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secondhand-trash · 3 years

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If I Only Knew Your Name

A/N: so this was an idea I got while mindlessly picking songs to listen to on Spotify’s Indie rock playlist and came across this one song that just made me want to write something about it hehe accidentally put this aside for a whole month but I’m so glad that it’s here now lmao I had a lot of fun writing this

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: After a drunken night of passion, Atsumu had nothing he could find you with, not even your name. So he took the matter into his own hands and tried to search for you using the power of the internet.

Warning: drunken one night stand, suggestive descriptions, Atsumu is an embarrassment and I sure hope you cringe while you read it as much as I did when I was writing it

Word count: 9453

The song:

Young Love (feat. Laura Marling)//Mystery Jets, Laura Merling

One night of love

Nothing more nothing less

One night of love

Had left my heart in a mess

You woke up with a sharp pain spiking down your back, in a room you were sure you had never been to, on a bed that wasn’t yours.

Your head was heavy and every cell in your body screaming that you just wanted to fall asleep again when you stirred awake. You would have, had it not been the fact that you were not in your own room slowly started to settle in. There was a brief moment of blankness in your mind as you took in your surroundings. The room was still dim, the sun barely shining through the windows that were half covered by the shades. The domestic messiness crossed out the possibility that you were in a hotel room or some odd space behind the club you clearly remembered being at last night.

You did not move as your eyes glanced around the space. Trophies and picture frames were lining up on the shelf at the corner, all of names and faces you couldn’t match up with any of the ones that you remembered. The linen covers you were sitting under was sturdy on your skin, a dark red on top of brown sheets that you would have never bought for your mattress. The scent of the fabric was foreign to you, making your morning state of mind more and more alarmed at the amount of information you were trying to take in. You had to admit that it was very soft on the skin, not the slightest bit uncomfortable as it rubbed against your bare arm when the duvet fell off of your body as you sat up.

You felt a moment of frantic terror at the registration of your own bareness, with your legs feeling terribly cramped, waking up on a bed that you did not remember getting into.

Everything clicked when you stiffly turned to your side, and found someone laying next to you.

The broad back facing your side had you clutching the sheets up to cover your torso that now felt chilly with the lack of layers. The man, whose name you did not think you know and what you had done with him last night you could not remember but was certainly able to guess, was still soundly in his sleep. Now that you were painstakingly unable to ignore his presence, you picked up on the soft snores that lingered in the air, making your legs that were rubbing against each other under what you could only assume to be his spreads tense up as the picture of what happened to get you right where you were slowly got clear.

You would prefer not to think about it in detail, albeit the fact that it getting vivid in your mind sent a trail of heat from your core right onto your face and burning out the fuse in your head.

There was a slither of shame and guilt as you found yourself staring hazily at the man, his sculpted back spasming with each breath. Your hand gripping at the sheets in front of your chest only served to pull it further down his torso, revealing the dip at his waist and his arms that curled tighter against his body with a shiver. Blonde hair sprawled out messily on the pillow, and you felt chills creeping up your spine at the recoil of your fingers fisting those locks and brushing against the fuzzy patch of his undercut as he hovered above you.

Panting, grunting, moaning.

Your skin burnt up at the lingering feeling of a firm grip on your legs, the warm trail of his lips down your neck, and the unmistakable dullness between your thighs.

The heat settled into the pit of your stomach as a weight, twisting your guts until it resembled what felt like a bitter mix of shame and guilt.

Fuck, you slept with an absolute stranger last night.

You bite back a groan, slamming your hands against your face before letting them run down in a weak attempt to clear your head.

This was why you never go to clubs anymore.

The jolt of your body as you sat up straight pushed the sheets off of you and you winced at the soft whimper from the person next to you at the sudden movement. Your naked state was simply uncomfortable, not feeling like you were in your own skin at all as ironic as this was. You couldn’t help but hug your arms around your frame as you frantically looked around to see where your clothes and belongings were, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw the clothes you wore last night littering across the floor in all its messy glory.

Your clothes were all wrinkled up from the careless placement, a clear display of the passion and impulse when they were being taken off. Your hands were the same kind of frantic as you rushed to put everything back on, not caring about tugging them in properly or the fact that you did not even look into a mirror at all to see if you were at least presentable.

You did not hear the groan from the man that tossed over to his side on the bed as you slipped out of the bedroom, careful in softening your steps as you let the door clicked and darting your eyes around to see where the rest of your things were.

If you remembered correctly from the weak reconstruction of what happened last night, then your clutch should be somewhere near the door.

The giggle that slipped past your lips as he swung the door shut turned into a laugh when he latched onto you immediately. You could taste the hint of vodka lingering on his lips, bundling up your senses together with the warm breaths against your neck when he trailed down. It was like floating on a cloud, the way you latched yourself on this handsome man and he seemed to be unable to get enough of you. You barely heard the thump of what you were holding in your hand landing on the floor as your limbs went weak, swinging your arms around his broad shoulders when your mouth fell agape as he sucked down on the soft spot right on your neck.

It was right where you left it last night, the one and only clutch that you felt was suitable for you to bring to a club. There was a hint of hesitation as you rushed to pick it up, holding it in your hand when you thought of the person who you had left on the bed by himself.

What do people do after a one night stand? Talk? Have breakfast together? Or in your case, ask them for their name because you did not remember one thing that happened before you stepped into these doors?

Dear god, no.

So you did the only logical thing you could think of, and rushed out of the door without even looking back.

It wasn’t until you were far away from the apartment building you ran out of, the weight of your body shifting from leg to leg as you waited for the train to slowly drive into the station that something did not feel right to you. Your fingers fidgeted in reflex as you shoved yourself past the small gap between each person stuffed into the cart, a bad habit you had formed as a kid when you were nervous.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach when the lack of metal brushing against the tip of your finger finally clicked in your head.

You cussed under your breath, knowing exactly where the thin, gold band must be.

Miya Atsumu woke up with a pounding headache, in his own apartment that he forgot how he got back to, on his bed that somehow felt emptier than usual.

At first, all he could focus on was the clear hungover that he was suffering from. His tongue felt dry and he scrunched his face up at the bitterness as he tried to gulp. The half-drawn curtains were not doing it in shielding the sun that already came out, making him squeeze his eyes tight and blinked a few times before finally adjusting to the brightness. Stretching out on the bed, Atsumu whined at the soreness pulling at his muscles, feeling his joints pop as he arched his back and sprawled over to the other side of the bed.

He froze in place, arms still spread over his head and legs bundling up the sheets, before jolting up in one rapid movement only to wince at the horrible spinning in his head at the rush of blood up to his already heavy head.

Yet, dizziness and all that, Atsumu was sure that the feeling of someone being here with him last night definitely wasn’t just a drunkness induced illusion.

He groaned at the untimely pang of pain that pulsed at his temple, ruffling his hands through the locks of his hair that was tangled up from him tossing around the bed. The slight pull at his scalp at his impatient detangling method made him hiss, but it also served to get his wires just a little more sorted out than before.

First things first, he was very naked and combining that with the certainty that he must have had someone over, it wasn’t very hard for him to connect the dots. He ran his palm over the ruffled sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles and searched if there was still any hint of warmth left on the fabric. He cursed under his breath when nothing else but coolness met his skin, scolding himself for acting like a fool over some one night stand that did not even wait until he woke up to leave.

There was a lump at the back of his throat as he stayed there, holding onto the hovering position he took on the bed without a single thought.

He snapped out of it when he realised that he was in his own space, just staying still and letting time passed without doing anything. Atsumu had a strong feeling that if he stayed in bed any longer then he would just be miserable for the rest of the day and he really couldn’t afford it if he couldn’t manage to get over himself soon enough.

For all that it was, there was no bigger asset to his career than this very body that he felt like trash in right now, and god knows how much trouble he would get if people learnt that he let his performance slip because he couldn’t bounce back after a drunken hookup.

His steps were floaty as he climbed off his bed, stumbling into the bathroom and harshly gripping at the faucet. The water streamed out as a strong current and he splashed it against his face in a sadistic force. The coldness was stinging his skin, with no help from the way he rubbed his hands down his face and back up his chin.

He looked terrible, Atsumu thought to himself when he stared at the reflection in front of him. His eyelids were pulled taut with his hand, cheeks squished under his palm before he pulled away meanly. Bloodshot eyes made him wince and his face was so dropsy it looked like he had cried himself to sleep.

A loud slap echoed in the empty bathroom when he clasped his face a bit too hard in a desperate attempt to clear his head. He whined, rubbing the area that went numb and then heated up. There was a slight flush around the area he had slapped down, but he was feeling more in touch with reality afterwards.

Alright, so what happened last night?

It would be a lie if Miya Atsumu said he had never had one night stands. He would argue that he never go out with the intention for one, but sometimes one thing leads to another and it just happens. Some were good, some not really, some he hadn’t really think of until now when he was desperately thinking of what it was that led him to now.

He hadn’t wakened up with a hungover this bad in a long while. Being in a profession that demands that much of your physiques meant that there was not much room for the more self-destructive type of letting loose. It was strange, Atsumu pinched the center of his brows as one hand on the kitchen counter held his body still, he didn’t quite remember the deeds of what was happened once the door to his room was closed last night.

Wow, he looked up with eyes widened and huffed at no one, that was such a douchebag thing to say.

He, however, remembered the person that stumbled through the door with him in shocking vividness to even his surprise.

He would have to pretend that the lack of follow up did not send a blow to his ego, reassuring himself that there was no way it was because he behaved terribly that the person had to run off before he even woke up. He was bitter about the fact that they had left without leaving even a note, something he had no idea he cared about at all until this very moment when the silence of his home became just short of irritating in his pounding head.

Could have at least said ‘I had fun last night but I gotta go’.

Atsumu rubbed his temple, slowly rotating his arms backwards to get rid of that dull cramp.

Or maybe leave their number somewhere too.

He paused in his track, standing awkwardly in the middle of his tiny living room.

Did he want their number?

He shook his head violently to rid of the meaningless thought, an act he would immediately regret when he remembered that he was having a hungover as the dizziness made him stumble on his feet.

A crisp clang after he took a fumbled step to steady himself quieted all of the voices in his head. That was not a sound that aligned with what his brain expected from his worn-out room slippers kicking against the wooden floor. Atsumu held his head as the rang of what sounded like something metallic registered itself in his mind, blinking at the empty space right in front of his feet.

His eyes darted around the floor, searching for whatever it was he must have stepped on to make that sound. Atsumu was ready to settle for the possibility that he was starting to hear things when a quick flash of light from the corner caught his attention. He walked towards where it was, and slowly crouched down.

It was a ring, a very tiny one. It looked rather ridiculous being held between his calloused fingers, the thin golden band arching off the afternoon light that had shined on it. A very simple design with no gems or carvings along the surface, something very much so the opposite to his taste. He knew it was not his, from the size to the tone to the lack of anything all over its rim.

And then he remembered the first time he saw the ring, on someone else’s finger, just last night.

Atsumu would not classify himself as a party animal, despite the common speculation shared by people who knew him but not well enough. He could deal with house parties just fine, but clubbing had never been much of his thing ever since he woke up outside the back of a night club once with the worst ring in his ear he had ever experienced.

If it wasn’t part of his job, he would much rather be anywhere else than this overly opulent club that his team’s sponsor had booked up for their event. But business was business, and if he wanted to keep having his own room in away games then this was the price he had to pay.

Was it a nice club? He couldn’t say, but it sure was an expensive one if he was to make a guess based on the decor. So expensive that it was a bit tacky, if he dares to say. It was like the owner wanted to remind you that this was high-end and decadent. Imagine what you would see in a basic mansion on a real estate agent’s website, then dim it up and add many hi-fis, what you would result with was likely close if not identical to the space he was in. It was loud and hard to escape from, his ear pounding together with the baseline every time it blasted through He would never quite understand rich people, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his drink and scrunched his eyebrows together. He forced down the urge to poke his tongue out at the obvious taste of syrup, trying to pass it off with a cough into his fist as he plopped down on the barstool.

“How’s your drink?”

The smooth voice reaching into his ear was mismatched to the booming club he was in. Atsumu turned his stool to the side with a push with the heel of his uncomfortable leather shoes and was met with an entertained gaze. You sat with both feet on the footrest of the stool, a posture that seemed rather childish for the night club bar you sat in front of. With your bare forearms lazily placed at the edge of the bar table, your finger tapped casually against the rim of your cocktail glass, the pink liquid inside looking like it was glowing under the neon lights. He could not map out your features too clearly but your head tilted as you looked at him through narrowed eyes, a glimmer behind your lashes from the many lights that hung above your head.

Miya Atsumu was an adult now and in his adult mind, he knew that the proper answer he should give to a stranger asking about the sugary mixture he just poured down his throat was that it tasted decent, expensive even, like the club he was sitting in now.

“It’s kinda shit,” he felt a strange swell in his chest when you let out an unfiltered snort at his answer, leaning back with his arms folded in front of his chest as he licked his lips, “yours?”

You lifted up the glass and necked down the rest of the coloured water, smacking your lips as the sweetness spread in your mouth. “Like the type of stuff they mark up and sell to high schoolers who couldn’t buy real alcohol.”

The bartender at the side threw you two a sharp look and you two sat up straighter, before bursting into a fit of laughter. He supposed you had to be tipsy at the very least and probably so was he, what sober person giggled like a child over trash talking overpriced liquor at a bar? “Why are you here at this trashy place?” you asked, now resting your chin on your palm with your elbow propping you up.

You did not know him, Atsumu was almost delighted by the fact that you likely just struck a conversation with him because he was another bored person trying to escape to the sidelines of dancing bodies just like you with no other intentions. “Got an invite and couldn’t say no because of work reasons,” he wasn’t exactly lying, he just didn’t say that he was supposed to be one of the main guests of this function.

“Ooo...” you let out a soft whistle, tilting your upper body forward him, “are you a big shot?”

He smirked.

Yes. “Not entirely.”

“Hm...” you sat back, your smile pursed as you tapped your finger on the table, “not denying it, huh?”

The vibration of your hum sent shivers to his spine and he blamed it on the very spiked drink he just gulped down. Atsumu ran his hand through his hair, a move he discovered in his teenage years that could let him smoothly fixed his hair while also flexing his arm. “I try to stay humble,” he replied, earning him a playful eye roll from you.

The melting ice clinked in the glass when he held it up against his lips, still looking at you from the corner of his eyes as he tilted it and let the pungent liquid run down his throat.

You nodded, returning to the laid back posture you kept before he sat down next to you at the dim corner of the bar table when you realised he wasn’t going to say more. “Fair enough,” you pretended to sound disappointed, holding your hand out in front of you to swiftly turn your attention away.

“You?”

“Got dragged here by a friend who works for the organiser,” you huffed, “don’t even know anyone here besides from them.”

Atsumu felt the warm buzz of the liquor spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body, settling onto his face as a tipsy fever. He did not look away from you and he was sure it was exactly what you wanted, mindlessly toying with your hand as you faced away from him. Your shoulders pulled back as you slid the thin ring off your index finger smoothly with your thumb, twisting it with the tips of your fingers before letting it fell down another one, all while pushing your hips back against the stool as you crossed your legs.

“Nice ring,” he tipped his chin slightly.

“Oh, this one,” you held your hand out to him, spreading your fingers apart to show him. You pulled back just slightly when he reached out, grinning teasingly at him when he quirked his brow up.

“my grandma gave it to me before she passed away,” you sighed, caressing the band that sat on your finger dreamily, “shoved it into my hand on her death bed and made me swore to never lose it, said it was given to her by her first love when she was a girl.”

“Oh,” Atsumu let out a soft gasp, “oh wow, I-”

He rolled his eyes when you broke out into laughter, the longing expression all gone from your face as you let out a hiccup through your giggling. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

He clicked his tongue, letting out a huff, “Lying isn’t good.”

“Neither is talking to a stranger at a club but I’m still here,” you wet your lips as you flashed a childish smirk, showing him your hand again. He was certain that he was drunk now, because there was no other way he could excuse the pounding in his chest when you didn’t pull away this time as he reached out to hold your hand for a better look.

“I got this as a pack of 5 for 800 yen online,” you said proudly, “quite the deal, if you ask me.”

He hummed in approval, letting out a shaky breath when you slowly pulled your hand out of his grip, the tip of your finger ticking the center of his palm before you lifted it away. It sent electricity trickling down his spine, the feeling of your touch lingering on his skin even as you were steps away from him again, once again staring at him with a smile tugging on your face like you were waiting for his move.

Was it a challenge or was it an invite? Either way, he was ready to take on whatever you were offering.

“You still owe me some sort of compensation for toying with my poor heart like that,” he mused, mimicking the way you leaned towards him from before.

You sniggered, “And what do you want from a poor stranger like me?”

The music playing through the speakers stopped temporarily and for a moment, the projected light illuminated his figure briefly before moving to another spot. You had not taken a good look at him until now, knowing full well that the attractiveness of anyone under the pink, dim glow of the bar was not to be trusted.

But he was really, really good-looking, even when you could actually see his face properly.

The next song started playing and the party people on the dance floor cheered. The loudness that returned made your head ache and you scrunched your nose in annoyance as the dj yelled into the mic. Atsumu threw his head back as the music returned, tapping his finger against his jaw.

“How about,” he said, knowing that you and he were likely to be on the same page, “you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink somewhere where the drinks aren’t shit?”

You chuckled at his unfiltered suggestion, your laughter slurring into a hum as you grabbed your clutch by the side of the bar. “I can make up to you,” you asked as you stood up, tilting your head to your side, “by letting you pay for me?”

He nodded, smoothing out his shirt as he got up from his stool too.

You shrugged, pressing your palm to your face to let the coldness of your hand calm down the heat on your face as you grinned.

“Take me somewhere nice then, big shot.”

Even through his tipsy haze, Atsumu was sure that this was the most irrational thing he had done in a while but as you took his arm while he pulled you through the crowd and out in the open after being stuck in the same space with many drunk and sweaty bodies afterwards, he was quite certain that he couldn’t care less whether this was stupid or not.

If he had any regrets about it, he would just blame it on the alcohol.

Now that he was staring at a fake gold ring you got as a pack of 5 for not even a thousand yen, Atsumu could only tear at his own hair in regret when he realised that he didn’t ask for your name or contact at any point during which you went from the first bar to one he actually liked, then to many other because there was no way he would get this drunk after just two drinks, and finally stumbled through the door of his own house, before you disappeared as if you had never been there at all.

It was all the alcohol’s fault, fuck alcohol.

It was not his first time taking a near-stranger home and even though he wouldn’t want to say it out loud to people, he also couldn’t guarantee that this was the last time either. He should just forget about it and move on with his day, maybe make some tea, maybe get some soup to cure this heaviness in his head so he wouldn’t make it too obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself the way he really should. After all, there was really nothing he could do about it since he didn’t know anything about you other than what you looked like and that you wore cheap jewelry. But it left a strange tightness in his chest when he toyed with the gold ring in his hand, knowing full well that drunk or not he did enjoy his time with you even before it really got to the fun fun part.

He really should have just asked for your name like a normal person instead of trying to look cool and mysterious the moment you talked to him at the bar.

Miya Atsumu let out a sigh no one was there to hear as he slowly accepted the fact that not only was he hungover, he was also hung up, and put the only evidence he had of you ever being there with him into the key tray by his door.

He would figure out what to do with it later but for now, he was starving.

So Atsumu set off for the only one place he could think of that couldn’t kick him out no matter how annoying of a customer he was.

“Say, Samu...”

Miya Osamu sighed, putting the plate he was drying at the side and let the damped towel fell from his hand onto the side of the sink. His twin had finished his food a long while ago yet he was refusing to leave, planting his face down at his counter like a pile of mush as he took up the precious space of Onigiri Miya’s bar seat. Osamu liked to think that he was a supportive brother , by all means. He fed Atsumu, listened to his childish whines and didn’t kick him out when he started getting so loud that the other patrons sent him a worried glance. Maybe he should have pretended that he was about to head out for errands when he saw his twin marching in, slumping down on the stool like he owned the place (Miya Atsumu claimed that he had unlimited access by relation, Miya Osamu denied it with his life and told all his employees to just kick his twin out if he said that bullshit to them).

He was so nice, Osamu thought to himself, he was far too nice.

“What is it?” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest when he heard Atsumu’s muffled voice.

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone without knowing their name?”

Oh god, what was he up to again?

“Depends,” Osamu snorted, picking his towel again when he realised that it was nothing too serious that he should stop his work to listen to, “if it happens to someone else, then sure, maybe, everything is possible. But if you're telling me that you think you’re in love with someone you don’t know,” he paused, before breaking into a wide grin, “I think I might laugh.”

“Hey!” Atsumu yelled, his fist slamming on the counter as he snapped his head up. The bang caught the attention of several other customers at the shop and Osamu sent them an apologetic bow before glaring at Atsumu who was rubbing his aching hand for slapping it against the wooden surface. “I’m being serious,” he muttered.

“Alright then,” Osamu nodded absent-mindedly, "so what are you going to do about it?”

Atsumu’s raised hand froze in the air before he slowly, robotically put it down, down, down until it was back on the counter together with the rest of his upper body.

Osamu’s nodding got firmer now, letting out yet another snigger, “Thought so.”

Atsumu let out a groan, deflating onto the counter more and more with each whine. He looked sad and pathetic, even more so than he usually was and even Osamu who was born immune to whatever teary rent he put on was starting to get concerned.

“Was the sex really that good?”

“it is not about the sex,” Atsumu mumbled, leaning his chin on top of his folded arms as he sighed, “I just... think we had a connection.”

Osamu laughed, the ugly kind, and earned himself a sharp glare. “A connection, huh?” he giggled, “you’re down bad.”

“It’s not funny...”

Hiccuping as he tried to calm himself down, Osamu placed a hand onto the kitchen counter to steady himself as his body vibrated.

“I still think you’re overreacting,” Osamu took in a deep breath, catching up after finally regaining his posture, “besides, you’re technically a public figure, right? If you can’t find them, why don’t you just try and get them to find you instead?”

Atsumu’s hiss about how he wasn’t overreacting stuck at the back of his throat when paused and thought of what Osamu had suggested.

“Huh,” he sat up a little straighter, eyes rolling inside of their sockets as he pondered, “that’s actually not a bad idea.”

"Of course it’s not,” Osamu huffed, “I’m the smart twin.”

“What did you just-”

Osamu ignored Atsumu’s glare, turning around to resume his work now that he seemed to have fulfilled his responsibility as a brilliant, amazing brother. He gave it a month, no, two weeks max before his brother forgot all about this person and moved on as if Atsumu had never shown up in front of his door with puffy eyes and a love-sick expression.

Oh, he just couldn’t wait to hear all the excuses and denial when he brought it up again the next time they get into a petty argument.

It was a terrible idea.

The Inarizaki volleyball alumni group chat exploded when the first post of what would be many to come was published for the world to see. Suna Rintarou, always so quick with capturing his old teammates embarrassing moments, kicked Atsumu out before he sent out links, screenshots, and pinged every single member of the group who did not read his message immediately. Miya Osamu refused to speak up about it, keep denying that he knew anything about it.

“I do not know this person,” his fingers hurt from how fast he was typing, not even bothering to correct the typos in his message before hitting send to clear his name, “I have no idea what has gotten into him but I’m not responsible for it.”

He was, in fact, telling the truth. Osamu was just as shocked and wide-eyed as everyone else was when he came across his twin’s post on Instagram as he scrolled through his feed mindlessly after work. Let us just say that all his sleepiness was gone when he saw his twin’s pretentious selfie of him standing in front of a window (shirtless), his hand holding onto the frame as he looked out into the grey sky. The posture was optimal for him to flex his back, letting the light seeping out around his frame do the trick of accentuating his muscles. Atsumu’s face was not entirely in the frame but Osamu did not need to see to know that he had his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze lowered into a look that was supposed to convey the message of “wow look at me, I’m so sad, and I’m also hot”.

Miya Osamu felt a metallic ting in his mouth when he imagined Atsumu’s face, so heart-wrenchingly similar to his own, making that look.

He got spammed by the group chat as soon as he clicked out of the app in horror, refusing to look at that monstrosity any longer. Ginjima was losing his mind, Akagi sent out strings of just him keyboard smashing, Oomimi replied with a very concerned sticker and proceed to not show up again, Kita who was not actually on Instagram at all said it wasn’t very nice of them to make fun of their friend like that but also didn’t quit the group chat himself. Ojiro was the last one to reply, seeming to be rather irritated after Suna kept tagging him and tagging him until he finally went online. Unlike the others who were still comprehending what had possibly got into their friend, he sent out a screenshot but this time with the caption of the post highlighted.

“Is he ok? Did he got dumped or something?”

Osamu did not look at the caption before it was brought to his attention, already feeling the impact sufficiently enough from the visual itself. He felt chills running through his arms and spreading to his entire body when he glanced at the string of words, his face scrunching up in disgust at how any sane person could type it out with their own hands.

“My world had not seen light since the day you left it without saying goodbye.”

He silently switched his status to “do not disturb” when the group chat exploded once again, knowing exactly what this was and that he was fully responsible for the pain he was experiencing right now.

Osamu tried to convince Atsumu that if anyone saw these, the only thing it would persuade them to do was run away instead of reaching out to him but it was to no avail. He was convinced that this was romantic and if he kept it up, it would create enough buzz that would possibly lead the stranger he was hoping to stumble across one of these painfully awful posts and recognise him. The posts kept coming and every day, Osamu felt more and more of an impulse to just block him for good so he wouldn’t have to open his feed each day with the fear of seeing things he did not want to see.

One day, on a beautiful weekend morning, when he finally had time to sit down and have a nice breakfast without rushing, Osamu opened his feed to see a glorious picture of his twin chest down (shirtless) on the bed, with the camera panning up to close up on his face from below. The blanket covered Atsumu’s torso loosely, showing just enough of his waist but not too much that he would get flagged. He had the lower half of his face behind his forearm, staring into the camera with such a sultry stare it made Osamu’s skin crawl.

“If I can start over, I’ll give up all I have just for another night with you.”

Osamu nearly didn’t manage to hold himself back from spitting out the water in his mouth.

The word slowly spread among the community. Suna, ever the enthusiastic teammate he was, shared his recently discovered source of joy with fellow EJP Raijin member Komori Motoya, who in turn spammed the latter’s cousin who had no choice but to acknowledge his teammate’s questionable online presence. Sakusa didn’t think he could ever have such a reaction to something that was not physically there to bother him and proceed to show it to the nearest person he could grab in the locker room, but not without reporting the post for containing unsettling images.

If he had to suffer, then he must make sure that there was someone else suffering with him too. Sakusa had no intention of being the only person who had to see Miya’s pretentious bathroom selfie where he stared into the camera all while running his fingers through dampened hair along with a caption Sakusa did not even want to read in his head. The “someone”, captain Meian Shugo who was really not paid enough for this, sighed as he wondered if this was worth reporting to management as a potential pr crisis. Tomas, somewhat curious by the look on his captain’s face, asked if this was the current social media trend in Japan to which all the players present fought to clear that misconception from his head in order to defend their nation’s honour.

