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fiepige · 6 months

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Hobie Brown variant OC:

I finally decided to make Symbiote!Hobie (nicknamed SH by Hobie, which over time turned into Sage) his own thing, cause I've made so many changes to him that I've decided he's just gonna be another version of Hobie from another dimension.

I basically came up with him when thinking about what it would take for Hobie to truly bond with a symbiote and this is what I came up with.

While he's technically Hobie too I'm gonna refer to him as Sage in this post to avoid confusion <3

Gonna start with his appearance and then move on to his origins and how he got involved with the Spider-Society:

Disclaimer: I cannot draw so I haven't even attempted at drawing his face cause I know I'd never be able to draw him in a way I'd like- So I did the next best thing:

(He has a normal face I just tried to find a way for me to draw him without drawing his face lol)

Pictured above is Sage and his symbiote K.A.T (and their symbiote form- yeah it's the same as Venom!Hobie cause I like the design lol)

He looks like Hobie but younger- he's around 11 when he's bitten by the spider and fused with K.A.T - he's around 12 when he gets introduced to the Spider-Society

He's got short hair as it was completely shaved off when he got caught by Oscorp - more about this under his origins - he wants to let it grow out after meeting Hobie and being inspired by his approach to his looks (he really looks up to Hobie but don't tell anyone I said that!)

His left iris is white as a result of the symbiote DNA being fused to him. He can make it match his right eye if he concentrates but only really bothers to do so if he feels it draws too much attention

After meeting Hobie he helps Sage get a few piercings of his own

He usually wears a hoodie and/or a mask to hide his face - he's super paranoid and does his best to hide himself from others

Never goes anywhere without his noice cancelling earmuffs - he's got enhanced senses due to his spider powers but they can be a bit of a nuisance since he's also sensitive to loud noises due to his symbiote...

He also usually wears sunglasses to shield himself from sensory overload as he was subjected to it a lot as part of the experiments he was put through at Oscorp - and thus getting his senses overstimulated can result in panic attacks, so he does what he can to avoid it + it hides his eyes as well

K.A.T (Killing Authority-opposing Targets) is Sage's symbiote

It usually stays hidden unless they're alone or around people they trust/already knows about its presence.

If it does show itself it'll usually stay on Sage's shoulder or sit in his lap, it's still tethered to him so it can't go that far without him - not that it really wants to anyways

The reason K.A.T takes this form is that Sage is a cat person and it used it as a method to make him like it more when they first "met" + petting it helped Sage calm down and still does

K.A.T is still made of the same goo as regular symbiotes so it does not feel like petting a cat at all- Sage doesn't mind but most other people get suprised when they first touch it

If it likes someone it'll rub itself against their legs and mimic purring noises - if it dislikes someone it'll hiss and arch its back at them

K.A.T is a more animalistic symbiote and mainly communicates with Sage by letting him feel its emotions instead of speaking to him

To avoid making the post even longer than it's already gonna be I'll link to this post where I go into more detail about the design of thier Symbiote form instead of describing it here too ^^'.

This was originally supposed to be a short summary but I've realised I'm incapable of making short posts when it comes to stuff like this:

Origin:

Sage is a younger version of Hobie Brown. (11 years old when bitten by the spider and fused with his symbiote)

Sage and K.A.T "met" at one of Oscorp's labs

He was living as a homeless kid (having escaped an abusive household a few months prior)

He was bitten by a radioactive spider while looking for a place to spend the night.

He got very sick from the bite and was easily captured by Oscorp goons looking for new test subjects in the streets

Despite his young age Sage is a more ruthless Hobie variant, in part due to his upbringing and due to his symbiote (and the trauma they both go through at the hands of Oscorp)

K.A.T was a new kind of experimental symbiote that was set to be terminated due to it killing all its previous hosts - Sage was their last attempt at fusing it with someone

They decide to fuse it with Sage as he was deemed indisposable due to him seeming more dead than alive - suffering from the venom of spider bite at the time - and thus it wouldn't be a problem if the symbiote killed him too

Since the spider bite was still changing his DNA as he got fused with K.A.T some of its DNA got fused with him as well as a "side effect" during the process

Due to this it's incredibly hard (if not impossible) to seperate the symbiote from Sage without severely hurting them both

His body develops organic web shooters when it fuses with K.A.T - the webs are black and can be shot from either of his 4 arms when in his symbiote form (they can also be shot regularly while in his human form)

Sage develops enhanced senses and a taste for human flesh after being fused with K.A.T - he also has enhanced senses from the spider bite - making it easy to overstimulate his senses and overwhelm him before he learns to get it more under control

Since Sage's gotten powers from both the spider bite and the symbiote they quickly become the subjects for many inhumane and painful experiments as the scientists futilely try to figure out how to replicate the symbiote (as they're unaware of the spider bite, thinking the symbiote alone is behind Sage's new powers)

The main scientist behind the experiments is this dimension's version of Peter Parker!

Sage eventually manages to escape the lab during one of their many tests- killing as many guards and scientists on his way out as possible - and eating some of them as well

As a result of their treatment at the lab + his past with his abusive foster family, both Sage and K.A.T have developed a deep distrust to other people - at this point they both consider the other their only friend

Sage goes back to living as a homeless kid, avoiding people as best as he can, but he's also got an insatiable taste for human flesh as well!

He will usually target anyone associated with Oscorp when he's hungry (if none are available cops are the next best thing- his dimension is just as corrupt as -138 Hobie's dimension)

He doesn't feel bad about killing but will still try not to harm civilians (emphasis on try- sometimes the hunger gets the best of him)

Due to his senses being extra sensitive + his paranoia from his experiences at the lab and his foster homes, he tries to avoid crowded and noisy places - This all leads to him being more active at night while he usually tries to lay low and hide during the day.

He lived like this for months until a certain event changed that:

First encounter with the Spider-Society

Sage's dimension is blacklisted meaning people from the Spider-Society aren't allowed to go there (cause a spider-person who's embracing their symbiote instead of resisting it is deemed unsafe by Miguel and thus best to be avoided)

Sage does still get introduced to the spider-society albeit through a rather unconventional way:

- One day a portal opens up and pulls Sage through it, sending him to another dimension as an anomaly

Having no idea about what's going on, and being scared and confused about the whole situation, he does his best to lay low and avoid other people.

Because of this he spends a lot of time in the other dimension before the society discovers signs of an anormaly - glitched objects like seen when Kingpen uses the collider in itsv, or the museum that the Vulture appears in in atsv

Sage eventually has his first run in with other spider people when his hunger gets the best of him and he becomes more careless as he turns into his symbiote form to go look for prey

Here he encounters Gwen and Peter B as they're looking for the anomaly causing things to glitch out in the dimension

Not knowing he's a spider person and an actual child, Peter and Gwen attack him as they always do with anomalies - it also doesn't help that Sage doesn't exactly look friendly when in his symbiote form.

He fights back cause these masked people attacked him for no reason so they must be bad guys and of course he's gonna defend himself - it also doesn't help that he's starving and thus not thinking clearly at this point.

Unfortunately for him, these guys have high frequency equipment to deal with symbiotes and thus they manage to subdue him, but not before he manages to fight back, revealing his organic webbing which tips Gwen and Peter off to him having spider powers as well

He's subdued and forced into an electric cage (which brings back a lot of unpleasant memories from his time at Oscorp) and sent to the Spider-Society afterwards

When he arrives at the Society he quickly gets overstimulated and has a panic attack and lashes out in a desperate attempt at escaping his electric cage - also seeing the face of the scientist who tortured him for months everywhere certainly didn't help

Gwen then uses a high-frequency device made to combat symbiotes to force him to revert back to his human form

She immediately recognises him as a young version of -138 Hobie

Her and Peter both panic cause 1. They realise they basically beat up a kid and locked him up. 2. That kid has a symbiote! 3. That kid is a younger version of another spider-person they both know (and who they both know has a very long and strained history with symbiotes!)

Miguel gets involved and a discussion begins about whether they should try and seperate Hobie (Sage) and his symbiote

- The other spiders mean well by this but Sage and K.A.T both panic at the thought of being separated - at this point they really view the other as their only friend as it's been them against the world ever since they fused

Sage, still panicking, tries to protest but they won't listen as they view him as a kid who doesn't know what's best for him

Sage is taken to the room with all the villains while they discuss what to do with him

Here Margo sees Sage and K.A.T comforting each other, K.A.T manifesting physically in Sage's lap, being hugged tightly by Sage as he promises it he'll never let anyone separate them

Seeing this, Margo takes pity on them and 'accidentally' sends them home before the other spiders get a chance to try and remove K.A.T from Sage.

Relationships with other spider-people

Some time later Sage has an encounter with Hobie who found out about the whole mess - despite Miguel ordering Gwen and Peter not to tell him

While Hobie isn't exactly a fan of symbiotes he first and foremost sees Sage as a traumatised homeless kid in need of safety and stability

Hobie offers Sage to stay at his boat whenever he wants (as long as he promises not to eat anyone while he's there), he also gives him one of his bootleg watches so he can come and go as he pleases (and explains that he can also use it to get home to his own dimension if he's ever unwillingly sent to another dimension again)

Sage declines at first but over time he slowly opens up to Hobie and begins to trust him

(He also secretly looks up to Hobie once he trusts him, cause who doesn't? He's an older version of himself who's got a place to call his home, one that he opens up to strangers in need such as himself, he uses his powers for good and not just to survive. He's not afraid to be who he is and draw attention to himself - something Sage has been too afraid to do ever since his time at Oscorp. He's got friends and people he trusts. - all things that Sage wants too but doesn't believe he'll ever have) Also he'll never admit that he looks up to Hobie but he can tell anyways

Hobie's the one that gives Sage his nickname, it started as SH but over time it turned into Sage instead, though he doen't mind being called Hobie as well, it's just easier to go by Sage when both he and Hobie are present.

He still doesn't trust people, especially not the Spider-Society after their first meeting, which made it very awkward when Gwen showed up to visit Hobie while Sage was there - luckily Hobie managed to interfere before they beat each other up too much...

(He trusts Margo a bit as well since she 'saved' him from the Spider-Society - also it's nice to be around someone who doesn't smell like food since she's an avatar and not made of flesh and blood)

He currently lives at Hobie's boat, switching between it and his own dimension as he pleases

Hobie did his best to hide it but he was rather freaked out by K.A.T's presence in the beginning, he did his best to supress it cause he genuinely wants to help Sage

Hobie mentors him in how to use his Spider Powers and tries to give him a moral compass to at least prevent him from eating civilians when he gets too hungry - He usually targets cops or people working for Oscorp but the hungrier he gets the less picky he is

Another reason Hobie took him in is because he knows ostracising someone won't make them a better person and while Hobie doesn't believe in deciding what's best for others he still knows life will be a bit easier for Sage if he doesn't just kill whoever he wants whenever he wants - impulse control is important when you have a cannibalistic symbiote in your body.

- Hobie still dislikes symbiotes but he respects Sage's choice to keep his and does his best to help him control some of the more violent urges that come with a symbiote.

Hobie introduces Sage to his punk ideologies and slowly introduces him to the punk community

Hobie also introduces him to some of his friends but it's a slow process due to Sage having a hard time trusting people - especially spider-people after his Spider-Society encounter

Some of the spider-people also have a hard time opening up to him because of his symbiote

But Hobie's good at making a safe space for Sage to feel like he can slowly start to open up to others

For the first time in years Sage feels like he has someone (besides K.A.T) he can trust and over time he starts to view Hobie as his older brother

And that's that folks! (at least for now)

To the one person who actually bothered to read all of this - know that I'm infinitely grateful that you took your time to read about my boy <3

- I initially tried to keep this short but I gave up cause Sage has been living rent free in my head for weeks and it feels so nice to finally flesh him out and write about him!

You know I couldn't resist making my first oc angsty - but at least he ends up doing better than where he started.

Hopefully you guys like him too! If you have any questions please let me know, I could talk about him forever <3

#help I think I have a condition where I need to make all my new posts longer than the previous one!#can't believe I initially tried to make this post short and then it ends up being 2759 words long...#wasn't sure about his name but I wanted it to be something else than Hobie #so Sage it is!#Also I really wanted the symbiote to be called cat or kat - due to the form of its physical manifestation #so I had to come up with an abbreviation to make it fit lol #also evey time I've tagged a post Symbiote!Hobie this is who I've been thinking of!#I just didn't have a name for him back then #just to reiterate - Symbiote!Hobie and Venom!Hobie are two different people #their symbiote form looks the same but that's it #Venom!Hobie is -138 hobie with a symbiote but everything else about him is still hobie #Symbiote!Hobie is Sage who's another version of hobie from his own dimension #hope there aren't too many spelling errors but it's 1 am here and I've read through it once already so sorry if I missed something!#gonna post this and then go to bed lol #I'm addicted to that angst but I tried to give him a somewhat happy “ending”#though there's still a lot of room for improvement lol #also this is my fist oc which is very exciting!!!#idk if you can call it an oc when he's based on an existing character #but I've made so many changes to him that I feel like I can allow myself to call him an oc <3 #Symbiote!Hobie #Sage #hobie brown #spider punk #symbiote oc #symbiote hobie #gwen stacy #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #margo kess #across the spider verse

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cantuscorvi · 1 year

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There was nothing else between them but the sounds of the mops sliding onto the dirty floor. The atmosphere was tense, Raum and Mads once again sharing a moment of distrust and profound hatred, as if everything was supposed to be electrical when they were interacting. They were bickering over the slightest thing, whether it was their way of commanding, the way they were folding their shirts, the space they would use in their tiny room. Every single word or glance could light the match of war, and suddenly, they were ready to throw hands. It was also a physical call; an urge to defend their territory and yet conquer the other one; a rooster fight in many ways. Mads hated himself for being so sensitive to Raum’s behaviors; as if, from his existence only, he had all the cards to get under his skin.

“Oï.” Mads hissed, just because Raum had come too close from him with his mop, slightly wetting the bottom of his pants. Was it because he was exhausted or out of petty emotions, but instead of simply brushing it off, he turned around and faced him. “Can you, please, try to do a good job and keep your mop in your area?” He uttered with a growl, only to see that Raum was still wearing the same confident and cocky smirk; he had probably acted on purpose, and Mads could read it all over his face. It lightened something in him. It was strong enough for Mads to plunge his mop inside the bucket of water and soap, taking it out, and slapping it across the other one’s torso and face.

There they were standing in silence, the perfect hair of the blond pilot ruined by a generous amount of water. Mads inhaled, preparing himself for retaliation; he also noticed the way Raum’s shirt was getting awfully transparent second after second. // he did it... he slapped Raum with a mop guysdgf

@distopea

Raum stared at Mads for a second in stunned silence, mouth slightly agape. Not only was his hair now plastered to his skull, but the water invaded his clothes, dripping down his chin, and from the ends of hair and his nose. Fuck! The intense smell of the soap and dirt invaded his senses, the icy water instantly making goosebumps break out over his skin. It was disgusting! It was freezing!

"The hell is wrong with you?" He snapped, hastily wiping the sopping hair out of his eyes. "It was an accident!" He was lying through his teeth. The little swipe he had made at the hem of the commander’s trousers was certainly on purpose. After all, they just couldn't seem to work in sync, the commander leaving footprints over his clean lines right after he had made them. But in the end, Raum wanted Mads to feel as ridiculous as he was sure he now looked, standing there like a half-drowned cat. He could see Mads eyeing him, as if assessing the damage, or whatever next move he was going to make.

Raum’s eyes narrowed, the grip on the pole of his mop tightened. He shivered, half-cold, half-anger.

“I know you’re a paranoid bastard, but not everything is a personal attack, you fucking – caveman!”

The last word was punctuated by a quick thrust of his mop at the centre of Campbell’s chest. Of course Mads was ready for it, unlike Raum, sidestepping enough so he wasn’t as badly affected. But it was enough to make him grimace, to give Raum a bit of petty satisfaction over his discomfort.

Well, perhaps not quite enough. Because Raum went after him again. He managed to get a good hit in, this time – a mistake, he realised, when Mads grabbed the wooden pole and yanked him forward by it. Raum growled, ready to start peeling Mads off him with his fists if need be, before there was a distinct metallic clattering sound below them. Dirty water sloshed over the ground and both of their boots.

Both cursing, the two bent to rectify their mistake before it ruined their evening’s work, eyes meeting over the bucket in a glare.

“I’ll get a new one,” Raum practically snarled, lifting the bucket and marching away before he was tempted to start whacking Campbell with the mop again for being so stupid. Or worse, somehow finding a way to blame Raum for everything. He was good at that.

He was staring down into the deep metal basin while he filled the bucket, when he felt it. Campbell’s presence behind him, strangely quiet. Raum frowned and looked up, eyes behind him in the dirty mirror. The commander’s face was inscrutable, his hair was damp and beginning to curl slightly, falling in front of his eyes in a way Raum had usually never seen him. Raum tsked and glanced back down at the bucket.

“Well? You mop it up already? I don’t wanna be stuck here any longer than I have to be.” He shivered again, feeling the damp undershirt cling to his skin in a way that was unpleasant. “Christ, it’s fucking cold – thanks to you.”

Campbell said something, low and measured, and Raum could barely hear him over running the water, but it almost sounded like –

( An apology? Yeah, right. )

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Commander,” he responded, deadpan. Frustrated, tired, bored of always being at each other’s throats. More than anything, he wanted to get out of here before something exploded. He wanted to actually finish this duty and go to bed before drills wiped him out tomorrow.

There was a touch at his shoulder, and Raum tensed immediately. He whirled on the spot, ready to end up in another fight somehow, like once in the past ten minutes wasn’t enough. His hand clamped around Mads’ wrist, vice-like, before he looked up. His skin was warm from exertion.

Light and dark blue collided for a moment, the sky and the ocean, and Raum’s brow furrowed. He paused, grip slackening, searching between Mads’ eyes for whatever message he was trying to convey.

“What?”

Mads’ gaze was drifting downward. His hand twisted easily out of Raum’s loose grip, drifted through some moisture that had collected at the base of his collarbone. Exposed to the warmth of Mads’ hand, the odd gentleness of his touch, the heat radiating from the closeness of his body, Raum froze. His breath halted. Fingers slowly, barely, slipped under his shirt. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up, electrified. What the fuck? Raum stepped back, but bumped against the basin. Unable to move away – to avoid his own reaction to the proximity.

“Don’t,” he hissed, slapping Mads’ hand off like it burned him. He shoved the other man back a little, gratified when it surprised him, when it made that indignant flare of insult spark in his expression. His eyes tracked down to Mads’ lips, curled a little in displeasure. Raum took a step forward, followed him, unable to help it. If Campbell took an inch, Raum would take a mile. He twisted his hands in Mads’ shirt, dragged him down the scant few centimetres between them so he could look him properly in the eye.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Raum whispered, barely any animosity in it anymore, hypnotised by the warmth of Mads’ breath.

Hypocritically, his grip tightened, and his lips just barely brushed against the other man’s, tempted, curious. They were cold, soft but chapped from the wind outside. Mads made some sort of shaky sigh against his mouth, like he was barely holding himself together, and Raum was lost to it. He was giving in far too easily, pulling him closer into a tentative kiss. Different than before, the aggression was conspicuously missing, replaced by… something exploratory. Something that made him shudder and wind his hands into Mads’ damp hair, that had him pressed harshly against the basin, until he was gasping-

“Wait– hah, fuck– Campbell, the duty–!”

#distopea #ask #( ardor armis. ardor amatori ; raum & mads )#v: the red devil #long post cw #every damn time #i write anything about these two #i fall into a pit of brainrot and i can't stop #GOD. WHY IT ALWAYS LIKE THIS MIHO. HELP????

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animeomegas · 3 years

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Who is the most needy while in heat?

I decided to write for a few characters for different categories: Clingiest, Horniest, Territorial and Requires Support. Enjoy~

Who is the clingiest:

1. Itachi – Itachi has only ever had soft heats in his life(heats that are not sexually, but instead emotionally charged). He didn’t have his first heat until he was already part of the Akatsuki and didn’t feel safe enough for a proper heat. His health also isn’t the best, so his body knows to have soft heats rather than normal heats. Because he only has these types of heats, they are very strong. He feels a constant urge to be by your side, ideally with you touching him at all times. He can’t take suppressants because they mess with his illness, so he can’t minimise the effects. He spends the two days holed up in his room, the door locked and sealed shut. He won’t let you leave his nest much, growling and whining if you try. His instincts are screaming at him that he has to protect you and that you have to protect him. He can get a little addled and confused because the impulses are too strong. He’s extremely clingy in heat and he hates it. He always feels embarrassed afterwards.

