caleb heard the commotion as he tried to navigate his way through the dark and twisting hallways of the building and immediately dived into a dark supply closet to hide from whoever was coming. He covered his breath by placing his hands over his mouth, so as muffle the sounds of his shallow breaths. He trembled in fear, he just wanted to go home!

“If I can just go home, I promise I’ll be a good boy for Mummy and Daddy, and I’ll even let Ellie play with my Legos too.” Caleb vowed under his breath

That’s when he heard the shout.

Gavin was getting desperate, he couldn’t find Caleb anywhere, and he was now becoming scared that they had moved him somewhere else knowing he was coming for him. He slammed his fist against the wall, the pain not even registering due to his determination to find his son. So he yelled.

“Caleb, where are you!”

‘That’s Dad’s voice!’ Caleb realised his head shooting up and his hands falling away from his mouth. ‘Dad’s come to rescue me!’ he thought excitedly, and he was just about to open the closet to reveal himself when he stopped. This wasn’t the first time he thought he had heard Dad calling for him, the people who had taken him had used the same trick to lure him out during his last escape attempt. So Caleb, as quietly as he could, shuffled to the grate at the bottom of the door and peeked out.

Gavin turned down the hallway continuing to yell for his son when he came to a stop in the middle and sat down, not even caring of the danger he was putting himself in by letting his guard down.

“Come on Caleb, how will I face your Mum if you don’t come home.” He said dragging his hand through his hair.

‘It was Dad!’ Caleb realised excitedly. Whenever they lured him out the bad people never mentioned his Mum, and this is how Caleb knew his Dad really had come to rescue him. Getting to his feet, Caleb dusted off his knees and hopped a few times to reach the door handle. Once it was open he slowly creaked the door open, as quietly as he could.

Gavin’s ear picked up the sound of movement to the side of him and he immediately scrambled to his feet, to face the attacker. However, what he saw stopped him in his tracks. There in the darkened doorway, was the trembling figure of his son. Gavin dropped to his knees and gathered his son into the same embrace he had given his wife just that morning. Caleb realising that he was truly safe, and this was his father threw his arms around his neck and allowed his dad to pick him up and balance him on his hip. Gavin held his son in a tight grip and pressed Caleb’s face into his shoulder, as he started to make his way back to the exit. Just then 2 of the kidnappers blocked his path with their guns pointed directly at him.

“Give us the child.” One said.

Gavin used his Evol to create streams of airs surrounding his hand, “I’d walk away while you still have the chance.”

Multiple shots rang out from the kidnapper’s guns, and Gavin knowing he couldn’t stop all of them tried to shield Caleb so the bullets would hit him instead of his son.

“Daddy, No!” Caleb screamed.

Gavin shut his eyes and waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing happened. His carefully opened one eyes and to his surprise the bullets hadn’t even come close to the two of them. Instead a silvery force field was surrounding them. Gavin drew back from Caleb carefully to see his eyes and softly asked.

“Is this you? Is this your Evol?”

“I-I think so Dad, I don’t know how-“due to Caleb’s confusion over his Evol he became frantic that maybe he had done something wrong.

“You brave, brave boy. That’s my son.” Gavin cut him off with a kiss to the crown of his head, clearly showing his pride in his tone and actions.

The other Evol agents had appeared, hearing Caleb’s shout and had subdued the kidnappers. Gavin stood as helped Caleb calm down enough to release the force field, and even though he would have loved to interrogate the kidnappers, he knew his wife would be worrying herself sick over the two of them.

Caleb had drifted off on the drive back, but as the police car reached their house, he was wide awake. Gavin smiled knowing that his son was excited to see his Mum, it was especially obvious to the agent driving the car as Caleb kept glancing at the front door, where you were standing gnawing on your right thumbnail, the whole time the agent was trying to explain what was happening to his kidnappers. The agent finally, realising it was a lost cause just laughed and said “Off you go now son.”