Bokuto looked it up after hearing about the whispers and chats between breaks. “Why, this isn’t that bad!” he said cheerfully, “There are people complimenting him in the comments too! Look!”

The rest of the team spent a good chunk of time convincing him that he should think more cautiously about it when he suggested that perhaps he should try to take on this dynamic posing style for his social media accounts too.

It sure did stir up quite the storm among his fellow athletes and the many fans that were wondering what exactly, or who exactly, it was that caused this sudden shift in his behaviour online. The few people who knew the reason for Atsumu’s melancholy, namely Osamu and some others who could not escape from a venting Atsumu, were almost certain that you would have to at least see his face somehow. If he was still hearing nothing, then it was probably about time he gives up and accepts that you just didn’t want anything to do with him.

One thing that these men who put their entire lives into volleyball failed to take into account, however, was that not every person in the world was particularly interested in the sport that lived and breathed. For people who only heard about the sport if the Olympics were coming up, whatever the players were up to in their private lives was probably not something they would care too much about.

Sadly, for Miya Atsumu, the exact person he was looking for was one of those people.

“The fans are starting to go crazy, no one has any idea what is going on with him,” you pulled your phone slightly further away from your poor ears as your friend let out an exasperated yell from the other end of the call.

They lost you when they started talking about this athlete they had a celeb crush on and how they had been acting very strange in their posts lately, realising that this would become one of their ramblings about people with names you barely remember. They bombed your phone in the middle of the day when they found out that their company would be sponsoring a sports team they were obsessed with and did not stop until you threatened to block them until they had calmed down. You still hadn’t forgiven them completely for disappearing out of nowhere after begging you to attend a company function with them all with the reasoning that if they came across one of the players that would also be invited, you could be there to stop them from embarrassing themselves. That was not entirely useful, given that they were whisked away by their colleagues not even an hour into the event and leaving you all on your own.

If it wasn’t for them, then none of the events following that night would have ever happened.

But the past was past and as they called you again to talk about how they were heartbroken because their fav might be seeing someone, you did not stop them, obviously, since you were a great friend.

A sigh called your attention back and you silently closed your dash of animal videos to focus on what they were saying. “Are you even listening?”

“Uhm...” you hummed, “emo thirst traps, you were saying?”

“We tried to dig down all the accounts he was following but no one was posting anything that might match up to his posts,” they let out a whine.

“So,” you said, “are you still going to see him this weekend even if you are heartbroken or?”

They gasped before you suggested that if they didn’t want to go anymore, then you would do something else rather than sitting through a game you were not interested in. “Of course we’re still going!” they emphasised on the ‘we’, “who knows when I’ll get front row tickets again once the sponsorship ends and they aren’t giving the company tickets anymore!”

They paused. “You’re still going with me,” it sounded more like a threat and a statement than a question, and they asked again when you didn’t reply, “you’re going with me, aren’t you?”

You sighed. They were usually pretty laid back, except when it has something to do with volleyball. What was it with volleyball? It was like... football but with hands, tennis without a rack, basketball but with no basket. Ball sports, they were all the same in your eyes. But despite your lack of interest, the truth was that you wouldn’t have anything else to do if you didn’t go with them anyways and you did promise you would go as long as you didn’t have to pay a single dollar.

So you sighed again, earning you a displeased click of the tongue from the other end of the call.

Your lack of interest maintained when the day came. You didn’t think you had ever been to a stadium when there was a game going on before and the arena was already filling up with people waiting to get it by the time you were there. You were delightedly surprised when you learnt that there would be vendors selling food, silently deciding that the very nice yakionigiri you got from one of the stalls might just be the highlight of your day.

The staff at the store looked vaguely familiar, but you had no idea where you would have possibly seen him before.

When the lights of the venue switched off out of nowhere and the crowd cheered, perhaps you could finally start to understand why your friend was such a fanatic for sports. There was something exciting and grand about the bright spotlights and the announcer’s voice pounding through your ears from the speakers. You peeked at your side to see your friend’s eyes glimmering in a way you had never seen before and chuckled to yourself, leaning back with your legs crossed to watch the game in a better position as the players’ names were called one by one.

You froze in place when you saw a very familiar face on every screen around the stadium.

“Number 13, Miya Atsumu!”

What happened to not being a big shot?

Screams filled up the stadium, especially ear grating when the loudest person seemed to be the one right next to you but your mind was an utter state of blank. You were not expecting to see him again, ever again but here you were, with the next several hours of your life stuck watching the man you ditched after a drunken one night stand in the very front row. He looked more put together than your last image of him, the tussled hair replaced by a careful side swoop and the fitted jersey giving him a fresher look compared to the suit he met you in. He seemed to enjoy the attention, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he marched out and waved languidly around the stadium.

You thanked the genius who separated the court and the seats into two floors, hiding you away with the distance even though you were sitting at the very front.

“Oh my god, he’s looking at this direction, he’s looking at this direction!” your friend’s vigorous tug at your sleeve brought your void gaze back to the court.

You were convinced that there was no way he could spot you from that far away. Hell, it was still up to question whether he could see any of the audience with all the lights shining onto his face. But for a moment, just a brief moment, you had a gut feeling that your eyes met in that split second when you looked down and his gaze stopped at right where you were.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata asked, turning his head to the direction Atsumu kept stealing glances at as they lined up in front of the net but saw nothing.

Atsumu shook his head, giving a laugh to pass off the moment when he lost his composure when he thought he saw the face he kept thinking of since that night in the crowd. It has got to be an illusion, he must have been blinded by the lights. Stupid lights, he cursed under his breath before turning to his teammate. “It was nothing,” he smiled, his gaze shifting to the corner he thought he saw you at before quickly snapping back to the court, “just... thought I saw someone I know.”

He did not look at you again throughout the game much to your relief. But this time, you found it hard to stop your eyes from following him around. You would like to argue that it was because you didn’t know any of the other players and the way your friend kept gushing whenever he did something made it hard for you to ignore him but the way he seemed to flourish on court. Something inside of you jumped whenever he scored a point and the live cameras panned up at his face again, showing the satisfied grin and slanted eyes plastered on him. He did what he does so well and with so much confidence and for some reason, that explained to you just why you decided to leave with him that night at the club in the strangest way possible.

He was, still, very good-looking even under the lights and under your sober judgement, perhaps even more so than your blurry memory of how he looked like with a flushed face. But the true hit to your chest was when the entire stadium was watching him as he got to the serving position, taking strides forward before raising his hand to the air.

The world stopped when the entire ground fell to silence at his command, and you took a deep, shaky inhale when you thought of how this person had kissed you again and again on a drunken night until you were both out of breath.

Atsumu was almost 99.9% sure he truly did see you when the match ended.

That last 0.1% was deducted because it was a really good match ending with a win for the Black Jackals and as hot-headed as he could be, he knew better than to believe everything that his adrenaline-filled brain was trying to tell him. But with the spotlights of the stadium dimmed and his full attention no longer required on the court, Atsumu looked straight at where he was sure you had sat the moment the stadium doors opened and people started leaving. It was a blurry glance, just a quick in and out of his vision but he was sure he saw you slipping out of the front row before disappearing into the stairs.

He knew he could still be wrong, but the sudden realisation that he might be the closest to you now than he would ever be again left him frozen in the middle of the court as he stared blankly at the exit. Reporters were starting to gather around the players and his presence was expected, but his legs started moving before the call of his name by the rest of his team could land on his ear.

Pushing through the crowd, the gasps and shocked chatters of the guests who saw the player they just watched dashing out the stadium were none of his concern. All he cared about was to run faster, faster, past the hall and past the people of the stalls that were packing up. He might have just mistaken someone else for you and if it really was you, you might have already left before he could get to the front entrance of the stadium but that did not matter. The only thing that mattered to him right now was that you had been there and if he ran fast enough, there was still a chance that his search all along would not be in vain.

Miya Atsumu was not exactly a believer of fate or a divine destiny but as he stumbled with tired legs down the steps of the grand glass door, he silently made a bet with the beings he wasn’t sure were truly there that if he missed you this time, he would take the defeat that your paths were not meant to cross again and give up.

And the beings, who Atsumu believed was actually there for the first time ever, answered his calls.

“Wait!”

Your feet planted into the concrete when you heard a yell behind you. Your jaw dropped when you hesitantly turned around to see him, whose name you now know thanks to the match, stopping just a few steps away from you with his hands on his knees, seemingly out of breath with his arm reached out. His eyes widened when he looked up and saw that you had stopped there, and you were exactly who he thought you might be. He was heaving, sweat drenching his face but he still took a few stumbled steps towards you until he was right in front of you.

A few words fell out of his mouth but were cut short by his panting. Your head was still not reacting when he finally managed to stand back up, looking right at you even as his breathing stayed erratic.

What does one say to a one night stand that they ditched right when the morning comes?

“So,” you blurted, trying to ignore the heat on your face and the anxiousness in your chest, “not a big shot, huh?”

He let out a snort, his voice cracking as he ran his hand down his face to wipe away the sweat that was starting to get into his eyes. He could finally take the time to look at you now, after confirming that you would not disappear if he did so little as blink.

You were gorgeous, and suddenly all the things he had wanted to say to you sounded ridiculously stupid.

I tried to look for you.

“You left your ring at my place,” he said, his voice still shaking from the sprint he took, growing softer and softer with each word that came out.

“Oh,” you replied, nodding stiffly to try and brush away your nerves.

“Yeah,” he nodded too, and opened his mouth again after taking a gulp to swallow down the knot at the back of his throat, “we should arrange a time to meet so you can take it back from me.”

“Oh,” you stood just a little straighter, “but-”

But it was just one of the five I got in a pack so it really, really didn’t matter that much.

“You said,” he looked down, holding back a smile as he thought of what you had said to him, “you said your grandma made you swore to never lose it.”

He remembered.

“Yes,” you pressed your lips together to stop the chuckle from coming out, “yes I was.”

“So you should come and get it back from me,” he suggested, the last note of his sentence going up as if he wasn’t sure of himself either.

“Yeah,” he beamed when you smiled sheepishly, “I should.”

“Ok good, good,” he murmured in joyful disbelief, grinning ear to ear. The grin faded suddenly when he thought of one very important thing he had forgotten to do last time and must not forget this time.

“Can I have your name?”

You burst out into laughter. “You can have my number too, if that’s what you want,” you mused, “Miya.”

A rush of heat washed through his face at the sound of his name out of your mouth. He would die if you call him by his first name later on, he was sure of it.

“Yes,” he said almost embarrassingly fast, “yes I would love that. I-” he groaned when he realised that he still had his phone in his jacket that was left in the locker room.

“Wait for me here,” he had already started walking backwards, snapping towards you with his hand out as he added in panic, “don’t go anywhere!”

You still hadn’t stopped laughing when he sprinted back into the stadium again like his life depended on it.

Bonus

Miya Atsumu deleted all of the posts he made during his search for you the moment he added your contacts into his phone, but what he did not count was that there were other people who would preserve those precious memories for him.

It was a few weeks after he caught up to you in front of the stadium and several days after your relationship went public. Your friend had nearly torn your eardrums apart when they learnt that you were the mysterious person they had been hunting after but overall, dating Atsumu had been great, even to the point where you thought it was so stupid of you to run away from him in the first place.

You got a notification that someone direct messaged you on instagram as you were getting ready for a date night.

It was not someone you know but there was a verification mark next to his username. Clicking into his profile, you assumed that it must be one of Atsumu’s friends in the volleyball circle when you saw the line saying “EJP Raijin middle blocker”.

“Hi, I’m Suna, I was on the same high school team as your boyfriend was. I don’t think we have met but I’m sure we will be very good friends.”

Before you could manage to type out a reply, he sent you multiple pictures and you paused as they loaded, wondering what Atsumu’s old high school teammate might send you.

You blinked when the pictures finally finished loading, and silently dialed your boyfriend’s number.

“Do you have something you forgot to tell me about what you have done in order to try and find me online?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu imagines

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Professor Cavill, Sir

Summary: Professor Cavill keeps giving you failing grades on your assignments even though you are 100% certain you are a brilliant student. You decide to march down to his office and confront him.

Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Abuse of power, MaleDom / FemSub, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, creampie. (Basically all the good stuff)

A/N: While composing this post, I noticed I passed my 1500 followers. So first and foremost, THANK YOU, thank you for following, believing in me and sending me DMs. You are just as important to me. I’ll probably write a more emotional thank you post tonight. But just had to say something now 🥺

Thanks the anon who made this prompt request! And thanks @agniavateira for being my beta and muse.

I also recommend reading @ladyreapermc astonishing professor Cavil stories!!!

Title: Professor Cavil, Sir

You know you are a good student, you’re brilliant, even smarter than the airheads who harbour the classroom. Yet, Professor Cavill seems to have some sort of beef with you. He marches around the classroom, giving you cold stares and your grades are constantly dropping with each assignment you hand over.

Fine, he is beyond handsome and all the girls are soaked for him but damn, you hate this man with passion and you’ve had it. You wait one afternoon when the halls of the academy are nearly empty so you can march into his office and tell him exactly what you think.

You play the scenario in your mind for hours. You know exactly what you are going to say and how but the moment you barge into his office, your words melt into an incoherent cluster of yelling that don’t make much sense by the look on Professor Cavill’s face.

“I am a smart woman!!! You... you... you have no right!!!”

The professor crooks his right eyebrow, peering at you from an assignment he is browsing through. He seems unimpressed by your dramatic entrance, putting the paper on his desk and then finally gesturing for you to sit at his desk.

Heaving from the anxiety that’s about to burst your heart, you shut the door and take two strides to sit in front of him, feeling the blush burn from your cheeks down to your chest. It takes less than a minute for you to conclude that you are a meek, little fly that walked straight into the web of a big, hungry spider.

Henry laces his hands together, elbows resting on the wooden desk and his eyes seeking yours with a grin, which in your rage you only interpret as arrogance.

“Yes, you’re smart. You are the most brilliant student in my class.” he compliments, which does nothing but make the rush of blood escalate and flow ecstatically to your nether regions.

“But you don’t see much.”

You give a sheepish stare, feeling your ears burn in embarrassment as he gets up from his chair and shifts to half-sit on the corner of the desk, blocking your only way out. Somehow, the only thing that goes through your head is “fuck me”.

These words nearly roll on your tongue as you open your mouth, staring at professor Cavill’s god-like face.

“I...”

“Am I wrong?” he asks you, his fingers reaching beneath your chin, the soft pads of his tips bumping it up so your gaze will entwine.

“Tell me, do you wish to leave?”

“No,” you hear your own voice tremble as you answer.

A deep crease appears at his cheek as his lips stretch into a slanted smirk. His fingers leave your chin to remove his glasses and lay them on the desk. His eyes shine at you, glistening with lust. “What do you want then?”

Your lips part, heart beating through your throat. The tendon at your neck twitches, sure that he can see it too.

“I want you to fuck me on your desk.”

Henry’s icy glare travels upon the outlines of your face, studying each freckle carefully. No words come out from the man who speaks so greatly, his cold silence challenging, tiny sparks of panic waking at the back of your head.

What have I done?! Have I misunderstood his intentions? Was this just all happening in my mind?

You swallow the dry lump in your throat, about to open your mouth to a gush of apologies when Henry’s large palm lifts to ghost above your jaw. His thumb meets the plumpness of your lips and tugs at your bottom lip to dampen the pad of his finger.

"Such a dirty mouth you’ve got there,” he comments. His velvety British accent sends tremors to the walls of your beating core. The slightest of touch makes your panties embarrassingly moist, viscid against the petals of your womanhood. Shifting in the chair uncomfortably, the black knife-pleated skirt ascends and exposes the silkiness of your legs. Much of a treat to his famished icicles.

Saturated dreams of Professor Cavill kept you sweaty in the middle of the night, as any of the women attending his course. It wasn’t just his thick dark hair that curled at the edge and the criminally-sculpted cheekbones, nor was it that broad structure hidden underneath a buttoned-down blue shirt. It was his confidence, his stark charisma. Passion shimmered in his eyes when he spoke about wars throughout history and razed enemy cities.

Damn if you didn’t want him to destroy yours.

“Spread your legs, let me see you.” he demands, his voice deepening along with the shade of his gaze. No thoughts of protest come to mind. You obey, surrendering every will to his demand, thighs pressed open to each side of the wooden office chair.

Henry’s index finger rims your mouth from east to west, toying the red pillows of your lips and sliding the tip inside to flirt with your whispering tongue.

“Now, roll your panties down your knees.”

Cold shivers run through the sinew of your muscles like an electric current, making you spasm on the chair, unhidden from Henry’s satisfaction. He scoffs at your behavior, a small grin painting his chiseled jaw. You’re behaving like a virgin, all doe eyes and trembling knees. You’re certain he finds you pathetic to the point of humor.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you like a bad one.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers onto the elastic band of your panties and slowly pull them down to your knees. The cold air of the room hits the exposed groove of your body and you hiss at the sensation, throbbing with excitement and fright.

The bulge in Henry’s trousers appears to be threateningly large, the outlines of his cock winking toward your desirable image. You nearly bite his fingertip as your mind sinks into momentary fantasies of how specifically large his cock is beneath those cream-colored trousers.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t glanced at that region of his groin during his classes once or twice.

Henry reaches his free hand to lift your skirt and peek at your mound, his tongue flicking over the freckle of his bottom lips as he finds you sleek with arousal. The wooden surface is damp with your sweat and the smooth elixir of your cunt.

It makes him smile in a way that nearly makes you feel ashamed.

“Suck,” he orders and his fingers enter your mouth before you even choose to question. Shoving deep to challenge your devotion to him. Your tongue laps around skin and bone, cheeks hollowing out instinctively as you coat him with your saliva and hum at the sensation of having him in your mouth.

A low growl forms in the pit of his chest, loud enough to vibrate at your reddening ears. He is impressed by how submissive you are to his wanton, completely opposite to the way you’ve rudely barged into his office. When you woke up this morning you had every intention of showing him how little you think of him and his grades, and yet here you are, dripping on his chair like some shameless slut.

This is a dangerous ground; you’re treading on thin ice, but there is no will power strong enough to stop you.

From the moment you walked into this room, you were already his.

“Such a good girl.”

His fingers slide out of your mouth, glistening with your spit in the warm lighting of his cozy office. With shallow breathing and quivering lips, your fists grip the edge of the chair with fear while his fingers descend and disappear beneath your skirt.

A lingering gasp leaves your mouth as his fingers spread open your folds. Probing inside almost clinically, as a thing to be toyed with. His fingers push knuckle deep, exploring the warmth of your soaking pit and grinding in slightly to elicit pathetic little moans from your throat.

“You know how much I’ve longed for this?”

His thick baritone sends shivers down your neck as he leans closer to half-whisper against your ear. Small whimpers escape from your lips in response.

Henry slips even deeper, thumb ghosting over your yearning clit, mimicking phantom circles in the air in order to torture you. Begging, you attempt to push forward and grind at his fingers for more friction but you are answered with the scolding tick of his tongue.

“You’ll come when I say so.”

“Professor Hen…”

A pained hiss shudders through you, tiny creases forming at the corners of your eyes as you shut them tightly due to the pain that stings your scalp. Henry’s fist closes over your hair, tugging your head back to punish your disobedience.

Deep in the cells which survey logic in your mind you know you shouldn’t like this.However, your body tells a different tale: skin tingling, slit clenching around his fingers just from the rush of fear.

“I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” he murmurs in a husky voice, his fingers pumping slightly, curling within your succulent cavern to learn each of your vocal reactions. You are spasming around him as inch by inch he seeks inside you, obsessed with desire to find that one spot that will reduce you to nothing but a boneless being.

“Aww…” he coos at your teetering yips, his lips perched into a mocking pout as he sees the begging in your big, aching eyes. Holding the natural need of your body hurts, like molten fire, all pent-up inside. You can feel it coursing through each organ of your body, intensified by the hard shoves of his fingers. You’re nearly lifted from your seat by the force of his thrusts.

“You want to come, my sweet darling?”

“Please, Sir!” for a moment there you thought you were asking, but what comes out of your mouth is nothing but a humiliating whine. Aching inside, your fists numb over, your shaking legs get drenched with sweat as his hairy arm constantly strokes between your knees. Impassioned, he pumps into you back and forth, thrilled by the way you melt around his fingers as his tips tickle your most sacred pleats.

“You can come, sweetheart.”

The room goes black for a few seconds as pleasure takes the reins, railing you toward your orgasm with incredible force. A cluster of cries drains from your mouth. You’ve never had anyone deny your pleasure, not like this. The pain was harrowing yet the payoff makes you reach stars, your state of paradise was prolonged and for a moment, you float on air.

“Good girl.” Henry growls praises at you, his fingers sliding outside your convulsing cunt and slipping into his own mouth as he suckles on your honey. He lets out a hum, his tongue lapping over his fingertips while his eyes pierce into yours.

Still catching on your breath, you look at the professor, his face glowing as the sunset beams through the window, coloring his criminally beautiful face in gold and amber hues. There is a murmur dancing in your heart, still not believing that this man, who you spent lonely nights pining for, is about to put himself inside you.

Grasping your waist, Henry collects you with surprising ease from the chair, sitting your ass on his desk so harshly the mahogany surface slaps your naked ass. His hands press your legs apart as he moves to stand between them. You see the flames of lust burning in his eyes, as tough and authoritative as he is. Yet his lower lip still twitches with a wisp, desire weakening his roots.

You dare to touch him, tracing the shape of his jaw, dipping your finger in the strong dimple of his chin. Aggravated, he snaps your hand away, forcing it flat against the desk. He then grabs your nape, pulling you into a rough kiss that takes whatever control that was left to you. His tongue invades your mouth, a tinge of strong macchiato and cinnamon tickling your senses as your mouths play with one another.

You hear the metal clasp and the brush of leather as he unbuckles his belt and your eyes immediately fall to his groin, eager to finally see him.

Fuck.

Struck, you break away from his punishing lips, gaping at the vastness of his meaty cock. You clench your thighs around his legs, heart flinching just from the sight of it, intimidated and even frightened by the thought of him spreading your insides. A dry chuckle leaves his throat and his hand reaches to grasp himself, tugging his own pink cock and then slapping it against your cunt. He relishes the hisses and wet sounds that are produced from your pussy.

“Afraid you can’t take it?”

“You’re huge.”

You chew on your lips and moan as he slides the base of his cock between your folds smoothly, patronizingly, coating himself with your thick juices back and forth with an incubus smirk. “You know how amazing is your body, darling?” he asks and slides just the tip of his erection inside before pulling out and stroking himself against the length of your swollen lips once again. Feeble and pitiful you mewl with desperation, slouching your shoulders back, frustrated.

You want to beg but words won’t even meet your tongue.

“How much your cunt can stretch…” his words fall short as he groans with awe once his thick cock enters the narrow corridors of your slit. Inch by inch he invades, spreading you open in an agonizing pace.

Inarticulate sounds birth in your throat as his cock sheaths into your cervix. You are raw and taut, flesh throbbing furiously around his girth that fills you just right. He is thick and pulsating, enclosed by quivering velvet walls.

“Shhh…” he presses a finger to his lips and then to yours as broken moans run through your mouth.

Nodding, you purse your lips, swallowing a whimper that’s as a result of your sex throbbing together with eagerness. Henry kisses your forehead as a praise and pulls back slowly, leaving nothing but the head of his shaft, creating a sad empty void before plunging back in, achingly slow to the rhythm of your gasps.

You are fucked, in every sense of the word. The large man has a majestic hold over you; your organs don’t belong to you anymore, even your breath feels borrowed as Henry begins to pound you over his desk with guttural grunts. His hands latch beneath your knees, ramming into you like an ardent machine, yet not with a lack of style. Every pound edges you across the border of heaven, keeping quiet is nearly impossible and every cry that escapes you is punished by a hard thrust.

Your palms sweat on his desk as you flatten them behind you, your panties dangling from your ankles. Henry controls everything to the very last drop of your lust, fucking into you, slapping your wet pussy like an angry train with passionate speed.

Henry strokes all the right spots inside you, his thickness causing a trillion little spasms to sway from your apex.

Incoherent musings run through your mind; you want him to take everything, fuck you like a slut and empty his cock into your willing womb. He reaches the deepest part inside you and the most insidious thoughts take over your soul as you come undone. Your body jitters with the explosion of stars, your cunt tremoring tightly around him, demanding his rich offerings.

“I’m on the pill!”

You call breathlessly, still teetering on the strands of rapture as he twitches inside you in eager response. Henry stares at you surprised, his mouth agape as if in disbelief. He drops his gaze to where you are connected, staring at his cock sinking into your cage of delights. With his fists cuffed around your needs he slams into you ferociously, his balls thudding against your cunt with zeal, swelling and growling with bliss until he empties all of him inside you.

“Fuck!” Henry grunts, attempting to catch his breath. His sweaty forehead rests onto yours, his lips hovering, trembling at your mouth. You let your shaky hands cradle his square face, fingertips collecting droplets of sweat and smearing it down the lines of his cheeks. The powerful man who just dominated you is nothing but a gentle giant, swaying into your soothing touch.

There is a mess on his desk as he shifts away. His thick semen spills from your pummeled hole and you see the twisted pride in his eyes. You reach to slip your panties on, your chest beating angrily as you struggle to breathe.

“I hope you are not just doing this for your grades,” he warns as he zips his trousers back and leans against his bookcase, staring at you while you make a futile effort to fix your messy appearance. Your underwear is soaked with him and you dread the thought of walking home stained, smelling like sex.

“I am not a whore.” you answer, a tinge of anger at your throat. You wonder for a second if you are the only one and your heart sinks with fear, your head feeling slightly dizzy. “And you just admitted to fixing my grades so you could get me in this position, that’s the kettle cal..”

“I never said you are.” he stops you, running a hand over his hair and fixing an errant curl at the top of his head. His fierce stare searches for something in your soul.

“I’d like to do this again.”

You blink at him wordlessly, trying to figure out what sort of fantasy you just stumbled into. Obviously, there is not a bone in your body that wants you to refuse as you glance at the man of your dreams, offering you a suggestive grin.

Then it finally strikes you. You just entered a dirty bad romance.

___________________________________________________

DM me if you wish to be added/removed

#Henry Cavill #AU!Henry Cavill #Professor Cavill #Professor Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 15

A/N ...and a conclusion.

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

I didn’t move for a moment, frozen in stiff shock. That couldn’t be true. Jonah had been helping me this whole time…coming over when I called and helping me leave the state…

I slowly tucked the papers into a neat stack with realization and turned casually out the passenger side window, trying to wrap my head around what I just pieced together. I hoped it wasn’t true. I prayed to whatever God above that it wasn’t true. I felt like I was going to be sick. My wife was dead in the trunk of my car and the hand who did it to her was driving me two states over on the run. There was nothing around us for miles so it’s not like I could run for help if I wanted to and even still…would I want to call the cops on my best friend? He didn’t when we thought it was me. But yet, everything he ever said to be the prior twenty-fours hours had been complete lies to set me up into believing this trap.

