#imagine getting so fucking mad you just gain consciousness
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Daniel as a character is really interesting to me — and I don’t really think he’s as evil as most think. To me he just seems like he behaved irrationally (much like a child), and realized he’s in too deep and reversed to a mindset of a cornered animal.
Yeah he talks big shit and claims to see humans as less, but then immediately contradicts himself when he shows remorse and unsureness as he hears Emma’s pleas. Deep down he does care about her, hell I would say he’s somewhat been raised right next to her, but his threats to Connor just seem like a scared pet lashing out due to fear. He’s a lot calmer in the evidence room if he were to shoot Con, his voice is a lot softer and he sounds scared and unsure. Deviancy-wise he’s only been cognizant for a few hours!! Bros young asf to the game!! Of course he’s scared and prone to lashing out !! Considering he was raised right next to a literal 9-10 year old he could’ve picked up on some habits.
I also think it’s funny how he’s the ‘first case’ of a human killing it’s owner when Simon’s living proof that deviancy has been existent for years at that point. There’s bound to have been deviants before Daniel, it’s just an upper class household he happened to be from — and several other factors including live coverage of a crime unfolding with said camera shoved in Daniel’s face while actively screaming and having a mental break not helping anyone’s case.
Daniel’s just an unfortunate case of fucking up severely, realizing he’s in too deep with a mistake made after being mentally nuked with new emotions, and lashing out with several stressors (that he caused) only to be lied to and put down like a dog. I believe he’s capable of being a caring individual, it’s just that we didn’t get to see that side of him throughout the game. Bro was constantly tweaking every second he was on screen.
#dbh#detroit become human#he’s just like an emotionally unstable child to me#detroit: bh#dbh daniel#breaks programming -> immediately starts tweaking#imagine getting so fucking mad you just gain consciousness#please I can fix him
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꒦‧₊ ꒷ Team Stan w/ a reader who can shapeshift into animals! [Headcannons] ✧.*
✧.* tags: college au, superhero au,
✧.* Charactions: kyle broflovski, stan marsh, kenny mccormick, butters scotch
a/n: this is an old request but i think i was able to get pretty silly with it
masterlist
Kyle
FLYING TOGETHER PLEASE
Imagine soaring through the sky with fucking human kite
And being such a better flyer than him
Literally cliche flying through the clouds and kyle traces his hands through them
“Stop going so high! I can’t gain altitude that fast!”
“Uh… lame power? Get better? Don’t be a human kite?”
“I fucking hate you.”
“SORRY CAN'T HEAR YOU AIR PRESSURE TOO LOUD”
Yall probably fight really well together
He thinks up the plans and you shapeshift and attack
Dynamic duo vibes fr
DROPPING IN ON A VILLAIN FROM ABOVE
BLOCKING OUT THE SUN OR SOME SHIT
Coolest duo
Stan
“Dude I TOLD YOU not to go in the radioactive lake”
“Oh… I thought that was code for go into the radioactive lake”
“In what world is telling you not to do something code for doing it?”
“Uh- YOU CANT CONTROL ME I CAN TURN INTO A BIRD NOW”
Tries to not be impressed because he’s supposed to be annoyed
But he thinks its so fucking cool
Lowkey wanted that to be his power if he could choose anything
After the veal thing he volunteered at animal shelters
This is real because I said so let me be delusional
Asks you to turn into a cat and talk to the other cats to make sure they don’t hate him
Because ferguson always glares at him from the corner and he is NOT interested in being attacked by a bunch of pissed cats
Convinced they’re scheming against him
Still mad at you for going into the radioactive lake though
Kenny
He cannot comprehend it
Like you try explaining it to him and it is just NOT clicking
The only thing that works is telling him it’s like Beast Boy from Teen Titans
“Oh so you can shapeshift into animals while still regaining your consciousness?”
“I literally said that fifteen times- You anger me so much every day.”
Wants to make the teen titans
He is robin (obviously)
Probably has the costume from halloween a few years back
PLEASE turn into a bear and pretend to fight him
He wants to say he fought a bear
And cartman bet him $100 that he couldn’t
Choreographs an entire battles scene in the middle of town
Because it’s not like south park animal control actually does anything
Kenny now owes you 10 favors that can be cashed in whenever needed
Butters
Turning into a tiger whenever he gets bullied and scaring the shit out of whoever is bothering him
(usually it's eric)
Or turning into a little puppy whenever he’s sad
“Everything alright, butters?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“So you don’t want me to turn into a husky and play with a frisbee?”
“Well you didn’t mention that. That changes everything!”