Caleb didn’t need to be told twice, as soon as the officer finished talking, Caleb had his door open and was running at top speed towards you. You had dropped to your knees and had your arms outstretched where you received your son with tears running down your face. Gavin leaned against the police car and just watched your reunion.

“You don’t need to come to the station tomorrow B-7.” The agent said to Gavin from the window.

“Huh?”

“I’m sure headquarters will understand us putting off the interrogation for a day while you spend time with your family.”

“Thank you.” Gavin said and he meant it.

He then bid a good day to the other agent as he drove off, and turned to look at you. You gestured for him to come in, and once you all were inside, Caleb held his arms out to you and you picked him up nuzzling the side of his head with your nose, causing him to giggle. Gavin then wrapped his arms around the two of you and kissed your temple, and you closed your eyes and just basked in the fact your family was safe once again, when the sound of a stomach grumbling interrupted your reverie.

“Mum I’m hungry.” Caleb pouted.

You laughed, a sound Gavin hadn’t realised he had missed so much in the last 24 or so hours.

“I can tell, come on why don’t I feed the little monster inside your tummy, huh son-son?” you walked towards the kitchen bouncing Caleb slightly on the way.

Gavin sighed and smiled watching you, knowing that now Caleb was safe the two of you could finally relax.

Though he needed to call Minor to make sure his daughter was safe, because if she wasn’t, Minor didn’t need to fear Gavin, but you.

#mlqc #mlqc scenarios #mlqc gavin #mr love queen's choice

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here4theheartbreak · 5 years

Text

Spooky Stories with Bangtan 7 (final)

Story Seven: Delicious (Jin)

AO3 Link Here! Relationships: Hoseok x Jin, OT7 Poly

Genre(s): general, spooky/kiddie horror Rating: Teen

Tags: scary story, mild blood/gore, body horror, ghosts

Summary: Jin knows he can't let Hoseok figure out his mistake. No one has to know.

Word Count: ~1.6k words Written For: @btspolyshipbingo (Square: Free Space)

A/N: The final fic in my series of Halloween shorts. Some have ships, some do not, but they are all based on the kid’s book series Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. They may or may not all be connected ;) you’ll have to stay until the end to find out. Some will have character death, others are more funny. Hope y’all enjoy and have a happy Halloween!

Hoseok was a hardworking man with a fierce temper. This temper was something his boyfriend Jin knew all too well. His anger was often displaced onto Jin or his other few friends, who did their best to appease Hoseok as much as they could.

So, it was no surprise when Hoseok brought home the fresh, large liver from the butcher that Jin was eager to agree to cook it for dinner.

Hoseok was in a tense mood that day already, and as Jin served him lunch, he struggled to soothe Hoseok’s temper. He knew his cooking would help; Hoseok had said many times that Jin’s cooking was one of the few reasons he kept him around. That and his oral skills.

As they sat for lunch, Jin chatted at Hoseok about the death of a downstairs neighbor and the procession of mourners to the funeral home next door. He could sense Hoseok didn’t care, but he wasn’t being told to shut up, so maybe it was doing some good for Hoseok’s mood. When Hoseok finished lunch, he dropped the silverware into the bowl and pushed it toward Jin.

“Okay, enough. I have to go back to work.”

“Sure, of course. I’ll see you tonight?”

Hoseok grunted at him on his way out, slamming the door and leaving Jin in silence.

Later that afternoon, Jin began working on the meal for Hoseok. He hadn’t prepared liver in a long time and wanted to make sure he could do it well. After simmering it for a few hours, the air fragrant with cooking spices, he cut off a bit to taste. It was perfect. Jin’s stomach grumbled and he realized he had skipped lunch in his haste to impress his boyfriend with the meal. He cut off another bit, popping it into his mouth with some of the vegetables. He groaned, leaning on the counter as he took another bite, his stomach gurgling happily. It was absolutely delicious. Best thing he’d cooked in a while, if he was being honest.