2. Izuku – Izuku is prone to crying and feeling very rejected if you neglect him during his preheat or heat. He feels the sting of rejection very strongly and feeling abandoned during a heat is… not good for omegas to put it lightly. It can make them sick if it’s serious enough. So, Izuku will definitely try and keep you in his nest as much as possible, asking wordlessly to be carried with you if you need to leave for a moment. Going to work or leaving the house during his heats (even when he’s on suppressants) is a no-no for him. He will do anything to get you to stay with him, including but not limited to hiding your keys, seducing you, and begging.

3. Mammon – From the second he’s in preheat, he literally will not leave you alone. He’s very attention starved, but his slight tsundere tendencies keep him from acting on his need for affection. His heat and preheat remove the tsundere tendencies and make him even more desperate for attention. He’s hanging off of his Alpha constantly, following them around and sleeping in their room. He enjoys laying on top of them while they stroke his hair or rub his back. Will growl away anyone who tries to take you from him. If the growling doesn’t work, he’ll whine at you to stay with him because he knows you can’t refuse him when he’s like that.

4. Kaoru – He doesn’t like how clingy he is, but it’s very uncomfortable for an omega to ignore their heat urges, so he doesn’t bother trying to resist it. He’s very prone to loneliness when he’s in heat or preheat, so he likes it if you’re with him as much as possible. He will spend most the time sitting on your lap, innocently and not so innocently.

5. L – He isn’t particularly fussed about constant physical affection, but he wants you to be in the same room as him at all times. He constantly turns away from his work to make sure you’re still sitting in the room with him, and in the evenings, he likes if he can sit on your lap while he works. His heats are reduced from suppressants, and his libido is very low generally, but he still likes to make sure his alpha is safe and with him during his heat and be surrounded by his alpha’s scent.

Who is the most territorial during heat:

1. Sasuke – Will straight up growl at anyone who gets too close to you both, and it won’t end well if someone shows up at his house when he’s in heat. Sasuke immediately views whoever it is as a threat and would likely try and attack them, especially if they were a stranger or someone he didn’t like. He is a lot less stressed during this time if you both just hole up at home for his preheat and heat. One of the reasons he makes his nest in a walk in wardrobe is because it’s an easily defendable place.

2. Shikamaru – He has to have an arm around you or vice versa at all times. He makes sure you always smell like him during his preheats, just as a warning to other omegas. In heat, he gets very intense and caught up in the feelings, so interruptions from outsiders will be jarring and he’s likely to react aggressively.

3. Shinsou – Is very paranoid when in heat and preheat. He gets nervous about people coming to try and hurt him and his mate while he’s weak, so he doesn’t like anyone he doesn’t know around you or him. Shinsou is fiercely protective of his family and his alpha. When he’s actually in heat, he would probably try to attack anyone who got too close.

4. Belphie – Likes to just lay down and sleep with you when he’s in preheat, and whenever any of his brothers (or anyone else) try and get you to move, he growls them away, wrapping his arms around your chest to stop you from going anywhere. Would definitely bite someone if they were brave enough to try and remove him from you by force. When he’s in heat, he uses compulsion charms to keep people away from the attic where he likes to spend his heat with you.

5. Diavolo – He can’t keep his hands or lips off of his alpha during preheat, but not just in a horny way, mainly in a ‘they’re mine’ kind of way. He likes to show off his relationship to others as a warning to stay away. He is delightfully smug if you return the treatment.

6. Kusuo – He pretends he isn’t being territorial when he’s in preheat, but whenever you end up in conversation with someone, Kusuo is just suddenly standing next to you, I wonder how that happened? He also makes a way greater effort to ditch anyone who might interrupt his alone time with you. He turns his friends away if they show up at his door when he’s in preheat. When in heat, he gets off on the ‘you’re mine and I’m yours’ aspect.

7. Light – This boy in greedy for your attention when he’s in preheat, and very bitter if he doesn’t get enough of it. He directs most of his anger at anyone who he perceives as taking you away from him. He will lie and manipulate others away from you both during this time with zero hesitation or regret. Would be possessive if you gave too much attention to a book while he’s in heat.

Who needs the most support:

1. Alois – I headcanon that Alois has some specific heat related trauma, that I’m not going to get into right now, that impacts him greatly. His alpha is his protection. He only feels safe during his heat if you’re there with him. If you leave him alone, even just for a minute, he will panic, fear mixing with his already heat addled brain. For that reason, he needs a great deal of support, he needs a gentle touch and a constant presence.

2. Shouto – His father paid to have him on illegal grade suppressant without him knowing just after Shouto’s quirk came in. Endeavour got the quirk he wanted, but not the dynamic he wanted, so he tried to change that. He experiences similar heats to Neji when he first comes off of suppressants. He’s so sensitive everywhere that it hurts. He wants to be touched so badly, but it hurts him. His alpha needs to work with him slowly to help him overcome the sensitivity.

3. Neji – I mentioned before that due to the suppressant abuse that was inflicted on Neji as a child, his heats can be very painful, especially at first, much like Shouto. For a more in-depth analysis, I have headcanons on Neji’s suppressant abuse listed on my pinned masterlist.

4. Keigo (Hawks) – He suffers from really bad paranoia during his heats. At first, it’s unclear what’s triggering the paranoia, but eventually it becomes clear that his treatment in the hands of the Commission have left him some nasty mental scars. When Keigo is in heat, he needs to have the door locked and bolted, the windows lock and covered with thick curtains and blinds, he needs to be rid of all technology or anything a person could use to contact him, and he needs all supplies to be in his nest with him so that neither you nor him have to leave that one room. It’s why the room he nests in must have an ensuite. He tends to have soft heats (emotionally charge rather than sexually charged) because his paranoia makes his body think he’s in too much danger to have a proper heat. It’s lucky that his heats normally only last for a day.

(N-sfw under cut~)

Who is the horniest:

1. Sebastian – He barely manages to keep it together during the day when he has to serve Ciel, but at night? You better be fucking him so well that he can’t stay coherent. He needs a full eight hours of sex before the heat withdraws enough for him to focus. A demon’s heat is very intensive after all.

2. Kakashi – Every little thing sets him off when he’s in heat. Maybe you knotted him and the heat is subsiding a little, but then you bit your lip or stretch in a certain way, and immediately he’s consumed by his heat again. He struggles to keep it in his trousers long enough to hydrate and sleep. Sometimes he needs to cockwarm his alpha just to be able to calm his instincts enough to sleep.

3. Tamaki A – He gets so horny at the peaks of his heat that any and all nervousness completely vanishes. He will beg his alpha shamelessly to get what he needs. He cannot control his voice at all, so you better hope your neighbours are forgiving, because Amajiki shouts some filthy things when he feels really good.

4. Asmo – No one is surprised that he is completely and overwhelmingly horny for his entire heat. Most omegas have down moments for resting and hydrating while their heat isn’t so bad. Not Asmo. His heat lasts for three days (a maximum amount) and is intense for all of it. You have to make him to eat and drink something while he begs and writhes on your lap for you to fuck him.

5. Kiba – Has a very high sex drive in general, even when he’s not in heat, so it’s no surprise that he’s basically insatiable when he’s in heat. He jumps his alpha five times a day when he’s in preheat, and every hour when he’s in heat. If you can’t provide for him as often as he needs, he will absolutely buy a knotted dildo and use it while he’s on top of you. Most of the time that convinces his alpha to help him get off.

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Photo

Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed.

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere albedo x reader #tw: extreme content #tw: noncon #yandere albedo

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empiressmpheadcanons · 2 years

Note

My return as fox anon was not in a blaze of corrupted!Gem glory as I had assumed it would be, but instead my brain taking a discussion on Gem having trauma over sleep potions and turning it into... this

so yeah... I would say to enjoy but that is a relative term so instead try not to cry too hard ig? /hj

ALSO KNOWN AS FOX ANON RAMBLES WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT POTION BOTTLE DESIGN AND SLEEP POTIONS APPARENTLY I AM COMING BACK AFTER WRITING I GOT SO SIDETRACKED LOL

Splash potion bottles are designed very specifically. There's a reason that no reputable merchant will sell or buy them in any other type, quality issues aside. The way they shatter is designed to go downwards and out, keeping the glass close to the ground and away from more sensitive areas. It also shatters into a powder so fine that you won't get chunks of glass in your leg, it'll still hurt like a bitch if you stick your hand into it, but everything about them is designed for maximum safety.

Those regulations don't exist on the black market when you're buying illegal sleep potions.

Sleep potions aren't nice, they're not something you could give to an insomniac or a child who won't settle down. They're sharp and terrifying, and being asleep under them isn't much better.

It's like you're drowning, being pulled under ice cold waves and not being able to break through again, no matter how hard you struggle. But you can't sink to the bottom because your terror is keeping you moving, keeping you kicking for the surface.

But then finally, finally, you manage to break through. You take big gulps of air and relax slightly, floating with the current, until you realise it's taking you over a waterfall. You try to swim away but it's too strong, and you're falling, falling, falling-

And then you wake up.

So yeah, not a pleasant experience. That alone would have been enough to give Gem enough trauma to last a lifetime, but in one particular universe, something plays out differently.

The glass shatters and goes flying, and just before Gem is pulled into unconsciousness she screams, clutching at her face.

And then the world goes dark.

When she wakes again it's to half her face covered with itchy bandages, and it's blocking her vision. She goes to remove them, knowing she'll be able to take much better stock of her surroundings with more than just the one eye, but Sausage yells at her to stop.

He explains that when the bottle shattered glass flew everywhere and... her eye got hit.

He halfheartedly questions her for info on the egg but just lets her and Scott go when she doesn't give up any. He apologises as she walks past.

She doesn't respond.

Scott has to help her leave, as she keeps bumping into things on the way out. She tries to fly home on her own but he firmly tells her no and carries her, knowing that she would crash otherwise. He messages Fwhip once they get to the Cliffs and no words are exchanged between the pair, Fwhip just giving him a nod of thanks before rushing to his sister, not even noticing the rustle of wings as he leaves. He just holds Gem as she cries and tries to comfort her the best he can.

There are a lot of changes, for everyone. Gem has to learn how to move with less depth perception, how to take care of the wound, how to deal with the feeling of the fabric from her eyepatch on her face all the time.

Everyone has to learn how to not approach from her blind side, lest they get attacked by a paranoid Gem, how to make noise when they approach so she knows they're coming.

Sausage, once he's uncorrupted, has to learn how to live with the guilt of what he's done, even if Gem doesn't blame him.

(Fwhip does. The WRA alliance has never been the same since.)

But it's not all bad.

There are the moments when Gem pretends not to notice the hand embroidered eyepatches Fwhip slips in. It would be sweet, if they weren't all Grimlands propaganda. It makes him laugh when she wears them though, so she fixes the patch proclaiming "grimlandz rulez!" on her face with a smile.

There are the moments when Gem truly lets herself relax, not worrying about watching out for her blind side or trying to listen for every little noise. When she's with Fwhip and Pearl, and surprisingly Scott, and she trusts them enough to lower her guard.

It's a struggle, but it is something they all slowly get used to, and everyone supports Gem every step of the way.

SO YEAH UHH BRAIN CAME UP WITH THIS OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE LMAO

like a third of this is just me rambling about weird technical stuff like sleep potions and how bottles break so just ignore that if you want or something kajshd

ok words are failing me bye now!

-🦊

GAH THIS IS REALLY GOOD AAAAA

sorry im just !!!!! this is just really great

gem w an eye patch, ;-; ,,,, wra brainrot v v strong and sad

#long post #geminitay #headcanon #empires smp #🦊 anon #<- soverign of hurt/comfort fics tbh

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid.

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be.

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you.

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right?

Wrong.

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital.

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath.

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Not obvious.”

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.”

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in.

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.”

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.”

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity.

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?”

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it.

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing.

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.”

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.”

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.”

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents.

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator.

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him.

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.”

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens.

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.”

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.”

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending.

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt.

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him.

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree.

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?”

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!”

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin.

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.”

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.”

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.”

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops.

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges.

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed.

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.”

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.”

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!”

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!”

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.”

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.”

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.”

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?”

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.”

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to.

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.”

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?”

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing.

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house.

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

taglist: @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bakugou series #bnha fic #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #mha fic #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n

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vivithefolle · 3 years

Note

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron?

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it,

............

...................................

...............................................................

so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione coolly. “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” “What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare. “Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely. “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —” “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...” “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...” “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?” “Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. “Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?” ��I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!” “They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?” Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #hp fandumb #hp fandom #harry potter #harry potter series #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #ginny weasley #hermione granger #problematic content

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mrwinterr · 3 years

Text

Who Do You Love?

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After some months that David’s been working for the Home Secretary, you notice he’s been acting differently. Not wanting to overanalyze the situation, the signs are just too hard to ignore, so when it’s time to confront him there’s only one real question to ask.

Warnings: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers! Adult themes. Explicit language. Light smut. Infidelity/cheating. Mentions of war, PTSD, political assassination, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, paranoia, and attempted suicide. Sad vibes, probably. We’re not gonna have a good time.

Disclaimer: This piece goes hand-in-hand with All For You. It’s not required to read beforehand, but it would be nice. As far as the TV series, yeah, don’t even read these if you’re still planning to watch the show. If you don’t care, you may proceed.

Title Inspiration: “Who Do You Love?” by The Chainsmokers ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I want a happy David, I really do, but I’m a heartless writer. I took a break from the smut, so it’s not a huge bulk of the fic this time. I hope y’all still like it! Happy New Year!

Another night alone was not unusual for you as of late, having grown accustomed to it ever since David had taken up the job of protecting Home Secretary, Julia Montague. Neither you nor David could’ve foreseen his courageous efforts in neutralizing the terrorist attack on the train back home would thrust him into his new position, furthermore the extent of its outcome in his personal life.

It wasn’t a hidden secret that David resented most politicians, and you knew of Julia from the news and her political ambitions in pushing a bill to increase security surveillance. David’s job put a big emphasis on confidentiality, so for his superiors to throw him into a public political warzone was a bit suspicious to you. There was something that didn’t add up, and you couldn’t just outright ask David whose side he was on in all this.

After neglecting the mountain of dirty laundry, tonight was dedicated to the domestic chore. It was nothing out of the ordinary mixing your batch with David’s, but he had a habit of leaving things in his clothes pockets, so it was routine for you to check everyone. You’d moved onto one of the costly tailored button-ups he wore to work and feel something protruding from the shirt pocket. You dig your hand in and fish out a tube of lipstick. Strange. You didn’t use this brand of cosmetics, and even more so the garment smelt different.

Under normal circumstances, this type of discovery would raise a red flag, but you recall one of David’s first days on the job as her bodyguard, the intern had clumsily spilt Julia’s coffee all over her outfit just before she was about to do a live interview, and David had offered her the shirt off his back, essentially saving the day. The man was just too dedicated to his job sometimes, so you shrug it off, but this wouldn’t be the first time you would notice something out of place.

It really started after the first assassination attempt that was made on Julia’s life. With the rate she was going at, her political status had made her a prime target to those opposed to RIPA-18. It was very frightening, you figured that much for her, David had seen worse in war. You just about had a heart attack when you reunited with him that night, the blood still stained on his clothes and missed splotches on his skin.

The both of you clung onto each other all night, lost within the throes of passion. It might as well have been one of the most intense nights yet, even then you could tell something changed by his movements. You didn’t think much about it at first because there’s already so much wrong with him, you’ve yet to learn all his mood swings.

Then one day you’d gotten sick, and discovered it was because you were pregnant with David’s child. One of the few things that made you forget about all the aches and pains that David unintentionally caused, was remembering the beautiful smile on his face when you revealed the news to him. You knew how much happiness Ella and Charlie brought him, you could only imagine what that would feel like, your own family with David.

He was so overjoyed in the beginning. He had quickly phoned his mother, who’d visited and even stayed a few days with you when David’s new position became more demanding of him, claiming she was worried about you being alone. You didn’t deserve to experience this alone, but it was sure heading that way.

Lately, you’ve found yourself occupying the Budd household quite more than often when David’s mom went back home. With David being on duty almost 24/7, you were completely alone, so the little family welcomed you.

Legally, on paper, David was still married to Vicky. It was something you weren't going to verbally admit bothered you, but oddly enough it did. What with the mood you’ve been in as of late, it ate at a part of you. They were separated and the divorce papers were well on track until David’s “promotion” paused the process.

There’s still not a hostile fiber in you towards Vicky. She’d moved on well, been on several dates with someone else, and things were looking great for her. It was lowkey, not even David knew about it, not that he even stuck around or bothered to care. It had to come out eventually because it would affect Ella and Charlie’s lives.

You watch as Vicky rounds the table after placing a cup of tea in front of you then sitting in the seat across and asking how you’re holding up.

You contemplate for a split second if you should be honest or not, but who else could you confine to at the moment? No one else could possibly understand. Vicky herself may not even, but she knew David more than most people did, so surely, she could see where you’re coming from to some degree, right?

Letting out a big sigh, you answer her truthfully, “I’m...not well, Vicky,” your eyes drop down to the cup in front of you, finger tracing the rim, the hot cloud of smoke of the concoction almost burns your skin.

“Oh, poor thing,” she says, extending her hand over to place it on top of your other one on the table, “it’s the pregnancy. It has to be. It’s taking a toll on you. I can tell.” You look up at her and almost want to cry. No one noticed it was more than symptoms of pregnancy. You were bottling up so much.

“Let me tell you, while I love Ella and Charlie, pregnancy was not a breeze…” she started to ramble, but you quickly cut her off, exhausted of people telling you the same thing over and over, unintentionally, blaming the innocent baby.

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t want to blame anything on the pregnancy,” you say straight up. You got yourself into this mess, you went headfirst knowing the baggage David came with and you knew full well that protection wasn’t at the forefront in the affairs. Ready or not, you both went in this together and brought a baby into the picture.

Vicky stares, confused, but still genuinely concerned, “then what else could be wrong?” When you didn't immediately respond, she knew it had to be one other thing, or person, and you just didn’t want to admit, well out loud, “David?”

You only nod; you knew you were going to have to face the music sooner or later. So, you start listing things you’ve observed that have caused you to grow suspicious over the course of the last few months. You just hoped you didn’t sound like a mad woman in front of her.

The one time your phone had died, and he let you use his to place a food delivery. You couldn’t unlock his phone, trying every possible combined set of numbers close to David, only to come to a conclusion that the access code had changed. Visibly distressed, he realizes you were attempting to unlock his work phone. You knew that was his though. What work phone?

You didn’t even know he had one of those, let alone why did it have the same crack on the screen in the exact same spot as his personal one? You feigned stupidity and blamed it on exhaustion. Deep down David knew you were suspecting something was up, and he ended up placing the order for dinner that night himself.

The other time you confronted David about coming home smelling heavily of another woman. Whatever, whoever, her perfume was strong, and it made you nauseous. The pregnancy didn’t even do you any favors on this one with your senses heightened and overly sensitive.

Of course, he smelled of another woman, the person he was assigned to protect. You could see all the holes in his alibi. He was lying, and it hurt most when he indirectly admitted your mood swings were irritating him and then flipped it all on you, saying you were overthinking the situation and getting all paranoid for no reason. Accused you of not trusting him, when truth was you had the utmost faith in him, but not when the evidence was piling up.

There’s a solemn look that washed over Vicky’s face. She had expected more tales of David’s PTSD, but none of what you spilled alluded to it. This time David couldn’t blame the effects of war on your suspicions. However, Vicky knew that this was you and David, and if there was a pair that could survive love’s tumultuous doings then it was you two.

“There’s a lot of coincidences, yes, but this is you and David,” she says, grasping your hand for support because she could see the moisture in your eyes building up, “is it silly of me to admit I was always jealous of you,” she confesses, trying to steer the conversation a different route.

She didn’t want you to think she was brushing off your worries, but to remind you that everything you and David had been through to get to this point to be together, whatever you both were dealing now wasn’t anything you two couldn’t overcome. There were high hopes for you and David in Vicky’s mind.