He had been all too calm.

Jonah sang softly from beside me, the music playing quietly through the car as we drove down the desert highway. He had his sunglasses on and his hat, shading his face from the sun and from me. I couldn’t look at him without wanting to be sick with dread.

“Jonah.” I finally spoke shakily.

“Yeah?” he answered innocently.

I kept my eyes out the side window, curling the corner of the letter under my finger nervously as I fought with myself to confront him. My leg was shaking and I pressed my hand down on my thigh to try and calm the habit. He turned down the music and I could feel him glancing over at me a few times before focusing back on the road. I took a small inhale before whispering to the window, “You did it, didn’t you? You killed her.”

There was a silence. A suffocating tense silence that pressed down on my chest until I swear I was going to choke. The music turned off and the only sounds for miles was the desert winds whooshing past the car. I closed my eyes tightly and resting my fist against my mouth in anticipation for his reply. His hesitation only made it worse.

“Tell me the truth, Jonah.” I ordered as strongly as I could but even I could hear my voice shaking. “What was this letter about?”

Jonah’s hands gripped tighter to the wheel and I heard him let out a strong sigh, “She just blocked my number.”

“Why did she block you?”

A pause.

“Jonah.”

“Because I was in love with her, bro.”

That certainly got my attention. I whipped my head around to look at him, eyes furrowed in his direction, “The fuck do you mean you were in love with her?”

“I loved her. And you were a shitty fucking husband, dude.” Jonah tisked. He adjusted the blue cap on his head, “I could have treated her so much better than you and I told her that but she didn’t like that.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I processed the information my best friend was telling me. I turned back out the window and watched the desert speed past us along the empty highway.

“But did you kill her?” I repeated my initial question.

There was a pause.

His silence was my answer.

“You did.” I breathed.

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Don’t freak out? Jonah, what the- what the fuck-”

Jonah huffed as if I was being a complete vexation. God, dear reader, I didn’t know what to think. I tried to form some sort of response, some sort of sentence to figure out why to did it but my lungs had abandoned me and I could only muster a few random panicked words.

“Why- I just- You- She- I- Why- Why did you- Oh my God- Jonah-”

The car slowed down as Jonah pulled onto the dusty dirt shoulder of the freeway. I glanced back at him as he put my car in park and got out, his jaw clenched stiffly and his face stone. I watched him step to the back door and he tugged his bag towards him before shuffling through it and right to the bottom. My chest was heaving with emotion and I swear I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Neither of us spoke.

And I especially didn’t when I saw the pistol he pulled from his bag.

He slammed the backdoor and walked around the car to my side, angling the gun right towards me through the window, “Get the fuck out.”

I froze.

“Get the fuck out of the car, Daniel.” Jonah repeated darkly.

My trembling hand found the handle and I stumbled out of the car and into the hot desert heat, the papers dropping to the floor of the car and the two cell phones and the denim jacket tumbling out onto the hot sand. The buzz of insects could be heard faintly in the distance between the dry patches of grass that dotted the landscape behind Jonah and beyond the paved highway. I raised my hands up slowly, not taking my eyes off my best friend and the gun in his hand.

“Jonah…” I spoke slowly, cautiously.

This had to be a fucking dream.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.” Jonah said darkly, his voice shaking with emotion.

“We can work something out.” I assured him quietly, now just trying to save my own life.

“Shut up.”

I swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to my cell phone that had fallen beside the feet in my haste to get out of the car.

“Don’t.” Jonah lunged forward and I gasped as he grabbed my arm and yanked me around so he was standing between the car and myself, giving me a shove away. His aggression made me stumble over my feet and the slight decline off the side of the highway shoulder and I fell backwards on the desert ground.

Have you ever joked around with your best friend about loving them so much you’d take a bullet for them? Cruelest twist of fate of my fucking life.

I stared up at Jonah from where I was splayed out on the ground, staring into the end of the pistol and the reflection of my own face in his sunglasses.

“I loved her.” Jonah said sharply. “I loved her more than you did.”

“Jonah…”

He cut me off, “I-I told her not to marry you! I told her you’re too in love with music to give a shit about her but she didn’t listen. I had to prove it to her so I sent you all that work to look over on your honeymoon. I’m not a fucking idiot, Daniel, I could have done it myself; but she had to see that you would put her second to your work if it came to it. Dumb woman didn’t even care. Not even when I met you at home after your flight and spoke to her in the studio that night and gave her all the proof that I loved her more than you.”

Jonah tisked distastefully and shook his head.

“You fought so loudly in there I could have sworn it was over…that you two were over…but she told me that she…that she loved you more than anyone in the whole goddamn world no matter what and I could never come close.”

I felt my chest tighten at that, tears choking me up in the back of my throat as he spoke of her last words and her last moments.

“We could have been happy together, she and I. I could have given her a nice fucking life. I fucking hated seeing her with you…especially seeing how fucking miserable you treated her. So I told her…if she didn’t want me, she couldn’t have anyone.” Jonah said through his teeth. “And she tried to run. And she set off the security alarm but I am the only other person outside of your family who knows the code to turn the alarm off and delete the tapes. It’s her birthday. Of course, I was going to remember her fucking birthday.”

I tensed at his confession, feeling the rough sand and heat of the desert burning through my skin and my clothes as I laid under his control.

“I knew where the knives were. I had this plan for weeks…ever since she first blocked my number before the wedding. She had one last chance to change her mind…to be happy with me and she blew it. And she begged for her life. And she cried for you. And I watched her sweet face fall into the hands of death like an angel.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that fell from my lips.

“Then you came out. You heard her scream so you came to check on her but I couldn’t let you see me so in the shadows I knocked you out on the side of the piano and left you there, setting up the perfect scene to make it look like you did it with no traces of my own. No security camera tapes, no unfamiliar fingerprints, nothing. And I could have gotten away with it if you…if you weren’t so…so fucking persistent.”

The pistol was trembling in his fist, still directed right at my face.

“Jonah.” I breathed shakily.

“My name is still clear though. You’re the only one who they’re looking for right now, especially after you just told Corbyn she was dead…Jack knows too. The cops are probably tracing your phone right now. They’re probably on their way to lock you the fuck up right now.” Jonah licked his lips and took a breath, “But you’re gonna talk.”

“N-No I won’t.” I rushed out. “I swear I won’t. W-We can set up someone else…we can figure it out, Jonah, I promise.”

Jonah cocked the gun and I scrambled a bit farther back over the coarse sand, scraping my skin over the gravel in my futile attempt to get away.

“Jonah, please, bro, I swear I’ll help you. I-I forgive you-”

“I don’t need your forgiveness.” Jonah walked down the slight embankment to where I was dropped back over the ground and he stood right over me until the sun was blocked by his body and cast a shadow over me.

He was my best friend in the world, my business partner, and we had gone through most of our lives together but looking at him in that moment, I didn’t even recognise him.

“Jonah.” I spoke slowly, cautiously, licking my dry lips under the scorching heat of the desert sun. “Please, bro. Please…we can work something out, I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up, Seavey.” Jonah snapped loudly, his voice nearly echoing across the vast expanse of bare land around us. He dropped his volume as if he was convincing himself, “Fuck it. At least this way I’ll get your shares of the label and a clean slate.”

He was breathing hard as he moved closer and stepped on my hands to keep me from moving, the toe of his designer shoes pressing light indents into the back of my hands as he pushed them against the rough ground. I leaned away from him and the stare of the pistol habitually, praying for any sort of miracle. The freeway was perfectly empty and there wasn’t a car in sight but my own. There was no way out of this.

I let my gaze linger on the closed trunk, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fall at the image of her tucked up like a science experiment in the equipment case. The dust was burning my eyes but I didn’t doubt that the drop that finally trickled down my cheek was an honest heartbroken tear.

If she cried for me, I was going to cry for her too.

“What a Romeo and Juliet love story.” Jonah spoke, his voice dripping in taunting darkness, as he bent down slowly over top of me.

The cold metal of the mouth of the pistol touching my forehead instinctively made my eyes close tightly. The pumping of my heart echoed in my ears and the scorching desert sun dripped sweat down my brow to mix in with the salty perspiration of fear.

“Daniel Seavey killed his wife…” Jonah pressed it harder there, enough to make a whimper fall from my throat, “and then killed himself.”

What do you think of in your last moments? People often say you see your life flashing before your eyes or you see a bright light but, for me, all I saw was Avalon.

Nearly twenty-four hours since I found her. Nearly forty since she died on my studio floor alone and in fear. My world died that night and the only positive that I could possibly reach for was that at least I wouldn’t live in a universe without her for too long.

And yet, thrown there on the side of the freeway with my best friend holding a loaded gun to my head, all I could think about was her. I could hear her laugh and feel the warm of her skin and I couldn’t wait to see her again; to be able to stroke her soft hair and smell her sweet perfume and to be able to tell her how much I really did lov

-(The End)-

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#🔪#im scared to post this #im second guessing everything #maybe this is stupid #daniel seavey #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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heejinnien · 3 years

Text

p.jimin | lie

word count: 2.1k words

pairing: jimin x reader

synopsis: there is a thin dichotomy between reality and delusion.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: implied major character death, prison, vivid description of gore, reference to murder, implied/subtle sexual innuendo

author’s note: this is the second piece for the wings anthology! this is another horror fic, and i didn’t realize it was over 2k words ksjfjgsdf. the keep reading cut is at the beginning like my last few works since this fic gets right into it

link to wings anthology

cross posted to ao3 here

Beneath the silhouette of your eyelids, you see red.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s blood, painting the white walls of your imagination and coating your nose with the tangy smell of copper and iron. It coats your hands, too, a dark, angry shade of crimson that makes your stomach lurch. No matter how hard you scrub at yourself, the fluid remains.

Among the throes of your panic, it takes a moment for you to realize that there is someone else in the room with you. Instinctively, you know who it is, heart pounding. He is facing away from you, laid on his side, and you take a tentative step in his direction.

“Jimin?” When he doesn’t respond, panic seizes you. You scramble as fast as you can in his direction, the discomfort of your hands stained scarlett long forgotten. When you reach him, you drop to your knees so fast that the impact sends a jarring impulse through your body. You quickly roll him so that he is facing you, and let out a guttural scream.

Where Jimin’s throat should be, there is a visceral, gaping hole. Blood pours out of the wound, coating your arms and knees with the thick, vermilion shade. Jimin’s eyes are open and glassy, wide and unseeing. You shake his shoulders furiously despite the crimson ichor spraying everywhere, splattering your face and chest, grief spreading through your veins like an icy current.

“Jimin,” you sob, your strength giving out until you collapse, body hunched over that of your lovers.

You wake up with your heart pounding in your throat, furiously scrubbing at your hands. You quickly reach for the lamp on your bedside table, yanking the chain hanging down so hard you almost pull the lamp off. In the lamp’s waxy lighting, you examine your hands, turning them over and searching signs of blood.

Beside you, you feel the bed shift, and strong arms wrap themselves around you. Jimin gently strokes your hair, covering your trembling hands with one of his own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers. He stays like this until your breathing evens and your racing heart can slow to a strolling pace. “It was that dream again, wasn’t it?”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. You revel in the warmth that Jimin’s presence provides, blanketing you in a cloak of reassurance. You wish you could stay like this forever, wrapped within the warmth of your love.

Cold seeps under the edge of your comforter, sending a shiver to wrack through your body. A cocktail of unease and wrongness fills your stomach, and Jimin’s arms tighten around you.

“Hey, everything will be okay,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you whisper, unable to describe the feelings inside you.

“Go back to sleep,” Jimin says, gently shifting himself so that you are lying beside each other once more. He leans forward, gently kissing your lips. What should feel right instead feels so wrong, his lips ice cold against yours. “I’ll be here to protect you from the nightmares.”

It’s not me who needs protecting, you think, closing your eyes and letting darkness devour you.

When you open your eyes, Jimin is gone. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes to clear the haze that settled upon them in your sleep. You had slept dreamlessly, feeling more fatigued than before. Your fingers seek out Jimin’s side of the bed, reaching for him before you can even form a coherent thought, but they are met with cold air.

“Jimin?”

You sit up, and that’s when you realize that you’re not in your bed.

Instead, you’re resting upon a thin cot sitting low upon the ground. A thin, cotton blanket covers you, and metal bars and grey, concrete walls greet you. Panic fills you, and you quickly throw off the mediocre blanket, rushing to the bars and pressing yourself against them, looking for anyone who can answer your questions.

“Hello?” You yell, banging your fist against the metal bars in the hopes that someone will hear you. “Is anyone there?”

“Shut up.” You leap back in shock as a man rounds the corner, standing on the opposite side of the bars. He is wearing a blue, button down shirt and black pants, and around his waist is a black belt.

It’s a cop, you think, relief flooding you. He’ll be able to answer your questions.

“I’m sorry, but, there must be some mistake,” you say quickly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The man laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “Sure, and I’m supposed to be on Mars.”

He turns, muttering under his breath about deranged criminals. Desperation seizes you, and you lunge forward, reaching your hand through the bars in an attempt to stop the man from leaving.

“Please, I’m not supposed to be here.” You grab the man’s sleeve, ignoring his shout. “I’m sure my husband is wondering where I am — ”

Before you can finish, the man is grabbing your wrist, twisting it painfully. You let out a yell as he yanks it, causing you to lurch forward and slam into the bars painfully. He leans forward, hissing angrily.

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of delusion you’re under, but you’re in prison, just in case you haven’t figured that out already. You’re here for murder, and if I were you, I would be really careful about my next moves. Never touch me again.”

The man releases your wrist angrily, throwing it towards you and causing your hand to smack violently against the metal bars. You let out a hiss as he turns, stalking away.

The pain quickly fades to the back of your mind as you ponder the guard’s words. You rub absentmindedly at your quickly reddening hand. Murder? You aren’t capable of that. You need to find Jimin, he’ll tell you what’s going on.

You retreat into your cell, pacing anxiously. You need to find someone who will believe you, you think, so that you can sort this whole mistake out.

You don’t have to wait long. Another man wearing a similar outfit to the first slams on the bars of your cell moments later. You jump, freezing and staring at him. The man laughs, inserting keys into the lock on your cell door.

“Who are you?” You demand, voice shaky.

The man laughs, picking up on the tremor in your voice and giving you a cocky smile. “My name is Hoseok. I’m sure you’ll get really familiar with it.” He winks, and disgust fills you. You step back as he swings the door to your cell open, cocking an eyebrow at your actions. “Don’t make me come in there after you, sweetheart.”

You dread having him drag you out of the cell more than you do being near him, so you slowly walk through the cell’s door. Your curious gaze darts all around, taking in the rows of cells around you and the long hallway. You are so preoccupied you don’t notice Hoseok’s actions until you hear a clicking sound, and the cold weight of handcuffs around your wrists.

You whirl, glaring at Hoseok, and he does his best to give you an innocent shrug. “Standard protocol,” he says in defense. “Don’t want another repeat of earlier, do we?”

You flush at his reference to the guard earlier, and he chuckles, taking one of your arms and guiding you down the hall. While most of the cells around you are empty, a few are occupied, and several curious occupants stare at you as you pass. You walk faster, eager to escape their stares, and Hoseok matches your pace, bemused.

You turn right, and he guides you down a nearby hallway, pausing in front of another barred door. He releases his grip on you long enough to fumble with his keys and unlock the door, pushing it open with his hip and pulling you through after him.

On the other side of the door is a small room. A table rests in the center, and seated at it is a kind looking man. Hoseok leads you to the table, pushing you unceremoniously into a chair and chaining your handcuffs to the table. He leaves promptly after, the slamming of the door signaling his disappearance.

There is a slight pause, and the man stares at you, silently assessing you. You shift uncomfortably, the chain binding you to the table clinking, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

“Y/N,” the man finally says, resting his hands on a manilla envelope in front of him. “I’m Dr. Kim, but you can call me Namjoon.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I’m here to assess whether you are menally competent to stand trial.”

Alarm rings within your head. “Trial for what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Namjoon remains silent, staring at you as if assessing whether or not you are lying. Finally, he speaks slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“What’s your last memory, Y/N?” He asks, staring at you in a cautious way that makes your skin prickle. You wrack your brain, attempting to formulate an answer.

“I was coming home from work.” Namjoon nods, and you continue. “I had just got home, and I was kicking my shoe off when I heard voices in the kitchen. I investigated, and I saw Jimin with another woman.”

You swallow, throat dry, as you remember the intense flash of anger you had felt. You’re not sure why, and you assume there must have been a reason you felt angry. While you speak, Namjoon slowly opens the manilla file, reaching inside and placing papers from within facedown on the table. When you pause, Namjoon stares at you again, silently assessing.

“What were Jimin and the women doing?” He asks, voice probing.

“I, I’m not sure — ” You stutter, brows furrowing. The memory is hazy, and you close your eyes, chasing after it.

“He had his back to me,” you say slowly, piecing together the memory. “And she — ”

Your eyes fly open as the memory comes rushing back to you. Namjoon stares at you, face unreadable, and you force yourself to continue.

“They were making out,” you whisper softly, staring at the table in front of you in denial.

In the table’s reflection, Namjoon nods, every action clinical and professional. “Did that make you angry enough to murder him?”

“What?” You snap your head up, indignation filling you. “Of course not.”

Namjoon hums, noncommittal. He reaches for the first paper he had set down, flipping it over and sliding it towards you. You reach for it, picking it up

And promptly dropping it, horror filling you.

In the photograph, your husband lies on the kitchen floor, in full color resolution, dead. Where Jimin’s throat should be, there is a visceral, gaping hole. Blood pours out of the wound, coating your arms and knees with the thick, vermilion shade. Jimin’s eyes are open and glassy, wide and unseeing.

“No,” you say, shaking your head adamantly and squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the press of reality. “It can’t be.”

You hear a rustling sound, and you know Namjoon has slid another photograph towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, and you hear Namjoon sigh.

“Open your eyes, Y/N,” he says. His tone is commanding, forceful, and against your will you open your eyes.

You are met with another bloody photograph. This one is of a woman. The woman you had seen with Jimin. Like Jimin, her throat has been torn out. Unlike Jimin, there is a similar hole where her heart should be. Her eyes are wide in horror, and blood stains her hair.

“You did this, Y/N,” Namjoon says simply. His voice is quiet, but it’s as if he spoke in a yell, his words piercing you.

“No,” you say, vehemently. “I couldn’t have.”

“Yes, you did,” Namjoon says, forcing you to accept the terrible truth. “You murdered your husband when you saw him having an affair, and then you murdered the woman you saw him with. The police found you with the knife still in your hands.”

“I — ”

You let out an inhuman wail and lunge towards Namjoon. You are stopped abruptly by the chain handcuffing you down, and Namjoon watches you with pity filled eyes as guards quickly rush into the room, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you back as you scream, the sound one of heartbreak and anguish as the reality of your actions crashes down upon you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Namjoon whispers, a tear sliding down his cheek from your pure anguish as you are dragged from the room.

taglist: @chubsjmin

#lie #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #bangtansilverclub #jimin x reader #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts fic #bts #bts x reader #angst #horror #wings anthology #bts wings #bts wings anthology

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grimbeak · 3 years

Text

Pt 2/the aftermath of Mistakes.

Tws for this drabble- attemped suicide (sort of. no one actually gets hurt), discussions of suicide/self-harm attempts (neither suicide or self-harm are directly mentioned, but it’s obvious that that’s what the characters are talking about.), and descriptions of a panic attack/mental breakdown.

let’s continue.

Mistakes- pt 2

Jay had lost his friends the other ninja somewhere in Ninjago city, dissipating his dragon halfway through the chase and hiding in an alley for a few minutes.

After he got out of the city, he had flown to Stix- didn’t take too long when you were flying, surprisingly.

And now he stands in front of Ronin’s shop, wondering if it would be rude to simply phase through the door.

He looks down at the water slapping against the poles below him.

He could just jump in.

Jay knocks, eventually, and it takes a few seconds for Ronin to answer. When he does, he’s holding a sword. For some reason. “If you’ve come about the stolen gold, I swear, I didn’t do anyth-” his eyes land on Jay. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Jay fidgets where he’s standing. “I’m assuming you already know about what happened on the island?”

Ronin nods, not setting down his sword, but lowering it. “Mhm. Few tribe members passed through here a couple weeks ago- I managed to drag the story out of ‘em.”

“Great,” Jay says sarcastically, “so everyone knew what happened before I did.”

“Yeah, I guess- wait, knew?” Ronin narrows his eyes. “So you know.”

“That I went insane and tried to kill my fri- my team? Yes. Yes, I do. That they then killed me? I also know that.”

“...Good for you,” Ronin says slowly, leaning his sword against a cabinet. The duo stand there in silence for a moment until Ronin sighs, stepping back inside and holding the door open. “It’s gonna rain soon,” he notes, glancing up at the thickening clouds. “You coming in or not?”

Jay hesitates, looking up at the gray sky.

It would be so easy to stay out here and just burn.

The wind whips up around him as he finally steps into Ronin’s shop, the first few droplets of rain darkening the wood.

It’s... less messy than the last time Jay was here, but it’s still full of probably-stolen items. Ronin directs him towards a chair near his desk. “Here. Sit.” Jay obeys, plopping down onto the chair and drawing up his knees to his chest. Ronin wanders over to the door, locking it (probably so the police can’t get in.) before going back over to the counter, where he drags a chair out and sets it a few feet away from Jay’s. “So. What happened?”

Jay takes a moment to look at an only mildly-broken clock hanging in the corner of Ronin’s shop. It took him about three hours to get here, considering he had to walk through most of Ninjago City. “I,” he starts, “overheard some... things. On purpose.”

“Ah. Eavesdropping.” Ronin gives him an approving nod. “Well done.”

Jay looks at him.

“Sorry. Go on.”

So Jay tells him.

The Aeroblades are in the left corner of the room, around ten feet away from where he’s sitting. They’re lying on the second self from the floor.

“Well,” Ronin says eventually, “that sucks.” He eyes Jay warily. “So why’d you come here, anyway? Seems kind of a weird place to run away to.”

Jay shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea,” he lies. “They won’t... the others won’t think to look for me here. With all the water and all. I just need some time to think, anyway.”

Ronin eyes the singular window in his shop, looking at the rain pouring down onto the docks. “Well, you have plenty of that. And, if you want, I can just tell them you’re not if here if you come by.”

“You’d... you’d do that for me?”

“I mean I’m stuck with you until the rain lets, which, in this place, can take hours. Maybe even a day, if we’re lucky.” His tone is sarcastic, and Jay offers a weak smile. “‘course you can stay here, kid. Just don’t touch anything.”

“...Thanks,” Jay whispers eventually, turning to stare out the window.

Idly, he wonders if the rain would be so kind as to redirect itself through a hole in the roof and spray directly onto him.

The rain, being inanimate, doesn’t reply, and instead keeps doing what rain does best: falling.

***

Ronin knows the kid didn’t just come out here to hide out. He could’ve done that anywhere- the mountains, someone’s house (he can turn invisible, right?), or even a crappy store somewhere in Ninjago City.

But no.

He chose Stix. Specifically, Ronin’s shop in Stix.

And Ronin thinks he knows why.

Jay is... definitely not in the right state of mind at the moment. And for a good reason- your friends indirectly telling you that they were forced to kill you in self-defense after you tried to kill them and raze your home has gotta mess you up.

Ronin locked the door to his shop so Jay wouldn’t go outside to purposefully disintegrate himself (now that he thinks about it, the blue ghost can go through walls.... still, he tried).

But Ronin has other items in his shop. Some of which, unfortunately, are used for taking out ghosts.

Which is why he’s not at all surprised to see Jay holding an Aeroblade as Ronin comes out from the back room.

“Jay, put it down.” The blue ninja jumps, nearly dropping the weapon as it starts to phase through his fingers. He catches it, though, being careful not to touch the sharp bits. He turns, and Ronin can see his eyes.

Wide and wild.

Scared.

This isn’t going to be easy, is it.

“Jay, please put the Aeroblade down.” Ronin’s voice is calm, despite himself, and some part of him wonders why.

“I don’t-” Jay’s voice is shaky and unstable, and Ronin mentally prepares himself for the worst in a few minutes. “I could just- I could-” His hands are shaking too, Ronin realizes.

“You had a chance a few hours ago,” Ronin says slowly, “over the water. And even now it’s still raining. You can phase through walls, can’t you? So why this? Why now.”

“I- I’m-” Jay hesitates, for a second, breath still coming out in short, tiny little gasps. “It’s- I don’t- I don’t want to hurt them.”

The other ninja.

He’s scared that he’ll lose it again and try to hurt them.

“Well,” Ronin starts, “the first thing you did after finding out what you did was run here, right?” Jay nods, warily, and Ronin continues. “If you were going to hurt them, then wouldn’t you have done it back at the temple? You ran here to protect them from you. Or,” he adds after seeing Jay’s hesitate expression, “you came here to protect yourself from them.”

“It was- I- it was both, I-I think,” Jay manages, breath calming slightly. His grip on the Aeroblade is still tight, though, and if his fingers weren’t a shade of green and see-through, Ronin thinks they would be white from squeezing the weapon so tightly. “I don’t- they killed me.”

“I know,” Ronin whispers, stepping closer. Jay lets him, although he does pull the Aeroblade slightly closer to his chest- the spikes are pointing at various walls, though, not at the ghost boy, so that’s good for now. “I know they did, and they shouldn’t have, even if you tried to hurt them. They should’ve tried to contain you, not kill you.”

“I hurt them, too.”

“It wasn’t your fault- you weren’t thinking straight.” Ronin hesitates, for a moment, thinking. “Didn’t the tribe pull some voodoo stuff on you? That would’ve messed anyone up, even me.”

“Yeah,” Jay whispers, “messed up my head. But- but they had a lot to work with, I mean- the feelings that my team didn’t- doesn’t care about me, the feelings that I was abandoned by my parents, my real parents... I had those already. ‘s not like they put those thoughts in my head when they were messing with it.”

“That’s still OK. Kid, from what I’ve seen, your friends treat you like crap. Even if they’ve been trying to make up for it, that still doesn’t excuse their actions. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do anything wrong, though. But you weren’t in control of yourself for most of it, and... ‘sides. Power corrupts even the best of people unless it’s handled carefully.”

“Yeah.” Jay looks at the Aeroblade in his hands. “...Zane was being controlled in the Never-Realm, once. Evil staff. Evil henchperson. He froze a lot of people.”

“Ooookkkk.” Ronin’s gonna have to ask exactly why the heck these kids haven’t gotten therapy yet. “So, you and him have something in common, then. You’ve both been controlled by forces you couldn’t stop. Maybe you should try talking to him about it. When you’re ready, of course,” Ronin adds quickly. “I don’t think the rest of your guys have the brain cells to come looking here.”