Before Jin realized what he had done, the liver was completely gone. A panic rose in his throat like hot oil. It was too late in the day to get another one, and Hoseok monitored their money closely. Someone else might understand; Jin was under a lot of pressure as well and indulgences of this sort rarely happened – but not Hobi. Perfection was the only tolerable trait, and this was far from perfect. Jin stood in the kitchen, wracking his brain for what to do. How could he salvage this, making Hoseok happy and save himself from the tongue lashing or worse he was bound to get with an unhappy lover. And then it hit him.

The funeral parlor was abandoned and silent as the grave. A frighteningly fitting description, Jin knew as he snuck through the small window into the basement. He made his way up the stairs, palms clammy as the reality of what he was about to do settled into his bones. He had no other choice. He had to make sure Hoseok was happy or he’d pay Hell.

The neighbor’s casket was sitting in an icy cold room just as barren and terrifying as the rest of the place. Jin lifted the heavy wooden lid, startled to see just how peaceful the elderly woman looked. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed she was simply resting in an odd choice of a bed.

But a closer look revealed the heavy makeup used to hide the bruising around her eyes and the ghostly pale sheen of her skin hiding under the caked on cover up. Jin tried not to look at her face as he undid the smart outfit she’d been dressed in. The material was beautiful and heavy, it had to have cost quite a bit. Jin scowled at the pale flesh, a shadow of veiny marbling that remained. Was he really about to do this? Jin asked himself. He withdrew the large hunting knife from his inner jacket pocket. It glinted off the sickly grey lights, catching his attention. His jaw twitched. He very nearly turned and ran, but the fear of what Hoseok would say or do was too strong. Taking a steeling breath, Jin lifted the knife to the smooth, pale flesh in front of him.

“That was really delicious, Jin. Thank you,” Hoseok said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He sat back and patted his stomach. Jin smiled softly, trying to hide his unease.

“I’m glad.”

“Did you want any?”

“No, I’m full – I ate earlier. You finish it… Was your day better?”

Hoseok nodded. The question set him off into a ramble about the students he was teaching new choreography to, effectively shutting off any concern he may have had about Jin’s expression as he finished up the perfectly fried liver.

That night, Jin laid next to Hoseok, listening to him breathe steadily as he slept. The image of the elderly woman continued to swim in front of his closed eyes. The coldness of her flesh, the sounds her body made, the smell of cooking liver. His stomach twisted and flipped and Jin was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten for many hours – he knew he would have lost everything in his stomach if he had. He reached out, touching Hoseok’s hand. As gruff and cruel as he could be, Jin did care for his boyfriend.

He began to count his breaths, still holding onto Hoseok’s hand lightly, and found himself drifting off. And then he heard it.

“Who took my liver?”

Jin’s eyes snapped open. He had to be dreaming.

“Who took my liver?” The voice came again, closer to their closed bedroom door. Jin’s heart began to pound faster. The door creaked open, loud as a scream in the quiet room. Jin’s breath caught in his throat.

“Who took my liver?” Closer now. Footsteps tapped toward the bed. Now Jin saw her. The same greyed face, mocking life for the final time. She stared at Jin with wide eyes, dull and dry. “Who took my liver, boy?” She rasped, her voice sounding like sandpaper over rough wood.

Jin’s voice caught in his throat, a scream bubbling against his vocal cords. Her cold hands reached out, clawed, arthritis bulged knuckles that even death couldn’t resolve.

“Did you take my liver? I want it back!”

“He did!” Jin finally sobbed, pointing to Hoseok’s sleeping form. “I—I fed it to him! Please!”

The woman hesitated for a second, fingers inches from Jin’s tear streaked face. She stared at Jin, unblinking, as if deciding.

“And then she pounced!” Namjoon screamed the final word. As he did, Jungkook leapt from the bush nearest to them, landing square in Jin and Hoseok’s laps.

Both screamed and Jin shoved, rolling the cackling Jungkook off them and nearly landing him in the crackling fire.

Namjoon cracked up, holding his stomach as he was hit with peals of laughter.