A small smile cracks your face, and you bring your vacant hand up to dab at the inner corner of your eyes, just before the tears start to race down, “jealous? Of what?” It was almost shocking to think you had something she was jealous of.

“Every time you visited us,” she starts, “I could tell David held so much admiration for you,” and you know she’s not trying to hurt your feelings, but it’s taking a bit to figure out where she’s going with this.

“That’s silly,” you scoff lightly, “you both got married and had two kids, surely there was no doubt,” then bring the cup up to your lips for a small sip.

“But there was and look where we ended up?” she says. Your lips cave in to form a tight line in response, and carefully place the cup back down on the dish, before she follows up, “you two are finally together.”

“Vicky,” you pipe up, not knowing where to begin. It was never your intention to steal David’s heart away from another.

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m mad at you. No. I’ve never truly hated you. You’re a good person and you’re finally getting your happily ever after. Don’t ever stop fighting for it,” she comes out wholeheartedly, and this time you make no attempt to keep the tears at bay. It stung to hold them back anyways.

Vicky gets up from her seat, walking the short steps to yours, to wrap her arounds around you. You immediately cling onto her arms and just cry, finally letting everything out.

“Seriously, don’t think of the worst,” she starts advising, while rubbing your back, “David will always come back to you,” she pulls you away from her before reminding you, “you knew going into this wasn’t going to be easy.”

You feel so pathetic. What she said was completely true, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. There’s no doubt you love David and want to be with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly, so you nod and try to keep your chin up. It wasn’t to appease her, you were going to get back up, because if not for David, then for the baby.

Suddenly, the front door busts open and Ella and Charlie are bustling into the kitchen, where you and Vicky were. Quickly wiping away the tears, you both noted that school had just let out.

They were ecstatic to see you, especially Charlie as he had currently been experiencing issues of his own adjusting to school. They lifted your spirits greatly; they were more fascinated by the baby growing in you and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. You absolutely adored them. They looked like David and the whole time they were talking your ear off; you wonder to yourself if your own kid will look more like you or David.

David’s thrusts were deep and good; you made no attempt to hold it in, letting him know exactly how he was making you feel. Nails digging into his firm buttocks, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to just keep going and going; the chase proving to be almost just as good as the climax. You feel one of his hands run up your side and his large hand starts groping your breast, adding onto the pleasure he was plaguing your body with, while the other held onto the small of you back, bringing your hips up to his.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and hear his murmured swears and praises. The air in the room was thick, and for the majority of the intimate activity, the only sounds that travelled around the apartment consisted of heavy breathing, moans, gasps, whines and skin slapping, until the annoying distinct ringtone started screeching from a few feet away.

You’d learned to distinguish his work alarm since the supposed mix-up, and it pinged constantly, agitating you. David’s pace notably falters, and the rhythm you’d both built started dwindling, the needy side of you started to panic because he was going to stop and you desperately wanted to come, even more so come with him, but it looked like neither of you would be as you feel one of David’s hands leave your body and make an attempt to reach out to the device.

You grab a hold of his wandering hand and lace your fingers together, hoping to keep him close and forget about the alert. You buck your hips forward, urging him to continue. His grip tightens and cock twitches inside of you in response. Your strategy almost deems successful when he picks up momentum, each swivel of his cock gradually bringing out the starved woman in you. Not to mention, your sex drive had heightened too, you’d longed and craved any affection he could give you.

“David, baby…” you whine, holding a hand to his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on you and only you, the ringtone almost drowning out, “...don’t. Don’t. Fucking. Stop...please,” you resort to begging and hook a leg over his body, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper.

And just when you’re about to tip over the edge, the incessant ringing persists, and David’s halt unintentionally pulls you back down. He unwinds your sweaty clasped hands, no doubt in search of the phone once more, however, you had more leverage than he did, and your hand beats his hand to it. He wasn’t that far behind as his hand covers yours, and he tries to grab the phone to answer the call, but instead you swat it off the nightstand.

“What the fuck?” David says aggravatedly, while attempting to reach his phone on the ground, all while he’s still inside of you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress, but careful to not crush you.

“No, fuck you, David,” you spit back, and shove his body off of yours. You scoot over to one side of the bed and try to level your breathing. You were both so close!

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, forgetting the phone on the ground.

“Do you really have to answer that?” You ask, attitude on full display.

“It could be an emergency at work,” he tries reasoning.

“You’re not on the clock, David!” You dispute, sitting up, clutching the sheets to your body to conceal yourself.

“That’s not the point! It could’ve been serious. Julia could be hurt,” he says, the words just coming out of his mouth, giving each excuse little thought. His mind was in a frenzy and you didn’t miss a single syllable.

“You called her Julia,” you say just above a whisper, and suddenly you have an urge to vomit, but you do your best to control it.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what that meant at all to you.

It hurt more that he didn’t realize there was anything wrong and if he did, he was doing a good job at hiding something and making you look like the bad guy. You lightly shake your head, feeling defeated, and lie back down, settling on your side facing the opposite direction of him.

What was going on in David’s head? You tried so hard to understand him. It was like walking on eggshells, and even you had a breaking point. It was just sometimes too much because it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort to keep this relationship afloat.

The bed shifts significantly, letting you know that he’s gotten out of it. What felt like an hour, but were only a few seconds, the room was silent, tension still heavy in the room, and neither of you were willing to be the first to crack. You lie still, unmoving and making no attempt to stop him. It’s only when you hear the swing of the bedroom door creak, you allow yourself to blink the tears in your eyes away.

He didn’t leave the apartment that much you could rest assured of. Rest? That was what you were having trouble with. Things weren’t getting any easier with David and you even though you vowed to yourself that you’d go through Hell for him, the pressure was getting too heavy on your heart and in return, you knew the distress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Maybe it was all just paranoia, the stress of pregnancy, and you were taking things too personal. You could be understanding about a lot of things in David’s life, his terms and PTSD, his kids, and his job, but was it too much to ask of him to be understanding of you? You suppose you were being selfish, and you were really tired. The only way to help you sleep was to swallow your pride and admit you were wrong.

The rush of the cold air instantly surrounds your bare legs the second you throw the covers off your body to get out of the bed. You throw on the discarded oversized shirt to be decent. Your steps are light, and you’re kind of nervous and, dare you admit, ashamed of how you overreacted that it drove David to the point of sleeping on the couch. After all, you made him feel unwanted in his own bed, and he certainly had enough respect to not steal yours.

Just when you’re ready to apologize and ask him to go back to bed with you, he’s already sound asleep, his legs sticking out from the mere blanket covering his upper body. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up for that. Sleep didn’t find him easy and he seemed just as stressed as you were, so you don’t disturb him. It can wait, right? You turn around and head to your room, shut the door and pray sleep finds you soon.

It didn’t and neither did the conversation.

News of the blast at St. Matthews College, where Julia was presenting a speech, rocked not only the political world, but it was the forefront of every news channel and medium. Tons left injured or dead, and as if that wasn’t bad, David was being told Julia had not survived the bombing.

He’s clearly distraught, believing he’s failed her, and on top of that, the weight of his lies started to suffocate him. He was going to have to come clean to you about everything he’s done behind closed doors with Julia. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of that, and if by some chance you did, it would take a hell of a long time for him to regain your trust.

How many more lives does he have to ruin or lose under his watch? It was becoming too much, and it was sad, as he stared at the gun in his hands, that he’d contemplated his next actions more than once, but he really didn’t know what he had left to do anymore. There was a lot actually, he had his kids, a baby on the way, and a new life to build with you, but he was far too gone at that moment.

It’s Vicky that finds him back at the apartment, cleaning the brass fragments from the wound on the side of his head. She quickly puts the pieces together, the notes on the table addressed separately to her, the children and you, and the admission from David that these were brass fragments of a bullet casing.

“Dave, what the fuck? What about Ella and Charlie? What about-” she starts going on but stops when he visibly cracks because he knows your name is next to come out of her mouth, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she decides and is quick to put away her tools.

“No. No one can know about this,” David says adamantly. They start to argue about his injuries and how David hadn’t been aware that he fired a blank round before he asks her to go back home to the kids.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” she says grabbing a jacket and tries to reason that he shouldn’t be alone right now and maybe being around the kids and seeing you will open his eyes and realize what he was leaving behind had he successfully ended his life.

He couldn’t pretend living like he was okay. What had happened to Julia was not his fault. All David ever did was do his best to protect, protect his country, his family and her.

“You need to tell her,” Vicky says while she hands David a cap for him to cover the wound on his head.

“I don’t even know where she’s been the last few days,” he admits pathetically. His own girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child, he can’t even keep tabs on where she’s been this whole time. It made him feel even terrible that he’d neglected you.

“She’s been staying with the kids and I,” she reveals.

“What? Why is she there?” He asks, and quickly puts the cap on and gets up from his seat.

She didn’t tell David of your whereabouts earlier because you’d asked her not to and she politely respected that, but she knew now was not the time to take sides anymore. You two had to deal with your issues now.

“She shouldn’t be alone, Dave. She’s pregnant with your child and yet she’s going through it all by herself,” Vicky tells him.

“I never meant to bring her into any of this mess,” he says heavily, full of grief. He brought you into the madness that was his world and now you’re trapped in it, bringing a new life along for the ride.

“She loves you, David, don’t sell yourself short. She just feels like she’s been left in the dark. You need to talk to her,” Vicky advises him, “it may not be pretty, but you have to hear her out.”

She knew you couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment without being reminded of David constantly. You weren’t in a good place either and she wanted to help you both before it was too late.

You’d been left behind at the house with Ella and Charlie in the other room watching TV, while Vicky was out looking for David. He wasn’t answering any of the phone calls she’s made, even ones made on your cell phone, there was no form of contact or communication from him. You knew he was there at the college; he was Julia’s bodyguard after all.

When you heard more than two voices return, you knew she’d brought David back and had told him you’d be here. You weren’t mad at her for ratting you out, it was going to come out eventually. Nothing ever stays hidden.

“You don’t normally wear a hat indoors,” Ella points out the cap on David’s head that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You said it’s silly,” Charlie reminds his father.

“Then I’m being silly,” David responds as he watches his children chomp away at the slices of pizza in their hands.

While Vicky was on the phone cancelling her date tonight, you faintly hear the end of the conversation he was having with Ella and Charlie over their dinner. He still hadn’t even seen you. Then you hear his quiet, controlled sobs, but he couldn’t detain them enough and be strong around his kids.

“I just did something silly today,” he tells them.

“Wearing a hat?” Charlie asks innocently.

“That, too,” he replies as he clings onto them both in a group hug.

Vicky had just revealed to you of David’s suicide attempt moments ago. You’re numb. Clearly, Julia’s death had affected him rather deeply, so much that he thought killing himself was a solution.

He didn’t care about you or the baby. You both weren’t enough to save him or have anything to look forward to. You can’t even cry anymore. You wanted to lash out and get mad. She advises you to keep calm and think rationally, but you’re tired of thinking about all of this.

Without warning, David enters the room you’d been staying in. You’re like stone on the couch, arms crossed and starting straight ahead of you, mindlessly at whatever TV program the kids left it on before retreating to the dining area. Your eyes cast themselves on David’s demure stance. He cautiously steps forward and hesitantly takes a seat next to you.

“Is it true?” You ask, breaking the silence and finally turn to look at him. He only nods in response, his head hangs low, ashamed. You felt like your heart didn’t have any parts to break anymore. The confirmation alone just felt like him stomping on it for added measure.

“Ok,” is all you say, biting down on your lip to prevent you from saying anything else. It was petty, but you’d refused to show him any remorse or sorrow of any kind.

“Is this where you’ve been the past few nights?” He questions, rather awkwardly too.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed I haven’t been home?” You ask bitterly.

He was really going to push your buttons. You’re not sure if Vicky was right about you and David having to talk. This wasn’t going to go well at all. You were not in an ideal mental and physical state to be talking about your problems with him, but if not now then when?

“Of course, I have. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, almost appalled by the accusation, and watching as you get up from the couch to stand in front of him.

“I hardly see you and when I do I find out that you just tried to kill yourself, so forgive me for not assuming I even ran as a mere thought in your messed-up head,” it was harsh, poking at his mental state, but you were so fed up, your mind was just as clouded, “...you didn’t think about me when you held the gun to your head,” you said ripping off his hat.

Your heart tightens in your chest as you stare at the wound and tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let them, “...and you certainly didn’t think about our baby when you pulled the trigger,” then chuck the cap at him, he makes no attempt to catch it as it lightly bounces off his chest and fall onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely and making no attempt to hide his tears as they raced down, “I’m so fucking stupid,” and he gets up on his feet, ”...I need help.”

He’s not even going to use the excuse of work and you’re not expecting him to rat himself out and come clean about Julia just yet. David didn’t work like that and you were absolutely done with it. No, everything had to come out now.

“I know,” is all you say at first. He thinks it’s some form of forgiveness, him acknowledging his problem, until you follow up, “just admit it,” your voice changes in tone from anger and hurt to an icy one, “who do you love now, David?”

All while asking him that question, you’re trying to get his eyes to focus on you, but you simply cannot. He’s looking everywhere but, and it hurts.

“It’s Julia, isn’t it? Tell me!” You shout at his face. When he doesn’t answer immediately, your lips press down together and you don’t hold back the tears any longer, “I can’t believe you,” you say in disbelief, almost struggle to breathe right, “this shit has been keeping me up at night!”

You back away from him and cover your mouth, just to conceal your sobs so the rest of the family doesn’t hear you cry. They most definitely heard you yell, but you didn’t want to further trouble them anymore or cause a big enough scene for them to burst right through.

There hadn’t been a doubt in your mind that David loved you before, but just seeing how he couldn’t open up enough to tell you there was someone else during, filled you with more heartache. Maybe it would hurt less, you wouldn’t know unless it came straight from his mouth.

David starts crying as well and you honestly want to slap him, but instead you start saying nasty things, cutting him way worse than anything you could ever do physically, and you certainly don’t hold back. Claiming you two were never meant to be together, and the baby doesn’t mean anything especially in uniting you both.

“I’ll be surprised if this baby even survives,” you scoff thinking about a past experience, and how cruel life was gifting you this baby.

“What are you talking about? You’re not thinking about-“ David starts getting all frantic suddenly, and not thinking, he grabs both your arms in his hands, holding you in place.

“God no! I would never!” You say in disgust and pull away from him, “I can’t believe you’d think I would…”

“Then what did you mean?” He asks curiously.

“I never told you why I broke up with him,” you don’t really mention your ex’s name these days. While you’d both moved on as civil as the both of you could, it still pangs you to reminisce about the relationship and how it ended.

“He couldn’t handle the long distance,” he said thinking he knew.

“He only couldn’t after...” you pause, trying to decide if now was the time to reveal this secret. David had the right to know, after all, an incident like such could happen again.

“After what? He was seeing someone else?” He grew increasingly anxious and almost ill towards the thought of another being unfaithful to you.

“No! It was my fault,” you don’t want to slander your ex at all. He couldn’t have prevented what happened to you across the other side of the world even if he tried. “I miscarried. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I woke up one day in my blood and the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.”

You started reliving that day, how you were alone and the way your neighbors had to come to your aid. Your poor ex felt so helpless, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything for you, but the wave of depression afterwards had strained the relationship. It formally ended when you’d returned from studying abroad.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” David says in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and if it was stupid to think all this time you could’ve easily had a life without him long before you two finally became a thing.

“It didn’t matter, David,” your voice finally regained strength, and wiped at the tears on your face of the memory, ”you and Vicky were so in love. There’s nothing you could’ve done for me.”

“That’s not true,” David persists.

“I would’ve turned you away, just like him,” you say so sure. David was your friend then, yes, but you didn’t need or owed him this before now.

“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he promises.

“You don’t know that,” and you’re not trying to be a pessimist about this, you wanted this baby, but you were more than aware of the possibility it could happen again. Bad things just always seemed to be happening lately anyways.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’d protect you both with my last breath,” he vows, grabbing your hands, desperate to feel any part of you.

“I don’t need your protection, David,” your words continue to crush him, that was your subtle way of leaving him and he knew it, “I love you, David. I love you so much!” you say with plenty of emotion, and lightly squeeze his hands in yours, “...but you can’t even tell me who you love right now,” you point out, reluctantly removing your hands from his.

“You need to get help, David. If not for your family, me or the baby, please do it for yourself,” you say last, before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to get help...for you,” you hear David say determinedly just before you walk out of the room. It wasn’t all you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you he loved you back, but you wanted him to live easy once again even if that meant him not loving you.

You could manage on your own, and work something out when the baby arrives, but for now it was time for you to go home.

A/N: Nope. Sorry! Whenever Season 2 decides to come out, maybe we’ll get a happier David, so for now I don’t think I can let these two ride off into the sunset…but I can if you send 2020 off with giving this a like, reblog, comment or all of the above!

#mrwinterr writes #david budd imagine #david budd x reader #david budd smut #david budd x y/n #david budd x female reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #bodyguard imagine

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

The Asylum

Synopsis: The U.A was a known Asylum. Known of being the current house for the most dangerous persons with the most tragocs backstorys and trauma. An universe where quirls dont exist, but heroes take the places of doctors, students are trainers and of course; villains are the pacients.

I am planning to do for all the boys I write and Shigaraki version of it (surprise shiggy stans!) Let me know if you would be interested.

Kai Chisaki:

You are currently a new doctor that the Asylum recide to take under their wing. Obviously not to good intentions. Since there is a pacient no one seems to even dare to croos his dorm room... so will you be able to tame the beast?

The limo you were in along with Nezu and the famous doctor Toshinori Yagi along with his aprendice Izuku Midoriya was sorta of glamorous... too much to your own point of view. But how could you point that out? Espevially to the ones whose kindly offered a job as soon as you got your graduation.

You were viewed as the "too kind and sensitive" to be a doctor or a psychologist, yet you still remained your ground and got your degree! And was now facing the kind hearted doctor Toshinoru himself! He was the most respected and talented doctora of all Japan, who just couldn't admire him?

The car came to an stop and Nezu gaze a hearted chickle after finsihing his cup of tea, which didn't even dropped a drop of the drink, before smilling at you as Toshinori and Midoriya helped you out.

"You two are too kind!" You spoke as the boy blushed crinsom red and laughed nervously as Nezu caught your attention.

"(L/n)-san, uou must know that despite us having the best of security measures, evil persons live on here and they can and some even will hurt you. Poor Midoriya-kun had to deal with a teenage girl around his age last week and almost got stabbed."

You widened your eyes as you saw by thhe corner of your eye the poor boy shivering at the memory as Yagi patted him by the head with a nervous chuckle.

You followed Nezu when he entered the building and found the place surprisingly intact even if hearing some shouts, psyotic laughter here and there..

"Im so sorry to not introduce the place for you (L/n)-san, but I have not only young Midoriya here but also another "student" to take care of." The man laughed as you smiled up at the man.

"I understand. Having onterns at such a young age must give some work." The blonde chuckled as he waved while Midoriya wished you a good first day at work before Nezu called you to stand beside him on a elevator and pressing the button to go down.

The number of the monitor, indicating the floors, were lowering as you arched an eyebrows until you jumped at hearing nezu giggling.

"We have floors that indicate which state our pacients mental health is... the lower the floor, the more these expecific pacients of oura need desperately for help."

"I see..." you picked your bag and took out the paste that only had the name and doccuments of your future pacient... Chisaki Kai.

A man around 20 and 25 years old that was a surgeon once, raised by a mafia boss. After being catched of by police for trying to make an unknown and forbided drug he was arrested. His adopted father had gotten ill and eventually put into a coma... in desperate to gain some blood for the elder the only with the compatible blood type of his father was his nephew... it seems that he had almost taken the blood of the girl by force due to desperation after he got out of prison...

Not even succeding on helping the old man, he got send to the Asylum after the acussation of his poor mental state. He got into a physical and heavy fight coincidentally with another pacient of here, and lost both of his arms.

He seemed also to have some sorta of OCD. His mysophobia being so advantege that not even if he comes to contact with dirty places, but even if he felt nervous or angry, hives would appear on his skin... also suffered from PTSD attacks and was paranoid, seing figures of assasinans and monster of four arms after the loss of his father and own members...

This patient is considerated one of the mosy dangerous around here even if missing both arms, now aparently substitute by prosthetics..