Just being his lil animal buddy
Turning into an elephant walking to a doctors appointment to get there in like 2 seconds
If he’s professor chaos, he refuses to attack when you’re an animal
It’s animal abuse 🙁
He’ll punch you in the face as a person but he REFUSES to hit a cat
Even if you’re a mountain lion lunging at him
Heart of gold fr
Overall
NO ONE TELLS CARTMAN
A rat got into his sock drawer and ripped holes in all of them?
What a shame :( so sorry that happened to you
Suddenly all of his clothes have cat piss on them
How could that have happened??? Poor poor eric
What do you mean you’ve found spider webs everywhere but no spiders? Hopefully there aren’t spider eggs everywhere. That would be terrible.
Really just looking for excuses to ruin cartman’s day
#south park#south park x reader#corporatefrog#stan marsh#butters stotch#kenny mccormick#kyle broflovski
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Hello :)
Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.
Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️
Sukuna x F! Reader
oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.
A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)
“And I am the idiot with the painted face
In the corner, taking up space
But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”
——-
- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]
- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.
- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.
- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?
- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,
- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]
- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.
- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…
- ,,,wait what
- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.
- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.
- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.
- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.
- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,
“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”
- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,
- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”
- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.
- And that’s how it started.
- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.
- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.
- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.
- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.
- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.
- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom
- that snapped the final string.
- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.
- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’
- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’
- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.
- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse
- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”
- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.
- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.
- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.
- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.
- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,
- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”
- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.
- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.
- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.
- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.
- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?
- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.
- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.
- “The stupid brat passed out.”
- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.
- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”
- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?
- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”
- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,
- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”
- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)
- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”
- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”
- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-
—-
- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.
- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?
- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.
- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.
- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?
#jujutsu kaisen#jjkxreader#jujutsukaisenxreader#yujiitadori#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#itadori x reader#sukuna#sukuna headcanons#jjk headcanons#sukuna smut#gojo saturo x reader#jujutsu Kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen hcs#sukunafluff
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I love fucked up classic lit tell me about your versions of jekyll and hyde
I have talked here before about my headcanons (well, it’s just canon in my version) but long story short: my jekyll and hyde “adaptation” follows the story of the book, but adds a couple interesting changes; for starters, more female characters, fished out from various adaptations; the story intersects with my adaptations of other gothic novels (more accurately with Dorian Gray, and post-canon Carmilla, Adam, and Erik). Also, Hyde gets to interact more often with other characters and there is a longer timeframe. AND he doesn’t kill himself. Well… he TRIES, but fails.
now for the plot: in my version, Jekyll (undisclosed trans guy, he/they) is a well-respected and renown doctor specialized in pharmacological research that, despite their big circle of acquaintances and his contacts in high places, is actually not at all the socialite he pretends to be. other than actively hiding the less palatable traits of his personality in public (such as him being snappish, obsessed with the macabre, and disliking everyone except their closest friends), he’s a normal doctor!
psych. Jekyll has to constantly uphold a charming, sweet persona… and it’s not like he isn’t charming, or sweet… it’s just that his real self is more human. more passive aggressive. PLUS they’re secretly a mad scientist whose dream is to chemically lobotomize the “wrong” out of the human mind… because he’s very tired of not being the man he “ought to be”.
the potion created with this purpose throws the guy into a “less evolved” state of mind, and turns off any semblance of self-control or moral restraints, so as a result it radically alters his behavior and judgement. To worrying extents. and it causes a somatic change in their appearance appearance too, making it fit the idea Jekyll has of evil (a cross between a very diseased caveman and a stereotypical vaudeville villain)
by the by, this new form isn’t inherently evil, but the potion still makes Henry an absolute heartless bastard who gets off on violence and you can imagine how that goes.
Otherwise, Henry’s consciousness is intact- but thirty years of repressing emotions, biting your tongue, fake smiling, and pretending to be cisgender and neurotypical rise up to the surface. why, you would even think they’re a completely different person.
of course, Jekyll, who if you haven’t realized by now has a potato for a moral compass, decides to exploit this. he creates a villain-esque persona to go with this second body, one incompatible with the gentlemanly persona he had crafted for his everyday life.
and we all know the rest. more or less until the Last Night happens. Hyde doesn’t die, but Jekyll is found pale and in the brink of death at his laboratory- no signs of the criminal anywhere around. Things more or less return to normal, but he’s changed. Jekyll is quieter, sadder, crushed by guilt, haunted by the horrible things he’s done under the guise of a monster- and as Hyde, he’s lost their zest for life, and has gained a nasty taste for self-destruction.
and no matter what, he’s vexed by the thought that they might snap again, hurt someone, ruin his reputation, reveal their secret…
and then James Moriarty intrudes in his life, again, after decades of silence. But that’s for the sequel 🤫
#doc talks#jekyll and hyde#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde#dr jekyll and mr hyde#long post
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Ayeee its ya boi, schlatt addict-
So last year I got my foot caught in a bear trap, and I was just thinking about if the reader got hurt during a fight with another mc youtuber (in game ofc) and schlatt finds them really badly hurt, and he has to take care of them. Bc they can't walk and ya know ✨b l o o d✨
So yeah thats my idea, peace ✌
Oh dear god, I hope that everything it’s alright with your leg now!