Jay doesn’t respond, but he does allow Ronin to step closer. Ronin reaches for the Aeroblade. Jay hesitates, drawing it worryingly closer to his chest, but eventually lets the other man take it, setting it down on a table beside him.

Ronin takes a moment to look into the kid’s eyes, which are suddenly welling up with tears and oh there’s a child in his arms, isn’t that weird.

(He remembers why he was so calm, now. He’s done this before.

Maybe this time, the kid will live.)

Jay’s arms are tight around him, and Ronin freezes before letting him bury himself in Ronin’s coat, muffled sobs cutting through the soft pitter-patter of rain outside.

Do tears burn ghosts?

Maybe, but Ronin’s not entirely sure that Jay wants it to stop.

Jay’s obviously not concentrating hard enough for Ronin to be able to touch him at the moment, so he settles for awkwardly patting the kid’s shoulder while trying to stop his hand from going through his body.

Maybe... maybe this time, things’ll be OK.

***

It’s nearly four A.M before the ninja come knocking on Ronin’s door.

Jay’s been asleep for almost six hours now, passed out on the couch in the back room. Ronin’s not sure how much longer he’ll sleep, but hey, at least he’s not having any nightmares.

Ronin, however, has been awake for nearly twenty-four hours now, and he wants to gouge his eyes out. Even thieves need a good nights rest.

(He doesn’t want to admit that he’s staying awake in case Jay has another breakdown. Ronin just can’t sleep because of the rain. The rain that’s been lightly sprinkling for about an hour now. The rain that no one can hear from inside. That rain.)

The rest of the ninja, presumably, are standing outside the door, exhausted and soaking wet.

Ronin opens the door.

The rest of the ninja are standing outside the door, exhausted and soaking wet.

“Hello,” Ronin says.

Kai, who has apparently no idea what manners are, asks immediately, “Is Jay here?”

Ronin narrows his eyes, pulling the door slightly closed. “And what are you going to do if he is?”

Kai opens his mouth and gets nudged by Zane, who gives him a stern look like ‘remember what we talked about’. Kai, re-opening his mouth after a moment, says awkwardly, “We’re just going to talk to him. About... how we should have told him what happened on the island. And we’re gonna apologize, for, uh, killing him.”

Ronin considers this, and eventually the door open the rest of the way. “It might be a while before you can apologize,” he says, and adds upon seeing Kai’s confused face, “don’t wake him up.”

He leads them into the back room, where Cole immediately, for no reason other than seeing Jay asleep on the couch, goes ‘awwwww’. He is instantly shushed by Zane. Nya, however, studies her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend? Ronin’s not invested in all these relationships.) before going; “Is he using your coat as a blanket?”

Ronin, clearly not wearing his coat, glares at her. “No.”

Lloyd studies the sleeping ghost for a moment. Finally, he says, “How long has he been here?”

Ronin bites his lip, beginning to herd the team out the doorway so Jay doesn’t wake up. “Around... half a day now. Since yesterday, at least.”

Kai thinks about this for a moment, like he always does when he has to think about things that are ridiculously easy to understand. “And what was he doing here, exactly?”

They’re all back in the main shop area, now, and instead of answering directly, Ronin walks over to the table and the shelf and hands Kai the two Aeroblades that remain in the shop. “I think you should take these.”

Kai takes one as Cole takes the other, the fire ninja looking up in confusion. “What, is Jay gonna hurt us- did you hurt him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then who-” Kai trails off as he thinks for a moment. His eyes widen. “Oh,” he whispers. “Did he- I mean, was he...”

“He tried to,” Ronin says simply. “He wanted to. I talked him out of it, though.”

“God,” Kai whispers, staring in horror at the weapon in his hand. “Thanks.”

“There’s another thing I wanted you to talk about.” Ronin pulls out the chair Jay was sitting on earlier and sits down. The ninja have nowhere to sit. Ronin doesn’t care. “I have... a house. Up in the mountains.”

Cole narrows his eyes. “Is it your house or someone else’s house.”

“...You don’t need to know the answer to that right now. Anyway, even if Jay wants to talk to you guys, I doubt he’ll want to live with you for a while until he gets his head on straight. So, he can come to the mountains with me for a while- I need to stock up on some rare items only found up there, anyway. Plus, we’ll be away from all the... water.”

“Isn’t snow made of water?”

Ronin looks at Cole. “Did snow affect you when you were a ghost?” Cole hesitates, then shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Wait,” Kai interrupts, “Jay has parents. Can’t he stay with them instead of some thief in the mountains for a few months?”

“Have you told them about his situation?”

Kai hesitates. “We told them he was dead.” He goes quiet. “We, uh, forgot to tell them he was back as a ghost. I think he just assumed we told them at some point.”

...This kids are all idiots. “You’re all idiots. Jay can stay with them if he wants to, of course. Just a suggestion since you guys won’t know where we live and won’t come to bother us every two days.”

“Oh.” Kai considers this. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Ronin stands up (and pretends not to notice Cole immediately stealing his seat), sighing. “You guys can either come back in a few hours or sleep on the floor, I don’t care.” And with that, he walks off to the back room where Jay’s still fast asleep.

(Later, after they come back, the ninja will find him asleep on the opposite side of the couch. He’s sitting up fast asleep, sword having fallen to the floor a while ago.

He looks peaceful.

And Jay does too.)

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kukukape · 3 years

Text

Richard Malik x Operative: The Whistleblower

This the first time I've posted a fic in a while, but I'm excited! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 😊

Tags: @simping-for-sandayu-oda @luciewarrenx3

•••

Richard had to admit, he'd come up with more... enjoyable plans than this one. He grunted as the Albion thug's knee collided with his stomach, again. Wanker was enjoying this way too much.

His eyes flicked to the camera ever so subtly. Not that the bastard would've noticed, he was too busy trying to decide which way to assault Richard Malik next. But he could see it moving around a bit sporadically, as if its operator were trying to get his attention.

And even in the midst of great pain, he had to fight a smirk. Things were already going accordingly.

"U-ugh!" He grunted as the Albion guard pulled him up by his hair and punched him in the face.

Welp, time to fall back into character.

"I-I'm not who you think I am, I-I swear!"

A slap across the face. Backhanded. Richard had to admit, that hurt his pride more than it did his face.

"You're Malik! A SIRS officer and a leaky fucking twat!" Richard, with his forehead resting against the cold concrete, found himself wanting to smile at his own notoriety.

Malik. That name carried weight in SIRS. In London's infrastructure of justice and security. This scared, begging persona wasn't him. This was a choice.

He was a spy. Slippery, and willing to relinquish his true character for his mission.

His breathing quickened with faux fear as the Albion officer picked him up by the collar, bunching up his silken silver tie amidst the action. "That's not me, I s-swear to god, please- PLEASE-"

---

Angel's heart nearly stopped when Bagley cut the feed. "Fuck…" she whispered. She had half a mind to curl up on the curb and let a grey gloom consume her, but Bagley was too much of a dick to allow that.

"Fuck is right! And fucking dead is what he'll be if you don't hurry," he said in his not-so-robotic deadpan.

Dead. Murdered. Killed?

All words and possibilities that resonated with Angel. She took a deep shaky breath, squeezing the steering wheel of her Atterley. "Drop a pin please, Bags," she said.

"I already did, while you were having a little panic attack."

Instead of meeting his snark with her own, Angel kicked the car into gear, speeding towards the construction site. From first gear to third, then sixth... and she was skidding to a stop by the sidewalk before she knew it.

Her optik buzzed as someone got onto comm. It was Brian, the team's most senior hitman. "Scope the place out before you go in. This could be a trap for all we know, so-"

The soft patters of a silenced P9, followed by two separate cries cut Brian off.

"Angel! Bagley, what's she-"

"She's storming the place like the baboon cousin she is!" Bagley exclaimed, "You know for a spy, she's rather uncovert." Which only said the absolute least.

The bodies were shrouded before the spy moved on, picking off another soldier just as they were turning the corner. A bullet between his eyes before he even knew he was in danger, and cloaked to make his death even less apparent.

Pressed against a corner wall, Angel took her phone out and let the news drone above become her eyes. "Bagley, help me find him," she said urgently.

"There's a closed off room in the back. Try there," he said. Angel jumped from camera to camera, her heart squeezing a bit every time she didn't see Richard.

Just when she was about to crack her phone in her grip, she saw him. Wrists tied, on his knees, gaze trained on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.

Angel knew this picture of him. Years ago, in a dirt-floored cell where they huddled together for just an inch of warmth. The image made her shudder, so forcefully mentally that she did so physically too.

She flinched again when Brian came over the comm. "Alright, there he is. I suggest you take out the rest of the guards before you go in," he said.

From soldier, to spy, and now to soldier again. Angel nodded as she squeezed the hilt of her gun. "I'll get right on it."

---

Richard chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at the floor. He could feel a pair of eyes on him once again, staring through that same metal lense. He didn't dare turn to look, didn't dare break character.

Until he heard the camera screech, as if it wanted him to turn. And, flinching in surprise, he did.

He looked at the camera, wondering why the DedSec operative who'd come for him wanted to make their presence so known. Richard eyed the camera for a moment, searching for something deeper beyond the blank, metallic lense.

Of course, he found nothing. But just the notion of the operative- who he was all too sure was finally here- trying to communicate you're safe, it's okay, made him want to chuckle.

He gave the camera an acknowleding smirk, and ever so slight tilt of his head.

"AHH!" A soldier just outside screamed.

Richard's head whipped around again, and he heard some indecipherable yelling, along with the heavy footsteps of Albion-approved military boots. Somebody was obviously getting their ass kicked outside, because he only heard one person grunting in pain as limbs connected with their target.

Then silence.

He never really liked the quiet. It meant that nothing was happening, and for Richard, something always had to be happening. He couldn't predict quiet. Couldn't scheme it, outsmart it.

Thank god it didn't last long, before the metal door squealed open and quiet footsteps pittered in.

Richard kept his gaze down, as would a man currently fearing for his life. He'd been that enough times to know how to imitate it.

The 'fwoop' of a knife unsheathing made him flinch genuinely. But a steady, smooth... familiar voice eased him.

"Easy. It's just me," she said. Just me, she said. As if he were supposed to know her.

And he did. Oh lord, he did. And the mixture of fear, anger, regret, and happiness in him was too genuine for somebody so used to lying in the face of everyone short of his mother and father's graves.

The fearful part of him was scared to turn around and look at her as she cut through his restraints easily. But he didn't have a choice really, as she walked around and kneeled in front of him, cupping his face with both hands and searching for any injuries to his visage.

Richard was a confident man. Strong, assured, and decorated from head to toe in awards that highlighted his ingenius.

But he looked like a dumb fish in that moment, his mouth slightly ajar and eyes wide.

"…Angel?" He asked softly as her calloused fingertips subconsciously brushed across his brow, stretching down to touch his jaw.

---

"That's my name," she said dryly as she searched his face, looking anywhere but his eyes. Her hand reached into the pocket on his shirt, where she knew he kept a handkerchief. "Hold still, you look horrible," she said. Not that a handkerchief was gonna fix that, but whatever.

She wiped blood from his jaw, and the bits that had gotten onto his cheek. She chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep more words than necessary from escaping her.

I missed you.

Are you okay?

I know this is a farce, so what are you playing?

All reasonable, but Angel couldn't utter any of them. Because Richard Malik, her friend for all of their youth, her partner in war, her lover for that one night back in college, was right in front of her.

She raked a hand through his hair, which was as close to saying I'm glad you're okay as she was gonna get. And he grabbed her wrist gently.

Brown eyes met a lighter shade. Both of them soft, affectionate, and untrusting.

"You're Dedsec," he said it firmly but quietly. Looking for confirmation. Hoping she'd say no, she just happened to be walking down the street and decided to shoot up a restricted Albion area for shits and giggles.

But she nodded. And a pride she never had while working at SIRS shined in her eyes.

Angel helped him to his feet and cleared her throat. They clearly weren't gonna do the whole "So what've you been up to the past six years?" thing, so she spoke first, "We got the call from you. What was that all about?"

A look of shock passed over Richard's eyes. And Angel could tell what he was thinking. Probably wondering where that smile she always used to greet him with had gone.

But he remembered himself quicklyc straightening his tie with a nervous hand. "I'll upload the intelligence onto an anonymous FTP. You can sort through it-"

"No, I want to hear it from you," Angel cut him off rigidly.

Richard inhaled as his whole "My name is Richard Malik, herdyderdyder," speech was thrown out the window. "I believe I've discovered who Zero-Day really is; rogue SIRS officers from the CT unit who then framed Dedsec for the TOAN bombings."

"Men working under you?" Angel raised one elegant brow. "I always got the impression the CT unit was always fiercely loyal," she commented.

And back to the games they went. This time, for the first time, against each other.

He let out a humorless laugh. "You know how good I am at making enemies," he said, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait, Richard," she said quickly. Angel's hand shot out to grab his arm. He looked down at her in surprise.

…Down at her.

Since when was he so damn tall? And handsome…

No, no, stop it, monkey brain.

"I…" Angel's jaw moved uselessly for a moment, before she simply yanked him into am embrace. Richard made a surprised sound. Way too many surprises for one day for him.

But this one, he could tolerate.

Hesitantly, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders while hers linked around his neck tightly. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and he could smell the shampoo drifting from her hair. "It's… good to see you again, Angel," he said quietly.

Angel chuckled once, before inhaling sharply and slowly pulling away. Out of his reach once again.

"We'll, uh... check out the info," she said, nodding before moving to step by him. But she paused by the door, then reached back over to him. Richard watched dumbly as she fixed his silver tie, straightening it back up and patting his chest twice. And she smiled.

"You grew up nicely, Richard," she said, before slipping out the door.

Richard stood there dumbly for a moment, a thousand different things racing through his head.

But the one thing that stood out the most was the fact that his plans had definitely just been shaken.

~end~

#richard malik #watchdogs #watch dogs legion #wdl #give this man a GOLD STAR #for being HOT #richard malik x oc

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starglossie · 3 years

Text

two ducks in a pond

renga bday fic for the girlies <3 rating: g for general audience baby! summary: reki realized he couldn’t call himself langa’s bff if he didn’t even know his birthday. so he goes: “hey langa when’s your bday” and langa goes “oh. today.” and reki’s like “haha rad... HELLO? HELLO WTF? HELLO?” and thus, a bday party is planned <3 what are the vibes of this fic? bday cuteness, some pining, some asking sk8 dad joe for advice, some reki being so in love with langa it’s ridiculous, some first kisses hehe.

can also be read on ao3 and below the cut.

Reki sniffed, ripping off another piece of bread and chucking it into the group of ducks below in the pond. “Yo, Langa?”

“Huh?” Langa grunted. He tore a piece of bread for himself before throwing one down to the ducks.

“Stop, that’s for the ducks!”

“I know. But I’m hungry. We can share.”

Reki rolled his eyes and nudged Langa with his shoulder. “I’m convinced you have, like, ten stomachs.”

“Fourteen.”

“Anyways! My question,” Reki leaned closer, noticing how Langa always allowed him into his space. And, in this moment, how he always allowed Langa into his. “When’s your birthday? I realized we never talked about that!”

Yeah it was a random question but Reki was curious. He’d grown close to Langa in incredibly quick fashion but the simple things! He had no idea when his best friend was born and that was utterly unacceptable. This had to be changed immediately.

Langa ate another piece of bread. Chewed. Swallowed. Stared distantly into the horizon before turning back, quickly. His eyes widening a fraction in surprise. “Today.”

“Oh ok!” Reki accepted and then shuffled back a bit until his answer really hit him. “EXCUSE ME?” and he’s right back. All up in Langa’s space. Nearly onto his lap as he gripped Langa by the shoulders and shook him several times. “What do you mean today? Hello! Hello, why did you not let me know this sooner!”

Langa, still unphased by the bomb he dropped, answered in his same, even tone that’s quickly driving Reki up a wall. “You never asked.”

“What do you mean!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!”

“I forgot, honestly.” Langa explained as if forgetting his birthday was the same thing as forgetting where you put your tv remote. “Ah, but my mom said I shouldn’t stay out too late. Since she wants to celebrate. Something small.”

Reki felt himself age several years. Tired, but determined, he pinches Langa’s cheeks instead. Ignoring the “ow ow ow!” Langa made every time he pulled. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I can’t believe I didn’t know until now! I have to get you a present.”

“It’s not a big deal, Reki.” Langa said, patting Reki’s hand that held onto his cheeks. “I liked spending time with you today. That can be your present.”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Reki released Langa’s cheeks. He stood up and kicked up his board, grabbing it and holding onto the end with his hand. “You go home and celebrate with your mom! I’m gonna go prepare something! Something epic. Something totally rad!”

“I was already going to do that…” Langa frowned. “Reki, seriously-”

But Reki was far too stubborn and ridiculously determined to make things right. Logically, he knew that Langa didn’t care. How would Reki have known today was his birthday? Not his fault! But that didn’t matter. Not to Reki. Not when Langa, who was so far from home, who made Reki’s world a little more colorful and bright and… no. He had to. He couldn’t go to sleep in peace tonight knowing he hadn’t done something for Langa.

Reki kicked off onto his skateboard and turned around, “Keep your phone on ring tonight, ok? Cause I’m gonna call you later! Don’t forget!” with a wave, he kicked off. Chucking the last pieces of his bread into the duck pond.

Langa watched Reki skate off, then turned with a sign. Back to the pond as the ducks happily descended upon the discarded piece of bread. A small smile grew on his face. As color rose to his cheeks. He shook his head and threw his last piece of bread too before heading home.

“JOE! I NEED-Oh,” Reki stood at the door he opened (without knocking mind you). Eyes wide as he stared at Joe and Cherry. Joe with his arms around Cherry’s waist and Cherry’s gripping Joe’s shirt as the two stared back at him. Lips red. Cheeks flushed. “I. Can’t you do that at home?”

“Kid can’t you knock ?” Joe laughed. But there’s no real heat to his words.

Cherry on the other hand gripped Joe’s collar harder before pushing him back. “You said the door was locked, you beefhead!”

“I said I thought it was locked.” Joe’s laughter grew louder even as Cherry gripped him up ready to throttle him.

It’s not like Reki was surprised to see Joe and Cherry mid make out… he always wondered. But to actually see that happen in real time-he cleared his throat. Cheeks still hot. Willing his mind to not take that one step further considering what if that were him and Lan-

“I’m sorry! Next time I’ll knock.”

“There won’t be a next time!” Cherry howled.

“Yeah ok,” Joe rolled his eyes. His arms wrapped around Cherry’s waist. With a tug, he turned him back into his arms and rested his chin rather boldly on to his shoulder. “We’re not exactly subtle. It was about time someone found out about us. Reki,” Reki jumped to attention, clutching his skateboard. Joe grinned, “Whatcha need, kid?”

“Too close!” Cherry growled, attempting to break free at the same time as Reki responded, “Uh… right! Right! Today’s Langa’s birthday. So I wanted to ask a favor!”

“Oh?” Joe said. “What’s the favor?”

“I was wondering if we could like. I dunno. Make him a cake! And, uh-have everyone come by! Shadow and Miya and Oka… just everyone!”

“That’s pretty last minute. Your breath is gross. Stop breathing on me, Joe!” Cherry pushed Joe’s face away who only laughed and held him tighter. He huffed, seeming to give up on breaking free from Joe’s hold anytime soon. Reki held back the urge to laugh because Cherry’s temper was foul and Reki did not want to be at the receiving end of that anytime soon. No that could 100% go to Joe.

“I don’t think it’s impossible,” Joe said. “But the cake’s gonna take a few hours. Less, if I have some help.”

“I’ll help!” Reki was already setting down his skateboard by a plant and rolling up his sleeves. “I’m pretty good around the kitchen. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Loving the enthusiasm. Cherry, be useful and text Clowny, Shortstack, and Oka, yeah?”

“Who do you think you are bossing me around, huh?”

“You’re so cheeky you know that? Would it kill ya to just listen to your elders.”

“We’re the same age!”

“I’m bigger-”

“Ok!” Reki jumped in. “Party. Langa’s birthday. FOCUS!”

Joe detached himself from Cherry-much to Cherry’s visible appreciation and Reki’s well… he’s just happy this is working out better than anticipated. Joe made moves towards the kitchen and told Reki to follow him while Cherry grumbled, pulling out his cell phone to make the necessary calls.

It was a very last minute plan. And by pure luck alone was Reki able to get the gears going. His heart raced, imagining the end goal. The restaurant filled with Langa’s friends and the cake and maybe they could get some juice! Reki could make a playlist while they baked. And Langa. He hoped he could see Langa smile.

The thought made Reki’s heart squeeze as he slipped into the apron Joe handed him.

“Alright kid,” Joe smirked, tying the knot for his apron behind his back. “Let’s get to baking.

“And… finished!” Reki wiped the imaginary sweat from his brow as he placed the icing down. The words, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANGA!!!, were neatly drawn onto the cake in light blue icing. It had taken all but 30 minutes and complete concentration but Reki was nothing if not a perfectionist.

“Looks good, kid.” Joe leaned over to inspect the cake. Baking it took about an hour. Decorating it another forty five minutes or so. Meanwhile, Shadow, Miya, and Oka had arrived with some decorations. Shadow refused to have a birthday party that did not have a banner, streamers, or some sort of fun confetti.

“You can bake, slime?” Miya had asked when he popped his head back into the kitchen to see what was happening. “I thought you were just a skatehead. Who would have thought you could do more than one trick, slime.”

“Slime this, slime that, but when everyone gets a slice of cake but you, we'll see who the slime is then!” Miya only laughed.

What mattered was that the cake was finished. He pulled out his phone to check the time and saw that he had two missed texts from Langa. One was a photo his mom took of him in a party hat eating cake with his same absentmindedly pleased expression. The next was a text from about ten minutes ago: rdy whenever for whatever u have planned.

Reki zoomed in on the photo of Langa eating cake, a goofy smile curling onto his lips.

Joe peeked at the smile. Untying his apron, humming. “You got it bad, kid.”

“I!” Reki started, his cheeks coloring to nearly the same shade as red as his hair before deflating. His smile is not so goofy but warm, complacent. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” No use fighting what was, to Reki at this point, inevitable.

He’d been this way ever since he saw Langa fly amongst the fireworks.

Joe smiled in sympathy, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I get it. You gonna tell him tonight?”

“Uh… I, dunno?” his eyebrows furrowed. “I hadn’t really thought about telling him… at all really.” He thought about what would happen if Langa didn’t feel the same way. If their closeness was just a matter of sharing a secret, born from forced proximity, and nothing more. He liked their friendship. Loved it.

Wanted to protect it and cherish it till the day he died. Langa was his best friend. He finally had someone he could share what he loved with. And never had Langa made him feel silly for being so excited over skateboarding. He embraced it all-his theoretical jabber, his hype over nailing a move, his joy over building and designing a skateboard. All the things he desperately wished to share with someone, Langa took it all without question and gave back all the same.

How could he not develop feelings? It still didn’t make much sense to him. He’s never really liked someone romantically before-especially not this strongly. And never a guy. But Langa was… Langa. And that conclusion was so simple and settled so firmly in Reki’s heart, there couldn’t be any other answer.

But he’d rather eat dirt than lose Langa and his friendship over unreciprocated feelings.

Joe seemed to read the confusion and warring feelings on Reki’s face. Because he ruffled his hair again and gave it a good pat before heading back towards the front of the restaurant. “No worries. You don’t gotta rush it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

As Joe’s about to leave, Reki stops him. Text message thread with Langa still opened because he hadn’t finished replying yet. “You and Cherry. How did you-Did you confess?”

Joe folded his arms and got lost in thought for a few minutes, “I think so? It was kinda messy. We were arguing one second, calling each other names, and then the next minute we were kissing.” he opened his eyes and grinned, “Pretty on brand for us though. I’d recommend not arguing with Snow before you confess.”

Reki snorted, “Yeah… ok.” he looked back at his phone and fired off a text.

b there soon! keep the hat on :P

“Wow you actually wore the hat.”

Langa’s eyes shot upward. He poked the point of his hat while Reki snickered. “You told me to.” he said with a frown.

“Haha, I know! I know. It looks good,” picking up Langa was quick and easy. Langa’s mom was near tears when Reki popped up at the door to take Langa out for a surprise.

“Langa you’re growing up faster than your mother can keep up!!!” she pressed her tear stained cheeks against Langa, who had a tiny blush on his cheeks despite his near vacant expression.

They took their boards to the streets after that was the only way to go around. And were walking up to the front steps of the restaurant now. Reiki’s heart rate kept escalating with each past second. Sudden doubt washed over him. What if this was lame? Or Langa didn’t like it? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought everyone together and they should have just skated off to see the sunrise or something. Or maybe he should have-

“You ok, Reki?”

Then Reki took one look at Langa. Blue party hat and all. Looking concerned with the way his lips pulled into a frown and his eyebrows knitted together. Reki’s heart burst, but for completely different reasons now.

“I’m great,” Reki smiled brilliantly. All his nervous energy gone and replaced with giddy excitement. “Here, no peeking.” He stepped up behind Langa, covering his eyes with his headband. “Don’t take it off until I say so!”

Langa gave him two thumbs up.

With a nod, Reki pushed open the door and gave everyone a finger to the lips to be quiet. His heart kept pounding, because the restaurant looked really good. The decorations were simple, with some candles and lights strewn. Balloons blown up and a giant banner that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SNOW!” with the yeti from Langa’s board painted crudely on it. How they managed to do that in such a short time, Reki couldn’t even wrap his head around. But it looked good. And there was this indescribable pool of warm curling at the bottom of his stomach. He hoped Langa liked it. No, he hoped Langa would love it.

“Okay… and… go!” Reki pulled off his headband and took a step back.

“Happy birthday, Langa!” everyone cried out. Standing around the table that was set with Langa’s birthday cake on it.

Reki threw an arm around Langa’s shoulder, and grinned. Electric and vibrant. “Hehe! Surprise!”

Langa didn’t say anything for a minute and in that minute Reki thought he was going to go through the several stages of grief and depression all at once. But then Langa smiled. It was brilliant. His eyes widened in the same way they did when he flew in the sky, or landed a move. He turned to Reki, eyes still wrought with surprise.

“You did all this… for me?”

“Of course! Is that even a question?”

“Slime got us all together so we could celebrate,” Miya said, cat’s smile in place.

“Now why didn’t you tell us sooner your birthday was today, Snow? You really that far out in outer space you can’t remember what’s down below!” Shadow asked.

Joe snorted, “Snow’s got nothing on the brain but skating and food. I’m not surprised.”

“Not to rush the moment but I’m starving. Joe, start serving the food like you’re supposed to.” Cherry said.

“Huh? Is this your birthday party now? Are you in charge here? Is this your restaurant?”

While the two started going at it Oka went ahead and lit up the cake. “Come over and blow out your candles while those two flirt it out.”

“We’re not flirting!” Cherry yelled at the same time as Joe said, “This is not how we flirt-” which was a lie.