NOW you knew why anyone hasn't been very fond of him... the man had beaten up three of his previous doctors and almost send one to heaven.

The sound of your gulp got mixed with the ones of the doors of the elevator opening and Nezu menyioning for you to follow him on the hall.

The entire hall was super and almost shinning clean as you walked through it.

"As you saw on his file. Chisaki has a serious matter with dirt, even going as far as to almost beat our janitor after finding a piece of fry lying on the cafeteria. After that, he reveives his meal only on his room in hopes je doesn't cause such a tragity like before..."

"I see he is pretty... demanding." You muttered as Nezu stopped by a door made of Iron as he searched for a key.

"Surely, not even one of his doctors got the chance to knowing kore than his files, so I wish you to be the lucky one." The man smiled at you before pushing the door.

"... who is it?" The voice came from the darkest part of the room and you saw a hunched over form after squinting your eyes hard enough. The voice was deep and low kinda sexy even

"Chisaki. I have the honor to present you the doctor (L/n) (Y/n)-"

"Ah, another doctor I see." It came as a scratchy sigh, his head lifting up to reveal a man with gorgeous golden dull eyes and brow hair similiar to the woods of a pine, his skin pale amd the prosthetics arms shine the light of the halls back into your eyes.

This was against your own code.... but damn this man was hot.

"Is.. a pleasure to meet-"

"Lets see how much long will you last..." he said with a empty smirk before falling back to his stoic and empty expression, staring at the wall and demanding for you both to get out.

Nezu sighed as he accompanied you to outside and looked at you expectedly.

"... I think I can deal with him. He doesn't sound too bad as his files give away." You smiled at Nezu as he gave a rather relieved sigh and shook your hand in glee.

"Great! Your consulta will hlbe in his room witha bodyguard waiting outside to provide you security as he will be handcuffed for extra care."

You frowned at that as the man handed you the key and accompanied you for an tour around the whole building... Handcuffed? This was a bit extreme...

Wasn't it?

You breathed in and out as the guard was already set on post to watch over. Turning the key to open and quickly close it as instricted by other doctors and collegues.

"Hello." You greeted softly while closing the door as he stared at the table he was handcuffed with "I believe we didn't had a much pleasurable start due to Nezu there..." you seated on ths chair in front of him as he gritted his jaw.

It was silence for a bit as you sighed in sympathy.

"Listen, I have nothing here. Neither to hurt or touch you. I also took at least three showers before coming here to talk with you. I was rather excited to be honest." You smiled at him as he only arched an eyebrow up, still stoic expression.

"Foolish." He gritted through teeth as you tilted your head in confusion "You heard of me getting three people at least to the verge of death... Tell me, how cam you defend yourself from me?" His voice lowered dangerously but you still remained grounded. Surprisingly not even feeling scared.

"You mean also from the... monsters?" You saw how his muscles tightened as his eyes widened at you before narrowing them deep into your soul.

"Dont play like that. I know no one can see them... is just me."

"Well, that is true..." you leaned a bit towards him "But that doesn't mean I cant just try to understand you."

"Is that supposed to make me laugh? I dont need this stupid shit." He hissed while glaring at you.

"I suppose... but when was the last time you talked with someone though?"

It was silent... then he just sighed a bit shakily before starting to scratch the upper part of his arm...

"Get out. Now." You hummed, eviting to giggle at the shocked face he tried to hide at sieng you actually was leaving after he demanded.

"I will be back by tommorow then. Have a nice day Chisaki." You left the room and was inspected by the guard for any form of bruises or injuries and yhey were impressed.

"You're the first one that didn't got injured with that guy over there..."

"I think i just might be getting somewhere with him if I try hard enough."

Slowly but surely you got to talk with Chisaki. He still remained reserved most of the time, but as soon as you brought up the topic of a mess on the first floor was enough to make him complain about the quality of this place.

It wasn't exactly a start... but you did needed to get some sorta of trust of him on you.

One day you were about to enter the room and saw the episode everyone warned you about. His hallucinations.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" you dodged the table he threw with all the force he had near the door as you closed immediatly when you heard the bodyguard calling for others to help put Chisaki on a straightjacket.

"Get out! Get OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as he lunched the air and walls as you watched in wary and worry in your eyes as you tried to aproach safetly from behind.

"Chisaki-" you gasped when he almost punched you if it wasn't for your good reflexes "Chisaki listen to me!"

Ee only let out a bloody scream as he tried with all his forces to attack you before he caged you by the wall as you gagged at the metal hand on your throat.

"Chisaki.. im not here to hurt you-!" You tried to push more air into your lungs as he growled.

You tapped his shoulder out of desperation and immediatly gasped for air as he jerked away from your touch, blinking as if he had just woken up as you coughed.

When you opwned your eyes and saw him standing up, looking at you in shock you sighed in relief while getting up.

"H.. How? How did you make him to..?" He whispered while looking around the room in desperation "H-He was just... here-! He was HERE!" He shouted, his anger coming back as you walked towards him.

"Chisaki.." his amber and wrathful eyes looked into yours as you asked softly "What was in here?"

"It was.." he looked at the ground comflicted before grasping his hair with a groan "No no.. cant be... CANT BE! HE ISN'T HERE!"

"Who isn't here? Chisaki?"

"MY IDIOT FATHER!" he shouted "HAPPY NOW DOCTOR?!"

You widened your eyes as he breathed in shakily before dropping on the ground and crossing his arms to support his head.

"But... why would your-"

"Not the one in my files..." he groaned before looking at the wall numbily "My biological shitty one... an abuser. Use that to get a promotoon or whatever brat.. just leave me alone."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at him. Your heart speaking louder than your mind as you gently aproached him and seated next to him, maintaning enough distance to mantain him on a comfortable state.

"... I thought you didn't remember your biological parents." You commented as he linched the bridge of his nose.

"How could you forget someone that made your childhood a living hell?" He breathed out "I dont even know why I am even telling you this..."

"... let me guess.. abusive?" You spoke with sadness as he chuckled darkly.

"Pitying a sociopath and murder now doctor?" He brushed his fangs away "Don't. Is pathetic."

"Abusive." You confirmed as you stared at the wall he was facing at "Instrict father and negletful mother..?"

"... the man was an arrogant bastard... always beating and just taking away any sorta of ways of basic needs.. while my mother was a selfish women whose always called me a failure. A burden. A mistake... my father on one day was about to beat me up for grabbing something to eat..when I grabbed his gun to defend myself and accidentally shot him... the woman called the police on her own 5 years old child can you imagine that?" You stared at him in sadness.

No one knew his backstory. No one knew anything about him when he was under 12 years old. His archive compeltely erased... and there he was.

"The visions you have... is of him?"

"... a more like fusion or something." He groaned whipe scrwching his face "Has his face but has the arms of a beast... and four arms... other times is that Shigaraki that took my arms... others are my mother just trying to stab me or hold me down while she yells for me to... to behave..." he sighed shakily "Is the session over yet?"

You frowned before slowly aproaching him and taking his metal hand on yours as he widened your eyes.

"Is over.. but if you want i can stay here... to make sure those assholes wont be back." You smiled up at him as he stared at you like you grew three heads.

"I... I believe you have other places to be...?"

".. I enjoy having your company." You smiled again "After all, you dont deserve to be left caged alone.. You're still human after all.."

He stared at you before looking at the wall as you giggled a bit at the tips of his ears getting red as he thought over and over again.

Was he... was he really worth of being called a human?

"This new medication here might give some colateral effects, so after taking them i need you to tell me. But asides from that they will releave a but if that itchy feeling of your hives and the other will help a bit with your-"

"Hallucinations" the man completed as he analyzed the bottle only to sigh and open it later "I saw them once in the hospital I worked for."

"Oh I see!" You replied cheerfully at seing an opportunity to talk with him "I know you were an explendid surgeon."

"... kind of. Had almost a heart attack when blood was spilled on my skin now at then. Sicks.." He looked at you snorting before the hint of a smirk started to form only to dissapear as he took the two piles onto his hand.

"Uh.. You need to eat first to take your meds." You warned before he could plop the pills on his mouth... he stared deep into your eyes as he lowered them on a napkin and leaned on his chair while crossing hsi metalic arms.

"Then I guess I wont be taking it. The food of this place is horrible and disgusting. Not as much as my room." You arched an eyebrow at him before furrowing them in worry.

"What? Dont they clean your room? The halls are even shining. And what about the food?"

"Not quite." He sighed "A precary job, and some guards like to come by and dirt the place just to give me a headache... the food is just the same."

You hummed before getting up.

"Well then, I guess I have to grab somethings and demands some changes..."

"Oh, how adorable. You getting my food? Make me laugh some more doctor, Im dying to see it." He spoke on a nonchantly tone as you only poked your tongue out at him before muttering that you would be right back.

To him it seemed like hours you had gotten out and even dared to scold on how slow you must be.

"I brought you what seems to be your favorite! Not the food from the cafeteria, I swear!"

He watched in amusement and accidentaly smiled at seing you there with what was once his favorite food until he flinched at your gasp.

"I see a smile thereeeee!!!!" You pointed at his face repeatedly as he surprisingly gently slapped your hand away while taking the bag.

"You're such a nuisance." He sighed, hating how his mouth drooled.

"I washed the fork."

"But I didn't even-"

"I know you Kai." You giggled before widening your eyes and slapping your hands over your mouth in shock.

His eyes were also wide open as you felt your face heat up.

"Im so sorry! It was so unproffesional this oh my Go-"

"Is..." he interrupted you while looking at the opposite direction of yours "Alright... surprisingly my name doesn't sound... so bad when you speak... doctor."

Your eyes softened a bit as a flustered and quite a happy smile graced over your features that made him blush even more.

"Is impressive!" Toshinori and Nezu exclaimed together as they saw the progress yoh had made with Chisaki only in a matter of months as you giggled. "You're a god send (L/n)-san!"

"Please!" You waved them off in embarrassment.

"No no, none of that young one!" Yagi snorted "We decides to give you a week of vacation after such an amazing progress like that! Starting today!"

"T-Today?!"

"Yeah! Dont worry about your pacient, we will get him a substitute just to make him take the meds."

You didn't had much of a choice since they already send the poor guy over his way.

Two days... two days and you simply wasn't here. Just seing a trembling hand almost throwing the pills at him as he sighed in dissapointment. Two days and he hadn't see the face of his beautiful and pretty doctor of his... he couldn't believe it...but he was so desperately craving them. To hear her voice, to.. even feel his hand brush against hers...

He jerked up when he heard the sound of the door opening, narrowing hus eyes at seing that the doctor whose entered his room, wasn't his doctor.

"U-Uh... I-I'm here to-"

"You're." He standed up from his bed "Not." He walked close to the shivering doctor "my (Y/n)."

Before he knew it, he saw visions of you being handed and taken away by one of these monster as he shouted and beaten up the man, the security guard allerting all of the bodyguards about the pacient 14 leaving his cell and attacking others.

The alarms set off and all securities were called as he toom them down ome by one as he shouted with all the forces of his lungs:

"WHERE IS MY DOCTOR?! GIVE HER BACK!" he shouted as he took each one of them down and even managing to stab one of the doctors and one of the security guards witha freacking pen that was in the pocket of one of the pacients that was nearby.

“GET THE SEDATIVE AND THE STRAIGHTJACKET! QUICK BEFORE HE-” the poor guard had his head locked on Chisaki metal hand as he slammed him into the wall into the point it bleed.

He shouted in pain when he felt the syring on his neck, his body starting to get drownsy as he was threw down on the ground, still trying to fight until the end as he kept calling for you...

“Help me... PLEASE! I WILL BE GOOD! IM SORRY!” He shouted and cried at the same time “WHERE’S MY DOCTOR?! (Y/N)!”

He shouted your name until he had no voice or force t do so as his body gave out....

You ran after scoldng every one that tred to stop you as you searched for the key of Kai’s room.

You had received an emergency call after three weeks of your vacation and to say you were both terrified and worried was a understandement. You needed to see Kai. Just thinking about him prisioned on his room and on a jacket made you feel horrible... you even heard the possibilty of the U>A taking away his prosthetics arms due to “security measures”.

You opened the door and loghten up the lights to see Chisaki laying on his bed. A numb look towards the ceiling as you whimpered his name and went to stand close to him.

“... did you come to kill me..?” you widened your eyes as you thought the urge to tear up as you looked for the key of the straightjacket that Nezu gave it to you after your begging.

“Kai im so so sorry...” You whimpered while freeing him... HIm blinking as if he just notices your presence and moving his arms before sitting up.... looking at his metal fingers move, one by one..

“..Are you another hallucination...?” he flinched at your hand coming in contact with his cheeks ashe looked at you as if he was about to kill you right there.

“No... Kai, feel me.. I’m here. Aren’t the meds helping you anymore:”

He stared at you for a what seemed like a decade before he brushed his fingers on your cheek before choosing to bring you close on what seemed like a hug, since he coulnd’t feel with his prosthetics...

A shaky sigh leaved him as he clinged onto you.

“I... You weren’t taken away... I dont feel sick with your touch...” you hugged him back with a shaky inhale before breathing out.

“I wont be taken away... Im your doctor after all...” you buried your face on the crook of his neck and inhaled his clean scent. getting drunk by him.

You didn’t know when your lips came in contact, but they did... and you didn’t even cared about your carrer anymore, you only carried about him... you knew this man could and would get better. You just could feel it.

“You want to know something?” he whispered after the kiss as you hummed “You sound more like an angell to me. My angel.”

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki x reader #bnha villains x reader #kai chisaki #overhaul #bnha au asylum #pacient number 14 Chisaki Kai #bnha writings #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha villains #zuffer writings

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

sheer atrocity (4)

warnings: captivity, mild arguing

After a brief break to eat and drink, Virgil was on the move. Again.

Considering dusk was quickly approaching and they’d been traveling or intimidating abusive dads for pretty much the entire day, Roman felt the pace they were setting was a little unreasonable.

He wasn’t the one walking it, sure, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Was this guy always so antsy, or was this a special occasion?

And while he was asking himself questions that he wouldn’t get any answers to, how long was the cast duration of this enchantment?

(More specifically, how much longer was he going to be small enough for beetles to look like dogs?

How much longer before Virgil decided what to do with him for real?)

He hadn’t seen the giant stop to recast, which meant that he’d been burning through a continuous enchantment for hours on end. Signs pointed to his magic reserves being massive. Chilling.

Roman thumped a foot against the side of the jar that rested against Virgil’s side. “Are we wandering around the woods during twilight for any particular reason, or are you just lost and too embarrassed to admit it? Too used to seeing the trees from a loftier position, perhaps?”

Virgil glanced down at him, as though just recalling he was there. Offended, Roman made a mental note to make more of his internal diatribes to external diatribes. The only thing worse than being a prisoner with an uncertain future was being an ignored prisoner with an uncertain future.

“Go back to being quiet, I forgot you were annoying for a second.”

“Absolutely not,” Roman huffed, kicking his feet against the glass repeatedly for emphasis. “The moment we see another human I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs.”

“Oh, because that worked so well for you before,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

Roman shifted positions, trying to ease a cramp in his leg. “Haven’t you heard? Third time’s the charm, and personally, I have no shortage of charm.”

There was a short pause, and then Virgil ground to a stop, taking a deep breath.

Instantly, Roman stiffened, eyes locked on the face above him. He’d forgotten himself, making jabs as though they weren’t enemies, as though he hadn’t been trapped, threatened, and used by this monster. It was too easy to pretend, when Virgil did things that were almost decent.

Sure enough, Virgil grabbed the top of the jar and lifted it from his pocket to be eye level. Roman shoved his arms out to keep himself stable, avoiding looking at the long drop below him.

“As useful as your bullheadedness was before, I don’t actually want you to scare the daylights out of the person I’m looking for this time.”

“Yes, well, I don’t want to be the size of a newborn chick, so it looks like we’re both dealing with struggles in life,” Roman snapped back, because he’d never known when to keep his mouth shut.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “I could just muffle your jar, you know. I’m magic; I can do that.”

He could? Roman was sort of surprised he hadn’t done so already.

“But,” he continued with a sigh, “I think this one will probably be easier with your help. I’m not great at putting people at ease.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Roman snorted, and then jerked as the rest of the sentence sunk in. “Wait, hang on. ‘Put people at ease’? There is no way I’m helping you with any nefarious plots!”

“It’s not nefarious!” Virgil shifted his weight, glancing around impatiently. “And it’s time sensitive. Either help me or don’t, I don’t care.”

It couldn’t be that simple, but Roman wasn’t about to pass up a chance to see something other than the interior of a pocket. “Fine, but if I see you doing something evil, I’m not going to stand idly by!” And then, petulantly. “Also, I want out of the jar.”

“As long as you actually use your brain instead of your biases to judge me,” Virgil snarked back, but obligingly pried off the lid and tipped the jar on its side. Rather than pull or tip Roman out, he held his hand to the lip of the opening and waited.

It was almost more nerve wracking to climb into a giant hand willingly, but Roman managed it. The jar was whisked away, and Roman lifted to neck level. He stared blankly.

“Going to get off anytime soon?” Virgil asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“What am I getting on? Your collar bones?” Roman replied incredulously. “Wouldn’t a shoulder be better?”

The hand under him shifted slightly, angling him towards the folds of the cloak where it met the hood. “The fabric has better grip here. You’ll fall off my shoulder if we’re attacked.”

Attacked by who? “Paranoid much?” Roman dallied for a moment longer, but the idea of falling really was an unappealing one, so he climbed up and managed to find a seat amongst the bunched up cloth.

As soon as he was settled, Virgil set off again, and Roman clung tightly, staring out at this strange new perspective of the forest. Weird, but definitely better than the jar.

They moved along in relative silence, Virgil surprisingly light on his feet for a giant. The sun had just begun to sink below the horizon when he finally jerked to a halt.

Roman opened his mouth to complain at the sudden stop, but Virgil’s head was tilted, as though carefully listening. After a moment, he turned to a nearby patch of shrubbery.

“Hey,” he called, voice lacking it’s usual edge. “I can hear you over there.”

There was a long pause, and Roman blinked as the shrubbery began to tremble slightly. There was actually someone in there?

“Easy,” Virgil said, lowering himself into a squat. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can help you find the way out of these woods, if you’d like.”

After a moment, a small hand pushed part of the bush aside, peering out cautiously at them. Roman’s heart twisted at the kid’s face, smudged with dirt and tear streaks. They couldn’t have been more than eight.

Virgil shifted, and Roman felt a chill go through him, remembering who, or rather what he was with. He couldn’t let the giant lure the kid into whatever scheme he was planning.

“There you go,” Virgil coaxed, offering a hand to help the kid stand up. “It must have been scary, stuck out in the woods alone. You did good to stay in one spot.”

Roman bit down on the automatic urge to call out a warning, listening to the way Virgil carefully encouraged the kid to stand up and brush the twigs from their hair. This was important. He had to consider the situation from all angles before making a move.

If Virgil really wanted to abduct a random kid in the woods, he didn’t need to convince them of anything. He’d dealt with a trained slayer as though he was a minor annoyance, a kid wasn’t exactly a challenge. So why was he going to all this trouble?

Roman thought about the soft edges of Virgil’s expression when he gave Patton his coat back. Maybe… it wasn’t a ruse?

“I’m Virgil,” the giant in question said, shaking Roman from his thoughts. “And this is Roman. We’re travelling together.”

Roman startled, not expecting to be introduced. “Uh, salutations!”

The kid stared with wide eyes. “You’re so small!” they blurted, before covering their mouth hurriedly.

Virgil cut in before Roman could correct him. “He’s a pixie. Likes to cause problems on purpose.”

Roman huffed “I do not! Don’t let him fool you, I am a delight.”

The kid giggled, and Virgil’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Roman wished he could see his expression.

From there it was second nature to keep up a stream of chatter with the kid about everything from their favorite food (honey on bread) to their stance on frogs (cute but you shouldn’t kiss them). It grew darker and darker as they walked, and after the kid had almost tripped over stray roots thrice in rapid succession, Virgil had crouched and lifted them onto his back with ease.

Before long, the kid was snoring lightly, face smushed against his hood, and there was a surprisingly comfortable silence in the air between them.

Virgil broke it first. “Thanks for not freaking out. I didn't know you had it in you.”