Thanks for taking the time to request this, it’s so soft and I love it so much!
I hope you like it!
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Jschlatt x Reader (Fluff)
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Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohool, light level of violence at the beggining.
That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want me to put in the warnings please let me know
▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎
You had gotten into a pretty bad fight with Willbur after Schlatt had announced the festival, you were walking around the city, to make sure everything was fine when you had spotted him at the top of a tree, his eyes once so caring filled with rage.
You knew that wasn't the Willbur you met long ago, and since you were on Schlatt's side now, you went to confront him, it didn't end up well for you.
No one was expecting to fight on the day of the announcement, for that reason you weren't with your netherite armor, only wearing the black suit you liked so much to seem more serious.
It was a pretty suit, yes, but it didn't work well against arrows and a diamond sword, granted, you couldn't even imagine how Willbur got his hands on a diamond sword when he was wearing the dirtiest outfit you've seen in ages.
Nonetheless, the fight dragged through the forest, as both of you were screaming at each other, Willbur trying to make you see how he was the victim of the system, trying to get back to the country he loved so much, while you were trying to explain why the rules were made to keep him away.
When he stopped trying to convince you that he wasn't doing anything bad, and started to attack you with more rage than before, you knew you were right since the beginning, Willbur had gone mad in his exile.
He shouted curses at you, throwing punches in your direction until he could trip you and hold you down on the ground, he got his sword with hands trembling, a dangerous smile on his face as he put the sword at the top of your chest, you tried to move, tears forming in your eyes as you screamed trying to get him to lose his balance so you could escape.
It was to no avail, you could feel the sword slowly making contact with your skin, the pain running through your skin slowly, almost taunting you to do something to stop it.
You bit hard on the inside of your cheeks, tasting your own blood trying to not focus on the pain, it would only get worst and worst, you closed your eyes waiting for the blackness to swallow you whole right after Wilbur pierced through your chest, but the void never came to take you out.
What came instead was another sudden wave of pain, this time concentrating on your leg, as you opened your eyes, you could see the blood running through your chest, but what got your attention, was the sword impelled at your leg, there was blood everywhere, your clothes ripped in many places where Willbur had attacked you.
And thinking about the devil, he was gone, no words or apologies, no shadow lurking behind the trees to see if you would survive, simply gone.
As the adrenaline in your body started to go down, and the pain got bigger, your eyes started to close, they felt too heavy, but you knew deep down you couldn't pass out from the pain in the middle of the forest, so you did the only thing you could think of.
You called Schlatt for help, since your arms weren't too damaged to move, you grasp on the small string of consciousness to open the message board everyone could use as a sort of direct link to each other.
Typing out your coordinates you pressed sent, letting your hands fall limp close to your body, and finally letting yourself crave the dark embrace that awaited for you, telling yourself that it would be fine once schlatt found you, your vision turned dark, and you blacked out.
-------------------------------------------------------
When you woke up again, you were in a large room, in a massive bed, with lots of blankets organized messily around you, there was an enormous window from where you could see Manberg in all of its glory, as you were trying to get a better view by moving, the door of the room opened, revealing schlatt, with a tired expression carrying a small plate with what seemed to be mushroom soup.
"What the fuck you think you're doing woman?" He asked with his loud voice practically running to your side.
"Trying to get up?" You asked still trying to move your body to at least sit on the bed more comfortably.
"Yeah that's the fucking problem dumb bitch, you can't move or else the stitches can get worst." Schlatt argued putting the plate on the bed table at your side.
He pulled the blankets off of you so you could see the white bandages covering your leg, quickly you pulled your shirt a little so you could peek at your chest, there was also white bandages firmly wrapped in your torso, you looked at schlatt, feeling your face get hot as you pieced together the pieces of what probably had happened after you blacked out alone in the forest.
Before you could say anything about the whole situation though, Schlatt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically.
"Don't ever think about that, I asked Nikki to help with the bandages, and she is the one that dresses you up on some spare clothes she had with her."
You could feel yourself relax at that, nodding your head slightly Schlatt approached you, moving his hands so he could support your torso and pull you up, making you sit on the bed, after making sure you were comfortable enough the hybrid handed you the small plate with the soup.