“Oh, Namjoon-hyung, stop being mean!” Taehyung lamented, wrapping his arms around Hoseok to try and calm his shivers.

“Sorry! I couldn’t help it!” Namjoon said between laughing fits, a signal he wasn’t really all that sorry.

“Why’d you make me the bad guy?” Hoseok whined, leaning into Taehyung.

“He’s just mad you made him do extra choreo last week,” Jimin joked. He smiled softly at Yoongi, who looked paler than usual in the firelight. “You okay?”

“Me? Psh.” Yoongi shrugged. “I’m fine. Just dumb kid stories.” He moved a little closer to Jimin. “But if you’re scared… I’ll hold your hand.”

Jimin grinned and took his hand, kissing it. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Jimin whispered, and Yoongi smiled a little. He lowered his gaze, relaxing against Jimin’s side.

“That was mean, Namjoonie,” Jin whined.

Jungkook climbed back into his lap, pressing apologetic kisses over his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon finally said, his laughter finally fading. “But it’s Halloween and we’re camping in the woods. I had to tell ghost stories.”

“Those were terrifying,” Hoseok grumbled. Namjoon rose and wiggled himself between Hoseok and Jin, wrapping his arm around their middles.

“I love you all, no matter what I did to you in the stories.”

Jin rolled his eyes, smirking. “You just don’t want us to say no sex because we’re mad.”

“Hey, he killed me in my story,” Jungkook tried to defend.

“And made spiders burst out of my face!” Jimin said, shuddering visibly. “I’m not a scaredy cat but that’s just twisted.”

“At least Taehyungie just got a ghost puppy,” Yoongi said.

“I’ll take my flesh and blood dog, thank you,” Taehyung said, still curled up against Hoseok.

“Should we go to bed?” Jungkook offered.

“Yeah, now that you two have scared almost all of our boyfriends into insomnia,” Taehyung said.

“Hm, yeah, but if they can’t sleep, we can always find other ways to tire them out.”

“Don’t even think about it, I’m not fucking you in a tent,” Jin grumbled. Jungkook pouted, but smiled through it.

“How about just some cuddles then?”

Jin glared. “No more jump scares.”

“No more until next year,” Jungkook agreed.

The seven made their way into the large tent behind them until only Jin and Jungkook remained to take care of the fire.

“It was fun, right? Even though you were scared?” Jungkook worried.

“Of course. It’s Halloween babe. I’m not bitter and neither is Hoseok. You spooked Yoongi good too.”

“We did?” Jungkook asked. “Namjoon-hyung and I worked really hard on his version of that story. I’m glad it worked.”

Jin reached out, tucking Jungkook’s shaggy hair behind his ear. “Happy Halloween, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook grinned. “Happy Halloween, hyung.” He crawled into the tent, ignoring the complaints and grumbles as he kissed over each member’s cheek.

“Happy Halloween, everyone,” he said when he reached his own sleeping bag. “Don’t let the ghouls get you.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #btsbookclub #kwritersworldnet #armiesnet #thebtstown #ficswithluv #hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #jinseoknet #ghosts #halloween #halloween fic #2seok #seokjin #poly bts #scary stories #mywriting

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sheiscandlelit · 5 years

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Prythian Police Department Chapter 2

Thank you everyone that took the time to read chapter 1 and reblog, like and comment on it. I honestly never thought I would write any more of this fic but you all really inspired me to carry on!

Hope you enjoy chapter 2!

Chapter 1

Feyre arrived home after a long and frustrating day. Before she had finished for the day, Tamlin had attempted to speak to her again, to make her ‘see reason’. She had not and left the building without speaking a single word to him.

With a heavy sigh, she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the peg, before flicking the lights on and freezing.

Someone had been in her apartment.

Her hand reached for the nearest object, a heavy circular ornament. She moved slowly through her apartment, past the kitchen on her right and into the living room, following a trail of gently placed rose petals towards her bedroom. Stopping at her bedroom door, she took a deep breath, before using the sleeve of her jacket to cover her hand so she could pull down the handle. The door opened, hinges creaking, revealing her bedroom, dark and suddenly unknown.