Langa seemed overwhelmed. In a good way? Reki hoped. But he walked over to the cake and they all sang happy birthday off key and not a lick of tune to be found. Langa laughed and blew out his candles. Reki took 300 photos alone of the blowing, the cutting, and the eating of cake.

The night went on with the adults busting out the drinks and the kids having juice! Sparkling juice, because it was a fancy affair and such matters called for such things. Of course. Reki kept looking at Langa to gauge his expression. He was happily eating cake while Miya was showing him a new mobile game he was into.

“You can make food?”

“Out of everything I told you, that’s what sticks out?”

“I think it’s cool…”

Reki laughed behind his glass, sitting off by the bar while he watched. This felt right. And good. And it was wild how in just a few months his whole life had changed since Langa entered it. He wondered if Langa felt the same. That their lives had turned completely upside down in such a short amount of time. Now here they were, hanging out in a restaurant after hours with people who Reki may not have ever gotten to know if things had panned out differently.

“Reki.”

Reki looked up from his glass. Langa was staring down at him, face blank. “Sup? Having fun?”

Langa nodded, “Yeah. I was going to step outside for a bit of air. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah sure!” Reki put his glass down and the two headed outside. They sat down on the steps of Joe’s restaurant. Shoulder to shoulder. Knee to knee. The streets were quiet. Not many people were out and about. But through the door Reki could hear the makeshift sounds of their friends chatting and distinctively, Cherry’s yelling (most definitely annoyed at Joe).

“You okay?” Reki asked after a few minutes of silence.

Langa hummed. “Yeah. I’m okay. It’s… a lot. But good. I’ve never spent a birthday with so many people before. So this is, new.”

“Yeah? Well I’m glad you could get to experience something new! And that it was good. Everyone jumped in ready to go once I told them it was your birthday.” Reki put his head in his arms resting on his knees, smiling softly up at Langa. “You’re really loved.” he said quietly.

Saying that word out loud didn’t really hit, and probably wouldn’t hit for Reki, until much later. But something shifted in Langa’s eyes. Something bright, and before Reki could ask Langa had moved forward. Dipped his head down so their lips brushed just a measure.

Reki gasped into the kiss. His eyes wide. Langa pulled back, his cheeks burning with the same vibrant intensity as Reki’s.

“Thank you.” Langa said softly, in English. He wrapped his arms around Reki, hugging him close.

Reki forgot how to breathe in that moment. Forgot what it was like to see stars in the sky when all the stars had conglomerated in his vision. Dousing Langa with such bright light, he was nearly supernova. Reki moved on impulse. Gripping tightly onto the back of Langa’s shirt. Holding him for all he was worth and then more.

“Anytime.” Reki whispered fiercely. “ Anything for you.”

They pulled back, but only slightly. Never fully dislodging from the embrace. Reki brushed back some hair from Langa’s face. “The hat looks good on you,” he said cheekily, poking the tip of the hat.

Langa huffed, “It’s just a hat.”

“Yeah, but you look cute.” Reki smiled even more at the smile that got him. Then, because the little barrier between them was dissolved, Reki slipped in for another kiss. A few more kisses. Several pecks, at the most. “Happy birthday, Langa.” he whispered after they parted.

Langa pressed their forehead together, smiling softly. “Yeah. Thank you.”

#renga #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #langa hasegawa #reki kyan #my fics

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Note

Before you read; I'm aware this concept I wrote is sort of vague, but thats because its still got to go through some finalizing. Once its finalized it'll be a whole lot more clear what the hell is going on.

The "woman" in the story is named Samaria Bronwen- the "man" I've yet to name but I'm thinking on naming him something like Ein or something. Idk yet.

The Empress is Empress Elisabet Arabella Vesper of the Vesper Empire who was the last ruler of the Vesoer Empire before it collapsed.

Samaria and (for now I'll just call the "man" Ein) Ein are the ones responsible for Elisabet's death and the collapse of the Vesper Empire into a 200 year long succession crisis that endd with the creation of the Mariah Empire and Vesperian Mafia State.

Samaria and Ein both have a major savior complex, and Ein was the one who put the (highly impressionable 21-year-old girl without a childhood and lack of real idea of what is right and wrong though she cared little for all the rules and laws in the world restricting stuff like murder and crime in general) idea of him and Samaria becoming the saviors of the Vesper Empire into her head.

Samaria is 4 years younger than Ein, whose 25, and by the time they murder Elisabet Samaria is 24 and Ein is 28.

Due to red often being associatd with romance (and evil though its usually whn its alongside black) thats why Samaria has a lot of red in her design. The purple eyes are meant to represent her savior complex and the pink hair represents her innocence that was destroyed by Enin.

For this I got inspired by the song "Escape of The Witch Salmhofer". Feel free to look it up because its really good but since im on mobile rn and theres no draft option for asks I cant link it because I had o copy paste the story below.

Above is a picture of Samaria (that I actually completely shaded and stuff this time oofers).

A woman corrupted by a dangerous love;

Believing her love to have the best of intentions, she became his accomplice in his murders.

A man who was the original "root of corruption";

He was a murderer with "good intentions" who wanted to end the chaos.

The story of the fall of the Vesper Empire on the continent of Theda-

Began with the love story of two corrupted people.

A woman who knew no love, no happiness,

Held captive since her birth, she was experimented upon, her flesh violated,

She was not a true human, she was a simple experiment.

Never being able to enjoy her childhood, living in a cell,

She could only scream as knives pierced her flesh daily.

An artificial life created by the seeds implanted into her mother,

Fertilized with the intents of her captor,

Her wishes never mattered to the man she was supposed to call "father".

But one day her captor was murdered,

And she was rescued by the murderer.

The man extended his hand,

And without hesitation, she grabbed it,

Her desire to escape this "evil" laboratory being the only thing she wanted-

And she was then led away by him into the abyss of "evil".

They became a fugitive couple running across the country murdering all who they deemed "evil".

But just what is "evil"?

What is true "evil"?

For her answer, her rescuer defined "evil" as-

"Malicious intentions".

But the woman who never had learned what "evil" or "good" was simply did not understand...

"I love you!"

A woman who did not know love, who didn't know what was good or bad,

Nor did she ever care for such fickle words;

She didn't care if people called her lover "evil",

Or if now she had become "evil",

For, to her, he had rescued her from a life of pain,

He had been her angel,

The man who had rescued her from her "evil" father,

And now she would be able to live with him forever.

That was her wish,

And nobody could take it from her now.

Teaming up with the mafia to take down the woman whom they viewed to be ruining the country,

They now aimed to murder the Empress herself.

The ice queen who ruled this empire consumed by snow.

This was now what her lover, and thus now her, wished for.

It was time to release the empire from the weak grip of the Empress who did nothing to ease the chaos.

The fugitive couple would become the saviors,

That was the wish they together formed.

Now,

All that was left was to do just that.

The assassination war that had been going on for the last several decades,

A war that cost the lives of hundreds of politicians and government officials and only put the empire into a greater state of chaos,

It was time to end it all!

This chaos this country has been consumed by,

Blinded by love, the woman chose to follow her lover,

She was now "corrupted".

But to her, this was the right way to go.

Now she was a fugitive,

But she cared not for such a title.

A witch,

That's what she was now called,

An "evil witch".

Did she care?

Not at all.

The ice extending from the hands of the woman consumed the palace in a snowy frost.

The man infiltrated in search of the Empress.

The palace was swarmed and set aflame.

The evil fugitive couple enacted their plan.

the citizens who had been suffering did not even dare stop them.

The guards were overwhelmed,

The servants fled in a grand display,

The Empress looked on from her balcony,

She knew,

She knew this was the end.

and-

She wasn't scared at all.

She didn't even fight for her life.

Her neck would then be slit.

And there her life ended.

House Vesper's 6,000-year reign in the Vesper Empire was now over.

The fugitive couple reunited at the bottom of the stairwell,

And shared a kiss in victory.

An evil couple who murdered all in their way,

They believed their evil ways were helping.

But all it did was launch the empire into chaos.

The evil fugitive couple-

A woman who had been saved from her "father",

A man who believed he would save the country,

An evil couple who believed they were now "saviors" who had freed the country,

Their act of evil would change history forever.

As always, your style of painting and lighting is very dynamic and adds a level of depth to the canvas that one should never ignore or discount because it's so somber and yet... sincere. There is just this whimsical and magical element to it that makes you drawn to the centerpiece and the one helming the story.

This one made me choke up a little because there is just so much to the story of trying to hold on and survive.

#mod kait #not mm #littleghostlyrose #ask

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lorei-writes · 4 years

Text

Masamune x Polish!MC

Thanks a lot to @datenoriko for suggesting this and for @nad-zeta for writing hers (VERY INSPIRING, SERIOUSLY, GO CHECK THOSE OUT) headcanons :D Here’s my version. I wrote for Polish MC in particular, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful and there’s a lot of historical nuance that I could butcher otherwise.

[Note from future Lorei: This is honestly very stupid and I cannot believe I didn’t write it when I was 15, geez.]

Content Warnings: profanities, kidnapping, pain, injuries

Background information & notes:

Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth was partitioned by Habsburg Austria, Kingdom of Prussia and Russian Empire. As the result of annexations, the country disappeared from the world maps for 123 years. I will not go into detail about how the situation of Polish people was different in each of the parts, since that’s besides the point, but well - keep in mind that it did differ greatly. One can argue that the marks of it are still visible today, both in infrastructure, architecture and language.

I was born in the South-Eastern region of Poland and as such, that’s where I’d like my MC to be brought up.

MC is in no way representative of how each and every woman from Poland is. I tried to write her based on the women of my family, my friends, classmates, basically - the people I’ve seen and spent my time with.

I will not include anything religion-related, although it is a thing that’s present in lives of everybody (even atheists) here (to be more precise, Catholicism). Why? Because it is a very controversial topic, one of huge complexity.

... There will be profanities, because I love my Polish swearwords - and CURSE YOU ENGLISH. WHEN I YELL THE CURSE I WANT TO SOUND LIKE A FREAKING FERAL ANIMAL

Broken English in italics = broken Japanese.

There will be a dictionary at the end, so don’t worry.

Masamune

Upon meeting her, he did not understand anything she said - well, none of them did. However, she did rescue lord Nobunaga - a funnily dressed foreigner that seemingly didn’t speak Japanese couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Yet she still was thrown into the dungeon. In his mind, that was the perfect opportunity to investigate on his own.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Masamune sneaked into her cell. Soon, his blade was on her throat. “ Who are...?” he started, but was instantly cut off by her yelling: “ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” He stood there, staring at her. Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face.

Was she suggesting that he was insane? Hah, that certainly was some lass. He laughed loudly and gestured for her to follow him.

Well, it certainly took some explaining, but in the end, she got a job as one of the maids. After all, you hardly need to understand language to sweep the floors and do the cleaning.

However, she... Didn’t exactly fit in. Not just because of her weird mother tongue - she was taller than most women and not exactly petite. Appearance wise, she resembled the Portuguese missionaries, but that wasn’t exactly this either.

Masamune came around to “bother” her at times. To his surprise, she started to picking up the basic words by herself. Sometimes, she’d point an object, say something (presumably the name of it in her language) and wait for him to do so as well.

One day, she did just that while cleaning the floor of a veranda. “ Chrząszcz.” It took a second to register. Was that really a word? “ Chrząszcz,” she repeated, staring at him. Right, he had to reply, otherwise she’d never stop. “ A beetle.”

Later that day, he tried to pronounce the word. He couldn’t do it. Actually, he started thinking that she was making it all up.

That, however, changed once he heard her sing. Unaware of his presence, she continued working, the song filling the air: “Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem Wielki żal ogarnął mnie Po policzkach łzy spłynęły Zrozumiałem wtedy, że Czarny chleb i czarna kawa Opętani samotnością Myślą swą szukają szczęścia Które zwie się wolnością”

To his delight, she started speaking broken Japanese within a couple of months of her stay at Azuchi. Finally, he could satiate his curiosity - or at least he planned to.

She went out to do the shopping in the afternoon, but didn’t return after the dusk. Thinking something bad must have happened to her, Nobunaga issued a search. Masamune volunteered to lead it.

She woke up with a start, her head throbbing. She looked around - where was she? It seemed to be a tiny hut of sorts. She got up, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside through the crack in the door. A man was guarding it. Did she hear a river? Whinny of horses? She had to escape - she search for cracks in the walls, until she found one. She recognized that armour. They were looking for her! She had to make some noise!

She yanked at the door, but it didn’t want to give out. She banged at it with her fists, yelling: “ Tutaj! Ratunku!”

The kidnapper didn’t understand the weird language, so he didn’t react at first. However, once the heard the approaching horses, he decided he had to silence her. He got inside the hut and gripped her by the wrists, telling her to shut up.

To his surprise, she struggled against him, breaking free of his hold on her.

He pinned her arms to the wall of the hut, threatening to hurt her if she even squeaked. “ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” she yelled, before headbutting him.

Surprised, the man didn’t react instantly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she kicked him hard.

It didn’t exactly work, though. Infuriated, the man wanted to punch her - yet, he didn’t notice the rescue that had just arrived. Masamune stopped his fist in the air.

Masamune didn’t see her in the couple of the following days, as they all worked to find out who was the person behind her kidnapping - and why was she even considered a target in the first place.

When he finally met her, he was stunned. Her entire forearms were covered in bruises in the shade of deep purple, almost black. He lifted her hands up, saying: “ I’ll check you up for wounds. Wounds. Check. You.” To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled brightly. “ Boli, znaczy że żyje. Hurt mean alive.”

It dawned on him then - he never really saw her smile before. They were complete strangers, but he wanted to know more.

With the language barier in place, it wasn’t exactly an easy task. Granted, she could understand simple sentences - yet, it wasn’t enough. Masamune was up to the challenge and so, he asked her to teach him her language.

Given the grammatical cases that influenced form of both nouns, adjectives and numerals, he soon started regretting his choice. The nouns had gender? Two future tenses? And what was up with all those ch-h, rz-ż, u-ó pairs that sounded exactly the same, but somehow weren’t interchangeable? Not to mention how some words seemed to consists exclusively of consonants. Rybołówstwo? -wstwo?

“ Okay. Your turn. Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć.” Masamune blinked fast. “ It was the same word over and over again, right?” “ Nope. Maybe w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie?”

It seemed she tried to torture him. Though, having her laugh, even if at him, made him feel warm.

One day, he was taking a stroll and heard her voice. This time, however, he understood the words she hummed to herself. “ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, Dziwne ona ma maniery. Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “

“Where do you come from, if you sign about war like that?” he asked. “ Can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m mad.” “ Try it either way.” “ You see, future. But I can’t say wars aren’t a thing anymore. Sadly.”

After that, they spoke for a while. Apparently, her grandparents were both in partisan army. She grew up hearing their stories - or much rather, what little was said about the horrors of the war. What surprised him, though, was her request.

“ Will you teach me how to use a sword?” “ A sword? Why?” “ I can’t be helpless. I have to adapt.” “ That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

She certainly was a curious creature, one with a will to survive. She was amusing... Although sometimes she did find a way to get on his nerves.

“ I am NOT cute.” “ You are. You have lisp and can’t say “r” like little child that can’t speak good yet.”

Dictionary & Notes:

“ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” - “Are you all fucked in the damn head here?”, although not exactly. The Polish version doesn’t entail anything that could indicate any connection to psychological disorder or madness. Both “kurwa” and “pojebało”(pojebać) are swear words that would be translated to “fuck”. Recently those words lost a bit of their shocking effect, but if you ask me - you still don’t want your mother to hear you saying those. Under any circumstances. Direct translation would be “Are you all fucking fucked up here?”

“Chrząszcz” - a beetle. However, can we appreciate the nasal “ą” sound and the fact that it’s the only vowel in the entire word? Apparently, it’s hard to pronounce for foreigners :D

“Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem /Wielki żal ogarnął mnie /Po policzkach łzy spłynęły /Zrozumiałem wtedy, że //Czarny chleb i czarna kawa /Opętani samotnością / Myślą swą szukają szczęścia /Które zwie się wolnością” - lyrics from song, you can listen to it here. “ When I opened my eyes/ a grief overwhelmed me /Tears run down my cheeks/ Then I understood that // Black bread and black coffee / Possessed by loneliness / Keep searching with their thoughts for happiness/ name of which is freedom” (excuse the translation, I wrote it myself). I don’t listen much to Polish music, but this was somewhere around ever since I remember - I think many people would recognize it? Plus, the theme of freedom seems to be rather common one.

“ Tutaj! Ratunku!” - “Here! Rescue me!”

“ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” - “ Fuck, kiss my nose.”; There’s another version of with, “pocałuj mnie w dupę” (kiss my ass). This one is more polite? Less crude? Either way, it means “I’m fed up with your bullshit.” Note: weźże is an verb derived from “weź” (to take) by adding a particle “że” at the end. Said particle indicated irritation and frustration. Construction weź + do something (weź idź na spacer - go on a walk!) is basically an order/ a request said with some level of irritation.

“ Boli, znaczy że żyje. “ - “If it hurts, it’s alive.”/ “If you’re hurting, you’re alive.” ; that one isn’t exactly universal, but it was a huge one for me. I always heard it from my grandparents and aunts.

Rybołówstwo - ... Fishing. When pronounced, it’s “rybołóstwo” - we still have a cluster of consonants here, but it’s easier to deal with.

“ Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć. “ - “During the racing event the racing car got ahead of the racing car number six.”; tongue-twister If you were wondering,the adjectives are in bold. The crossed out word is the predicate of the sentence (the verb).

w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie - in Szczebrzeszyn a beetle can be heard from the reed; tongue-twister.

“ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, /Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. /Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, /Dziwne ona ma maniery. /Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, /Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. /Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, /Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “ - song lyrics you can listen to here. Lao Che is a band that I think plenty of younger people interested in rock music will know. “One and two, one and two / The girls is named little war / Three and four, three and four / Strange are her manners / Five and six, five and six / She doesn’t want to eat ice-cream at all / Seven, eight, seven, eight/ She just keeps begging for bones.” ; All the songs from this particular album (Dzieciom - For Children; yes, it’s for adults that used to be children) are stylized to resemble a rhyme for children - at least in the lyrics and at first glance.

A note: Japanese and Polish “r” are extremely different. Japanese “r” resembles Polish “l” sound a lot - and many children can’t pronounce “r” at first, exchanging it for the “l” sound. In other words, Masamune speaking Polish would have a really hard time due to his slight lisp... And he’d sound like a little child that tries, but fails. :) IT WOULD BE SO CUTE!

When MC says her grandparents were in partisan army, she means they were part of AK - Armia Krajowa, during WWII. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I’ll let you decide for yourself. I don’t want to make this post any longer.

“ Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. “ - That’s basically how I’d show somebody another Polish saying “A puknij się w głowę” (Tap yourself on the head), which means “are you nuts”.

O, yeah. I don’t know if you can find the translation of the entire lyrics online, but if you were curious... You know, hit me up. I can translate them.

... I got too excited. Would you be mad if I wrote another one of those? I kinda want to...

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my hc #im soo nervous all of the sudden #please dont hate those #and listen to those songs #they're good i swear

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 4)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 here!

A/N: TW for another attempted murder. Plus a fistfight. Because our leading characters are emotionally constipated morons.

---

Funnily enough, the next attempt for your life has nothing to do with your framed case. Which is both a good and bad thing.

Good because a paid assassin is more difficult to sniff out and is financially motivated to really ensure the job is done. Not to mention is more talented at getting away with murder.

Bad because at the moment you’re staring at Newman and three other lackies behind him. They have cornered you in the empty laundry room. Newman is brandishing a shiv sharpened from a toothbrush. You recognize two of his companions as criminals you prosecuted: one for murder and another for drug dealing.

“No one here to protect you now, huh, Eagle?” Newman sneers. “Which means we can cut you up however you want and no one will be any the wiser.”

You swing your arms back and forth casually before putting them behind your back. While you try to slyly get a grip on the large measuring cup of bleach on the table behind you, you speak up. “You’re really tempting fate here, aren’t you? Or are you telling me that Yancy gave you the all-clear to kill me after assigning me a bodyguard rotation?”

The Murderous inmate--Jerry Carson, you remember--pales three shades and turns on Newman. “Wait, hold on, this drip is still under Yancy’s protection? What the hell are you playing at, Newman? I don’t wanna be on Yancy’s shit list!”

Inmate-You-Don’t-Recognize nods frantically in agreement. “I only agreed to this because I was promised more cigarettes, but going against Yancy is suicide!”

(How are these guys so clueless? It’s not like it’s a secret that the gang has been joined to your hip for this long. Or is the rest of the prison under the impression that you’re just an unfortunate tag-along trying to kiss your way up the ladder?)

“Cowards, the lot of you!” Newman snaps. He turns back to you. “Not that I need help killing you. You’re just an attorney. What are you gonna do, throw the book at me?”

You let a sinister smile crawl across your face. “Maybe not the book.”

Newman’s eyes narrow into slits and he lunges for you--only to reel back screaming when you throw the bleach in his eyes.

You drop the cup and charge around him while he flails and furiously wipes at his face. To your surprise, none of the lackeys try to grab you as you escape.

On your way out of the room, you run smack into someone and start flailing when arms hold you in place.

“Whoa, whoa there, Eagle!” Once you hear Jimmy’s voice, you calm down and he releases you. “What’s your hurry?”

“They were about to be a pincushion.”

Jimmy turns to address, much to your surprise, the Drug Dealing inmate who had been suspiciously silent during the whole exchange. Declan Millard, you finally remember.

“You the guy who let Bam-Bam know this was going down?”

Declan nods and winks at you. “Not that I have any fuzzy feelings for you, Eagle, but my lawyer informed me that you were pretty generous about my sentencing.”

“Considering I learned you discouraged dealing to the younger kids in the neighborhood you were in,” you respond automatically, more than a little stunned at this turn of events, “and that you gave up other dealers during the trial, it seemed like the fair thing to do.”

“Not many lawyers are fair, Eagle,” Declan reminds you. “I’d hate to deprive the world of the only one I know.”

“I see I missed the fun.” The three of you turn again and there’s Yancy, once again appearing out of nowhere. His arms are crossed, leaving his forearm tattoo in full view. He looks more lethal than you’ve ever seen him.

“Not quite, boss.” Declan jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the laundry room where they can all still hear Newman screaming and swearing. “The other two didn’t quite know what they were getting into, but Newman did.”

Yancy nods and cracks his knuckles. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t youse go relax in your bunk for a bit? Jimmy and I can take care of this ourselves.”

“Just Newman,” you say, suddenly. “He’s the only one who tried to hurt me.”

“And he was paid for his efforts with a face full of bleach,” Declan reports in a gleeful tone. “It was an impressive sight.” He looks you up and down impressively. “You keep surprising me, Eagle.”

“Yes, yes, they’re very surprising,” Yancy repeats dismissively. “Clear out, Declan. Eagle, back to your cell, that’s an order.”

The look you give him at that statement is enough to have him offer only a somewhat apologetic grimace before entering the laundry room with Jimmy.

You’re halfway down the hall before you hear a loud scream that cuts off into a gurgle only moments later.

---

You go back to your cell, simply because you don’t have anything better to do besides work on another letter to send to the legislature, but when you get there, you almost think you’ve gotten horribly mixed up.

“Um…”

Your cell is completely redecorated. There’s a small white wire tea table with matching chairs and a vase with lovely yellow flowers. Your second set of prison clothes are hanging on various clotheslines. There’s a tiny nightstand with a lamp by your bed, which has new sheets, a comforter, and two more fluffy pillows. Toiletries, of all things, sit in a neat section on the back of and next to the toilet. There’s even an adorable little potted tree with white leaves (that one is probably fake). Someone even put a goddamn fur rug next to the bunk with a pair of slippers. Slippers, for God’s sake.

You’re still gaping at all of this contraband, which makes the cell seem almost decadent in its furnishings, when you hear a low laugh behind you and whirl around to see Heap-Ass deliver you a casual salute before leaving.

“Why the tree?” you blurt out first, because apparently that is the strangest thing in this room and not the goddamn fur rug and furry pillow.

“The boss loves trees,” Heap-Ass yells back.

“Thanks!” you hurry to say before he gets out of earshot. Reverently, you sit at the wire table, where your writing supplies and paper and even a brand new leather bound notebook awaits you, and get started on another letter.

What alternate dimension have I fallen into?

When Yancy returns, his hands suspiciously cleaner than they normally are, you ask him if the refurbishings were his doing. You’ve moved from the table to your bed, curled under the blankets, the lamp switched on, and have now moved onto writing notes in your notebook. It’ll be easier to keep lists of requests in this rather than whatever scraps of paper you can get your hands on.

He shrugs at your questioning look. “Consider it a sign of gratitude for the new books. And the poetry readings youse been doing every night.”

You shut the notebook. “And you go this far for just anyone who does you favors?”

“Only I didn’t ask youse for the books, did I, Eagle?” Yancy challenges. “Did that on your own. Because youse got more fight and more brains than any other goon in this place.”

“Yancy--”

“Listen here, Eagle, I ain’t takin’ any refusal for the gift, alright? Besides, I benefit from these furnishings too.”

“You love trees, yeah, I heard.”

You want to trust that that’s all this is, you really do. You appreciate the little things that have gone a long way to make you more comfortable, but that’s the problem. You don’t want to get comfortable. If you get comfortable, then it will be that much harder to leave.

Something tells you that that might be exactly what Yancy was hoping for. Though God knows why he’s so desperate for you to stick around.

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that my last update with Damien involved breaking down more of Merrill Byron’s operation?”

Yancy flinches and avoids your question by hopping into the top bunk. Moments later, “What makes you think I care what your soon-to-be Mayor friend has to say?”

“Because if they manage to pin any of that operation to Byron, then my name gets cleared and I can leave.”

You can’t see his face, but Yancy’s silences can be just as telling as the nonsense he spouts off.

“Hey, Eagle!” shouts Bam-Bam from down the hall. “You gonna read tonight or what?”

You sigh and reach for the book compilation of Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry you borrowed for the evening. “Alright, keep your shirts on, guys. I’ll only be reading three tonight, don’t get comfortable.”

You’re looking forward to a night of sleep that won’t involve shivering. Turns out the mattress was replaced too, and you are equally looking forward to not feeling springs stab into your back and sides.

---

You never give up, really.

But by the time Week Nine in Happy Trails Penitentiary begins, you start to feel discouraged.

Not that anyone else really gets why. You’ve been perfectly happy organizing the new books and teaching the first few inmate volunteers the Dewey Decimal System so that they can locate and sort the books easier. All those years of trying to pay your way through University as the local librarian are really paying off now. Not that it didn’t pay off before.

“Is it really so bad here?” Jimmy asks you in the yard one day. He’s smuggled bread rolls for the entire gang (which does include you now, you guess). “I mean, I know the hooch wine doesn’t do much for you, but we can always sneak the whiskey out of the warden’s office! Or Heap-Ass can get you some bourbon from the outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, Jimmy.” You swallow a bite of your roll before continuing. “But honestly, I...I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Tiny insists. She’s clutching the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit to her chest. “Who’s going to run the library if you leave?”