Roman crossed his arms, ignoring how close he’d come to freaking out. “This doesn’t mean I trust you or anything. We’re still enemies, you’re just. Not as bad as you could’ve been.”

“Yipee,” Virgil deadpanned, shrugging his shoulder under Roman slightly to jostle him. Roman jabbed his elbow in the general direction of Virgil’s neck in retaliation. “Very gracious of you.”

“I certainly won’t be as gracious the next time you pass me off as a pixie,” Roman muttered, prompting a low, half-air laugh from Virgil. He realized belatedly that he’d assumed there would be a next time, and hadn’t been corrected. He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not.

What was it about this giant that made Roman feel at ease to speak his mind, even in such a precarious position?

Virgil slowed as they came up on the town again, crouching to gently nudge the kid awake and set them on their own two feet again. “You’re home, kiddo.”

“Don’t go traipsing around in the forest again, y’hear?” Roman added sternly. “Not everything in those woods are as nice as us.”

The kid nodded solemnly, and then grumbled sleepily as Virgil ruffled their hair and pushed them towards the paved path into town.

Once the kid reached the town's edge, they turned around to peek over their shoulder. The two of them were already well out of sight, waiting until the kid had been safely whisked into the arms of their parents before departing.

Roman waited with bated breath, but despite their deal being over, Virgil seemed to have no intent of removing him from his newfound perch. He sunk deeper into the fabric as they continued to trek on.

For now, he could let himself enjoy this tentative peace.

#sanders sides #g/t #fantasy au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts elliott #writing #my writing #sheer atrocity #sa #sorry this is late posting hours i fell asleep again

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treksickfic · 3 years

Text

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly.

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever. I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile. I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

“Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

“If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

“Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

“Don't fuck with me!”

“The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

“I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

*****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

“If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

“Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

“Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

“I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

#star trek sickfic #sickfic #TOS sickfic #sick kirk #panicked kirk #emotional hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort #emeto #tw emeto #tw panic attack

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chloelucia13 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: Eye of the Hurricane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: After your breakup with Spencer, you tried everything in your power to forget him, to grow from what happened. However, life (especially yours) doesn’t work that way

Warnings: a lot more angst, language, violence, gore, kidnapping, mentions of death, it’s a doozy

Word Count: 6406

A/N: And here’s part 3! This one is by far the darkest, so I would advise not reading if you’re sensitive to anything mentioned in the warnings. This part involves the kidnapping of Maeve, but if you noticed, I didn’t put death in the warnings because (unlike literally everyone in television and movies) I won’t be using any woman’s death to further a man’s character arc.

Tags: @sojournmichael

Part one, part two

It had been a month.

A month of pain, of heartache so unbelievably miserable that at one point you thought you were having a heart attack.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of him, thinking of every detail about him.

His laugh echoed in your mind, the sound that was once so sweet but now left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Each night, as you tried to lull yourself to sleep, you retraced the steps up to his apartment. Through the double doors, past the second pair of doors that separated the mailboxes from the rest of the apartments, into the entryway, up the flight of fifteen wooden steps, turn to the right, second door on the left.

You wondered if this was how Spencer felt, able to recall any memory at will with great detail.

You wondered if he had even thought of you at all.

Stop.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet to get another cup of tea, your blanket wrapped snugly around your shoulders. The warmth of the water radiating through the ceramic and caressing your fingers was the only thing that kept you aware, in the moment.

You tossed your old tea bag in the trash and retrieved a new one, plopping it in the water before carrying the mug back over to your perch, the place in your apartment that you rarely left these days.

After he left, the apartment felt so... big. So vast and empty and haunting that you confined yourself to a small area and didn’t stray away from it.

You felt like Ed Gein, boarding yourself up into one area of your home and living like a hermit.

But instead of the memories of your parents haunting you, confining you into a small area, it was Spencer.

You couldn’t make yourself clean up his things that were scattered about your apartment. His razor on your bathroom sink, his mug in your kitchen cabinet, his clothes in the top two drawers of the dresser in your bedroom. That wasn’t to mention the dozens of pictures of the two of you hung up on the walls, tucked into the corners of the vanity in your room, placed on your bedside table.

He had made his home inside your apartment to the point that it no longer felt like your apartment.

So there you sat, perched on your couch that sat against your wall, your legs pulled up to your chest as your body was turned to look out the open window behind the couch, a mug cupped in your hands and permanent bags under your eyes.

The smell of rain wafted into your apartment. Petrichor.

That was the only word you had said in the past three days. Your voice was hoarse from disuse, and it felt alien on your tongue.

Every word felt alien on your tongue, as if you were speaking a language you didn’t know. As if you were possessed, spewing out a dead dialect that you spat from your mouth like venom.

For the first few weeks, people bombarded you with calls. Penelope, JJ, Alex, even Derek. Even Emily. It seemed like everyone knew, and everyone wanted to help you in any way you can. However, you just pushed them away, assuring them that you were fine.

It seems that they got the hint, for the most part, as you now only received the stray text from Penelope, asking if you wanted her to come over or if you needed her to go grocery shopping for you.

No matter how much you let yourself wallow and suffer at night and on weekends, you knew that you still had a responsibility and hundreds of patients who relied on you.

Going to work seemed to be the only thing you did nowadays (well, outside of your house, that is). And as strange as it sounds, talking to the patients you knew so well seemed to help pull you out of that rut, at least for the moment.

Helping people was your pride and joy, even though you weren’t able to help yourself.

Before you knew it, you had already drained your second cup of tea. With a sigh, you placed the mug on the coffee table and rose to your feet to draw the window closed.

This was your least favorite time of night. Once the window was closed, the hustle and bustle of Washington D.C. immediately faded away to static silence, making you feel like you were in a soundproof room with all of your thoughts screaming at you.

And screaming was never easy to sleep through.

***

Your cheeks were warm when you woke up.

Tonight was one of the “better” nights, one where you dreamt of kisses being exchanged and holding one another being held in safe, comforting arms. Though it did nothing to help you move on, it was much preferred to the nightmares you were used to. Nightmares that held screaming and venomous words and one final gunshot that rang in your ears when you woke up in a cold sweat.

You pressed “stop” on your alarm before reluctantly rising from your couch and wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, feeling a strange chill flow through the room. With a palm pressed to your closed eye, you wandered into your kitchen and grabbed a bagel, placing it between your teeth as you filled up a glass of water.

A small creak in your bedroom made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You spat the bagel out of your mouth and pulled a knife from your knife block with quivering hands, the familiar feeling of panic settling in your chest. “Hello?” you shouted, knuckles flooding white.

There was silence, and after a moment of waiting, you let out a sigh and placed the knife back down on the counter. God, why am I being so paranoid?

You chugged down the glass of water before clutching onto your blanket with both hands, holding it securely around your shoulders as you glanced around the room.

The window was open.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” you whispered, shuffling your feet over to the window and pushing it shut, listening to the nearly-silent sealing sound that the window breathed out before flipping the latch, locking it in place.

And then your back collided with your hardwood floor, all the air leaving your lungs and a stinging sensation beginning to burn along your scalp.

A gasp fell from your lips as a foot stood on your stomach, pinning you in place as a hand clutched the neck of a full wine bottle, swinging it down and having it connect against your temple before your vision faded to black.

***

With a sputtering cough, you came to, eyes darting around the room with panic. “Good, you’re both awake!” a woman’s voice hummed, stepping in front of you and staring you in the eye. “Now we just need one more.”

“What are you doing?” you hissed, not daring to break eye contact. “What’s going on?”

She scoffed. “Y/N, for having a doctorate in psychology, you’re not that bright.” She stepped out of your viewpoint, revealing another woman who seemed to be in the same predicament as you. Your eyes glanced her over before you turned your head to look at the other woman. “I’ll be back. You two behave now.”

With a smirk, she stepped stepped out the door.

You waited for her footsteps to fade away before scooting your chair over to the other woman, examining her bindings and her face. “We’re gonna get out of here,” you immediately reassured her. “Did she say why you’re here?”

She searched your face, a crease in her brow and water in her eyes. “She-she said I took something from her,” she whispered, biting down on her lower lip.

You nodded, tugging your wrists against your binds for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Maeve.”

Oh my god.

The puzzle pieces started to fit together in your mind as you examined her once more.

Pretty dark brown hair tied up into a ponytail with bangs and strands of hair to frame her face. A pretty cardigan and shirt with jeans. A pretty face. A pretty body.

Pretty.

“What?” she urged, taking note of the look that settled upon your face. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, quickly blinking the tears away. “Oh, it’s nothing. That name, I-it’s just... familiar.” You gulped, forcing a smile on your face. “We’re gonna get out of here, Maeve. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded. “Okay.”

You nodded with her, glancing around the room. “What do you do for work, Maeve?”

She gulped, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’m a geneticist.”

Pretty and smart. Good going, Spence.

“Your name is Y/N?” she asked, pulling you from your spiral.

You nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“What do you do for work, Y/N?” A small smile sat on your lips. “I’m a psychologist.”

She gave you a smile in return. “That sounds like an amazing job.”

“Well, it’s not as cool as being a geneticist, but it’s pretty nice.”

That earned a chuckle from her before her lips pressed together, forming a thin line.

The rest of the time that you two were alone, you were both silent.

***

It had been about an hour before the woman returned, now with a limp body in her arms. You could hear the thump of the body as she dragged it up the flight of stairs and into the room you and Maeve were tucked away in.

It was a man’s body, and by the way Maeve’s breath audibly fled from her lungs, it was one that she knew.

The woman situated the man in another rolling chair, binding his wrists with zip ties in the same way that yours were bound.

you could assume by the blood on his temple that he was also knocked out like you were, and you knew that if either of you didn’t get help for the definite concussions both of you sported, things would be going downhill fairly quickly.

He woke up within moments, a groan falling from his lips. This alerted the woman of his new awareness, as she walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You know,” she sighed, “I couldn’t understand it, Bobby. I really couldn’t.” She stopped in front of him, crouching down and whispering in his ear, “You could have had me. Instead you wanted that.”

She grabbed the arms of Bobby’s chair and spun him around, forcing him to face Maeve, who was only feet from him. Tears were dripping down her face, the look that mirrored that of a kicked puppy on her face.

“Maeve?” he whispered, to which she nodded.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried, casting her gaze to the ground.

“Why are you doing this! Why!”

“Let’s just say, Maeve here has a habit of taking things from people,” the woman hissed before snapping her gaze to you, holding the barrel of a gun against Bobby’s temple. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Your heart dropped to your shoes and bile rose in your esophagus. You shook your head fervently. “No,” you choked out.

“No? Are you sure? Because from what I know, I think she has.”

“Y/N, what is she talking about?” Maeve urged, and you looked over at her with tear-blurred vision.

“Maeve already took Bobby from me, but she also took someone from both of us.”

“Shut up!” you screamed, clenching your teeth.

She just chuckled, walking away from Bobby and stepping over to you, her gun now trained on you. “Oh come on, Y/N. Tell me, how long were you and Spencer together? How much did she take away from you?”

“What?” Maeve gasped out, her eyes growing wide as she examined your profile.

“We were together for almost a year,” you finally breathed out, tilting your head up to the ceiling to try and keep the tears at bay.

“See, Y/N? She took him from you, and then me. It’s all her fault.”

“You never had him, you sick bitch.” You shook your head before directing your gaze on the woman. “None of this is her fault. She didn’t know. But this...” With your limited range of hand movements, you circled your hand around the room. “This is all your fault.”

“No, don’t you dare turn this on me!” she shrieked. “This is all her fault! She took my life from me!” Her demeanor instantly changed, becoming calm and collected, though her voice wavered slightly. “So, I decided, if I can’t have my life, I’m gonna take hers.”

The woman cocked her gun, and your brain worked a mile a moment to try and distract her.

“What are you talking about? She did nothing to you! We did nothing to you!” Bobby shouted out. “Maeve, what is she talking about?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know who she is,” she stuttered out, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“After hunting her for ten months, after stealing her man-” she gestured to Bobby- “After her stealing your man-” she pointed at you- “I had to stop and say, what is so freaking special about her? I couldn’t see it. Until I saw him.”

“Him who?” Bobby huffed.

“The night you followed her, I followed you. And I saw him.” You worked quickly to try and connect the puzzle that was lying in front of you, your jaw dropping when you finally realized.

“I want what they have,” she concluded. “What Y/N and him had. I want him.”

“That’s why you’re doing this?” Bobby scoffed, challenging her. “Because of this stupid FBI agent?”

“That stupid FBI agent is the reason you’re still alive!”

As she directed her attention back to Bobby, Maeve turned to face you. “I’m so sorry,” she mouthed, guilt-ridden. You just shook your head and gave her a pained smile.

“You’re gonna get them to tell me about him,” the woman continued, jamming her gun into Bobby’s neck.

“I don’t want to hear what she has to say,” he shouted back as his resolve began to crumble, his lower lip quivering.

“I know. But it wasn’t a request.”

He just clenched his jaw, unwilling to speak. She let out a huff before stomping over to a table behind you, shuffling through a few papers before walking back over to Maeve, crouching between you and her with a stack of papers in her hand.

“So, let’s talk about this, hmm?” She grinned at Maeve. “Because this I didn’t expect.” She glanced between you and Bobby. “Oh, I’m sorry. let me catch you two up. I found these letters in Maeve’s loft. And I guess she didn’t get around to sending this one, and... It’s really good.” She cleared her throat before speaking. “’I bought the blindfold today. I can’t wait to use it.’ Blindfold.”

At this point, your teeth were so tightly clenched together that you were sure your teeth were going to shatter.

“You know, I thought I knew your fiancee. But I guess she’s kinkier than we thought.” “It’s not what you think,” Maeve’s voice hummed, and you noticed how her eyes flashed over to you for a moment.

“’It’s not what you think’ is girl code for ‘it’s exactly what you think.’”

“No, it’s not what you think.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“I never even saw him.”

“Why risk your life to meet him?” “I’ve been alone for so long, I just wanted to be with somebody. But if I knew about...”

“You could’ve been with Bobby.”

“It was different with him.”

“Different how?”

“He was just...”

“he was just what Maeve?” Bobby pushed, his fuse growing shorter by the second.

“When we would talk, I would... It was effortless,” Maeve breathed out, and you couldn't help but notice the glimmer in her eye when she thought of Spencer.

“That is so interesting,” the woman deadpanned, pushing herself to her feet and rushing over to Bobby, waving her gun around erratically. “You see, when men cheat, it’s below the belt. But when women cheat, it’s above the neck.”

“No, we were broken up. I never cheated on you.”

“But someone cheated on someone.” The woman stared between you and Maeve as she spoke.

“I told you it wasn’t her fault!” you hissed, thrashing your arms in your binds.

“You never really loved me, did you?” Bobby spoke up. “Not like you loved him, anyways.”

The woman feigned an empathetic look, sinking to her knees in front of Bobby. “Now you know how I felt, to be ignored, cast aside. It’s not fun, is it?”

As she spoke, bile rose in your throat. You hated how much you understood exactly what she was saying. You were like her, in a loveless relationship with a man who was too focused on another woman.

No, don’t think like that.

“Let us go, goddammit!” Bobby shouted, startling you out of your thoughts. “What else do you want?”

“Oh, so, so much more,” she hummed sweetly, walking back over to Maeve and standing behind her. “You had him eating out of the palm of your hand every Sunday, and he never even saw your face. I have to admit, that takes skill. That takes finesse.” She turned to look at you. “how does it feel, Y/N? Knowing Spencer was in love with a woman he had never met, ever even seen, when he still had you?”

“Shut up,” you spat through your teeth.

She just chuckled, pushing Maeve’s chair forward so her and Bobby were facing each other, so close that her knees were touching his. “How’d you do it, Maeve? I think your audience would like to know.”

Maeve stayed silent, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Hello!” the woman shouted. “Doctor, are you in there? Seriously? Ok, fine.” With a jerk of her hand, she fired a round into the ground, the gun settled between Maeve and Bobby. You all flinched from the noise, and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You tugged harder at your binds.

“Just tell her,” Bobby demanded.

“There was a moment when you had him. When you knew you had him. What was it?”

“Euclidean geometry,” Maeve breathed out finally, her voice trembling, but you couldn’t tell if it was from terror or from sadness. “There’s this thing called the Penrose triangle. He told me a story about how he tried to build one when he was 8.”

“This better get sexy quick. I’m getting bored,” the woman hummed, her hip jutted out.

“You can’t build it. It’s an impossible physical structure. It only exists in conceptual geometry. But I said every Penrose triangle has its thorns. he laughed. It was a stupid pun, but he laughed.”

“That’s it.” She huffed, grabbing the arms of Maeve’s chair and turning Maeve so her back was facing Bobby. “I finally sees what he sees. He sees you as an equal. That’s it, isn’t it?” The woman turned to face you. “How do you feel about that.”

You gulped, thinking for a moment. You decided that if you played her game, you’d gain more time, so with a sigh, you spoke the words that had plagued your mind when Maeve spoke: “I don’t think I can remember the last time I heard him laugh.”

The woman’s lips pursed, clearly satisfied, and she rose to her feet. “Well, I know his secret now. As long as he can see me as his equal, he can love me. Like he loved you two.”

“Great, you figured it out,” Bobby deadpanned. “Now, please, will you let us go?”

“No.” She walked over to him, glaring down at him. “I have to show her that I can take everything she has. Then she’s going to remember me. And I can get what she took from me. You, however, are superfluous.” She grabbed Bobby’s chair and wheeled him back, pushing the back of his chair against the back of Maeve’s. “Sorry, Bobby. You’ve always been runner up in this beauty pageant.”

“Wait, Wait, wait, wait,” Bobby begged, and you watched in horror as the woman solidly pressed the barrel of the gun against Bobby’s temple. “Please, Maeve...”

“Don’t hurt him,” Maeve urged. “Please! Please don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him.”

But it was to no avail.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a gunshot rang through the empty warehouse, biting your tongue so hard to keep from screaming that the bitter taste of iron flooded your mouth.

You were all silent as the woman pulled the chair that held Bobby’s lifeless body, dragging it into a room that branched off from the main room that you were being held in.

“You still don’t know who I am, do you?” the woman sighed, leaning against a desk.

“No,” Maeve stated simply, though her voice revealed that she was still shaken. “I’ve tried and tried to remember and I can’t. But whatever I did to you, I’m sorry. Forgive me. Tell me what it is you want me to say to you and I’ll say it.”

“Why am I here?” you spoke up, your breath nearly hitching when you felt the zipties give a little.

“Because I needed Maeve to see everyone she ruined,” the woman said, not even sparing a glance at you. “And because Spencer still loves you, and if Maeve wouldn’t lead him here, you definitely would.”

“What makes you think he still loves me? I don’t know if you remember, but he left me. He doesn’t want me.”

“Oh honey, don’t be so naive.”

“I just want this to be over,” Maeve breathed out, which clearly caught the woman’s attention.

“I can do that.” Slowly, the woman grabbed a pair of wire cutters and rushed over to Maeve, clipping the zipties around Maeve’s wrists. “You just have to do something for me first.”

Maeve could barely nod before the woman yanked Maeve out of her chair, pushing her out of the room and out of your sight.

A bad feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, and you scooted over to the table where the woman laid all of her gear. Your eyes searched through the items as you tried your hardest to yank just one hand free from its binds.

Finally, after a minute or so of pulling, you pulled so hard that your hand slipped out. You let out a small cry of pain, tears welling in your eyes as your hand throbbed. It was definitely dislocated, but you pushed on, grabbing onto the wire cutters with all the strength you could muster and cutting your other hand free.

The echoing of footsteps coming from the stairwell startled you slightly, rushing to put the wire cutters back into place before moving back to your original spot, acting as if your hands were still bound.

The woman yanked Maeve into the room, tossing her into her chair and strapping her wrists down with one hand while the other held her phone. You shot Maeve a quizzical look, wondering what happened to her while she was gone. She just shook her head, biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Meanwhile, the woman typed on her phone before holding it next to Maeve’s mouth.

“Hello?”

You thought you were about to vomit.

What did Spencer get himself into?

“Hey, it’s me,” Maeve spoke, her face ridden with guilt as she risked a glance at you.

“Are you okay?”

“She killed Bobby.” “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. We’ve both got concussions and some bruising, but we’re okay.”

“We?”

He didn’t even know you were there. He didn’t care.