Her hand trembled as she fumbled for the light switch. Her eyes went straight to the bed, where a bouquet of roses sat against her pillow. Swallowing hard, a frown forming on her face, she stepped into the room and walked towards the bed, ornament still in her hand. Her head swept the room for any possible movement, any signs of danger. A card sat nestled in the roses and using her free hand she picked it up. For a second she just stared at the blank front, fear stopping her from opening it.

Had Hybern found where she lived again? Was she going to find a threat on the back of the card? Would she have to pack all her things up again and find a new apartment, right after finally unpacking the last box only a few weeks earlier?

Feyre shut her eyes, took a deep breath and turned the card over. Heart thundering in her chest, she peeled her eyes open and stared at the familiar handwriting.

My Feyre

Please forgive me.

Everything I do is to protect you.

It makes me sad that you don’t understand that.

Tamlin

Feyre’s hands shook, no longer out of fear but with a fit of hot white anger that surged through her body. Her hand fisted around the note, feeling the expensive paper crumple underneath. Dropping the ornament on her bed, she picked the flowers up and stormed out of her bedroom and across her living room, roughly opening the door to her balcony. Winding her arm back, she threw the flowers as far away from her as she could, and watched as the bouquet fell apart and landed on the ground below without a sound.

“You know, you really shouldn’t litter Feyre darling.”

Feyre turned and threw what was in her hand at the voice, which turned out to be the paper note from Tamlin, and not the ornament that she had left on her bed. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at her, leaning against the railing with a smirk.

“Awfully violent! I’d be offended, but … well, I guess I am a little offended. After we had such a lovely chat this afternoon too!”

Feyre took a moment to breathe, and Rhysand said nothing, simply watching her calm herself. After her heart stopped beating so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear her own thoughts, she opened her mouth to speak.

“What are you doing here Rhysand?”

Rhys’s eyes never left her. Even as he lifted a hand to his face to inspect for dirt under his nails, she could feel him watching her, calculating.

“You looked tense this afternoon,” he said after a too long moment. “I thought you may want a massage to help relax you. Or,” he paused, a mischievous look spreading across his face “something else to help you sleep.”

Feyre groaned, eyes rolling heavily and Rhys simply chuckled in response.

“Now really isn’t a good time for your mind games Rhys.”

“Not even going to invite me in when I came all this way with a bottle of wine? How rude! I’ll just leave this here then …” And without a word, Rhys strolled into her flat through the open door and towards the kitchen counter on the opposite side of her living room.

“Hey what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Leaving you a nice bottle of wine to enjoy Feyre darling.” Rhys shot a quick glance at the rose petals scattered across the floor. “Expecting company?”

“No.” Feyre’s tone was cold. “I think you should leave.” Rhys, still stood by the kitchen counter, stared at her for a moment across the room. Without speaking to her, he took long strides across the room, closing the space between them, until only centimetres separated them.

“As you wish Feyre darling. Come and find me when you’re ready to talk.” And then he was gone, down the fire escape and into the night.

Feyre released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, her heart beating quicking in her chest. She remained on the balcony for a few minutes, alone with her racing thoughts of everything that had happened today. It was a long yawn that broke through.

“I need to sleep …” Feyre muttered to herself, finally leaving the balcony and locking the door behind her and moving towards her bedroom once more. She stopped at the door, eyeing up the bottle of wine Rhys had left behind, before moving back to the kitchen, picking up the bottle and a wine glass from the cupboard, before finally going to bed.

***

The morning arrived much quicker than Feyre was ready for, and before she knew it she was pushing open the door to the precinct, coffee in hand. As the heavy door swung shut behind her, she was aware of several things.

The first being how busy the office was. Officers bustled about, piles of equipment gathered in their arms and stacks of paperwork under them. Everyone was clearly preparing for the raid on the gathering later on.