“I can train you guys before I leave, or I can come back after I get out and help you set the rest up.” You scootch closer to Tiny. You would like to put your arm around her, but the last time you attempted physical comfort with her, she held a fork-shiv to your throat. “Look, I’m not going to just forget about you guys, okay? I’ve never had this many friends in my life. I plan on setting up a volunteer system here so I can come by whenever the hell I want.”

Tiny’s tentative smile fades into wide-eyed concern, suddenly, when she looks over your shoulder.

“Oh, sure youse will.”

You spin around in surprise and, sure enough, there’s Yancy. Seriously, you might need to put a bell around his neck.

“You think youse the first person to come in, get released, and never come back?” Yancy challenges. He saunters up to you not unlike a predatory cat. “Why don’t youse just admit that we’re not good enough for you?”

“What, just because I don’t want to sit in here while what little reputation I have with the public gets dragged through the mud?!” You toss your roll behind you as you approach Yancy and listen to some of the gang hurry to catch and call dibs on it. “While a killer goes free and strikes again to clean up loose ends? While my mom sits home alone, worried about me? She already went through losing my dad and my brother, do you think--”

“I told youse on Day One, Eagle,” Yancy snaps, “the past ain’t to be trifled with. If youse’s mum supposedly ‘cares’ about you so much, why’s she not visited? Some loving ma you’ve got there--”

“Because I told her not to, you idiot!”

Yancy freezes mid-accusatory finger point. “Youse--what?”

You look around and get close enough for no one else but Yancy to hear you. The two of you are already drawing eyes to your positions. “Do you think I want my mom to see me like this? She knows I could die in here, I know I could still die in here, and I don’t want her last memory of me to be one where I’m covered in blood and bruises and cuts, she already had to see me like that when I was in high school.”

“Every story I hear about youse’s life on the outside depresses the hell out of me, but that’s besides the point.” The anger in his voice is barely contained. “How about we talk about the fact that youse plan to leave the family here behind? What, youse didn’t like the cell renovations we made after your Nightly Poetry Reading?”

“Yes, I love the comfortable mattress and fur rug and the lamp and the non-itchy, non-bloodstained blankets that keep me warm at night, but Yancy, I can’t stay. Even if we catch the guy who put a hit out on me, who’s to say I won’t get a shiv in the back by someone who doesn’t want their parole? You think I don’t hear you telling other inmates about that little tactic? You’re not quiet at all about it!”

“I was hoping you’d get the hint, Eagle! We don’t want you to go! Do youse really think I’d let anyone kill you?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, Yancy!” you finally shout back.

As soon as the words leave your lips you realize just how true they are. This man has both rescued you and killed for you and called you ridiculous names and comforted you and plotted the deaths of inmates and guards in front of you and it honestly has turned you in circles because despite all of that, despite your moral compass, you really like this complicated mess of a man.

But this is not the time to unpack this increasingly weird relationship you have with him. “Yancy, can you really look me in the eye and promise that I won’t get killed in here?”

Yancy’s mouth opens and closes several times before eventually he shoves you away from him, as if that’ll distract you from the hurt in his eyes. “I shoulda guessed that the Legal Eagle would get too high and mighty for us jailbirds!”

“Yancy--”

“Youse just like my dad! Standing there and judging me like youse think you know better, like youse so much better than me just because youse’s hands are clean?!” He puts his fists up. “Why don’t you get them dirty for once?”

Oh, this bastard. He’s going to make you do it, isn’t he? He’s really going to make you fight him. You put your arms on your hips. “Yancy, stop, you’re being ridiculous--”

He aims a punch at your face and you block it on instinct. You repeat his name but he just tries to hit you again, so that time you block his fist and manage to land a blow to his abdomen.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Yancy may be a rather talented inmate scrapper with a great right hook (you learn a moment later as your eye pulses in pain) but you’ve also boxed three times a week for half your life (because you needed some kind of extracurricular outlet to deal with the frustration of being a non-white academic overachiever) and have learned how to defend yourself pretty damn well.

By the time the fight gets anywhere, your eye is blackening and blood is running from your nose, while Yancy’s sporting several cuts on his face and a split lip. You manage to land several hits in a row before knocking Yancy back in a daze.

“Stand. Down,” you order in a growling tone.

It’s the first and only time you have given anyone here a real command, and you are certainly in no mood for anyone to test the raging anger and frustration lashing underneath your skin just because this idiot that you can’t get out of your head doesn’t know how to talk about his issues like a healthy human being.

(The more rational part of your mind is willing to acknowledge that judging by the rumors about his childhood, there are reasons behind his inability to deal with people in a different capacity, but the rational part of your mind is currently tied up and locked in a trunk until further notice.)

Yancy stares back at you, blood dripping from his lip and staining his shirt. The fury is still brimming in his eyes, but you think you can catch a glimmer of reluctant respect and something else. Something...sad.

But you’re no longer in any mood to read into Yancy’s odd, conflicting behavior. It’s a miracle that none of the guards came to break the two of you apart. You have no intention of pushing your luck.

You push through the crowd that had gathered to watch this unprecedented event and leave the yard, praying that people think the tears running down your face are from your injuries.

---

Link to Chapter 5 here!

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

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#kat writes #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #wkm #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #emotionally charged fistfights are a weakness of mine #also because it's me #next chapter makes everything fifty times worse

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annoyinglyjovialbird · 4 years

Text

Voltron: Next Generation

Brittle Relations: II

Word Count: 2855

A/N: Allura, give me the power to overcome my procrastination and the ability to spell words correctly the first time.

The Coeus appeared on the other side of the wormhole with the beauty and grace of ocean liners. Its splendor, even in ruin, could rival its sister ship, the Atlas. Its beauty could not, however, make the trip enjoyable for its crew onboard. While the Coeus remained intact, many of the teens in the bridge were having a hard time staying intact. Many of them were green, holding their stomachs or covering their mouths with their hands to hold down their lunch. Cake gagged, trying in vain to stop his lunch from coming back up. As he gagged, it made Liz begin to do so. Kova took deep breaths, calming her stomach. Caleb and Allie were matching shades of green, gripping their consoles to control themselves.

"We are NEVER traveling through a wormhole after lunch again." Kova had shut her eyes in hopes of calming her stomach. And will. With various forms of agreement from the others and a retch from Cake's direction, the teens fled to their rooms. Kenny watched the entire scene unfold from the comfort of the engine room with a plate of sliced fruit in front of him. He scoffed as they fled, shaking his head as he took a bite of one of the slices. It turned into mush in his mouth, but at least it wasn't moldy.

"Please, I implore you, I must speak to the half-Galra," Darrar's voice shook as he spoke to Shiro through the glass of his makeshift prison.

"Like I've said before, whatever you need to say to them, you can say to me." Shiro was firm, with arms at his side. Darrar still wore his dark armor, while Shiro wore his Colonel Jacket. Darrar's violet hair had been held back by a scrap of fabric in an updo, messy after days onboard. The poor man looked defeated and desperate, begging with his dim eyes. Shiro's stone cold expression softened slightly as he turned to look at something off to his side. As Darrar noticed Shiro's wavering expression, he tried to look at whatever it was. The edges and corners of the glass obscured the being too much for the Galtean to really see them.

"Who is there?" Darrar pleaded, banging on the glass. "Please, summon the half-Galra!"

"Enough!" Shiro said over the pleading, silencing Darrar. He sighed. "Enough." Without another word, Shiro walked away from Darrar, who slammed the glass as he realized he was being left alone again. His shouts were met with withering silence as the steps grew silent. Darrar collapsed on the ground, tears brimming his eyes as the realization hit him like the cold metal floor.

He was as good as dead. Yorak won the war without even trying.

Far away, a voice alerted the crew of a landing, but Darrar could only hear the blood rushing in his ears and the almost silent hum of the Coeus. As Darrar closed his eyes to attempt to sleep, screams echoed in his mind. His fellow cadets when they began training for running away. His mother when he and his brothers were torn away from her. Seklok's when he displeased the Emperor and left for dead. As the screams overtook him, he was shaken violently. His whimpers became screams as he tried to fight off whatever was dragging him away.

Kova held on to Darrar's shoulders as his screams stopped and his eyes opened. His shaking never stopped. Neither did his tears. The poor man was tortured enough. Behind Kova, Allie clutched the first-aid kit with tight fists. They heard the screaming and ran towards the observation bay. As Darrar sat up, Kova dragged him towards the closest wall. Sitting on the floor, Allie and Kova calmed the man down. Both Allie and Darrar seemed to process the other's Altean markings at the same time.

"It's okay," Kova whispered under her breath. "It'll be okay." Kova slipped a bracelet on Darrar's wrist, activating the magnetic field. Even if they were on the same side, Darrar still wore enemy colors.

"Who are you?" Darrar asked Kova, then turning to Allie. "Where's the Colonel?" Allie didn't meet his eyes, unpacking the first-aid kit. Kova met his eyes after triple-checking the magnetic field had been activated on his bracelet.

"I'm Kovalia Shirogane, Paladin of the Black Lion. This is Allie, Paladin of the Blue Lion." Darrar's eyes widened, but Kova wasn't done. "I understand your name is Darrar, and you've been wanting to speak to me."

"Yes, of course. I—" Darrar tried to stand up, but his wrist kept him down. As he looked, a bracelet connected to the floor kept him down.

"I'm sorry, but it's a security measure." Darrar nodded his head, sitting back down. He looked up to meet Kova's eyes again. "We came to ask you about the colonies."

"Of course." Darrar nodded again. "Where are we?"

"We have just landed on Senfama. The Colonel decided it was best to join an expedition."

"Expedition?"

"I cannot answer what it is."

"Is it because I'm a member of the Fire?" Kova nodded her head.

"I am going to remove your armor piece by piece. Are you feeling any sensitivity or pain in any particular area?"

I'll spare you the details. It took two hours as Darrar flinched and twitched as the armor was removed, and Allie had to make sure he didn't have any injuries. Then when Darrar wore only his bodysuit, the girls put Keith's old poncho over Darrar's head to remove the bodysuit. The time was halved. Regardless, it took too long. With even more spare fabric, they made the baggiest pair of pants in the universe, using a long strip from the back of the poncho as a belt.

When they were done checking for injuries, they began their questions. What is the status of the Galtean colonies? Where are they? How long have the colonies been under Yorak's reign? What did he want with so many Galteans? How long had he been involved in the war? On and on the interrogation went, until they had covered topics twice. Allie left to grab a bottle of water while Kova kept watch.

"I can help you get your Lion back," Darrar said after a few minutes of silence. Kova shook her head, taking something out of her pocket. It was a small black box with the Fire insignia on its side.

"You've been tracked." Kova handed Darrar the box. He looked stunned, confused even, to see the small box. "A similar tracker was found in the mecha we encountered."

"He knew," Darrar whispered under his breath. He handed the box to Kova, who put it back in her pocket. "He knew."

"Who?" Kova asked. "Yorak?" Darrar didn't say a word. Kova would have turned off the tracker, but she didn't have her tools on her. Allie came back and held a closed fist in front of Darrar. He held his hand open to see two little pills in his palm.

"They should help you sleep so you can heal a little faster," Allie explained, taking Kova's place so the latter could stand and dust herself off. "The water is for you." Darrar took the pills after a moment of hesitation, and had big gulps of water. "When you awake, alert us. Have a good rest, Darrar." Allie stood, following Kova to the door, letting it shut behind them. They dimmed the lights in Darrar's room and deactivated the bracelet. Hopefully, his commanders would find him before Yorak did.

"Coeus to crew, call in." Kova had walked to the bridge, turned on the screen, and began sorting the camera angles. "Sec."

"Here."

"Griffin."

"Here."

"Garrett."

"Here."

"Kogane."

"Here."

"Colonel and older Kogane."

"Double here." As the boxes lit up with every person calling in, Allie had typed in their names as the boxes lit up. When the Coeus landed on Senfama, the crew left in pairs. Caleb and Liz were in charge of water. Kenny and Cake were undergoing repairs to the ship and the satellite. Shiro and Keith had to search the planet for lifeforms and food. Allie and Kova stayed behind to watch over Darrar, and make some minor research. Why isn't Keith on the screen too? Kova was too lazy to connect Keith's suit to the Coeus's software.

"Did you deactivate the tracker?" Shiro asked.

"Yes, sir. I also saved the universe and found my Lion."

"Kova."

"I haven't gotten to it yet." Kova rolled her eyes, and looked for her tools. "We just got back."

"Sending map of Senfama to crew," Allie announced, and every camera on screen had looked down at their screens. "Senfama is a jungle. There should be a large body of water ahead."

"On it," Liz confirmed, jumping forward with Caleb on her heels. An alert came online, before the power was cut short.

"Hey, uh, Kova?" Kenny asked. "Is there any way to return to the Balmera and get more crystals?"

"Power source isn't holding up well, is it?"

"Nope." Kova fiddled with the tracker she found on Darrar, hoping an idea would come to mind.

"Random question, Ken." Kova looked up at the screen. "What did you do with the extra solar cells?"

"Solar what?" Keith asked, but he was ignored.

"How do you know about the missing solar cells?"

"Long story. Where are they?"

"I, uh, brought them onto the ship. Why?"

"Kenneth, I need you to think, okay?" Kova had leaned forward to rest her forearms on the railing around her console. "If wired correctly, solar cells can be made into..." Kova trailed off on purpose to let Kenny come with the answer.

"Solar panels!" Kenny and Cake exclaimed at the same time.

"I'll send the materials up." Kova nodded her head, and finally managed to deactivate the tracker. "Allie, cover me." Kova walked down to the engine room, leaving Allie alone on the bridge. Using the Paladin Tracker, or the Teenager Tracker, Allie watched as Liz and Caleb creeped closer to the water source and Shiro and Keith inched further from the Coeus. That's when the entire ship went dark.

"Kenny?" Allie's voice shook as she looked around. "Guys, this isn't funny!" Not even the hum of the ship answered her. With only the sunlight streaming in from the large windows, Allie walked up the stairs to the door. Before she could even leave the bridge, she heard Kova's voice.

"Get back in the bridge!" Kova yelled, and Allie listened. She and Kova were the only ones still wearing their normal clothes, so when Allie fell down the stairs to her seat, it hurt. Kova kicked, sending a figure cloaked in dark colors into the console. The figure went to punch Kova, but she side-stepped, Allie froze when she saw a flash of purple on the front armor piece of the dark figure. "Allie, your bayard!" Quick as can be, Allie summoned her bow, pulling the string back so the quintessence arrow could form. Now if they could stay still. Kova took a blow to her abdomen, collapsing on the ground. When the figure tried to pin her, Kova pulled the figure's leg out from under them. With a quick turn, Kova straddled the figure's hips from behind, holding their arm with one hand and used the other to push their shoulder to the floor.

"Are you alright?" Allie asked, limping up the steps.

"Fine." Kova gritted her teeth as the figure began resisting. "Do you know how long it's gonna take to replace all those wires? This ship is hard enough to maintain!" Kova began to rant. "Allie, help me pull their helmet off." Allie's eyes widened as she held the string taut, reminding Kova of the arrow. Kova nodded towards the door, so Allie aimed in the dark and fired the arrow. The ding could be heard around the world. As the bayard detransformed, the figure tried again in vain stand up, but Kova was faster. With their arm still in Kova's grasp, Kova reached around her back to grab the knife in its sheath. Allie had grabbed the matching pair of Darrar's bracelet from Kova's pocket and put it around the figure's right wrist, as it was the only one touching the ground. Letting go and standing up from the figure, Kova activated the magnet. As the figure stared at the bracelet holding them down, Kova pushed them against the console with the knife point at their neck.

"Deactivate your helmet or I rip it off," Kova growled, sneering at the figure and their dark outfit. The figure didn't move, so Allie pulled the helmet off their head. While Allie didn't recognize the Galra woman, Kova did. Her expression darkened while the Galra woman's softened.

"Kyla," The woman said. She got the knife point even closer to her neck and Kova's angry eyes.

"Call me that again and you lose your head." Kova stood after her threat, deactivated and collected the bracelet, and stood in front of the door. "Allie, this is Krolia, one of the Galra representatives."

"I'm not just that."

"You're right about that." Kova crossed her arms. "She's the reason a half-human and half-Galra exist in the first place."

"Oh, please." Krolia stood, rubbing her wrists. "You make it sound so bad." Kova scoffed in response.

"What are you doing here?" Kova reached behind her to sheath the knife. "I don't get the point." Allie silently died as the pun set in, but Krolia moved past it.

"I saw your declaration. Pretty impressive how far the family goes."

"We aren't family."

"I beg to differ, Kovalia." Krolia crossed her arms, too, leaning against the console. "Headstrong, advanced, and prefers using a sharp instrument."

"Get off the ship."

"I came for my recruit. Where is he?"

"I'm shocked you didn't see him as you cut the power to the entire ship." Kova stepped aside from the door. "Darrar, get your butt over here!" Footsteps became louder as they approached the bridge. Darrar had dressed himself in his Fire armor since there were no spares onboard. At least he had the decency to look sheepish at being caught.

"Daibazaal sides with Voltron," Krolia said as she passed the angry teen. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same." Kova blocked the hall leading to the transport bay, leaving only the side door as the only way out. "May we never encounter the other again." The door opened, and Darrar jumped out first. Krolia's eyes softened, hoping to appeal to the teen. Kova wasn't having it, watching as Krolia jumped out. Stomping over, Kova slammed the door shut, and marched herself to the cut power lines. Allie followed her, since the bridge was scary to be in alone.

"Why didn't you say anything about Keith?" Allie asked after Kova began her tedious work.

"What about Keith?" Kova continued working, connecting wires with electrical tape.

"There is only one half-human and half-Galra hybrid that reached an age to reproduce." Allie began her thought process. "That hybrid sired three children, and you have confirmed the status of all three second-generation hybrids. The first-born is a maniacal genius, the second-born is a plant genius, and the youngest, which is you, is a—"

"A wannabe genius," Kova said, slamming the door closed. As the door secured itself, the power slowly came on, with the lights turning on the brightest they go before returning to their pre-sliced state. "How did you figure out Kenny was the middle child?" Allie shrugged as they went into the bridge.

"Yorak has called you his sister many times before, and you've never denied it. He seems much older than Kenny, and you've never denied Kenny as your sibling, either." Kova chuckled as she approached the console and reactivated all systems.

"Sec to Coeus, do you hear me?"

"Coeus to Sec, we're all clear." Various sighs of relief and cheers came from the team as they continued their errands.

"Keith is your father, and Krolia is Keith's mother." Allie had made it to her chair, where she began checking her injuries. "You met your grandmother," Allie looked up. "And you didn't seem too happy to see her."

"I'm not." Kova muted the Coeus to properly look Allie in the eye. "She had a chance to change what had happened and she didn't." Kova shrugged, and unmuted the Coeus. Allie looked on as Kova smiled at Caleb's screen because he was one misstep away from falling into the water. While his suit may be waterproof, it wasn't float-proof."

By the end of the first day on Senfama, the teens celebrated finding edible food on a planet. That's a first. An alert came on while they celebrated, and Kova opened it. She expected it to be a systems alert, since they still haven't cleaned the Coeus's filters, or even an electrical failure (only Allie and Kova know what happened with Krolia and Darrar). Whatever it was, it should be fixed soon.

She was wrong and she alerted the team of such.

It was a weblum alert, and it was headed for Pidge's location.

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loonathevelvet · 4 years

Text

Everything I Wanted O1: The way back home

You’ve been away for twelve years, but the sudden death of your mother brings you back to the house you grew up in. In a place metaphorically — and perhaps literally — filled with ghosts, you find yourself caught up between who you are, who you used to be, and the darkness that consumes you.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook/Jimin (I haven’t decided)

Genre/TWs: Horror, it will absolutely contain some form of violence later on. It might contain smut but don’t hold me to that promise. There’s fluff and there’s angst, but I guess a lot of angst.

Notes: I do realize I haven’t posted since 2018 yet here I am, because I really want to write this thing that appeared in my mind out of nowhere. So hello again!

Word count: 4k

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Being back at the house you grew up in after all those years was a very weird feeling. You weren’t even inside it yet, still on the other side of the street. Something, though, was making you light-headed and dizzy, and you were very grateful you were sat down in the rental car you got once you arrived at your hometown. Maybe it was something about the scent of grass that hit your face as soon as the car got close. Maybe it was the old, rusted fences that surrounded it, by this point probably impossible to restore. Maybe it was the mansion’s degraded paint, and the windows, once white, now a shade of beige. Maybe it was the silence that echoed in your ears, and the way everything seemed just close enough to how you remembered it to make you want to vomit.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was finally being in that big mansion after almost twelve years.

It was, by no means, out of your own will. Was it for you, those twelve years would have turned to twenty years, and then thirty, and then forever. If it weren’t for the call you got that morning, you would never get back here, ever.

***

You recalled waking up that morning, at 7AM, and making your coffee as usual. You decided to make some pancakes, because why not? You were excited, because it was the first time since you began working as an editor at a big magazine that you would get an entire week off. So you let the calmness of the morning fill every cell of your body, breathing in and out and stretching your arms, then your back.

You could get used to that.

You picked up a book, trying your best to stay away from any and all electronic devices you owned. Your job revolved around computers. You always had to be reading something, or editing something, or researching something. You were beyond tired of screens, and the strain they put in your eyes. All you wanted was some well-deserved rest. Lazily, you sat on the couch, put down the coffee on the small table by it and started flipping pages.

It was already nearly 10AM when you decided to check your phone. You liked reading, but it was getting boring. You thought maybe you could just check if there was anything important, and then go out and do some yoga. You stood up and picked up your phone on the kitchen counter, turning its light on. That’s when you saw 16 missing calls from your assistant, Jimin, and what felt like a hundred other notifications. You had given Jimin the week off too — safe from a couple of mundane tasks you asked him to get done —, so it freaked you out to have that many missed calls from him.

He called you one more time, and this time, you answered.

— Hey, Jimin. Is everything okay?

— Have you seen the news today? — Well, that was certainly an odd question. You remarked that his voice sounded agitated, as if he was impatient or angry. Or maybe it was something else.

— I have not. It’s my week off, I was trying to get some rest.

— Good. Listen. — He paused, perhaps trying to gather his words. — Look, I don’t know how to put this. It happened earlier today. Your… There was an accident. In your hometown. And your mother, she… Hm… She…

— Jimin, come on. — You cut him off. — Cut to the chase.

— Well, your mom is dead. — It wasn’t anger, or impatience in his voice earlier. It was the nervousness of knowing he was about to tell you something you should have heard from your family.

Well, at least you didn’t hear it in the fucking news. They were probably either tearing apart everything she’d ever done or treating her like a saint, and you didn’t know which one you hated more.

You felt the world fall apart around you. Suddenly, it was as if your feet were directly in the center of a black hole, and everything was getting sucked in — you were completely lonely, and there was nothing and no one. Nothing but an empty feeling in your stomach. You knew, of course, that your mother would die someday. You never really cared. You weren’t really close, and she only ever tried to reach you maybe three or four times a year, when you’d vaguely catch up about everything in your lives to excuse whatever financial help or connections you might need. It always felt a bit less dirty that way. Now that she was gone, however, it all came crashing down on you.

Did you care? What the fuck were you feeling?

— Wha - What?

— Look, I am very, very sorry. I already booked a flight for you in the afternoon. Again, I’m so sorry.

— Jimin. — You said, trying to recollect yourself. — Can you book a flight for you, too? — The idea of being alone in that big house, knowing your mother was dead, truly irked you. You tried to think of an excuse to bring your assistant with you. — I’m gonna need you to make some phone calls and take care of some stuff while I’m there. Put it on company time, I’m sure they’ll understand. That is, of course, if you have nothing planned this following week.

You heard Jimin sigh on the other end of the line. You were asking too much of him, and you knew it. He had a tendency to be overzealous, and you hated to ask of him more than he could handle. But at that exact moment, you needed someone to come with you, and despite having lived for so long in the city, you had very few close friends. And of those, none would be okay with coming so far away with you for probably a month or two. You were alone.

— It’s okay. I’ll just take care of my plane ticket, then, and pick you up at three.

***

And now, that left you in the car, hands gripping the steering wheel with all the strength you had. You looked at your knuckles, slowly turning white. Jimin sat beside you. He was trying to not let his worry show through too loudly. You could feel, though, his eyes on your hand, and the very fact he was silent showed he didn’t really know what to do or say.

— Hey. — He said in a soft voice. — Maybe we should get in.

— Maybe. — Your voice sounded soft too, but the anger you were trying to keep in was showing through.

You finally stepped out of the car, and then so did Jimin. As he moved towards the back of the car to get your bags, you took strides towards the house with all the fake confidence your body could muster.

***

The butler was waiting for you when you got there, back completely — and unnaturally — straight and a face contorted to keep from breaking down into tears. Mr. Kim was a very old man who had been working in the family since you could remember. He had seen you grow, and he had seen you leave. Most of the staff would come and go from time to time, but Mr. Kim held your family very close to his heart. You always considered him an uncle, or a father of sorts. He felt more like a parent than your parents.

— Hey. — You said, feeling heavy-hearted. You were never close to your mom. You were very much able to keep your shit together right now because honestly, you didn’t regret disappearing from her life in the past twelve years. But seeing the pain and suffering in the butler’s face made everything all too real.

— Hello, Miss. Y/N.

A weird type of silence filled the room. Jimin, behind you, shuffled uncomfortably. You didn’t have the courage to mention the tragedy, to ask questions, and Mr. Kim was clearly too absorbed in his own thoughts and feelings to pay any mind to the heavy aura that had formed. You remembered him as a lively, smart old man who would always boast about his family, and order you around because he was the only person you’d actually listen to — after all these years, it almost seemed as if he was waiting for your orders instead.

— How is your grandson? — You asked, trying to distract him a bit. — Last I’ve heard, my mother told me he was off to university. Or that he was just starting a new job, I don’t quite remember.

— Ah, yes. Mrs. Y/L/N paid for his tuition. — It seemed as if your attempt of taking his mind away from your mother was a disaster. Her life was too tangled into the Kim family’s for that to be possible. — She got him hired into a big company too. He’s a lawyer now, my boy. — By this point, a smile crept into his red-eyed face, which in turn made you feel a bit better. — He always comes by everyday. He always did, to see me (and the Mrs. too, she was always very proud of my boy), but my Taehyung has been worried about me, all alone in this big house without Mrs. Y/L/N, so he’s been sleeping here too, in one of the spare bedrooms. — His eyes suddenly shot up to you, a bit scared. — I hope that’s no trouble to you, Miss.

You wondered who he thought you were now, after all these years. You’d never turn down Mr. Kim’s grandson, even if he was a complete stranger to you. Which he wasn’t. You and Taehyung were pretty tight as children, since not everyone was allowed into your life back then. It was almost as if he feared you a bit now, as if he didn’t know you as the child he had mostly raised anymore. After everything, you understood. By all means, it was your fault that you had become strangers. Still your heart stung.