"Nikki thinks you're going to be able to walk in two weeks, but if you have any problem with the wound, it can take three weeks or more, you can stay here while you're healing." Schlatt says before leaving the room.
You blink a few after he leaves, your face still a little hot as you think about how careful he held you to help you move your body, deciding to not give yourself a headache thinking about it, you start to eat the soup, only to be interrupted again by Schallat entering the room.
He was carrying a shit ton of magazines and random books, the hybrid crossed the room to come to the other side of the bed and let all of the magazines down at your side, he sat right beside you and moved the magazines around so you could see all of the titles.
" I also thought... you could get bored, so I got some shit for you to read if you want to." Schlatt said with a proud smile.
You could only smile in return and offer a quiet "thanks" as you went back to eat the soup, after you finished Schlatt quickly took the place and went out to the kitchen as you moved around a little, picking a random magazine you moved the others away so there could be more space for the president in the bed.
You knew he wouldn't leave your side, not until you were completely okay again, he was just looking out for you in his way, standing close and making sure you wouldn't have any problem in your recovery.
Just as you expected, he came back soon after leaving the plate at the sink, he sat once again beside you, putting his head at your shoulder you hummed quietly, moving your hand so you could caress the side of his face.
You had learned long ago that the ram hybrid was pretty touch starved, although he kept the charade of a tough guy that doesn't need anything else other than his whiskey, you've been on his side for what seemed like forever now.
Schlatt took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your wrist before moving his head, headbutting you lightly to gain your attention, you moved your gaze from the current magazine on your lap to his face.
"Don't ever do this again to me alright?" He said in a more serious tone, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand.
"Okay, I'll make sure to not get hurt again to take up your bed." You snorted with a small smile forming on your face.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't give me another heart attack like this one, I thought I lost you when you sent the coordinates and didn't answer when I asked what was happening." He held your hands more firmly, afraid that you would suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes.
Placing a small kiss on his temples you smiled with confidence, headbutting him lightly like how he had done moments ago.
"Don't worry, I promise to do my best to not get stabbed again."
That got Schlatt to laugh as he gave you some more space, squeezing your hand he moved on the bed, sticking his legs out and pushing a blanket over himself.
"You better do your fucking best alright, now, let's talk shit about those magazine people, and how they look so uncomfortable in the covers."
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Good boy | KNJ drabble
+Pairing: Namjoon x Reader(gender neutral)
+Rating: 18+
+WC: 1.5k
+Warning: NSFW, Sub!Joon, Dom!reader, Gender neutral reader, unresolved sexual tension, sex toys, unfinished, like it cuts off pretty abruptly.
+A/N: I found this in my google docs and i knew that if i didn’t post it right now i never would. So here it is. I might reuse it in a fic someday. Sorry for the abrupt cut :P unbetaed so don’t look too hard pls thank you.
also this is the title past me gave the doc which made present me lol
+
You’re both laughing and giggling as you go up to Namjoon’s dorm room, trying not to trip on your feet as you run up the stairs, taking them two by two. The A/C is quickly becoming a problem, your skin breaking out in goosebumps as the wet clothes you’re both wearing go from being wet, to uncomfortably wet and cold.
The car wash had been a success, raising enough funds for your team project in a single afternoon, and then it’d seemed like a good idea to celebrate by drenching everyone with the water hose. The lack of towel had quickly made itself noticeable, forcing everyone to disperse and find a way to dry themselves off. For you and Namjoon, it was pretty clear your destination would be his dorm room. It was closer than yours, and Namjoon has a nice collection of plush and soft towels, courtesy of his mom.
You’re almost sad when you make it to the door, disappointed that you’ll lose the sight of Namjoon’s clothes completely plastered to his body, leaving not one inch to the imagination. He has an impressive body, one that’s been making heads turn for the last few months, ever since he started working out with Jungkook. You’d love his body whatever shape it may be, but the definition he has gained in his chest, and arms, and especially his thighs, is definitely a sight to behold. The way the muscles work as he walks, runs, squats, or kneels… You’ve found yourself staring at them more and more these days. And the short shorts he has on right now, stopping at his mid-thighs, letting just a hint of his thigh tattoo peek out, it’s definitely not leaving you indifferent.
The moment you step into the dorm, you hang back behind to watch him undress, a familiar sensation tickling up your spin at the sight of your lover taking off his shirt, leaving him clad in his godforsaken shorts and glistening sun-kissed skin. Just as he digs his thumbs in his waistband, you snap out of the trance you were falling into.
“Stop.” You say simply, catching his attention and halting his undressing process.