The second was Tamlin. He had been stood at the door to his office, watching the comings and goings of the officers. However, as soon as the door shut, his head turned towards her and he immediately made a beeline for her, eyes staring holes straight into her head.

The third, Lucien. He sat at his desk, very determinedly not looking in her, while simultaneously watching her like a hawk. His expression was clouded, something clearly on his mind.

Finally, Feyre was aware of how her hands shook. The anger from the previous night was back.

“Feyre,” Tamlin said softly. “Can we talk?”

“I think we should.” Feyre’s tone was cold and Tamlin winced in response. Feyre moved towards Tamlin’s office, but he stopped her with a touch to the shoulder.

“Let’s go somewhere a little quieter.” Before she even had a chance to shrug him off he had moved away through the crowd and towards the back of the precinct. Frowning, Feyre followed, passing Lucien and briefly meeting his eyes as he watched them go. He looked guilty. Feyre supposed he would want to talk about yesterday after her talk with Tamlin too.

As she turned down the corridor where the interrogation rooms sat, she was surprised by how empty it was, a stark comparison to the place she had just been. As she moved further down the corridor looking for Tamlin, the space around her seemed to grow quieter and quieter.

“Tamlin? What’s going on? Look I’m really not in the mood for your games. I’m seriously angry at you being in my flat last night! I don’t recall ever giving you a key!”

There was no reply from Tamlin.

“And I thought long and hard about it last night. I’m not staying here today. I have worked too long and too hard on the case against Hybern to sit back while other officers take the claim! Do you hear me? Tam?”

Feyre reached the end of the corridor, finding the last door into an interrogation room open.

“Tamlin? Enough! This isn’t funny …” She stepped into the room, looking around and finding the room empty. The door slammed shut behind her and Feyre heard the lock turn. “What the …?!” A moment later, Tamlin’s voice echoed from the speaker and Feyre turned to stare blindly at the two-way mirror and knowing he was stood somewhere behind.

“This is for your own good Feyre. I can’t have you leaving this place and getting hurt. I’m trying to protect you.”

“You bastard Tamlin! Let me out now! You can’t lock me in here! You can’t do this to me!”

“You’ll understand soon Feyre. You will see that I was right. Everything I do is for us. You’ll see that Feyre.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here Tamlin!” Feyre’s body was tensing. “Please don’t leave me here ….” She could feel her eyes tearing up.

“I love you. Don’t forget that.”

“Tamlin, please. You don’t have to do this. Don’t leave me locked up in here Tamlin!”

She waited a moment, and then another. When Tamlin didn’t speak again, she stepped closer to the mirror, laying a hand softly against the cool glass.

“Tam? Tamlin? Tamlin!”

Her hand fisted and she pounded on the glass once. Then again, harder. And again and again, calling Tamlin’s name louder and louder, watching as her face became more and more contorted in fear. Tears began to fall thicker and thicker under soon she couldn’t see herself at all.

Trembles wracked her body, both fists pounding on the glass and a strangled scream escaped her mouth. She needed to get out of this room now. Breathing was becoming difficult, her stomach twisting into knots. She was going to vomit.

Feyre pulled herself away from the glass, moving to the door. She tried the handle, despite knowing it had been locked. She pushed the door, then shoved her shoulder in. She tried and tried again until the pain in her shoulder was too much to handle.

She was shaking, getting oxygen to her brain becoming more difficult. Knowing it was useless, she ran to the chair and picked it up, throwing it towards the mirror. It bounced off, ineffective.

Feyre backed into the corner of the room, sliding down into a sitting position, knees pulled tight to her chest.

“Help. Please.” She sobbed into her knees. Breathing was difficult, her vision was blurring, the room was spinning. Everything went dark.

***

A pair of strong arms lifted her body, cradling it in their arms.

“No …” Feyre muttered weakly.

“Hush Feyre darling. You’re safe now.”

The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t recall who. It calmed her nonetheless and the darkness took her once more.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #feysand #feysand au #feysand fic #mafia/police au #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #Kirstie writes #acofas #chapter 2 #updated

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