— It is no trouble, Mr. Kim. I hope both you and him are sleeping well. And if he isn’t already, move him to one of the big bedrooms upstairs. I’m sure no one else will be using them from now on.

He smiled and thanked you profusely, and suddenly you recognized the man you had grown up with. Maybe he recognized you too.

***

By night, everything was always silent in that big mansion.

You had locked yourself in your bedroom as soon as you’ve showed Jimin in which room he’d be sleeping, and then you decided you wanted to be alone. You were already feeling lonely, anyway. You heard the sounds echo around the hallways when Mr. Kim’s grandson, Taehyung, got home, and you decided to ignore it completely. Talking and pretending to be fine didn’t seem like something you were interested in at that moment.

It was already two in the morning when you decided to leave your room, walking the long corridors very slowly and carefully, trying not to make any noise. The house was cold. Everything inside it had always felt very lifeless to you. You were lifeless. So was your mother, and the butler. Everything was either dying or rotting and the emptiness it brought you was so familiar. Almost nostalgic, in a weird way.

You reached the staircase after a while. Your bedroom was on the third floor, and you could see each step down leading you more and more into the darkness. You didn’t want more darkness, so you sat on one of the first steps and hugged your legs, resting your head onto your knees. You were sure at that moment, you must have looked very small and very fragile. Weak, even. You didn’t care, though. No one could see you in the dark.

Empty. The world, everything around you, empty. You were empty. Empty, empty, empty. You just wanted to not feel lonely in the big mansion you’d grown up in. You wanted to not feel lonely in the big city. You’d been running away from your past for so long, and you always thought the emptiness in your heart was just a price to pay for freedom. But here you were, back where you started. Still lonely. Still the same small terrified girl in that big, big mansion, hiding from your past. You just wanted to not be alone at that moment.

As if your thoughts were materializing, you heard steps behind you. You’d look back to see who it was, except you didn’t really care — between Taehyung, Jimin, Mr. Kim, and the rest of the staff, a lot of people were always living in that big mansion, and whoever it was, you didn’t want any of them to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes. You probably wouldn’t even recognize them, anyway, if they weren’t Jimin or the butler. Whoever it was, they sat beside you, and then let the silence fill the space between you.

— Are you alright? — A deep voice whispered lowly, after a while. You guessed it was Taehyung. It definitely wasn’t Jimin. He chuckled, but it had no humor in it. It was just as lifeless as everything else in that house. — That’s a dumb question, I guess.

— Do you like it here? — You whispered too.

— What do you mean?’

— This house. Do you like it? — He paused for a while, probably wondering if you were going insane.

— I guess. It’s a pretty sweet house.

You turned to look at him. His skin was pale, and his jet black hair was falling a little bit over his tired eyes. You didn’t remember Taehyung having such a strong jawline, or dark eyes, or being so tall. And he most certainly didn’t have black hair. As far as you could remember, at least. It had been a while, though. You’d both grown up and changed.

— I hate it here. It’s so big and so empty. I wish I could abandon it forever. I wish I’d never come back.

— Why did you? — He whispered, doe-eyes focused on your fragile figure. — I’m sure you could have stayed at a hotel. It would be very understandable, all things considered. No one would care.

— I don’t know. — You whispered back. — I wish I could tell you.

You stayed by his side, in complete silence, for just a little longer, and then he excused himself politely, got up, and left. Maybe the emptiness had gotten to him.

***

Although you’d barely slept, and your eyes looked red and puffy, you were up at 7AM. You went down the stairs you’ve feared the night before to find Jimin and Mr. Kim talking casually in the kitchen. You stood by the door before they noticed, just listening in to whatever they were saying.

— She has changed so much from what I remember. — Mr. Kim was saying, fondness in his voice. — She used to be so small, and so scared of everything. I’d send her to bed and she’d go back down to the kitchen at night. Said she heard a noise and thought it was a ghost. We had to put her to sleep again with a lullaby. — He stared off for a bit, lost in his own thoughts. — When the poor girl said she’d never step foot in this place again, I damn right believed her. But I guess one can’t run away from the past forever.

Jimin chuckled nervously.

— I guess she hasn’t been here in a while, then.

— No, no, my boy. I haven’t seen Miss. Y/N since she was a fifteen years old child, running away from this house. Boarding school, she said. Then boarding school turned into university. Then she got a big job in the big city. Always an excuse not to come visit us. But I understand.

His voice, though, betrayed his sadness. He was lonely too, in this big house. If there was one person you wished you hadn’t abandoned, it was him.

— Why did she go away, though?

— It’s not my place to tell you, my boy. It’s not my place to tell you. — He shook his head. Was he remembering what had happened twelve years ago?

— Hey, Y/N! — Jimin finally noticed you, and smiled awkwardly.

You wished you hadn’t listened in. Now you knew more than you wanted to know. You knew Mr. Kim had missed you all those years. You knew Jimin was curious about your past — which made you regret bringing him to your hometown in the first place. Your mother always told you that curiosity killed the cat. That was maybe the only useful advice she had ever given you.

— Miss. Y/N! — The butler smiled at you. He seemed a bit better after yesterday, even though the same tiredness you felt on your shoulders was probably crushing him too. — How did you sleep?

— I slept fine. Big house, though. I’m not used to it. — He smiled fondly. Some things never change, and he knew that a little bit of you still needed to be tucked in to sleep in the mansion.

You sat down beside Jimin, and the butler put a plate full of pancakes and a mug of hot cocoa in front of you. You preferred coffee now, and he probably knew it, but you guessed he didn’t want to give you caffeine. He always forbade you from drinking it, saying it was bad for your health. He wasn’t wrong.

— If you don’t mind, Miss, — the butler started, excitedly. — My boy Taehyung will be joining us shortly.

— Sure! I do hope you have enough pancakes, though. — You joked, and he smiled.

— I always do, Miss. — He was right. Mr. Kim’s ability to plan things ahead bordered on the supernatural.

You thought about Taehyung for a second. The bright-eyed boy with a big smile you’d met as a child, who would always tease you for being so anxious all the time, but who also protected you from everything that could possibly hurt you. The man you met the night before, with dark hair and big eyes, and a sad, solemn aura. They didn’t seem like the same person at all. A lot had changed while you were away. A lot more than you thought. What had happened to Tae?

You never had many friends as a child. Your parents, particularly your mother, were very scared of letting their only child get hurt in the real world. They had money, power, and influence, and with that comes enemies — powerful enemies, who wouldn’t mind using a child to get what they want. You were homeschooled for a big portion of your childhood. Back then, you only had Taehyung. Mr. Kim had lost his daughter shortly after his grandson was born, you knew that much — and although Taehyung’s dad tried his best, he could use some help from an old wise man. So Mr. Kim would often bring the small child with him to work. Your father hated it, as much as he hated every single one of your mom’s staff — he didn’t bring the coin home, though, your mother did. So every day, you’d play with Tae. And although he could very much resent you for everything you had and didn’t want, and everything he wanted and didn’t have, he never did.

From what you’ve heard, after you left, Taehyung replaced you in the big empty house, and in your mother’s heart even. And you were grateful for that.

— My boy, did you sleep well?

Mr. Kim’s words burst the bubble you had created for yourself, deep in thought as you were. You turned around to see a tall man with tan skin. You zoned out of the conversation happening around you once more as you took in the features you remembered from your childhood, and the way they had adjusted to adulthood. He had dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, and a very warm smile. He was dressed formally, probably ready to be out the door for his job right after breakfast. It suited him well. He looked so much like the old Taehyung from your childhood. Tae smiled at you fondly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked sorry for you.

And most importantly, he looked absolutely nothing like the man you saw the night before.

— I’m really sorry for what happened to your mom. — Taehyung said, taking you out of your mind once more. You shook your head and smiled at him.

— It’s okay. I’ll get through. — He sat beside you, getting ready to eat his own pancakes. — It must be hard for you too, though. How are you holding up? I know my mom was very close to you. — He shrugged.

— I’ll get by. Do you need help with anything? Grandpa already did most of the arrangements for the funeral while you were traveling, but I’m sure there’s stuff you need to do.

— I don’t think so. — You thought for a little while. — Oh, wait, there’s my mother’s will. And all the legal stuff. I’ve heard you’re a lawyer. — You chuckled. — I promise I’ll pay you. — He nudged you with his shoulder.

— Absolutely not. — By this point, he was done with his pancakes, and was already standing up to go to work. — We’ll talk when I get back, okay? I’ll get everything done for you.

He hugged you goodbye, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for the Kim family. Without them, you wouldn’t even know where to start. As Taehyung left and Mr. Kim started going on a rant, which were sometimes about his amazing grandson, sometimes about your mom, and sometimes about something else, you let your thoughts carry you away again. To the boy you talked to last night. Who was he? You were sure you were neither dreaming nor hallucinating. He was there. Or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, you thought it was better not to mention him, just in case everyone looked at you like you’re insane. Maybe you were.

At that moment, though, Jimin was staring at you with something else in his eyes. Maybe it was confusion, or discomfort. You couldn’t quite tell. As Mr. Kim went to another room to talk to some of the staff, you tried talking to him.

— Hey, Jimin. — You said from across the big table. — Are you okay? You seem a little out of it today. — He shook his head affirmatively, but you weren’t convinced.

— It’s okay, don’t worry about it. — He scratched the back of his neck. — Do you have any work for me to do today?

— Oh. — You had to think about it again. Jimin was always running errands for you, but being back home meant everyone was always running errands for you. It was a bit overwhelming, to be honest. — I guess you could call the office and tell them I’ll be switching to home office for the next two months. I’m sure they’ll understand, all things considered. — Jimin nodded.

You always hated to admit it, but you got your job mostly because of your mom. She was friends with the man you worked for. And because of that, because he’d be sad for the loss of your mother, he’d probably be okay with giving you more time off than he’d give any other employee.

Although you always avoided taking advantage of the privileges you had, you needed some time to figure everything out right now.

— So. — Jimin started, catching your attention again. — Are you close to Mr. Kim’s grandson?

— I guess I used to be. We haven’t talked in a very long time, though. — He nodded, suddenly relaxing a tiny bit. You took a mental note of how weird that was.

Jimin stopped asking questions about your past then, probably aware that you didn’t want to answer them. His growing interest, though, was starting to get you thinking, but you were sure you were just being paranoid.

#bts scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts reaction #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #jimin scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts jimin scenarios #bts jungkook scenarios #scenarios #boy group scenarios #kpop scenarios

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drabblesanddreams · 5 years

Text

Orbit- Dazai Osamu x Reader (3/3)

Here it is! Part 3/3! No lie it took me some time to write this, i was genuinely stuck on the dialogue and what i wanted to accomplish this chapter so im sorry it took so long! I dont know if yall will like the ending but it’s what i had in mind from the start! ENJOY:))

Part 1 Part 2

word count: 1.8k TW: none but she angsty

Summary: Time doesn’t heal all wounds and the simplest words can reopen a badly stitched heart.

“Hello, (Y/N)”

It was amazing really, what time can do to a person’s soul. People were like that you supposed, no matter what hardships you’d come to endure, no matter just how much time seemed to harden you, there was always that one person in your life that could break your walls down with two words.

It unnerved you, to have him suddenly come back into your life and easily chip your carefully crafted mask with that ability.

You took a step back warily, analyzing the man in front of you in the possibility of malicious intent.

But he seemed lighter, his playful smile a little more genuine than what you were used too. In addition, his eyes lacked the emptiness that came with shouldering all that darkness openly years ago.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed looking at that particular shade of brown, especially with the way the moonlight reflected off of them.

Other than that, he was still the same externally. A little taller yes, but still seemingly Dazai.

What you didn’t quite understand at the moment, however, was what was he doing in an alleyway of Mafia territory.

“What are you doing here,” you questioned suspicious all the while ignoring years of unspoken history that seemed to hang overhead the both of you, “You shouldn’t be here”

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards before his pretty lips dropped into a pout, “Not even a hello?” he complained childishly, and you frowned at him.

You didn’t like this, not one bit.

His nonchalant attitude stung slightly as if you barely made an imprint upon his life that seeing you again was barely a bump in the path paved away for his future. But you internally shook those feelings away, everything was different now. You were different now.

Instead, you let yourself feel the frustration and despise you had towards the brunet.

“Who says I’m here for anything?” he asked innocently, blinking those brown hues at you. Your frown deepened; you knew in your heart he was lying. It must have to do with the tiger boy, he was most likely trying to find out where the port mafia was keeping him.

“Don’t fuck around Dazai,” you snarled, hand reaching towards the back of your jeans firmly grasping the handle of your gun, “What do you want?” you pointed it at him.

“Whoa! Scary scary!” he cried out, throwing his hands in the air before dropping the act.

He cocked his head towards you, brown locks falling over his forehead.

There was a time in your life where you would let yourself brush his bangs away. You pushed that particular memory away.

You weren’t going to touch him like that again, ever.

He suddenly got serious, all signs of joking and humour wiped off his face. His eyes darkened considerably; all light lost to the inescapable darkness of the night and instead, a lustful gaze replaced it.

“What would you say…” he started lowly, taking a few steps towards you.

“If what I wanted…”

You froze as he continued walking towards you.

“Was to see you?”

He finally closed the distance between the two of you, his tall figure loomed over you as his hands fell on your waist, trapping you between his bandaged body and the wall of the alleyway. Your eyes widened slightly as you desperately tried burying your reaction and feelings away.

The gun loosened slightly in your hand as it was pressed against his chest. Somehow, even though the distance between you was minimal, you still felt as if he was miles away.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting heated with the way he was looking at you. It oh so reminded you of the Dazai you knew growing up and developing feelings for. It wasn’t fair for him to still have such a strong hold upon your heart.

The sound of cars passing by the alleyway was all that filled the defining silence for the moment.

“We both know that’s a lie,” you finally whispered, your words drawing a smirk from the ex-mafia member.

Your eyes dropped to the gun pressed against him before moving towards your finger on the trigger then back up to meet his burning stare.

You licked your lips, “I could kill you right now,” you stated aggravated by his nonchalant attitude, “I could pull this trigger three times and kill you” You continued.

His smirk only widened before he hummed lowly, “We both know you aren’t going to do it” his hand wrapped over your one hand gripping the gun before pulling it easily away and letting it drop to the floor.

Your mouth opened slightly before firmly shutting. You grit your teeth slightly at his previous actions. You knew he knew how weak you were for him which only frightened you.

For one to know another’s weakness means that they can be exploited and destroyed. And for Dazai, he only needed to pull a few strings to accomplish the means to break you.

You huffed, pushing him away before you defiantly stated with a hard look, “Don’t think for a second that you can manipulate me.”

He peered at you for a moment, eyes void of any detectable emotion before he started chuckling lowly.

You ignored his laughter as he shoved his hands in the pockets of a trench coat you faintly recognized, “I’ve changed now,” you continued hesitantly.

“Not everything has though,” he hummed before cocking his head slightly, “We both know what hasn’t changed”

You felt your breath catch itself in your throat as you knew exactly what he was eluding to. He was still as incredibly observable as he was all those years ago, that clearly hasn’t changed.

You knew however that four years didn’t do much all that much to your feelings towards the brunet. It was still an unspoken thing and you didn’t like how he was pulling it out all to mess with your mind.

You tried not to let it overthrow your train of thought, but you were susceptible as always.

You grit your teeth, feeling your mouth go dry before your eyebrows furrowed slightly in some form of remorse.

You didn’t know if it was towards what this thing was between you and Dazai or what was to become of it. Or if it was towards yourself, to the person lost to the consequences of time and the cruelty of the world.

You shook your head lightly before looking up at him through your lashes, “That game is over, Dazai,” you said slowly with a faraway look, “that game was for children.”

And it was, whatever dance of emotions occurred between the two of you was a dangerous and stupid game to play. It only caused a special sort of sorrow to occur at the end and only served to endanger your life in one way or another. You saw now what it did to Dazai after losing Odasaku.

You blinked rapidly, feeling a lump form in your throat, “We’re playing worse games now” was all you said, letting your eyes fall to the gun on the ground.

Dazai followed your eyes before fixing you with another unreadable look. He inhaled quietly, tilting his head back and letting the chocolate waves fall over the nape of his neck. You traced his stare to the full moon hanging overhead before returning your eyes back to his.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the ringing of your cell phone. Fishing it out of your pocket you quickly hit the answer button before lifting it up to your ears while maintaining your stare.

Dazai looked on unflinching as the other person’s voice came through the other line, “(Y/N)! Where the hell are you?!?” the voice screeched at you from the other end of the line. You flinched slightly at the volume.

“Tachihara,” you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, “what is it?” you questioned your partner.

“What is it? Are you serious?! We’re being fucking invaded by the Armed Detective Agency!” he screamed, and your eyes widened as they caught Dazai’s vacant stare.

You gaped at him in quiet shock as you swam through a flurry of emotions, your arm slowly returning to its side.

“Hey! (Y/N)! Are you hearing me right now, where the fuck are you?!” Tachihara’s voice called out but you ignored it and instead pressed the button to hang up. All the while, your eyes never strayed from Dazai’s own pair.

You tilted your head, squeezing your eyes shut in slight denial as you shook your head. You opened your eyes once more. You felt your head pound painfully and your heart rate quickened.

All you could convey now was bewilderment as you spoke, “You were distracting me.”

The cheerful persona was back on as he grinned at you, “Well, (Y/N), seems like I must leave,” he took a few steps back before fixing you with another smile, “Thank you for your time.”

The blood in your veins felt as if they turned into ice as the denial and foreign grief filled you up once more. He wasn’t leaving again, was he?

Your bottom lip trembled the same way your hands shook, uncontrollably.

You watched him walk away from you for a second time and you felt the crack he installed in your heart grow bigger and bigger with each step he took.

“Dazai!” you cried out weakly, taking a small step forward.

He stopped walking before sparing you a glance from behind his shoulder.

Don’t leave me again.

Come back.

Take me with you.

I need you.

I’m still alone.

I understand now.

I’m sorry.

All the words you wanted to say died on your lips and instead you shut your mouth.

He blinked at you, once, twice, before the corners of his mouth tilted downwards. An empty look overtook the look in his eyes as he breathed in deeply.

“Whatever you’re about to say,” he said quietly as you finally registered the sound of gunshots in the background, “Don’t.”

You could only stare back in desperation as he continued.

“Our time is up.”

With that, all you could do was watch his figure get smaller and smaller as he walked away from you.

While the sound of gunshots and crumbling buildings continued to fill the background, you let your head fall back and gazed upwards at the same moon that Dazai had been analyzing a few moments ago.

With the moon as your only witness, you wiped the few stray tears that managed to fall on your cheeks.

You made your way towards where you knew your partner was waiting.

Right now, you had a game to play.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagine #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd imagine #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai imagine #dazai osamu imagine #anime

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waywardaardvark79 · 5 years

Text

No Strings Attached Part 14: Here They Come

Summary: Your roommates old friend moves to town and the two of you quickly strike up a no strings attached relationship. How long will the two of you be able to hold up what was supposed to be a simple, uncomplicated arrangement?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, child birth (non graphic)

A/N: Updates should be every few days. No set schedule.

"Y/N!" you heard Dean call out as he walked into the door.

"Back...here." you panted out, what you confused for Braxton Hick's contractions earlier hitting you and proving that it was in fact the real deal.

You kept trying to take slow, deep breaths. That's what you were supposed to do right? Focus on your breathing. You shook your head, internally cursing yourself for never taking one of those stupid Lamaze classes, thinking it was pointless at the time because you already knew how to breathe. A loud thud from the hall pulled you from your thoughts.

"Fuck, did you spill something in the hall?" Dean called out.

"You...you could say that!" you yelled back.

"You coulda gave me a little warning." he said as he walked into the room, his jeans wet from slipping.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've just been a little busy trying not to have your babies in our bedroom." you gritted out, another contraction nearly taking your breath away.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, "Babies?" he choked out, his eyes wide with panic.

"Oh, no, no, no, Freckles. You don't get to panic right now. You are supposed to be the calm one." you said, as you tried to sit up.

"Ok...I'm calm. I'm calm....calm." he kept repeating to himself as he started to rush around the room searching for something.

"What are you doing?" you asked, still working on trying to sit up.

"Looking for the go bag." he said, frantically searching the closet for the bag you were supposed to pack.

"Yeah, it's not in there." you sheepishly said, knowing that he wouldn't find it in the closet, actually he would never find it at all because it didn't exist.

"Where is it then?" he cried out, his eyes wild.

"Yeah, you aren't gonna find it. I may have forgotten to pack it." you said, finally in an upright position.

"You forgot?! Y/N, that's one of the most important parts. Everyone says you have to have one." he said as he started grabbing basically everything in front of him and shoving it in a bag.

"See, I kind of thought the most important part was pushing out the babies, but guess I was wrong. You know I'm not so great at remembering to do things, or did you forget that me forgetting my stupid shot is what got us here in the first place? You should have left me a note." you argued.

Dean stopped packing long enough to turn and face you, his hand coming up to point at the lamp on your nightstand, "I did." he said before turning to resume his packing.

You turned your head to see a yellow Post-it note stuck to the lamp shade, pack a bag written on it in Dean's writing.

"Oops." you said with a shrug of your shoulders. "Guess I missed that." Another contraction hit and you sucked in a breath. "Freckles, I know you're freaking out about the bag right now, but I got two babies trying to come out of me and I don't think I can hold them in, so unless you want to deliver them like we are in some episode of Little House on the Prairie I suggest you forget the fuckin' bag and get me to a hospital." you said, trying your best to remain calm.

Dean kicked the bag aside and rushed to the bed. He pulled you to your feet and started to walk you towards the door.

"Careful, that stuff is slippery." he said, as you passed the spot where you water broke.

You looked over at him. He was probably internally screaming, but trying his best to put on a brave face. His jeans were still wet from his fall, and his grip on you was so tight that you feared he was going to start crushing bones soon. You couldn't help the laughter that burst from you.

Dean turned to you, "What?" he asked, panic on his face, confused about why you were laughing.

"We, me and you, are about to be parents." you laughed out, the idea suddenly the funniest thing in the world to you.

Dean chuckled nervously as he opened the door for you, "And why is that so funny?" he asked, expecting you to be in full on panic mode instead.

"These poor kids don't have a chance." you said as Dean led you down the hallway of your apartment building.

"I think they're gonna be just fine." he said, trying to reassure you.

"I forgot to pack the bag, one of my first mom jobs and I screwed up." you said, grabbing onto his arm and making him stop walking as another contraction hit. "Fuck, I'm gonna be the mom that leaves the kids behind at the grocery store on accident and doesn't realize it until I get home." you panted, the contractions becoming more painful.

"Nah, I'll just pin a don't forget the kid note to your shirt before you go." Dean teased, trying to lighten the mood.

You scoffed, "Yeah, I think we seen how well that worked." you said, referring to the bag. "Fuck, I forgot about the stairs." you whined as you looked down at the flight of stairs below you.

"Come on, I'll carry you." Dean said, as he attempted to pick you up.

You swatted him away, "We don't need you in the hospital too. You can't even get your arms around me." you said, as you walked down the first step.

The two of you finally made it to the lobby, both soaked with sweat.

You looked around, "I think I'm just gonna have them here." you panted out, completely exhausted.

"You wait right here, and I'll go get the car." Dean said before rushing to the door. "Just keep em' in there, squeeze your legs together or something." he offered as advice before running out the door.

"Squeeze your legs together." you repeated, shaking your head as you waddled towards the door.

Dean pulled up as close as he could a few moments later, and jumped out of the car to help you inside.

"Still in there?" he nervously asked, just trying to keep you talking to distract you from the pain.

"No, I actually had them in the lobby. I left them with the building manager. I thought we could go out and celebrate." you sarcastically said, your grip on him tightening.

"See, now I know you're ok. You are still fluent in sarcasm." Dean pointed out as he opened the car door for you.

"I'm pretty sure that I would be sarcastic on my death bed, so I wouldn't judge anything by that." you said as Dean helped you ease yourself into the seat.

Dean closed your door and sprinted around the front of the car, quickly opening his door and jumping inside.

"Ready?" he asked as he started the car.

"I don't think I really have a choice." you said, your arms coming up to wrap around your stomach. "Oh, fuck." you rasped out, another contraction ripping through you. "Yeah, I don't have a choice, floor it, Freckles."

Dean looked over at you, "Hold on." he said as he gunned it out of the parking lot.

The hospital was about 25 minutes away. Dean had called ahead to let them know that you were coming and was currently speeding down the highway, pushing the car to it's limits.

"You're gonna get pulled over, slow down." you warned, knowing that cops liked to hide out behind the row of trees that were up ahead. "Seriously Freckles, slow down. They like to sit up there. It's a speed trap." you said, another contraction causing you to groan.

Dean pushed down on the accelerator, increasing his speed, and ignoring your warning. "Shit." he said under his breath a few moments later.

You looked into the rearview mirror, red and blue flashing lights staring back at you, "Told you." you said, as Dean slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road.

The two of you sat in the car, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the police officer at the window. Dean was impatiently drumming his fingers on the wheel as he glanced over at you. He reached for the door handle, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What the hell are you doin'?" you ask, tightening your hold on his arm so he couldn't get out.

"I'm gonna go tell him to hurry up." he said, trying to pull away from you.

"Stay in the car before you get shot." you said.

Before Dean could reply there was a knock on his window. Dean turned in his seat and rolled the window down.

"You know how fast you were goin' back there, boy?" the heavy set officer asked as he leaned down to look into the car.

"Listen, Officer, I can explain." Dean started to say, a loud groan from you cutting him off.

The officer leaned down further to get a better look at you, "Ma'am, is everything alright? You seem to be in some sort of distress." he said.

You rolled your eyes, "Wow, you must be the brightest one on the force." you said, Dean snapping his head in your direction to give you a warning glare. "No, Officer, everything is not ok. I've got two babies trying to work their way out of me right now while we are sitting here having this pointless conversation!" you yelled, not caring that you were yelling at an authority figure.

"You're in labor?" he asked, staring over at you.

"That's some top notch police work. What gave it away? Was it my giant pregnant belly, or the fact that I literally just told you a few seconds ago that there were two babies trying to come out of me?" you asked.

Dean glared at you, "You want the kids' born in a jail cell?" he whispered, urging you to get your attitude in check.

You sighed, "Look Sir, I'm really sorry." you gritted out, not seeing any reason to apologize to him. He was the one asking stupid questions. "Hormones." you added with a shrug of your shoulders, hoping that it would be a suitable explanation.

"That's...I understand, Ma'am." he said to you, almost making you feel a sliver of guilt for being such as ass. "Son, give me just a minute, and I'll escort you to the hospital." he said to Dean, tapping the door a couple of times before walking off.

Dean slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding and turned to look at you, "I know. I know. I shouldn't have said that shit, but I really can't be blamed for what comes out of my mouth right now." you defended, knowing that Dean was probably about to scold you for how you talked to the police officer.

"Yeah, you're probably right, but I was gonna say this is gonna be fuckin' awesome." he said, a wide smile on his face as he revved the engine, taking off quickly once the officer passed by.