You have nowhere to be in the immediate moment, no one waiting for you, nothing pressing to finish or study for. You’ve spent all afternoon being teased by the sight of your sub parading around with his amazing body basically on display, looking worthy of being in a pin-up magazine with his wet white t-shirt and his terrible, terribly short red shorts.
He recognizes the look in your eyes, wetting his lips with a quick drag his tongue as the air in the room turns heavier, warming up.
He shifts his body towards you, be it consciously or unconsciously, and you take yet another moment to admire his amazing physic, wondering who you saved in your past life to have a boyfriend like Namjoon, who likes to let you tie him up and wreck him just right.
“How do you want me?” He asks, voice going slightly lower than usual as arousal probably grows in the pit of his stomach.
He’s so beautiful, so responsive to your will, so perfect in every way. You want to kiss every inch of his gorgeous face, bite every bit of his lips, and leave traces all over his body. You want to mark up his chest and strong hips and thighs and calves and ankles. You want to hear him whine and moan, you want to make him whine and moan.
“Get on the bed.” You answer simply, taking your sweet time to walk to his dresser, eyes never leaving him as he complies with your demand. You enjoy the sight of his muscles bulging as he positions himself in the middle of the bed, sitting on his heels with his hands on his thighs, waiting for more orders like the good boy he is. His shorts are still soaked, but he doesn’t seem to mind that they’ll dampen his sheets; they probably won’t be dry after you’re done with him anyway, wet shorts or not. Your playtimes tend to get messy.
You get what you need from the second drawer, hidden in the back behind his graphic tee, where he keeps his stash of goodies. There’s everything you need for improvised scenes in there, but for the more complicated stuff, scenes that demand a level of preparation, you usually go to yours. Living out of campus has its perks, like decently thick walls that won’t expose your activity to the whole building.
“Are you going to need help to keep quiet?” You ask as an afterthought, eyeing the little gold satin bag containing his favorite ballgag. “You have to keep quiet or else your neighbor will glare at me, again.”
This seems to confuse Namjoon for a second, head tilting as if trying to answer a math problem. “Jimin? I don’t know why he would do that, it’s not like we’re the only one fucking here.”
You decide against it, a part of you loving how mad it drives your boyfriend’s neighbor to hear you pleasure Namjoon. In some twisted way, it’s like you’re letting him know how good you’re taking care of him, and how nonexistent his chances are at seducing your boyfriend.
“Oh baby, he’s not bothered by the noise, he’s jealous he’s not the one pulling them out of you.” You purr, closing the drawer with an elbow.
You feel a rebuttal coming, and you quickly drop the content of your hands on the mattress to push a finger against Namjoon’s plush lips, silencing his doubts.
“You might not have noticed, but I see the way he looks at you, and it’s definitely not in a friendly manner.” You shush him, possessiveness bubbling in your stomach.
There’s a fine blush appearing on Namjoon’s cheeks, which makes you want to coo. But you can’t wait to extend this flush all over his body, so you don’t waste any more time.
“Lay on your back, hands by your head, leg spread.” You order, moving away to leave him the space he needs to assume his new position. He executes quickly, his eagerness making you bite back a smile, and you take a moment to admire his long body laid out in front of you, twitching and begging to be touched. Namjoon trusts you to take care of him, and you always make sure to leave him satisfied.
“What’s your safe word, baby boy?” You inquire, voice soft but commanding in the rising tension of the room.
“Crab.” He states, his beautiful eyes meeting yours, twinkling with anticipation. You can see the rise and fall of his chest has gotten quicker, a tent in his shorts already noticeable. He’s probably the most responsive sub you’ve ever met (in your admittedly very short career, but still), always ready to go at a moment’s notice. Once he told you it was because of you, that he had never had this kind of response to anyone else before. You remember making him come many times that night, as a treat.
You start by leaning over him, sealing your lips to his in a tender kiss to which he responds with a low whine, frustrated by the torturous pace you set. You take your fill of his lips, sucking and biting, earning yourself all sort of cute noises.
“Your hands stay exactly where they are, understood?” You say as you break the kiss, grinning at the way he chases after you. You press him back down with one hand to his chest, a chastising look in your eyes.
“Yes.” He nods eagerly, relaxing his body to lay perfectly still.
You reward him by pressing a kiss to his jaw, then following the line of his neck to his gorgeous collarbone. You gently dig in your teeth in the taut skin, not hard enough to leave a mark yet, just enough for Namjoon to feel it. You hear a sharp intake of air, and you soothe the skin with your tongue, enjoying the slightly salty tang from a day spent working in the sun.