You couldn’t help but notice the twisted smile on the woman’s face at Spencer’s words. Meanwhile, Maeve looked at if she was about to burst at any moment, so filled with guilt and misery that she could barely handle it.

“Y/N’s here with me,” Maeve sobbed out.

He was silent, but you could practically hear all of the thoughts running through his mind. “Can... Can I talk to her?” he spoke finally.

The woman smirked, stepping away from Maeve and going over to you. You silently prayed that she wouldn’t notice your freed wrists, holding your breath as she finally put the receiver near your mouth.

“Hi Spencer,” you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I... I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled, but stayed silent, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re going to be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

He sighed. “Can I talk to Diane?”

You looked back at the woman, at Diane. “No. She’s listening.”

“Good. But I want to meet her. I need to see her face to face.”

Diane hurried back over to Maeve, jamming the gun into the back of her neck to urge her to talk. “She has a message she wants me to give to you,” Maeve rushed out.

“What is it?” Spence spoke.

“The message is, she left you a present. And if you want to find it, it’s easy as pie.”

“What does that mean? I don’t understand what that means.”

“Neither do I.”

“Spencer, it’s a trap,” you shouted out. “If you come here, she’s gonna kill you or us-” Your words fell short as Diane ran over to you and connected her fist with your jaw. You gripped onto the armrests of the chair and bit back a hiss.

She hung up the phone.

***

Police sirens wailed through the empty night, a small sob bubbling up in your throat as the red and blue lights shone through the large window.

Diane was giddy with excitement, hurrying over to the intercom and holding the button down. “Take your gun and vest off,” she instructed, glancing back at you and Maeve. “Now come in alone.” She pressed another button before going over to your two, arranging your chairs so you were sat side-by-side, facing a singular chair that laid about ten feet from you both.

The creak of the old door echoed into the room and you extended your pinky out until it brushed over Maeve’s. She gripped onto your pinky with hers as you both exchanged a look, tears swimming in both of your eyes.

You counted his footsteps, heart rate increasing as they grew nearer and nearer. Diane stepped out of the room, just out of your sight, and you wound your jaw tightly shut.

“Put it on,” she demanded.

A moment later, two pairs of footsteps stepped into the room, and your eyes lingered on Spencer’s form as he appeared from behind a shelf, his eyes covered with a strip of fabric. Diane led him into the room with a gun to his back.

“Can I take off the blindfold?” Spencer asked.

“No,” she grumbled, shoving him down into the chair that faced you and Maeve.

He was silent for a moment, his lips parted. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Maeve whispered, tightening her grip on your pinky.

You were silent, your lips pursed.

“I was hoping you’d figure out my riddle,” Diane hummed, one hand deftly unbuttoning his shirt.

The shirt you bought him for your six month anniversary.

“I mean, I knew you would,” she continued. “The fun was just how fast you’d do it.” Her hand slid down his chest, gliding underneath his shirt. “All this, and brains too.”

“It took me a long time,” Spencer hummed, humoring her. “To be honest, I was distracted by your thesis.” She pulled away, stepping back to look at him. “You read my thesis?” She was beaming.

“I did. You know, I think your writing can put you on the same plane as Jonas Salk. I’ve already sent it in to the NIH.”

She stomped away. “Flattery is not gonna get you out of this. I know what’s waiting for me outside.”

“I’ve arranged for your freedom.”

The federal government doesn’t make deals with people like me.”

“Not true. Nazi scientists were recruited for the Manhattan Project. Mafia bosses are regularly put into Witness Protection. If what you have is valuable enough, the federal government will work with you. And what you have is very valuable.”

She rose the gun to his throat. “And what do I have, doctor?”

“You have a brain that doesn’t play by normal societal rules. And I know that all your life, the people you care about the most keep leaving. There’s a part of you that thinks it’s because of that brain. Well, I’m here because I’m not going to leave you. I’m here because... I just hope that I get the chance.” “Chance at what?”

“To be with you.”

As he spoke, you knew he wasn’t telling the truth to Diane. But you did know, however, that he was speaking to someone in the room.

And that someone wasn’t you.

“Me for her, that was the deal, right?” Spencer spoke up. “Me for them.”

“You’re choosing me over them?” Diane questioned.

“Diane, how could it be anyone else?”

“Prove it.”

“Alright. How?”

“Say it again.” She stepped behind him. “This time say it to their faces.” She yanked the blindfold off, revealing both of you to him.

His eyes flickered between you two, letting out a breath. You dropped your gaze to the floor, too scared to look him in the eye. Slowly, your grip fell from Maeve’s.

“I don’t love you,” his voice rang through your ears, sounding too familiar to you. Sounding so similar to the nightmares that plagued your mind nearly every night. “Sorry.”

“I understand,” Maeve choked out, though her voice didn't waver.

Diane let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t need her anymore,” she breathed out, rushing over to Maeve, pointing the gun to her head.

“Kill her and she won’t have to live with the fact that you’re smarter,” he shouted, distracting Diane. “Let her live with her irrelevancy.”

Diane squatted down next to Maeve, clipping one of her zipties. She rose back up a moment later, aiming the gun back at Maeve’s head. “I just want her to see one more thing. And Y/N, you should watch too.”

You gritted your teeth but looked up, following her movements with your eyes as she knelt down next to Spencer and pressed her lips to his. He seemed disgusted, but didn’t pull away, taking deep breaths to stay on task.

She pulled away from him a few moment later, searching his eyes. “Liar,” she hissed. She shot up to her feet, aiming the gun at his chest. “Liar!”

He grabbed her hands and aimed the gun above his head as she fired, the shot ringing through the building. As they wrestled for the gun, you turned and worked to help Maeve out of the other zip tie.

Stomping boots neared the second floor where you were held, and another gunshot rung out. Spencer stumbled to the ground, and you yanked Maeve’s zip tie with all the strength you had left in your body.

“Stay back! Stay back! Stay back!” Spencer shouted, and you looked up to see Hotch aiming his gun directly at Diane.

Diane grabbed Maeve from her chair and held Maeve against her chest, pressing the gun against Maeve’s temple.

“Diane, there’s still a way out of this!” Spencer begged.

“You never wanted me,” Diane cried. “Never!”

She was growing angry rapidly, and you knew this was your last chance to keep Maeve safe.

“Kill me instead.”

Everyone grew silent at your words, their gazes directed at you. “What?” Diane whispered.

“Kill me instead,” you urged. “Let Maeve live with her pain. Killing Maeve might hurt Spencer, but it’ll wreck him if you kill me.”

She kept her eyes on you as you slowly rose from your chair, making your way over to her and Maeve. “Don’t-”

“Spencer won’t be able to live with the fact that he ruined my life. He hurt me while I was living, and I’ll take that pain to my deathbed. He couldn’t live with himself.”

You watched her contemplate her options for a moment before shoving Maeve forward and replacing her with you, shoving the barrel of the gun sharply against your neck. Spencer grabbed Maeve and directed her to run before he turned his gaze back to you.

“Y/N-” he started, only for you to shake your head.

“I hate you, Spencer,” you choked out, letting the tears finally stream down your face. “You broke me.”

You flinched slightly as she cocked her gun, letting all of your inhibitions flow out with a deep breath before you grabbed onto the gun and yanked it from her grip.

She shouldered you to the ground, but you kept your grip tight on the gun as she tried to wrestle it out of your hands.

But with one jab to the nose, your grip loosened enough for her to fire a bullet straight into your lower abdomen.

A moment later, another shot rang out, and her body slid off of you.

Everything moved in a slow haze as you tried to focus on anything but the blood gushing out of your stomach. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, eyes slowly beginning to fall shut.

“Hey, hey, stay awake for me.” With a wince, you forced your eyes open to stare straight into a pair of hazel ones. “Is Maeve okay?” you coughed out, searching his face.

“Why did you do that? I had her,” Spencer questioned, brushing your hair away from your face.

“I’m not the one you need, Spence. Not the one you want.”

His lower lip trembled, eyes dripping with tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.”

A gasp stumbled past your lips when you felt an immense pressure on your wound, tears spilling over your face when you squeezed your eyes shut. “Is she okay?”

“What?”

“Is Maeve okay?” Another surge of pain coursed through your body and you let out a cry.

“Hey, it’s okay. The medics are supposed to be here any moment now. Just hold on for me.”

“Spencer, is she okay?”

You heard him breathe out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, she’s okay. You saved her.”

***

A tickling in your nose made your eyes flutter open, wincing slightly from the bright lights. One hand reached up to soothe the itch, only for your hand to be pulled away.

“Hey, don’t mess with that,” a voice cooed. You turned your head towards the sound, seeing Spencer search your face, worry marring his features.

“How long was I out?” you breathed, voice rough with disuse.

“About 12 hours.” He reluctantly let go of your hand, instead resting his hands on the side of your bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just got shot.” You let out a chuckle, but Spencer didn’t find very funny. “I’m okay, Spencer. Really.”

“If the bullet was 3 millimeters to the right it would’ve hit your spine. You could’ve been paralyzed from the waist down. Do you understand how reckless you were?”

“Well, everyone’s safe and Diane’s dead. That sounds like a pretty good outcome to me.”

“You could’ve died!” “Maybe I wanted to fucking die!” You stared him in the eye for a moment before leaning back into the bed, closing your eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

“It seems you don’t really know me at all. Too busy spending ten out of the eleven months we were together talking to another woman.” You sniffled, adjusting the blanket on your bed. “Shouldn’t you be with her anyways? She probably needs someone with her more than I do.”

He was silent, and you watched his hands retreat off of your bed. “Why did you risk your life for her?”

“Because she didn’t deserve to die.”

“But that’s not the only reason.”

“Because...” You pursed your lips, tilted your head up to look up at the ceiling. The words ebbed and flowed in your mind, but none of them were right. “Because I still want you to be happy. Because I’m a fucking masochist, I guess. I hurt myself to help the ones I love, even if they don’t love me back.”

For what seemed like the first time in his life, he had no clue what to say.

Finally, with a sigh, he buried his head in his hands.

“Maeve is gone,” he choked out.

You shifted your gaze back to him. “What?”

“She left. She just... disappeared. She left me a note telling me not to find her.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, chewing on your lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” He pulled his head from his hands, looking into your damp eyes with his red-rimmed ones. “I ruined everything for us. For you. I hurt you more than I could even imagine. I’m so sorry.” He sniffled, rubbing at his cheeks. “I still love you. I-I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do. I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

You nodded. “I love you too. I just... I don’t know if I can.”

He let his eyes close. “I ruined everything for us, didn’t I?”

You extended your hand, palm facing up. Hesitantly, Spencer placed his hand in yours, entwining his fingers with yours. “I don’t know yet. Maybe, maybe not.”

He dropped his head, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His eyes fluttered closed once more, his lips lingering on your skin as he huffed out a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

You lifted your hand from his to run your fingers through his hair. “Go home, Spence. Get some sleep. I’ll have JJ come and get me in the morning.”

His fingers tangled into the blanket on your bed for a moment before he nodded, releasing his grip and rising to his feet. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I... I need some time to process everything.”

You watched as he mentally argued with himself before he slouched, defeated. He made his way to the door of your room, stopping in the doorway and turning to you. “Just know I’m a phone call away if you need me.”

You nodded. “I know, thank you. Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

92 notes · View notes

paenling · 4 years

Text

Psychosomatic

On Ao3.

Danny huffed against his forearm, chin pressed to the scratched-up surface of his desk. Lancer continued to ramble in his periphery—and he tried to pay attention, he really did, but the words floated in one ear and out the other, meaningless noise. He thumbed along the corner of his textbook, quietly flicking the pages with his left hand while his right took down sparse notes.

Sam and Tucker had both placed above him into a slightly more advanced section, so they could help if he asked, but it was still a pain to be without ready-made notes to borrow. It kind of really sucked.

“Turn to section five," said Mr. Lancer. “Page two-hundred sixty-one."

Lowering his pen, Danny moved to do as he was told, but found himself interrupted by a sudden slit of pain across the pad of his thumb. It was small, but a fresh paper cut stung on the most sensitive part of his dominant hand. He sighed. Just his luck, wasn’t it?

Lancer cast a wary eye towards Danny's noisy hiss of discomfort. He pressed his thumb against his lips, sucking briefly on the cut, before shaking his hand out with a sheepish grin. After a moment's examination, the teacher dipped his head and resumed whatever he was writing on the whiteboard. Danny swallowed.

Ectoplasm had a very distinct taste and texture. It was thick and syrupy and congealed easily into something like soft gelatin. Even as a liquid it was freezing to humans, mildly corrosive and sick-sour like rot. For Danny the taste was like sucking on a penny soaked in embalming honey. Dense and filling and refreshing and light. Coppery and bitter but giving way to stagnant sweetness, staticky like pop rocks but also luxuriously smooth and filling citrus-sharp ambrosia—

It made him feel like an odious, vulgar, wicked dead thing to have thoughts like that. But ghosts weren’t monsters and he really wasn’t a ghost. It was fine. He was fine.

Some shadowy echo of that alien bliss passed over his tongue when he swallowed, thrillingly cool as it slid down his throat. Faint, masked by heavy rust, diminished, but fresh. It must have been a mistake, but he knew it. His mouth grew immediately slick with desire, teeth seeming to throb with his pulse.

He glanced surreptitiously around and pressed a palm to his chest. His core hummed, frigid and dormant opposite his sluggish heart, but also weightless and prickling with muzzy excitement. Uneasily, he tamped it back down, shrugging to shake the eagerness from his back. It must have been nothing. Danny slowly, carefully picked up his pencil to resume jotting down notes. He just needed to last through class—

Ectoplasm, or something like it, dripped sluggishly down over the lead, fragrant and heady. Just a drop coaxed free of the seam, but his wet mouth flooded. Drool slipped past his lips to crawl down from the corner of his mouth, and he hastily tugged at the front of his shirt to wipe his face. His heart leapt up to his throat as he turned his hand over to examine his injury: virescent sludge oozed from the papercut on Danny’s thumb. It was black. He almost choked, but glanced up to find shaggy dark hair hung over his brows. He was human, but this wasn’t his blood. This had to be a mistake.

It didn’t glow like raw ectoplasm, but it wasn’t red either. It was too thick. He had no way to explain the oily dark green-grey stuff leaking from his skin. Danny closed his fist around it with a grimace. The not-blood beaded beneath the pressure of his fingers, but did not escape. He wiped it on the waistband of his jeans instead, where his baggy shirt would hide the stain. Shaking, Danny raised his uninjured hand.

“Yes, Daniel?" The teacher's sharp grey eyes passed him over once, then again, and his sleepy brow furrowed with just the slightest hint of worry. How many other eyes were on him? Everyone was staring. “You look pale. Are you feeling unwell?"

Danny wanted to answer, but his teeth were too big and his tongue felt thick and clumsy. His syrinx squeaked. This was a mistake. It was wrong. He was still drooling, but he couldn’t swallow. He must have been doing a worse job controlling his breathing than he'd thought, because Mr. Lancer was at his side in an instant. All the hair on his arms stood on end; his neck prickled, lips itching, ears burning.

When had he started to tremble? It was so loud in the classroom—a score and change of syncopated human heartbeats like drums pounding booming crashing constantly in the air. Pencils scratched and feet tapped and keychains clattered. It was loud like war. His core screamed beneath his ribs, drowning out his sluggish heart. Was he even breathing at all?

Mr. Lancer moved to help him up. “Do you need an escort to the nurse?"

He shook his head vigorously, fisting his hands in his shirt. “Bathr’m,” he managed to slur. He rose to his full height and wobbled that way. His skin was too tight. Vertigo pressed down on him, and he bent over with arms wrapped tightly around his middle. He was going to burst out of himself. Danny’s mouth was dripping; he hoped it could be passed off as symptomatic of the nausea. “G’nna throw’p.”

Danny started towards the door before Lancer even finished nodding. Distantly, he registered the teacher giving instructions to the rest of his class: do odd numbered problems on page two-eighty-seven, you can collaborate, finish the rest as homework—

The empty hallway stretched on forever. Wasn’t the bathroom only a few doors down? Danny swayed, vision swimming in watercolor smears. The cut on his hand was shallow and it hardly even bled at all. It didn’t even hurt. It was a paper cut. There was no reason for him to feel this way—this sickness. Suffering. A craving for something he couldn’t quite grasp. He’d swallowed a full ecto-filtration cell on Wednesday, so he couldn’t be Hungry. Besides, he’d never reacted to his own blood before at all, let alone so soon after feeding his ghost half.

This was a mistake. Was he really this paranoid? This weak?

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t Hungry, he was Full. Just the thought of Eating made him feel sick with guilt; his guts twisted at the sheer ugly selfishness of it. He could go without for weeks more, if he didn’t waste his energy—there was no reason to want to take so badly, to be so gluttonous, and yet here he was, drooling buckets in public at the mere suggestion of ghost-blood like some kind of starving animal. He was ugly and it was evil, bristling through his insides, sticking him full of shame.

His core was heavy in his chest, leaking cold into his bones like reverse-heartburn. The bathroom tile felt tacky and hot under his knees. When had he gotten there? He lunged over the bowl and coughed up a wet slurry of ectoplasmic slime. Ropes of mucous slobber swung from his parted jaws as he dry-heaved into the toilet—he had nothing to throw up but bile, briny and sour. Hot tears stung at his eyes and Danny choked on a wretched sob.

The bathroom door clicked shut. “Daniel?” Mr. Lancer’s nervous heart was very close behind him. “Do you need me to call your parents?”

Danny growled. His syrinx popped in his throat, issuing a low whine of ghostly static that he fought to swallow and suppress. “No,” he croaked, breathing hard enough to ruffle the water in the basin. He choked on his tongue. “No, no, no—J’zz—?”

“Jasmine?” Lancer ventured. His voice shook, panic spoken of in the rabbit’s pace of his heart. It filled the space where Danny’s own chest throbbed so quiet and sluggish, sticky, faltering—if he focused he could pretend it was his own. “Do you want me to get your sister?”

Danny nodded through his swimming vision, still slavering even as he retreated from the basin. It wasn’t going to stop. He wanted to ask for it to be over, but the English language was starting to become blurry. A ragged noise escaped him, broken and pathetic. Clear globs of slime fell from his mouth and hit the tile with faint wet smacks. He hoped Lancer couldn’t see that.

Could he see? What color were Danny’s eyes? How long were his teeth? Did he know?

Mr. Lancer’s warm hand burned through his shirt, a hot human print stamped between his shoulder blades—but then it was gone. “Strange Weather!” he swore. “You’re shaking—I’ll be right back,” he assured, and then his rapid, panicked steps clattered out of the bathroom.

Danny leaned back from the toilet, pressing his head against the graffitied side of the stall. He reached clumsily up to swipe lines of bilious drool from his chin, but succeeded only in smearing green-tinted slime onto his nose. Sour film thickened his mouth, and pressure throbbed steadily behind his eyes. He wanted to shed his skin and fly away, but his body betrayed any such plans. Jittery and sick, it was all he could do to fold his heavy limbs into a ball and shake as the walls collapsed around him.

Time dilated. He trembled on the bathroom floor for what felt like a long time. It could have been minutes, or just as easily hours. It made no difference to him.

He closed his eyes, but then Jazz was there. Her velvet flats scuffed quietly on the tile and her gentle hands flew to smooth down his sweaty bangs. “What happened?” She asked. The warm living body pressed against him made Danny feel sick, not Hungry, and that was a mercy.

“Can’t wanna eat,” he moaned, voice splintered and small. “Hate it!”

“Oh, Danny. He’s having a panic attack, Mr. Lancer.” A delicate grip wrapped around his arm and hauled him shakily to his feet, trembling with fear or effort or both. Jazz stroked his hair, pressing her knuckles against his sweaty forehead. “Running warm, too.” She patted his cheek to get his attention, and he allowed his head to loll towards her. “When’d you last—um, take your medicine?”

Danny swooned, dribbling all over the front of his shirt. “Wez’day.”

“That’s not right. You should be fine until next week,” said Jazz, and her face was a vague peach-colored smear in his periphery, but Danny could sense her frowning.

“M’sure,” he insisted through a hitching breath. Was he crying? When had he started?

She turned to Mr. Lancer. “You were there when this happened, right? Did you notice anything at all that could have triggered it?”