You chuckled, "Again, we are about to be parents." you said, shaking your head.

Dean glanced over at you, a goofy smile on his face, "What? This is awesome. Come on, a police escort." he said, flying down the highway.

You shook your head at him, the smile on your face mirroring his at the fact that he was so excited right now, "I know, Freckles."

Dean was pulling up in front of the hospital in no time, thanks to the police escort. He cut the engine, hopped out of the car, and quickly ran around to your side to open the door for you.

"Go tell them we're here." you said as you turned in your seat, your feet coming to rest on the pavement below you.

Dean took off towards the entrance and returned a few moments later with a nurse and a wheelchair.

"Are you ready to have these babies, Mrs. Winchester?" she asked, a kind smile on her face.

"As I'll ever be." you replied, not correcting her about the name.

"Okie dokie, let's get you in the chair, and then we'll go inside and get you all set up, Dear." she explained as she helped you from the car into the wheelchair. "Dad, you go on and park the car and then check in with reception. They'll tell you where she is." she said to Dean before quickly pushing you inside.

Dean walked into the room they had you in just as the nurse was attaching an external monitor to keep a check on the babies' heart rate.

"Ok, the doctor should be in to check you in a few minutes." she said to you before clipping a call light to your sheet. "If you need anything just press this button, and someone will be in as soon as they can."

"Thank you." you said, adjusting the pillow under your head as she walked out of the room. "So, how long do you think we have?" you asked Dean.

He pulled up a chair next to your bed, "No clue, Sweetheart." he said, looking at all of the monitors you were attached to.

"I mean, it can't take that long. I've been having these stupid contractions for hours, and we got the water breaking thing out of the way." you said, anxiously drumming your fingers on your stomach.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I called everybody while I was parking the car, my parents, Charlie, Bobby, and Ellen." he said, trying to change the subject and get your mind on something else.

"They comin'?" you asked, your hand coming up to grip the bed rail as a contraction hit.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, they told me to call them back when they get here. Mom said to call her when you were at a 10 so they could get on the road." he said.

"A 10? I bet I'm almost there. I've got to be." you breathed out, the contraction subsiding. "The doctor is gonna come in here, give me the drugs, and then we are gonna get this show on the road."

"How are we doing today, guys?" the doctor asked, right on cue.

"Ready for you to give me the drugs." you blurted out.

She chuckled, "Let's just see how far along you are first, and then we can decide if you are ready for an epidural." she said, a smile on her face as she grabbed a set of gloves. "Ok, this may be a little uncomfortable." she said, as she lifted the blanket and prepared to see how dilated you were.

You sucked in a quick breath when you felt her fingers, "Uncomfortable is an understatement." you clipped out, your hand reaching out for Dean.

She pulled her hand from you and fixed the blanket back over you, "Good news. You're at two centimeters and you're about 50% effaced." she said as she pulled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash.

"A two....I'm only at a two?" you asked, disappointment in your voice. "So, no drugs?"

The doctor smiled at you, "We usually wait to give the epidural until you are about five centimeters dilated." she said.

"Ok, so just three more centimeters and I'm set." you said, telling yourself that you would be there in no time.

Four Hours Later

Dean was doing everything in his power to keep you comfortable and distracted. He had forgotten how many stories he told you, ranging from things about his childhood to memories of the two of you. He was pretty sure he could be considered the MVP of ice chip feeding, and was adamant about keeping the cloth on your forehead cool. However, all of his attempts seemed to be in vain, you were miserable no matter what he did.

You clutched the front of Dean's t-shirt and pulled him to you, "Go get someone. It's got to be time for drugs." you gritted out, your jaw clenched.

Dean brought his hand up and began to stroke your hair, "Ok, Sweetheart. I'll be right back." he said, quickly catching on to the fact that whatever you wanted right now you were going to get.

Dean walked back into the room about ten minutes later with the doctor in tow.

"Come on, doc. I know it's time for the drugs." you said, praying that you were right.

"Ok, let's see how far you've come." she said, slipping on a pair of gloves.

Dean made his way to your side, and grabbed your hand, bracing himself for the bone crushing squeeze that was coming.

"Well, you've made progress." the doctor said, as she lowered the blanket.

You let out a relieved breath, "Thank God. What am I? A six, a seven?" you asked.

"You're at about four centimeters." she said, crushing your hopes.

"Four." you choked out, not believing that you heard her right.

She turned her attention from the monitors to look at you, "I know this isn't going as fast as you hoped it would, but your contractions are starting to increase and are coming closer together. That's a good sign." she said, hoping that news would cheer you up.

"Yeah, I know they are. I can FEEL THEM!" you yelled.

"I'll be back in to check on you soon." the doctor said before walking out of the room.

You sighed and threw your head back against the pillow, "Just knock me out." you pleaded before turning to face Dean. "You know what, why don't you just go out there and see if you can find the drugs yourself? I mean, they probably have it in one of those little carts or something, break into a room if you have to." you begged.

For a moment Dean honestly considered your request. He hated to see you like this, but quickly shook the insanity from his head, "Just hang in there. You are doing so good." he praised, grabbing the cloth from your head to cool it.

Three Hours Later

"What happened to I'll be back to check on you soon?" you spit out when the doctor walked into the room. "You know, his brother is a lawyer." you said, pointing to Dean. "I will sue everyone in this fuckin' hospital if I don't get some drugs right now." you threatened before turning to Dean. "Get Sam on the phone and tell him to start making a case." you said, completely serious.

"Let's hold off on the lawsuit until I see where we are." the doctor said as she prepared to check you.

You closed your eyes gripping onto Dean's hand as you prepared yourself for the news that you actually hadn't progressed at all. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if she told you that you had actually went backwards and were now at a two.

"Seven centimeters." the doctor said with a smile.

"Seven...seven!" you yelled out, your other hand coming up to excitedly pat Dean's arm. "That is bigger than five. You owe me some drugs." you said to the doctor, excitement heavy in your voice.

"Someone will be right in to give you an epidural." she said, tossing her gloves in the trash.

"And when you say right in..." you trailed off.

"I will call them as soon as I walk out of here." she said, reassuring you that it wouldn't be long.

"Thank God." you breathed out.

"See, Sweetheart, everything is gonna be fine now." Dean said, silently thanking God that you were far enough along for an epidural. He didn't know how much longer he could watch you lay there in misery.

You nodded your head, "Keep Sam on speed dial just incase." you said, still completely serious about your lawsuit.

Five Hours Later

You had been in the hospital for twelve hours. The epidural you had gotten had allowed you to catch a few hours of sleep, and Dean had followed your lead and dozed off in the chair next to your bed. The doctor coming into the room woke the two of you.

"Twelve hours." she said as she slipped on her gloves to check you. "Let's see if these babies are ready to come out."

"I don't think they want to come out." you said as she lifted your blanket and started to check you.

"Ten centimeters." she sang out in a cheery voice. "Ok, we are going to get you moved to an operating room real quick, and then we'll be ready to start." she said, quickly pulling off her gloves.

"Operating room?" Dean nervously asked.

"Don't worry. It's hospital protocol to deliver multiples in an operating room." she explained, a reassuring smile on her face as she started to walk out the door. "They will be in to get you in a few minutes."

Dean took a deep breath, suddenly on edge that this was really about to happen, "Here we go." he breathed out, trying to sound as calm as possible for your sake.

You nodded your head, your heart racing in your chest, "You know, I know I've been complaining about getting this show on the road the whole time we've been here, but I don't think I'm ready. No, I know I'm not ready. I can't do this. I...I...." you trailed off, panic evident in your voice.

Dean grabbed your hand, "I know you can do it. You're gonna do great." he said, his other hand stroking your hair.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I have no idea what to do. You know those books your mom gave me that tells you everything to expect? Never read them. They have been collecting dust on my nightstand. I can't have these babies without having read those stupid books. Ok, ok...you go home and grab the books. I'll keep these guys inside until I skim over them." you rambled out, your eyes wide with panic.

Dean chuckled, "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure we don't have time for that." he said as he continued to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.

"I'll make time." you said, your mind racing with ideas to hold off your labor.

Dean leaned down and kissed your forehead, "You are going to do great, and I'm going to be right there with you." he said just as a few nurses walked into the room.

"Are we ready?" one of them asked.

You looked up at Dean, "You're gonna be right there?" you asked, your hand squeezing onto his.

"I promise." he said, squeezing your hand back.

You took a few deep breaths before looking up at the nurse. "Ready."

The nurses wheeled you into the operating room, Dean quickly stepping to your side while they got everything set up.

"Quite a crowd." he said, looking at all of the nurses standing back awaiting the twin's arrival.

You nodded, "Yep." you said, popping the p. "We don't even know what they are." you said turning your attention from the crowd to Dean.

"You said you wanted it to be a surprise." he said, looking down at you.

"I know, but we don't even have any names picked out." you said, worry in your voice.

"I'm sure it'll come to us when we see them." he said, trying to ease your mind.

The doctor cleared her throat, "Let's get started." she said as she motioned for a nurse to come to your bedside. "She's going to help hold your leg up for you. Dad, go ahead and grab that one." she said, the nurse soon pulling up your leg into position. Dean mimicked her action, the crook of his elbow coming up to hook under the back of your knee.

You grabbed onto the front of his shirt, "You make sure you stay up here. I don't want you scarred by what you see down there." you said.

Dean smiled down at you, "Got it. I'll stay up here." he said.

"Ok, Y/N, I'm going to need you to give me a push when I tell you." the doctor said from her place between your legs.

You didn't even have time to reply before she was telling you to push.

30 Minutes Later

"Big push." the doctor said, Dean and the nurse holding your legs in place as you pushed as hard as you could.

Your head collapsed back against the pillow, your brow covered in sweat. "I...I can't." you panted out, completely exhausted.

"You're almost there, Sweetheart. You're doing so good." Dean praised.

"Jesus Christ, just yank them out already." you gritted out, before pushing again.

"We've got a head!" the doctor yelled, Dean trying his best to lean down and see.

"Dean!!!" you barked out, reaching to pull him back to your side.

"Ok, one more big push should do it." the doctor said, as she prepared to help ease the baby out.

You sucked in a deep breath, and pushed with everything you had, relief hitting you the minute you felt the baby pulled from your body.

"It's a boy!" she yelled out, the baby's cry soon filling the room.

"A boy." Dean breathed out, his focus on the baby that was now being passed over to a group of nurses.

"Is...is he ok?" you asked, desperately trying to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of him.

"Everything looks good!" one of the nurses called out, setting your mind at ease.

"Ok, Y/N, we still have one more to go." the doctor reminded you, needing you to focus. "Go ahead and give me a push."

Dean's attention was back on you as you grunted out a big push. "I'm so tired." you breathed out, not sure how much longer you were going to be able to keep going. "I've already had one baby. Let me rest." you pleaded.

"Come on, I can see the head." the doctor said, trying to encourage you.

Five minutes and a few big pushes later you felt your second baby being pulled from you, cries ringing out through the room not long after.

"We've got a girl!" the doctor yelled out as you collapsed back against the bed.

Dean looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "A girl. We got one of each." he excitedly said before turning his attention to his daughter.

"Go." you said, nodding in the direction of the babies. "Hard part's over."

Dean was hesitant to leave your side, but a gentle shove from you sent him on his way.

"I get to rest now, right?" you asked the doctor.

She smiled at you, "The hard part is over. You’ve earned it." she said.

Recovery Room

You were propped up in bed, your eyes focused on the door as you waited for Dean to walk in with the twins. You grabbed the call light, worried that he hadn't got there yet and were about to push it when he finally walked through the door, a baby in each arm and a nurse trailing after him pushing two little carts.

You scooted over in bed, making room for him to sit down. "Gimme." you said, as soon as he was seated, anxious to get to hold them.

You took the baby that was closest to you, your son, and held him in your arms. You didn't say anything right away, just took the time to really study the tiny human that you were holding.

"We did good, Freckles." you said, tears in your eyes.

"It was all you." he said, his own focus on his sleeping daughter.

You looked over at them, marveling at how tiny she looked in his arms, "They're perfect." you whispered, Dean nodding his head in agreement.

The two of you sat there in silence, each busy going over every detail of the new babies in your arms.

Dean cleared his throat, breaking the silence, "Any idea on what we should use for names?" he asked.

"I was thinking about maybe something after our parents. Well, your parents and then maybe Bobby and Ellen for me." you said, your finger tracing down the bridge of your son's nose.

Dean cocked his head to the side in thought, "Bobby John?"

You chuckled, "How about Robert John. We could call him Bobby for short." you suggested.

"Robert John Winchester. I like it." he said, a proud smile on his face. "What about this little princess?" he asked, smiling down at your daughter.

"I kind of like Olivia. I think Ollie would be a cute nickname." you said, your brow furrowed in thought as you tried to think of some more options.

"Olivia...Olivia Mary-Ellen Winchester." Dean finished for you.

"I love it." you said, his face lightening up at your approval.

"You know, we got a waiting room full of people that want to meet these two, but if you're not ready I'll tell them to come back." he said, finally looking over at you.

"Go get em'." you said, shifting your son over to one arm and holding open the other for Dean to place your daughter in.

He placed her in your waiting arm, and stood from the bed, pausing at the doorway to look over at the three of you.

"Go. We'll be fine." you said, knowing that he was reluctant to leave.

A few minutes later the door to your room opened, Dean walked through first, followed by Mary, John, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, and Charlie. Everyone crowded around you, all of them anxious to get a glimpse of the twins.

Dean stepped to your side, and eased your son from you, "Everybody meet Robert John Winchester." he said, as he placed the baby in his mother's arms, John and Bobby tearing up a little at his name.

Everyone was crowded around Mary trying to get a good look when you handed Dean your daughter, "And this is Olivia Mary-Ellen Winchester." he said as he handed your daughter to Ellen.

Bobby walked to your side and leaned down to kiss the top of your head, "You did real good, kid." he said, a proud smile on his face.

You smiled up at him, "I think so too."

"Have you ever seen anything so perfect?" Mary asked, standing next to Ellen so that she could see her granddaughter.

Ellen shook her head, "I'm real proud of ya, honey." she said, looking over at you with tears in her eyes. "Ash wanted me to tell you that he would be in tomorrow when you were feeling a little better."

"So, when are you going to get started on the next one so I can have one named after me?" Sam teased.

“Yeah, that’s what I want to know too.” Charlie said.

"N-next one?" Dean croaked out.

You chuckled, "At least let us get out of here first." you teased back, Sam and Charlie laughing at your response.

John walked over to Dean and clapped him on the back, "You two did good." he said before pulling Dean into a hug.

Mary looked over at you, noticing just how exhausted you looked, "Why don't we stop by your place and make sure everything is set up for when you guys get to come home?" she suggested, knowing that you needed to rest.

"Oh, you don't have to do that." you said, not wanting to cause them any problems.

"I know we don't have to, but we want to." Ellen said, as she passed your daughter back to Dean.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and told you how proud they were of you before leaving your room, leaving just you, Dean, and the babies alone.

You let out a loud yawn, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth.

"How about I take them down to the nursery so you can get some sleep?" Dean suggested, as he placed your daughter down in one of the little carts the nurse had brought in earlier.

"Take them? Like out of the room?" you nervously asked, not wanting to let them out of your sight.

Dean chuckled, "It's ok, Sweetheart. Mom and Ellen both said we should get the sleep while we can, and they'll have a nurse with them. If you really don't like it I can go get them back anytime." he said, trying to get you to change your mind and get some much needed rest.

You thought for a moment, looking back and forth between your children, "You'll go get them if I don't like it?" you asked.

"I promise." he said, as he took your sleeping son from your arms and placed him in the cart. "I'll be right back." he said, as he started to slowly push them from the room.

When Dean walked back into the room you were laying on your side facing away from the door. He quietly made his way to the chair by your bed and sat down, shifting around until he found a comfortable position.

"Get up here with me." you mumbled, the squeaking chair giving away his presence.

"You don't have to share the bed with me. I know how you must feel. I'll be fine in the chair." he said.

You chuckled, "I feel like someone set off a stick of dynamite under my ass, but I want you up here." you said as you scooted over a little more.

You felt the bed dip as Dean climbed in next to you, his arm gently coming to rest over your side. You snuggled back into him as he fixed the blankets over the two of you.

"I hope you know how much I love you." he said.

You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your lips and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, "I do, and I hope you know that we love you even more, Freckles."

Tags: @vicmc624 @flamencodiva @divadinag @deans-baby-momma @heyyouwiththeassbutt @baby-bunker-pie @sunsetsandbooks @michellethetvaddict

A/N: So, just a heads up, this series has one part left. I have about seven other ones in my drafts, and I'll post a teaser later of what is coming next if anyone is interested.

#supernatural #supernatural au #dean winchester #dean x reader #reader insert #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #dean x you #dean #spn fic #spn

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spideyspoods · 5 years

Text

Lost & Found

Pairing: Steve Rogers X F!Stark!Reader

A/N: Not gonna lie, I’m kind of proud of myself for this one. I wrote it a whole eight (8) days early so by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be out of town! I apologize if there’s format issues, I’m solely relying on mobile for this upload and I’ll fix it when I get back!

Warnings: Light cursing and a dash of angst.

Word Count: 2,129

Masterlist!

“I still don’t think this is a good idea, Stark.” Steve crossed his arms, jaw clenched. Y/N shrugged, “Last time I checked, it wasn’t your decision to make, Captain.” Natasha stifled a chuckle, admiring the tedious banter between the two. Y/N Stark had always been a handful, but Natasha enjoyed it. The assassin had always sensed some sort of tension between the duo, and seemed like everyone did too. Y/N was sent to return some sort of substance in its chamber. After deliberate examination from Bruce and Tony, they deemed it unsafe to keep and wanted to return it immediately. In the glass cylinder, a yellow material swirled and flowed. After their third, and hopefully final encounter with aliens, it seemed to be a source of power; one that motivated and controlled them. The substance itself was unstable, and honestly quite terrifying.

“If you’re both done with the eye fucking, we’ve got something to do.” Y/N simply rolled her eyes and slipped in the ear piece. Steve went over the details once more, earning a nod from the younger Stark. “If anything goes wrong-”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been told I’m phenomenal at improv.”

She confidently strut her way out of the aircraft and towards the bunker. Steve massaged his temples, “I thought one Stark was already enough.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Rogers.” Nat scoffed. Clint spun around in his chair to face the soldier, “It’s painfully obvious you have a thing for her. Good thing Tony isn’t here.”

“As a matter of a fact, you’re both wrong.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Are you kidding me? Nat’s never been wrong.”

“How could I possibly like someone so reckless and arrogant?”

“Because you’re too stubborn to admit it, obviously.”

Clint points at Steve who had a puzzled look on his face, “Yeah! Also, who are you calling reckless and arrogant?”

“Guys!” In the middle of their squabble, Natasha noticed Y/N having some trouble and Steve pressed the button to speak into her comms, “Y/N get out of there now!”

The soft soil underneath Y/N’s feet trembled the closer she got to the checkpoint. “Relax, I’ve got it! Just give me a few more seconds.” Y/N started to lose balance, and her grip grew tighter. In the middle of the bunker stood a stone podium with etched writing. Why did aliens write in shapes? The rocks above her began to crumble. “Almost-”

She ducked her head, barely scraping past a chunk of stone. A pebble struck the glass, leaving a crack. The substance inside started to swirl violently. She frantically slammed the cylinder on top of the podium. The stone supporting it started to fall and the glass shattered, letting the yellow material loose. Y/N’s eyes widened in panic, “Oh shit-” was all she could say before the substance erupted and began to flow towards her. Quickly and painfully, it engulfed itself into her veins.

“Let’s move!” Steve yelled and ran out to help her. All of it built up in her body, and the energy coarsed through the rocks and trees in the form of an explosion. By the time he reached her, he only saw rings in the dirt and trees split in half. Around her limp body, the soil looked burnt. Her eyes were closed, and her veins were a glowing yellow. Clint looked concerned, and took a deep sigh. “So which one of us is telling Tony?”

Y/N’s body ached. Her eyes could barely open, but she felt safe in someone’s arms. “Rogers, what the hell happened to my daughter?”

“The substance. Somehow she absorbed it.” Was she in Steve’s arms? Her mind was too foggy to realize what happened around her. “Shit. Get her to the medical ward, Bruce start scanning for any changes.” She remembered being placed on a medical bed and wheeled out.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to see nothing but the bright fluorescent lights. “What the hell?” She noticed an IV in her arm, but felt perfectly normal. Turning her head to the right, Bruce smiled, and looked back to the data on a screen. “Y/N, how are you feeling?” She sat up in her bed, “Fine. Did something happen to me?”

“Do you not remember?”

“Was I supposed to?” Bruce tilted his head before calling for Tony. As soon as his name left his throat, her Dad burst into the room. “Hey, pumpkin.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What are the results, doc?”

“There’s no difference in her cells. Or even DNA. It looks just like it did before. Seems like she has no recollection of yesterday.” Y/N looked concerned, and began to stand up. Worriedly, Tony ushered to her side “Woah, easy there-” only to see her walk perfectly fine. “You would think an explosion at that magnitude would leave her bedridden. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad she isn’t but it doesn’t add up.”

“You’re both confusing me. What happened? What explosion?”

“You neglected to follow my orders, that’s what happened.” She could recognize that stern voice anywhere. Banner beckoned Tony to follow him into the lab, and gave you some space. “Just perfect, Rogers. I’m only up for a few minutes and I’m already being lectured by ‘America’s Most Righteous Man,’” sarcasm oozing from her voice. “Y/N-”

“No, go ahead. Tell me everything I did wrong starting from the very moment I was born.” He huffed and stepped closer to Y/N who looked as if she could kill him. “What you did was destructive and utterly selfish-”

“Like you wouldn’t have done the same?”

“The purpose for following orders is to keep everyone and everything safe, you understand?”

“Are you expecting an apology, because you’re not getting one from me. I did what I had to, Rogers.” She got dangerously close to him, but didn’t care and continued, “you know what I’m tired of? You treating me like a damn kid. I’m capable of making my own decisions, and I don’t need you criticizing every single move I make, got it?” Steve opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. She had a point, but he was still upset. Maybe he was the selfish one here. “Y/N.. I just wanted to make sure you would be safe-”

“Sure you do,” she scoffed. He couldn’t fix this, and had no other choice but to confess the feelings he had been pushing away. “Y/N I care about you, okay?” He raised his voice. For the first time, Y/N was speechless. She couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, but she didn’t know how to respond. Tony trailed along after Bruce back into her room only to see them just a few mere inches apart. “Are we doing okay in here?” the doctor questioned. Y/N looked past Steve’s shoulder, “Just peachy. I’m on my way out anyways.” She shot an icy glare towards the soldier, who looked hurt. “Y/N wait, you’re still not cleared to leave!” shouted Bruce.

“I’m fine!”

“Sweetheart, calm down.” her Father pleaded.

“Please, I need some space.” her eyes flashed yellow and the same shade coarsed its way through her veins again. Steve stepped towards her, “Y/N-”

“STOP!” she yelled, sending another blast through the room, straight towards him. He fell back on the marble floor and groaned. “Oh my god,” she muttered, looking at the uneasy rise and fall of his chest. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she ran out.

Y/N Stark had always put on a facade of being put together and constantly assured. Only people she truly trusted saw her shattered. She sat on the balcony, looking over the busy and bustling city. Her fingers fiddled with a necklace Pepper got her for her 16th birthday as she got lost in her own mind. She didn’t know what happened to her or what she could do about it. “Y/N, I heard what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Wanda approached her friend who solemnly nodded. She took a chair and sat across from her. Ever since she joined the team, Wanda was her closest friend. She was always understanding, and not just because she could read minds. They just understood each other, and she was thankful for it. “I was arguing with Steve and I guess I got frustrated and my power went haywire. Also apparently I have some sort of power now, did I mention that?”

“What were you arguing about?” “How he keeps treating me like a kid! It’s not like he’s my Dad or anything. He’s so uptight, it’s infuriating!” The memory itself roused anger in her, veins starting to pulse. Wanda took note and grasped her hands. “Breathe, Y/N. You know he just cares about you, right? Steve’s always been-” “A dick?”

“Protective. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, he loves you.” Y/N’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, “he what now?” Her friend quickly realized she revealed his secret, “Wait did you seriously not notice?” “No, was I supposed to?” She could feel her face heat up at the thought. “Y/N, you know I can read minds right? Both of yours. You probably don’t realize it but, I guess I’ll leave that to you.” Y/N buried her head in her hands, groaning. “Great now I just feel guilty.”

“Hey, you didn’t know. Stop blaming yourself. Getting a grip on your abilities is hard, but I can help you if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” As she sat back up, she heard someone call her name. Wanda turned to her with a sly smile and headed back inside, “Looks like a specific someone is looking for you. Remember what I said!” Leaving her in the dust, Steve peered around the corner to find Y/N turned away from him. “Y/N can we talk?”

“I guess so.” It was quiet, neither of them wanted to speak up first.

“Y/N, I-”

“Steve I-” Both of them spoke at the same time. Y/N gestured towards Steve for him to continue. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know I underestimated you and I thought that being harsh on you would keep you safe and out of harm’s way. I know you’re capable, out of any of us it’d definitely be you. I know you probably don’t think so, but I truly do care about you. I just hope you can forgive me.” She didn’t want to look at him, not yet. “It’s alright, I guess I do have to apologize for butting heads with you every waking second,” she paused “and for slamming you into the floor earlier.” To her surprise, he laughed. Lifting her head, Steve gave her a soft smile. The infectious smile she had tried her best to ignore; refusing to fall for him. “No worries, I think you might have forgotten that I’m a super soldier.”

“Okay, looks like I’ll take that compliment back-” she smirked and stood up to walk back inside, but Steve pulled her back. He looked at her in a newfound light, one where he didn’t have to hide how he felt. “Don’t.” She took him into an embrace. At first, he was reluctant and didn’t want to hurt her anymore. Slowly, he melted into the hug; his heart beating rapidly. “Do you maybe want to try this whole communication thing again? Maybe over lunch?” She pulled away, wrapping her arms around his neck. Y/N thought it was cliche that she only found herself back to normal in Steve’s arms. They were completely entranced by each other’s gaze; believing that they could lose themselves in it. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” She smiled bashfully and felt like she was in middle school all over again. “Yes, Steve.” His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle, almost as if he was trying to apologize for everything he’d ever done. She had been wandering in her own mind and felt at peace.

Natasha, Wanda, and Clint watched from the windows high fiving each other. Tony stepped out of the lab, concern all over his face. “Have you two seen Y/N?” In a panic, they all dispersed averting their gaze from the display on the balcony.

Y/N pulled away in bliss, their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while.” The next thing they heard was the glass door bursting open. “Y/N are you doing okay- oh my god.” Quickly stepping away from each other, the duo turned to meet a furious Tony.

“You both have a lot of explaining to do.”

Thank you for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated, but not required! :) My requests and taglist are open!

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