You carry on with your ministration, trailing down his torso until you get to a nipple, the peak hardened and looking biteable. You waste no second diving in, kissing and teasing with your teeth the darker skin, swirling your tongue around the peak, pulling from Namjoon some delicious moans. He loves having his nipple played with, always gets whiny from the attention.
You reach for the first toy; a set of fancy nipple clamps.
You secure the first clamp on the one you just spent a good minute abusing, then you pinch the second one, getting it nice and puffy. You can see how tense Namjoon is, straining to stay still, how his back wants to arch off the bed;
But he doesn’t, because he’s a good boy.
#im sorry about this#sub joon#bts drabble#sub joon rights#bts fic#drabble#namjoon fic#houseofddaeng#bangtanarmynet#bangtanidx
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Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24
When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.
His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.
“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”
“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”
“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”
“Yeah,” he grumped.
“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”
Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!
“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.
“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”
The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.
“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”
“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.
“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”
Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”
“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”
Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”
The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.
But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…
Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!
As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’
After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.
It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!
Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…
They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?
Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’
Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.
#bakudeku#bkdk#katsudeku#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#bakudeku canon divergent au#blood quirk#vampire quirk#bakudeku au#bakudeku fan fic#bakudeku fan fiction#decchan#ktdk#ch 6#bloody passion#petri808
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Screencap supported scene breakdown analysis (requested by an anon)
Okay, let’s start with the opening shot
We see the whole of the throne here, and the fact Lucifer is clearly sat upon it, which tells us that despite Sabrina ‘claiming her crown’ after winning the Unholy Regalia, Lucifer is still very much in charge. He’s on the throne here and he’s comfortable, but look at how much Lilith is also leaning on it. She’s all over it. Lilith definitely is showing her claim too, not just by her own right, but by the child she carries inside her. They alll dismissed her because she wasn’t a Morningstar, but now she is one by proxy. Also I think this whole positioning is probably how Lilith was often stood by the throne in the pre-CAOS days when she was sitll in adoration and in love with the Dark Lord. She is playing a part here, after all, in order to survive, but what’s interesting is she’s not the one leaning in; he is. Showing that her ‘performance’ is working, that he is slowly, but surely starting to let down his guard, and believing Lilith is ‘back on side’.
I have to admit I’m surprised at how approving you are of your only daughter getting married
Lilith’s whole language is pushing the domesticity here. She’s talking to him as a Mother(Stepmother might talk to a Father, rather than as a servant to a Lord, making more of that connection.
And look at the body language here, the performance she’s making:
Head down, eyes down as she talks about how he should be more selective, managing to not only make herself look suitably servile, but she looks non-threatening and demure. Fucking demure. Something Lilith definitely isn’t, but she’s playing the role of ‘expectant Mother’ and ‘caring Stepmother’ and ‘concerned partner’. Lilith is doing absolutely everything to appear non-threatening, most likely with the intent of having Lucifer forget himself long enough for her to gain the advantage. I also feel the whole vibe here is, despite Lilith saying that they were definitely ‘not together’, Lucifer has started behaving as if they are. After all she was ‘Satan’s Concubine’, and he’s not going to give up those privileges if he doesn’t want to. And I suspect if that was the case, Lilith has been ‘submitting’ for the sake of survival and the long-con, but it also adds another layer to her downcast eyes and appearing non-threatening. It’s both a reaction and a defence.
She only meets his gaze to make her final point. And what’s important is she doesn’t shy away from that gaze.
She meets it and doesn’t waver, she is making her point and she’s not trembling or hesitating. Lilith may be trapped in a situation here, but she’s not without power and she’s aware of that, and she is actively using it. And it’s an interesting/funny side-note that the point she’s making is ‘Caliban is bad for Sabina’. Stepmother!Lilith activate! Which fits in nicely with the Just-doesn’t-like-Caliban!Lilith. And when she meets his gaze, challenging his decision to give his approve, does Lucifer get mad or angry? Does he tell her to remember her place? Does he punish her? Nope. He leans for gossip sharing opinions time:
He leans in to Lilith, talking with her in a very private and intimate way, and starts sharing all his opinions and reasons why he thinks Caliban is a good match. This is someone who he says betrayed him, who he said he plans to kill, and yet, Lilith has managed to make him forget himself and take her as is confidante again. I have no doubt that had the pregnancy not been sped up, Lilith would have spent more months encouraging this trust and faith in her, playing to his ego and presumptions.
But throughout this whole conversation we see Lilith consciously making an effort to look close, whilst always looking a little on edge, while Lucifer in his element, totally comfortable and absolutely happy to share his thoughts with Lilith. More than likely these moments are brief and we see Lucifer remembering her ‘betrayal’ and treating her as such (just as we saw his possessive anger when he noticed she was absent from the council meeting), but these are flashes of moments where Lilith is making him drop his guard and I would like to think over time they would have become more frequent and Lilith would have used them to her advantage.