“No—or,” Lancer stammered. “He raised his hand and I thought—well, I thought he was making excuses again, but…”

“S’kay,” said Danny. “I geddit.” He did that a lot, didn’t he? And he could hardly remember the last time he was actually sick. An undead microbiome was bad for regular pathogens, probably. He heaved.

“Shouldn’t we be getting the nurse?” Lancer hovered behind them, wringing his hands over his belly.

“Won’t do much good at this point. Help me clean him up a little, please.”

Mr. Lancer’s heartbeat was very, very loud—enough to make Danny whine and cringe, pawing miserably at his ears. Somewhere in the walls, pipes rattled, and the vent above the door seemed to wheeze. Jazz’s faint perfume was nauseating. Everything was loud.

“Jasmine—is this something that happens often? Why was the school never notified?”

Danny could feel the older man’s wild heartbeat pounding through the hands on his shoulders, pounding booming crashing into his very bones. Some ugly instinct made him—part of him, anyway—want to give chase to such a beautiful prey-blood pulse, but the fleeting desire crashed against his wrenching sickness in a shower of inner sparks. His legs felt like rubber, and he coughed harsh and wet into one clumsy hand to mask his growl. Mr. Lancer patted him gently on the back and Danny hissed over the sink, choking and drivelling into the drain.

“It’s…” The tap turned on, washing away the slime, and suddenly there was a wet paper towel on his brow. “Do you remember his accident last year?”

“With your parents’ portal?”

“Yeah.” Jazz moved behind him, and there was another napkin pressed to his mouth, gently dabbing at his messy, trembling lips. “It had side effects,” she said, voice small and brittle. “There’s no cure, but it’s never gotten this bad since… well. Probably since around the actual Accident.”

“Your parents can’t do anything at all?” Lancer sounded dismayed.

“No,” Danny spat into the sink. “Can’t.”

He cringed as Jazz dumped a handful of water over his face, but it helped to clear his vision somewhat, and he grunted his thanks. It took some guidance, but Danny craned his neck to lap bitter spray straight from the faucet. Lukewarm and mixed as it was with slippery ectoplasmic bile, he had to force the first revolting mouthful down by sheer force of will alone, but after that Danny found himself drinking greedily.

“Slow down,” Jazz chastised, but she made no move to stop him. “You’ll make yourself sick again.”

Reluctantly, Danny did as he was told. His hair got soaked and he nearly brained himself on the faucet in the process, but he managed to withdraw, panting hard. From there, he slumped upright against the wall and lowered his head, letting excess water roll down his nose to pool in the grout between his sneakers.

“You don’t need more, do you?” She wasn’t talking about the water. “Mr. Lancer, can we have a minute?”

Hesitation. Fear? No, only concern. Talking sounds, heard through molasses. Low urgency, reticent agreement. The bathroom door creaked and clicked shut like a thunder-crash, but the heartbeat lingered outside. Jazz said something else. She repeated her question.

He tried to—pay attention—shake his head. He really did, but the—words—the motion fell beyond his reach, meaningless twitching. Danny slavered anew. Did he need more? Did he need it? He didn’t want it, but he was desperate. His stomach was Full but it wanted more, didn’t it? It really did, didn’t it? His fingers curled of their own accord against the cheap shiny surface of the tiles—did the off-white linoleum crack under his nails? Were they too sharp right now? Jazz’s hands were on his wrists. He growled low in his chest.

She was saying his name, but she was little. She was small. Danny was—what was he? Shaking. Drooling. Rumbling. He had to be Hungry. He screwed his eyes shut, shivering, and ground his sharp teeth together. The pipes groaned in the walls. Somebody said something, but it just floated in one ear and out the other, meaningless noise.

Jazz reached out and slapped him. Hard. His head whipped to the side with the force of it, and he almost fell—would have fallen, had she not caught him.

Danny swatted at her out of reflex, but quickly faltered, sagging instead into her imploring arms. “Fuck,” he gasped. How long had he been holding his breath? She held him just a little too tight to be purely supportive, and he tried not to feel too hurt by the knowledge that she didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t, in her position. “Shit, thanks, Jazz.”

“Are you going to flip out if I let go of you?”

He shook his head and the room spun. “Lemme sit.” His stomach felt heavy and cold.

“I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?” There was guilt in her voice as she helped him slide down against the cool surface of the wall. “You were getting… uh.” Her sea-green eyes flicked towards the door, then back again. “The way you do. I didn’t know how else to snap you out of it.”

Danny shrugged. “S’kay,” he mumbled, then realized. “Crud, I’m sorry.” At her questioning look, he elaborated. “I made you run out of class.”

She laughed at him, short and strained. “I’d run out of a Harvard interview for you. You know that.”

Thick ghost-drool, still fresh, came away from his chin in syrupy ropes strung between his fingers. “Ew. I’ll try to refrain from having unplanned… emergencies while you’re shooting your shot.” He took the paper towel she offered him and scrubbed at the remaining mess. There was no way he could even think about Eating right now. “Where’re we at with Lancer, again? Er—where is he, anyway?”

“I asked him to step out when you started getting riled up,” explained Jazz, very patiently. “He thinks it’s a side effect of the portal accident.”

Danny groaned. “Yeah, that works. Why’d I wait a year to puke my guts up, though?”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but her voice was gentle. “You’re more likely to get sick if you’re stressed. We can tell him that you’ve been stressed out and that must have caused the flare-up.”

That made sense, he thought. “Do I get to go home?” Ancients, he was exhausted.

“I’ll drive you.” Danny opened his mouth to protest, but she bulldozed him with practiced ease. “It’s only one period we’re missing, and I wanna make sure you rest.” Her expression hardened, if only minutely, when she added, “And you’re sure you ate on Wednesday? This Wednesday?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “When I emptied the filtrator.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You hate the filtered stuff.”

“It’s piss, Jazz, but I’d take it over the alternative.” He grimaced and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Going feral and biting Skulker in half during a fight would be kinda shitty for my PR.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” scolded Jazz. “You know it doesn’t work on me. I just mean, did you have enough?”

“The whole cell,” promised Danny, with any luck sharply enough to brook no argument—maybe a little too sharply, if her skeptical frown was any indication. “Chugged it, and my activity’s normal. I don’t need more. My—I don’t know. These impulses don’t change that I’m Full.” He turned his eyes to the floor, cowing beneath her scrutiny. “Can we just go? Please? I wanna go home. I could sleep for a week and I miss my fucking blanket nest.”

Jazz nodded, but her expression was pinched, mouth set thin and unhappy. “It’s bad for you to repress this stuff,” she warned even as she pulled him to his feet. “Do it long enough and you’ll get… confused.”

“Not now,” he growled. Danny’s legs wobbled beneath him, knees knocking together, and a flush of anxious heat crawled up his neck. He hoped Mr. Lancer would be charitable in letting them go and asking few questions.

And he was, more or less. Mr. Lancer said he’d tell the attendance people that they were excused, and he also said something to Danny about hoping he’d feel better. It was probably a nice, tender moment of concern, but Danny wasn’t feeling it.

Nausea churned in his guts, and it took an embarrassing amount of support to stagger out of the bathroom and into the hall. His belly was full and soothingly cold as though he had never been sick or starving at all. It made him feel—what? Like a doll, maybe. As though all his inside parts had been scooped out and he was just feeling afterimages. Jazz would probably have a field day if he told her about that, so he didn’t.

This wasn’t all in his head. It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been fake, imaginary, made up. His feelings were real. They were real because ghosts weren’t monsters and he wasn’t a ghost. He was human and alive.

Wasn’t he?

#danny phantom #ghost hunger #angst #fanfiction #body horror #milo writes

112 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

ABOARD THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

Before she got started, Lily first turned to Remus and said, "I am sorry for making you uncomfortable dear, I thought you'd be an easy way to get through to Sirius."

"He just gets sensitive," Remus smirked, watching Sirius narrow his eyes at the pair of them, and ignoring the fact that he didn't act much better. "I wasn't offended, I knew you didn't mean anything by it."

Lily smiled warmly at him before turning to her chapter.

The morning they were returned to school did not start off with a good omen, it was raining. They all tromped down the stairs, but were beaten to the bottom by Arthur who was being shouted at by his wife he had a message. Harry entered the kitchen last and found Mr. Weasley kneeling in front of the fireplace speaking to...he closed his eyes hard then opened them again to make sure he was seeing things properly.

"Why?" Sirius asked at once, a happy smirk in place as he always enjoyed watching common things amaze Harry.

Amos Diggory's head was sitting amongst the flames, talking to Arthur.

"Ah," James joined Sirius in smirking now. As common as Floo travel was to Harry now, he guessed it hadn't occurred to him you didn't always have to go all the way.

He was saying how someone had caused a real mess with the Muggle policemen, and they needed Arthur's help to handle this. Saying they didn't need Rita Skeeter getting a hold of anything else. Arthur asked what was Mad-Eye's side of the story?

Remus let out a surprised snort of laughter as he realized Lily, and by extension Arthur, meant that as a name.

"Who on earth goes by the name of Mad-Eye?" Sirius demanded with a wicked grin, clearly indicating he'd like to meet him, and at once silencing Harry who had hopefully been about to ask if they knew that name, as he was sure he did.

"I've no idea," Lily had a faint smile of her own, "but judging by the way Harry's hearing about him, I'm going to take a wild guess he's an interesting one."

Mr. Diggory rolled his eyes as he explained Mad-Eye had said he'd heard intruders, and tried to set dustbins on them. Arthur asked what the dustbins had done, and Diggory replied they'd made a racket and mostly disturbed some neighbors, they were still moving around when the police showed up.

Causing all five of them to keep snickering at this scene that was caused. They felt bad for this Mad-Eye who had been attacked, but the idea of dustbins attacking anyone was hilarious.

Mr. Weasley groaned as he asked about the intruder, and Diggory snorted in disbelief, reminding Arthur that Mad-Eye was known to go off at stray cats wandering around.

Causing at least the other four to burst into full on laughter, but Harry was starting to get a slight frown. He definitely knew this name now, something about a paranoid old man, being attacked?

Then he added on that the Improper Use of Magic had their hands full with him, and with his record, well Diggory was hoping that Arthur could possibly get him off on a minor charge, asking what dustbins were worth?

"Arthur's job just gets more interesting the more I hear about it," Sirius smirked, not at all joking though. He really did find this plenty interesting to hear about, more than he would have expected considering his usual bore on the topic of any Ministry job. Might be worth it to look into at least, he may as well do something with that O he got in his Muggle Studies class.

Mr. Weasley said hopefully he could get away with a caution, asking if Mad-Eye had used his wand? Diggory said most likely Mad-Eye had leapt out of bed and blasted anything outside his window, but since there were no casualties that couldn't really be proven. Arthur agreed he was on his way now and sprinted back up the stairs. Diggory turned his attention to Molly then, apologizing for this, but saying that Arthur was the only one who could do this. Mad-Eye had picked some bad timing, since he was due to start a new job today.

A buzzing went off in the back of Harry's skull at that, there was that connection he was so sure he'd felt. Why would he know anything about this though? He was about to go off to Hogwarts, what could he care about some random strangers new job?

Molly shrugged if off and offered the head if he'd like some toast, which he agreed to. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a buttered one from the stack, grasped it in a pair of tongs, and helpfully put it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.

Which instantly distracted Harry from his pondering and led him to chuckle, asking, "so how does that work?"

"It's pretty simple," Lily shrugged, "you just put your head in instead of your whole body to transport yourself, most useful when you don't want to drop in unannounced."

"It's not too comfortable," James shrugged, "but it's quicker than sending an owl if you just have something to say and be gone."

He gave a last thanks before he vanished, just as the last three Weasley's arrived along with Mr. Weasley who was dressed and ready to go. He apologized he couldn't take the kids to King's Cross with her, and she waved him off saying to take care of Mad-Eye. Arthur left then, and Bill asked what Mad-Eye had been up to? Mrs. Weasley explained the situation, and George gave a smile as he declared Mad-Eye Moody

"Moody?" The four from this time repeated in shock.

"Err, yeah, that's what he said," Harry nodded, eagerness growing when he realized this meant something to them. "Why, you know him?"

"Alastor Moody is head of the Auror department," James explained with a ruffled brow. "It may not be the same man though, as I've no idea why he'd go by the name of Mad-Eye."

"Plus, new job," Lily recalled. "I can't imagine what that would relate to him for, either he's still on the job or retired, but I can't imagine him doing anything but hauling in Death Eaters."

Harry sagged in disappointment as he nodded his understanding. He had a good feeling everything they'd just told him shouldn't come as a surprise, that they may even be wrong and they were thinking of the same person, but then what on earth was going on?

was that nutter- but Mrs. Weasley cut him off reprovingly, saying he was a good friend of their fathers. Fred said under his breath 'birds of a feather.'

Giving Sirius the chance to give another snort of laughter. He liked Arthur plenty, and didn't find his collection the least bit odd.

Bill agreed Moody was a great wizard, and Charlie agreed he was an old friend of Dumbledore's.

"This is getting harder and harder to shake though," Remus' frown deepened. "How many friends of Dumbledore can be named Moody?"

"I guess something really big must happen to him then," James' huffed, casting his mind around in confusion for what the odd nickname could refer to. Hopefully he hadn't gone blind or something, he respected the man to much to want to feel sorrow if he'd gone out like that.

Fred agreed, but reminded Dumbledore wasn't known for being all there either. A genius sure, but-

"Well Fred's got a point there," Sirius nodded in agreement.

Harry interrupted to ask who Mad-Eye is, and Charlie told that he used to work at the Ministry as an Auror

"Well there you go, can't be anyone else," Lily sighed.

"Hope they tell you what happened to him," James said with deep interest. He was hoping to join the Auror's himself, and he liked to think if he could warn his, hopefully soon, boss of some impending danger it would help his credibility he was serious about joining.

and had been the best Dark Wizard catcher of his time. Half the cells in Azkaban were filled because of him.

Sirius couldn't help a deep shudder, never having wanted to think which Auror would have hauled him in off the streets, wondering for the first time if it was even someone he knew now.

Then he continued that he was on in years now, and seemed to be getting more paranoid with age, thinking all those Dark Wizards were coming back to get him.

Conversation changed then as Bill and Charlie decided they wanted to come to King's Cross to see them off, but Percy said he was too busy to come.

"Good riddance," Sirius scoffed, knowing the others had noticed, and quickly looking for something else. He quickly latched onto the fact that, "I'll probably enjoy this year a lot more just for the fact I won't have to hear mention of Percy nearly as often."

Lily sighed but no one was going to argue the point with him.

Explaining that he couldn't be taking time off now, Mr. Crouch was really starting to rely on him. George agreed with a serious nod

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did nod just like me," Sirius nodded solemnly, ignoring the groan of protest from everyone but Harry.

that Crouch may even know Percy's name soon.

None of them bothered to smother their laughter at Percy's expense, he deserved that one.

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office

"A fearful task, I can believe that," James nodded, having once studied one of those telephones, and all of those buttons gave his head a spin.

and ordered them Muggle taxis. She apologized to her kids that Arthur couldn't get the Ministry to spare them cars again. The Muggles didn't seem particularly pleased with their passengers, as they weren't used to carrying around two owls and a cat, and it didn't help that one of Fred's Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off inside his trunk.

"Bet that was a hoot to explain," Sirius smirked.

Crookshanks had panicked at the noise and tried to scale one of the men's legs.

Lily was shaking her head sadly as she read that, unable to wipe the smile off her own face at this poor scene.

They were all squished into the backs, and Crookshanks refused to settle down for the whole of the journey, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione with plenty of scratch marks when they arrived.

Remus gave a soft laugh, thinking of a time where Sirius would have loved to make a crack about how they should get rid of Crookshanks for that, but after what he'd done last year Sirius actually had an indulgent smile on his face.

It was a relief to reach the train station, even while having to practically swim inside it was already raining so hard. They quickly found the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and Harry was used to getting into platform nine and three-quarters by now.

"Well two out of three isn't bad," James snorted, causing Lily to send him an irritated look, she'd rather forget that year if she could help it.

"Let's hope we can make it three out of four, or better, six out of seven," she muttered as she turned back to the book.

They simply walked in between the barriers and found themselves in front of the scarlet steam engine. They went to pack away their things and then come back outside for a last chat with Molly, Bill, and Charlie. Charlie was giving Ginny a hug good-bye as he told her that he may be seeing them sooner than they were expecting.

"Why's that?" Remus asked in surprise.

"Why am I getting the feeling I don't want to know," Sirius asked, spotting the look on Harry's face meaning that he believed Charlie was right. Sirius' mind flickered at once to the fact that Charlie was a dragon keeper, and how he'd like to keep his pup a continent away from those beasts at all times. He was being stupid of course, they wouldn't bring dragons to Hogwarts.

"Oh stop it," Lily chided, trying her hardest to bury her own paranoid fear at this innocent little sentence. "He may be coming up to school for one reason or another, maybe to give a presentation to the seventh year Care of Magical Creatures class."

When Fred asked why, Charlie just waved it off, mockingly quoting Percy in saying it was classified.

"Oh bloody hell," James frowned, "does that sound like some innocent talk now?" He wished Charlie was just joking and trying to make it more than it was, but he wasn't sure of it either.

Lily sighed, eying the book like it was Norbert all over again. She liked Charlie enough she supposed, but she was getting a bad feeling about this supposed event that was coming up at Hogwarts.

Bill was looking almost wistfully at the train as he said he did wish he could go back to Hogwarts this year, but when George asked him why, he just said they were going to have an interesting year, adding on he'd probably come up to watch some of it.

"A bit of what," all four boys demanded just as Lily continued reading.

Ron asked a bit of what?

"This is just getting cruel," Sirius groused. "Why can't Harry just go back to school and nothing weird happen for one year? Just one!"

Harry was rubbing his temple in agitation and wasn't paying them any attention, his eyes cross as he tried to stave off whatever he needed to remember, so Lily sighed and regretfully turned back to the book.

Then the train whistle blew a warning, and they all had to board, with Mrs. Weasley calling to Harry and Hermione that she'd invite them over for Christmas, but she had a feeling they'd want to stay this year.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," Remus agreed with Sirius, blowing a raspberry in the baby's face and at least making him feel a little better.

Ron demanded of his family what they knew, and Molly just said that they'd find out tonight, but she was personally grateful they'd changed the rules.

James threw his hands up in the air in agitation, saying, "alright, that's it. Give me the book Lily, I'm skipping ahead and checking."

"No you are not," she shot back at once, curling the book into her chest protectively. "I want to know just as bad as you lot, but we are not going to start skipping around."

"But Lily," Sirius whined, trying to make his eyes as wide as they could go. "I don't do secrets-"

"-Trust him on that-" Remus snorted.

"-And it's not fair that they're not sharing," he finished.

Lily just rolled her eyes at them but kept going loudly.

All four boys demanded to know what rules, but then the train was pulling away, and they were simply waving goodbye.

"That mother really knows how to keep her boys in suspense," Lily muttered under her breath, just as anxious as her boys to find out what was going on.

Harry and his two friends went back to their compartment, where Pigwidgeon was hooting louder than ever. Ron decided to put his new dress robes to use by throwing them over his owl's cage.

"Well that wasn't a bright idea," James grumbled, his sour mood at Harry, and by extension them, being kept in the dark like this making his tone a lot worse then was called for. "Anyone can pop their head in and see them now, and Ron's clearly too embarrassed by them to just laugh it off."

"Wonder if he'll get Hermione to try and transfigure them for him," Remus offered.*

"Hermione refused," Harry shrugged "said that Ron should be thankful for what his mum gave him and such. She had this weird smile on her face the whole time to, said any decent girl wouldn't care he was wearing that anyways."

Lily raised a very surprised brow at that, curiously wondering on Hermione's face and tone at the time, was that implying what she thought? Harry clearly didn't notice anything, as he was watching her expectantly so she decided to keep going for now.

Then Ron pointed out to Harry that Bagman had been wanting to tell them something about Hogwarts,

"That's right," Sirius snapped his fingers, "I'd almost forgotten about that! Cruel that some practical stranger wanted to tell what Ron's own mother wouldn't!"

"He would have to if Percy hadn't stepped in," James sighed with disappointment.

but Hermione cut them off by pointing at the door where a familiar voice was coming through where it had been left open.

"Familiar good or bad?" James sighed, thinking Hermione probably wouldn't shush them for the first.

"Malfoy," Harry grumbled, which was all the explanation they needed.