However it’s interesting to note that when Lucifer makes this intense close eye contact, Lilith breaks her gaze away
In fact, she’s shown to be unable to bear looking at him (either out of fear or disgust or a mixture of the two) so much that as he talks, she actually physically turns away
Which when you go through the scene more slowly and with more focus Lucifer does seem to notice, if only subtly. But you can see above that Lilith literally cannot bear to look at him or listen to him. We have confirmation here that her whole leaning in, talking softly, standing close, is an all an act for her own survival and it’s one she physically hates. I would say it has comparisons to Zelda when she has to pretend to be still under the Caligari spell. Knowing it’s required, but hating every minute of it, and feeling trapped in a different way to how you were trapped before, but still trapped.
While he’s talking we see her eye roll secretly before offering tight and polite smiles, nodding in a display of agreement, pandering to all of Lucifer’s logic and ideas and opinions. Just as Zelda had to be seen to agree with everything Faustus said. We even see Lilith actively sigh with boredom and exhaustion at Lucifer going on and on with himself. And you hear the sigh too. I think this is interesting, not only because it confirms Lilith has not fallen back into old habits with him, she hasn’t become enamoured of him again and that she finds him tiresome...but that, at this point, Lilith feels confident enough in her own position and her own to be able to bored and tired rather than just afraid. And when you see how much she turns to just fear the moment she has Adam, tells me that she definitely did have a pregnancy-long plan to victory in place which was destroyed by the intervention of Caliban and the Plague Kings.
The thing that drags Lilith’s full attention back is when Lucifer declares the most important reason to agree to the marriage is because Caliban looks great shirtless
Lilith looks quietly and suitably horrified and confused. You can’t see it as much in a singular screencap but she does look at Lucifer like ‘what the fuck?’, because you’re not meant to be getting the hots for the shirtless wonder of your daughter’s future husband. Also, because in a political arena how good someone looks topless should not be the most important reason to have them around. And also, though Lilith admits Caliban is handsome, you get the vibe she means that in the same way you can stay a statue is pretty...you’re not actually sexually attracted to it. So now with both Lucifer and Sabrina liking Clay Boy, Lilith is clearly thinking she’s the only sane one left.
But the horror is nowhere near as much as it is when he mentions Grandchildren
Aside from the fact Lilith has no intentions of being a Step-Grandmother to any Caliban babies (literal personal hell), there’s also the added fact Sabrina is just sixteen and not even married yet and Lucifer is already mentioning her popping out kids. Considering how Lilith was treated in the beginning by the False God and Adam as expected to fulfil certain roles as a woman (wife, mother, someone who loves children and is nurturing and gentle and blah blah) it’s probably a wee bit triggering to hear the same things being expected of Sabrina. We’ve all (Michelle included, for that matter) already said that Lilith probably sees a lot of herself in Sabrina, a younger version of herself, so extra trigger point. But then the obviously main concern is ‘what the fuck was the point of me getting pregnant with your son to save my fucking life if you’re off already planning fucking grandchildren??’. Which is a fair and concerning point. Like as I said above, Lilith definitely had a pregnancy-long plan for her own continued survival and likely Lucifer’s defeat, and this talk of grandchildren is now throwing a big ole spanner in the works, And you see the flash of fear about this:
Microexpression of fear right there. And you see her quickly recalculating, trying to figure everything out, trying to ensure her own survival, and that of her child for that matter, isn’t going to be too effected by this...but in the end she’s forced to ask him outright. “And what does that mean for our child?” And she does deliberately use ‘our’, reminding him ‘you do have a fucking son to come remember??’
But she doesn’t manage to completely hide her fear and concern as she asks. You can see that in all likelihood her heart is pounding stressfully in her chest right now. Because right now all her plans are threatening to go right down the drain, and she’s thinking that carrying his child is going to do nothing except make her a prisoner all over again...and possibly dead eventually.
Lucifer, however, just grins and says ‘Competition, I imagine’
Competition. And what does competition mean in these sorts of circles? It’s the same sort of competition that the Princes in Stardust had, they all killed each other in an effort to win the throne. This is going to be the upbring of Lilith’s child; constantly fighting his nieces and nephews for his right to the throne, constantly having threats on his life, constant fights in general...all in the name of ‘competition’, which Lucifer apparently thinks is a good, healthy thing for a fucking child to have.