"Why is he sitting so close to you," Lily grumbled.

"I am positive he didn't do it on purpose," Remus sniffed.

A voice saying how his father had wanted to send him to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts this year,

"I bleeding wish," Sirius huffed.

that he and the headmaster were good friends, and he was much better than that mudblood lover Dumbledore.

Well that wasn't encouraging, seeing as any friends of Malfoy's, their first thought would be it was a Death Eater! Of course that was paranoia talking, Malfoy was friends with the Minister and they really liked to believe he wasn't one.

Durmstrang taught you the real importance of the Dark Art's, unlike the useless class they had here. His mother hadn't allowed it though, she hadn't wanted him so far away.

"Rats," James said out of pure habit, giving his fingers a snap, then wincing so hard he looked like he'd just dodged a deadly curse. He felt his stomach churning at once, with rage, disgust, or pain he wasn't sure. Lily gave him the deepest of frowns, sharing all of those feelings and more, but quickly pressed pass the moment.

Going on to say his father always talks about how Durmstrang was better at teaching the Dark Arts,

Harry cocked his head to the side, knowing he had some feelings about this, though they were oddly mixed. Like he both wanted to defend the students of the school weren't that bad, but couldn't deny this claim either. This was odd though, had he ever even met a Durmstrang student well enough to know any of this?

that they learned the material instead of the useless Defense they got. Hermione got up then, closing the door quietly but saying in a normal tone that she wished he had gone, at least then they wouldn't have to put up with him.

"Amen," Remus grumbled.

Harry confirmed that Durmstrang was another wizard school?

"One of the worst," Sirius scoffed at once.

"Sirius," Lily said at once with a sigh, trying to curb him before he could start on a stereotype.

"What, they are," Sirius defended his statement. "If my parents approve of it, it couldn't be a good place. They tried to send me there when they found out I hadn't wound up in Slytherin. My Mum sent me a Howler and everything. I sent her one back of course, telling her I'd make her life hell if she tried, and to leave me alone." He looked so proud of himself, James and Remus started laughing all over again, having been present when he'd sent said angry letter and he'd used much more colorful words then.

Lily just sighed, she wasn't going to argue the point with him.

Hermione agreed it was, and the reference books she'd found it in all said it was one of the darkest schools. Ron agreed he may have heard of it, asking what country it was in, and Hermine said that no one knew that. Harry asked why not, and Hermione said that it was tradition no magic school knew where the others were, so that they couldn't steal each other's secrets.

"All schools in every country do that, not just the ones in Europe," Remus shrugged.

Ron scoffed there was no way you could actually hide Durmstrang, it had to be as big as Hogwarts. Hermione looked surprised now as she pointed out that Hogwarts was hidden, everyone who read Hogwarts, A History knew that. Ron agreed it as just her then.

"About right," James snickered, watching Lily roll her eyes.

Hermione ignored the jab and explained that if anyone other than a member of Hogwarts looked at the school, they'd just see an abandoned building with a warning sign to keep out.

"With repelling charms, so no one's stupid enough to still try," Lily added on when she realized Hermione was done.

Durmstrang would be the same, it would also be Unplottable. Harry asked what that was, and Hermione explained it was to enchant a building so that it couldn't be mapped.

"When do you learn about making things unplottable?" Sirius asked, since he'd known that bit of information his whole life, he'd no idea when a teacher would have mentioned that.

"Not until sixth year, or later," Lily shrugged. "They don't teach you spells on how to hide yourself like that until a bit later."

Hermione did add on that she suspected Durmstrang was somewhere up north, as one book had a copy of some of their school supplies, and it involved thick furs. Ron got a dreamy look on his face as he imagined the possibility of pushing Malfoy off a glacier and everyone would just think it was an accident.

"The possibilities are endless," Remus agreed with a saint like nod of his head, which quickly morphed into a grin as Lily popped him upside the head for that one.

Adding on it was a shame his mother actually liked him.

"Well she's always had bad taste," Sirius snickered.

Not to much later, Neville, Seamus, and Dean made an appearance, and the four boys quickly got into a rousing conversation of the Cup all over again. Hermione quickly grew bored with the topic and dug out her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4,

"As if she hasn't memorized that already," James scoffed.

"How do you think she stays on top so much?" Lily smirked back, "she goes over what she already knows. It's got to take endless studying for her to be the way she is."

and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm.

Harry felt his stomach lurch a bit, feeling something was quite significant there. Something about Hermione and the Summoning Charm, he really should know something about that shouldn't he?

Neville listened to the Quidditch talk with rapt attention, and bemoaned he hadn't gone, his Gran wouldn't buy tickets.

"That poor child," Sirius cried in outrage. No matter the end results, he still testified, "that's practically criminal negligence not to take a boy to a Cup!"

"I'll make sure to submit that to the law books," Lily snorted.

Ron agreed it had been fantastic, then went digging through his trunk to show Neville something,

"Oh Ron's clearly all kinds of help," Remus snorted.

his miniature Viktor Krum. Then he went on to brag slightly they'd been up in the Top Box,

"Showing off just a tad," James chuckled.

"He couldn't help it," Sirius still couldn't wipe the smile off his face at the thought of that game.

but was cut off by Malfoy appearing and saying it would be his last time up there. He was accompanied as always by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry shot back he hadn't been invited to join them, but Malfoy wasn't listening as he'd caught sight of the maroon dress robes dangling down from above.

"Oh bloody hell," Remus groaned.

"Now's the time when you come up with a quick lie," Sirius scowled, his mind working fast as he supplied, "like it's an old owl cover."

Harry just sighed, hoping this didn't turn out to bad.

Ron made to push it out of sight,

"And that just made it worse," James grumbled.

but Malfoy lunged and pulled it down to show off, demanding to know if Ron was really going to wear this?

"No, he was going to stuff your arse into them," Lily snapped.

He did slightly agree they'd been in style back in the 1800's, but Ron told Malfoy to eat dung.

"A rather appropriate response," Sirius nodded, "now let's hear about him forcing the act on the twat."

Malfoy just laughed as Ron snatched them back, then recovered himself enough to ask if Ron was going to enter.

"Enter what?" Lily demanded, clearly of nothing as the boys were still too miffed about Malfoy to pay attention to this bit.

Asking if he would play for the money, his family could do with that.

"Wait, won what?" Remus asked, that had got his attention.

"Is this what all the secrets been about?" Sirius asked with a raised brow. "Going to be some sort of event going on?"

"With an age restriction," James added on.

"At Hogwarts," Lily's lower lip pouted down at the book, her confusion managing to grow the more this carried on.

Ron snapped that Malfoy need to clarify himself, but Malfoy ignored him and turned his attention on Harry, saying it wouldn't surprise anyone if he entered, he never missed an opportunity to show off.

"When have I ever showed off, in front of anybody?" Harry demanded of nothing.

"I think Malfoy found some old photos of you in your glory days Prongs, and got a mismatch," Sirius snickered, while James gave a happy shrug that he couldn't deny that.

Hermione snapped that Malfoy either needed to explain himself or leave, and Malfoy looked delighted around at all of them that they clearly didn't know. Ron had a father and brother in the Ministry and he'd still been left out! His father had told him ages ago!

"Merlin I wish he was lying," Remus groaned, rubbing in agitation at his temple, why couldn't this kid just go away?

"Does everyone know about this but me," Harry agreed with a deep sigh, sick of feeling left out of the wizarding world when he seemed to be their main attraction.

Then Malfoy amended himself that the Minister probably wouldn't speak of anything so important around a Weasley.

"Oh please," Lily scoffed, "I'm still blasted your bleeding father wasn't put in Azkaban for trying to get Dumbledore sacked the way he did."

She felt bad at the threat she wished had come true, because at the mere mention of that prison had Sirius flinching and still lost a few shades of color. None of them disagreed with her, but it wasn't a topic she was going to linger on either.

Agreeing with himself that it was far too important for him to know about,

"More like it didn't have anything to do with troll bogies so Arthur shouldn't be bothered with it," Sirius said loudly, agitated at his little spaz. It hadn't happened yet, no need to go acting like a baby every time it was mentioned.

Still laughing at their expense, Malfoy and his two friends left the compartment, and Ron got up behind them to slam the door so hard he broke the pane of glass.

"Ah, now that brings back memories," Remus gave an uneasy laugh, remembering the time James had set a Fizzing Whizbee on fire and it had blown all the glass in their compartment, causing the trolley lady to appear and give them a good telling off. The only reason he hesitated in sharing that with Harry was because none of them wanted the reminder that Peter had been in the compartment with them of course, but James forced himself to brush past it and tell his son anyways, at least causing him to laugh.

It was worth the moment of agitation the memory stirred for all of them to see him smiling at their sharing a tidbit of their past lives, and Remus came to realize that this may well be a good way to help them get over this. If sharing those kinds of stories with Harry helped them to ease Peter out of them, all the better.

Hermione was shocked at his display of aggression, using the 'Reparo' charm to fix the damage, but Ron wasn't listening as he growled that his Dad's work was plenty important, he could have gotten a raise whenever he wanted, he just liked where he worked!

"I one hundred percent believe that," Lily nodded, thinking Arthur had more dignity then the whole Malfoy line by choosing to stay with his job that he loved rather than trying to push up the ranks like so many others.

Hermione gently agreed with him, warning Ron not to let Malfoy get to him. Ron tried to brush this off, picking up a Cauldron Cake, but then squishing it in his palm as he snapped no one was getting to him!

"Oh yes, he's clearly calm as a cucumber, I'm sure he always does that to his sweets," James snorted.

Ron stayed in a foul mood through the rest of the journey even as the Hogwarts Express began to slow down.

"Poor Ron's not had a very good start to this year," Lily sighed.

"Can you blame him?" Sirius was frowning in sympathy for Harry's best mate. "First his own family, then Malfoy, I'm betting he feels pretty ignored and left out."

The train to a complete stop in Hogsmeade station where they all stumbled out into the freezing rain and sprinted towards the carriages. The rain was coming down so hard it felt as though someone were pouring buckets of ice over their heads.

"Oh this just sounds lovely," Remus shivered at the thought.

"Thank Merlin Harry's first year wasn't like that," James sighed, "it's much more memorable and pleasant when you're not having to swim there your first time."

They only stopped for the shortest time to chat with Hagrid, who said he'd see them up at the school if they didn't drown first.

"Well that's encouraging," Lily snorted, knowing he was kidding, but what James had said was true enough. It made it seem sad for the poor dears.

The first years always went to school for the first time through boats on the lake with Hagrid. Hermione agreed as they climbed inside their carriage, pulled by invisible horses, that it would not be a fun journey in this weather. The boys agreed as they made their way to the castle.

"Well that was, fun," Lily tried for a cheerful tone. At least nothing bad had happened, but she was starting to get a little more nervous every time whatever was happening at Hogwarts this year was mentioned. She didn't like the fact that Harry got a little frown on his face every time, and it wasn't boding well for this peaceful year they were all hoping for.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #GoF #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter #James Potter #Jilly

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cupidscrystals · 4 years

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Hey! I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you could expand on vampire lore behind Romulus? He’s a super interesting character and I’d love to hear more about vampires in the HP world!

:O !!! I’d love to! Here are some of the more important lore me and my good friend @meadowslittlebug came up with! Please go check her out, her art deserves more attention and she’s a wonderful person!

Vampires, Dhamphirs, and Vampire-borns

Two vampires who produce a child with the magic gene, this child called Vampire-born. This is the result of one or both parents having wizarding ancestry. If there’s no wizard ancestry in their bloodlines the child is called a Vampyr. The vampire-born and vampyr have a slow growing process, reaching the maturity of their bodies around 160 and 200 years old. They share the same traits as their turned brethren. A child of a human and a vampire or a human and a part vampire is called a Dhampir. Dhampir’s are only given to those who are at least ⅛ vampire. Some will always inherit vampiric traits such as sharp facial features, fangs, oddly coloured irises, an allergy to garlic and silver, and a repulsion to werewolves, but the rest of the vampiric traits are selected at random.

Aging

Newborns: They are newborn vampires. Their abilities are very limited.

Fledglings: They are Junior vampires a.k.a Vampires in training. A Fledgling learns how to control their thirst and hunting instincts along with gaining the ability to turn into a bat at will. Usually an older vampire is the mentor of the Fledglings and they can have more than one mentor. Mentors are usually the parents.

Matured: Fully grown vampires. They are the most common types of vampires found in the known world. They can turn other mortals into vampires.

Elder/Ancient: Vampires that are over 1000 years old, usually these ones are highly respected by the vampiric community, usually Elders hold positions of leadership. These are the ones that look less human-like and more like a real vampire.

[Picture: Top - Matured vampires, Bottom - Elder/Ancient vampire]

Vampires age MUCH slower than normal humans. 10 human years is equivalent to 1 vampire year.

Diet

Vampires can only drink blood. If they consume other kinds of food or drinks, their bodies will react violently until they expel all the contents. It was believed that human blood was necessary in the survival of Vampires, however vampires simply need blood, any kind of blood to keep their strength up. Such examples are animals. Human blood is just more nutritious and better tasting than animal blood. Vampires living on a diet of human blood will need to drink less than vampires living on a diet of animal blood.

Biology

• Vampires possess anticoagulant in their saliva that helps the blood keep flowing after the incision was done.

• Quick regeneration after an injury.

• They hiss at each other to mark dominance or as a warning sound.

• During their first few centuries they can reproduce, but after that period of time they become sterile and only can turn humans into vampires.

• Vampires can live without drinking blood for a couple weeks, but if the being haven’t consumed blood in a while, their appearance will age quickly and look more like a living corpse and more prone to act feral.

• Instead of water-based tears, vampires cry blood tears.

• Some vampires can have black scleras. Mostly the older generations, however it can be passed down.

[Picture: Black scleras]

• No vampire or part vampire has brown eyes. The only vampires that can have brown eyes are the ones that were turned. This is the #1 technique used to identify true vampires and human-turned vampires. True vampires can have eye colours ranging from blue, green, red, pink, orange, and purple. They NEVER have yellow eyes as that is a distinguishing feature of werewolves and part werewolves.

[Picture: Vampire eye colours]

• Enhanced senses.

• Enhanced strength, speed and agility.

• Being able to float and fly unassisted.

• Able to shoot plasma balls, this skill must be trained and only temporarily paralyzes prey

• Sunlight doesn’t kill them but they get burned pretty badly, feeling as if they were being burned to the bone, they can regenerate when they are in the shadows again.

• Since they are nocturnal creatures they are very sensitive to any source of light and can be temporarily blinded.

• Can only be killed by a wooden stake to the heart

• Silver is a ‘pure’ metal and makes vampires get burned or have bad allergic reactions.

• A Werewolf bite can be fatal to vampires. The Toxin from the werewolf and the venom in the vampire blood cause a reaction that makes the vampire deteriorate and die.

• Crucifixes and holy symbols is ambiguous, they produce a cringey effect in vampires but also there’s also a few that likes to see crucifixes, usually those have an inclination for liking the suffering.

• Poisoned or disease ridden blood ( sickness or toxic substances) will give the vampire a stomach ache.

Races & Branches

Humanoid: The newest generation of vampires, with their attractive features some can mingle between humans unnoticed, and some may resemble a typical vampire that it’s very obvious. Characterized for having pale skin, bright and odd eye coloration, fangs, as well as sharp features. (ex: European vampires, Jiangshi)

[Picture: 1 - Humanoid vampires, 2 - a Jiangshi (Chinese vampire) and European vampire just vibing]

Ancient: One of the oldest generation of vampires. They are older than 1000 years old. Around the age of 1000 their bodies change to a less humanoid features and have features such as longer ears, balding, bigger and longer fangs. Due to their age, ancient vampires are more reclusive compared to other races and don’t interact fully with the outer world. They wait until their prey is close enough to ambush.

[Picture: Ancient/Elder vampires]

Feral: Vampiric beast-like monsters or creatures that attack without distinction at humans and animals alike. Usually is known for attacking livestock. Some examples of these creatures are the Sasabonsam and the Chupacabras.

[Picture: Left - Sasabonsam, Right - Chupacabra]

History

Before 1811 (or early 1800s) , humans and wizards alike used to hunt vampires for sport. They mainly targeted the old and elderly vampires (over 1000 years old) and would bring home their decapitated heads as a trophy. The reason behind this was because the older vampires looked less human like than the younger generations do so it was easier for Muggles and Wizards to see them as an non-human entity. Most of the older vampires they slaughtered were of high position as they were elders, kings, queens, and other members of the royal vampire court. Because of the fact that vampires are immortal and time passes way differently in their perception, a lot of vampires today are still enraged at wizard kind because they were alive before they made vampire slaying illegal.

During the 1700s, the fear of vampires were at its highest point. People were stabbing the recently deceased with wooden stakes to prevent them from potentially turning into vampires and were insanely paranoid about them. They did all they could to protect themselves and their families from vampires. Vampire slaying was also at its peak, especially since wizarding ministries were promising people rewards of 200 galleons PER VAMPIRE slain. The vampire community combated this with trying to turn as many humans and wizards into one of their own in an attempt to repopulate and give them a taste of what it feels like to be treated badly. This is an extremely important time in history and is addressed as The Great Vampire Revolt. Again, most vampires alive in the present day were alive when all of this took place.

Given the frictions between the vampire and mortal community in the past, having relationships between both communities was frowned upon. If a vampire married a mortal, the vampire must make a choice, turn their loved one or must abandon the vampire community until the spouse is dead. However their offspring was well received, but part human part vampire offspring are pretty rare in present day. Other reasons as to why they are not common is because of the biological differences between the human and vampire causing problems conceiving or early infant hood death.

Monarchy

A Vampire Monarchy is a vampire who rules over a country. The vampires of a country form the Vampire Monarch’s Kingdom or Queendom. It is overseen by the Monarch, who also has authority over his or her vampire subjects. Although the countries are under complete reign by their individual monarch, they still remain under the jurisdiction of the Vampire Council in the Vampire Hierarchy.

The Vampire Council was a clandestine council that is composed of eight of the most politically powerful vampires in the known world. It is the ultimate authority over all vampires across the globe, overseeing matters of both religious and political purview in relation to the vampire population. It was worshiped by many and feared by even more.

[Picture: Members of the vampire council]

A vampire is granted the title of king or queen if they are in line for the throne and the current king or queen passes away or abdicated the throne. Upon the death of the reigning monarch, the Vampire Council will appoint a new king or queen. Vampires can also earn titles such as duke and duchess, baron and baroness (or thane), viscount and viscountess, count and countess (or earl), baronet and baroness, imperial knight and lady, or gentleman and gentry. by doing a very significant or impressive act to be granted a title. These royal titles can vary and differ depending on geographical locations.

Vampire Academies

Since the vampire population is much lower than the wizards there are not that many educational institutions for them to attend. The only ones we came up with so far is that there is one in Transylvania, Romania, Russia, and China.

Fun Facts

• Some may say that they have a ‘not giving a shit’ way of life and only care for their interests and brethren. For example they are not phased by murders of species out of their own kind (I mean they’ve been drinking the blood of humans since the beginning of time), one’s sexuality, or most things deemed dangerous by mortals. After all they gave bigger thing to worry about, like how they’re gonna acquire their next meal and figuring out how to enter places without being invited inside.

• Their pupils are slit shaped and the iris in different bright colors

• They can’t be killed by the killing curse, only stabbing them through the heart with a wooden stake (preferably made from wood of a peach tree. Any other wood will result in a slower death while peach tree wood will cause an instant death)

• There’s a vampire transcontinental championship where vampires from all over the world compete to see who’s the fastest flyer. For centuries, Asia has been taking first place.

• They sleep with their arms crossed over their chest. It doesn’t matter if they’re hanging upside down or in a coffin or laying on a couch, they’ll always end up in that position.

• They can hang upside down from any ceiling

Alright, that’s only a small part of what we have come up with, but if you have any questions about ANY of the lore or vampires in the HP universe in general, feel free to shoot me an ask!

Picture sources (I do not own any of these pics)

What We Do In The Shadows (2014)

Interview With a Vampire (1994)

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Vampire Kingdom

https://trueblood.fandom.com/wiki/Vampire_monarch

#harry potter #hp #hphm #hpma #wizarding world #vampire #vampire lore #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon #wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding world lore #cupidscrystals #what we do in the shadows #wwdits

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