And you don’t have to be good at reading microexpressions to know what Lilith thinks about all this
High key horrified. And you also see elements of disgust. Lilith is genuinely horrified at the idea of her son just constantly at risk in the name of ‘competition’ and that Lucifer thinks this is perfectly okay. I think we genuinely see here the first flash of Lilith as Adam’s Mother. She was low key concerned before, but the moment Lucifer says this, her emotions get upped straight to horrified. I mean we saw in later episodes that she was perfectly okay with the idea of her son challenging Lucifer when he was grown, but that’s waiting till he was an adult and challenging one person for the sake of something important. Entirely different from ‘constantly fighting for your life, being attacked, never resting, in order to have some healthy competition’. A word which also implies, Lucifer would just have an attitude of ‘the strongest survive’, regardless of who suffers or who dies. I mean odds are Adam would be more powerful than the hypothetical grandkids considering his parentage, so the fact Lilith is horrified, enough so that she goes to SABRINA’S AUNTS in a effort to stop the wedding, seems to be much more linked to concern for her unborn child than any genuine claims to power. And I think foreshadows the rest of her part 4 narrative and just how far she’ll go for Baby Adam.
And look, you can genuinely see her recalculating her plans and what she needs to do next.
Like yep yep competition cool cool cool cool totes agree that’s great....must get to the Aunts.
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Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)
Does that make me crazy
Synopsis: Skuld is alone with herself and reflects back on her past. Passes the time thinking about murder (as we all do)
Warnings: insanity, slow descent into madness, toxic relationship, prisoner, flashbacks
Tags:
@youbloodymadgenius
Sometimes, time passed slowly; other times, Skuld felt like she had been inside the room for years. She floated above the feeling of consciousness, thinking about everything and nothing at once. She lived her life the best she could, enjoying men, women, money, and alcohol.
In her eyes, there was nothing wrong with her lifestyle. Mother always said to do who and what you love. Being someone's pretty little wife and housewife wasn't for her. She was to be worshipped like a queen and live the happiest life. With Ivar, she could have it all. He looked at her as if she hung the moon and ate out of the palm of her hand.
Give it time, and they would become the most powerful couple alive—Ivar's anger and mind, combined with Skuld's ability to manipulate and flatter. She felt the smile pulling at her lips when she imagined their future—the King and Queen of the World. "All Hail Queen Skuld Ylvasdottir. The most beautiful and powerful of them all." She giggled and brushed through her greasy birdnest of blonde hair.
The grime and dirt were sickening to her, her own waste not that far and no food or water in sight. If they wanted to starve her or were waiting for something, she had no idea. When she wasn't thinking about her future, she planned out Lagertha's downfall, how Skuld would kill her, if she would drag it out or not.
Death and murder were such easy things if you were surrounded by them your whole life. While her brothers were trained in the bolder approach of battle and war, Skuld was taught how to wage war in secrecy. Undermining people, whispering things into their ears, and making them believe it was their idea all along. Her mother taught her five brothers, and life taught Skuld.
The first time she killed, she was not even eleven. Balancing between childhood and womanhood, the girl ran around with the other children. Haldor ran after her like a loyal puppy, the pink-cheeked boy hacking at everything with his wooden sword, saying he will protect her from everything.
The truth was, Skuld didn't need protecting even then. She found out that if you glare at a boy long enough, they will get intimidated and leave. Pretend to be better than them, and their egos make them stutter and curse. Afterward, they are easy prey to ridicule and leave you alone. If not, just threaten them. Years later, the more persistent ones were disposed of during the black of the night and ruled off as an accident.
So at eleven, she ran around carefree, the other shrieking children playing ball. Skuld loved to throw the ball further than the kids could reach or with full force. The stunned face of the child that got hit was always fun, but the crying was annoying. So when the third child broke down crying and run off home, she stopped playing and looked around instead.
The faint chirping of a baby bird could be heard from her left, so she followed the sound till she found the culprit. A baby bird laid under the tree, its wing broken. The mother wouldn't come back for the birdie.
Skuld leaned down to the little thing and cradled it in her palms. It peered up at her, making wounded noises as she looked the wing over. The bone was out, and some feathers were gone. It would survive, but what was it worth if it can't fly. That all a bird is meant for.
It would slowly starve to death and die. What a cruel fate that would be. "Skuld, come on!!! I don't want to play alone." Haldor yelled at her exited, the ball in his hands. The girl's blue eyes watched the distressed animal in her hands. There was no way to help him. She can't just raise it till it dies of old age.
"Skuld!" She could hear footsteps approaching and her mother's voice calling them for dinner. So Skuld tutted at the small bird in a soothing voice and closed it in her palms. The bird pecked at her soft hands, trying to get free. She tightened her hold and slowly squeezed the life out of it. "Skuld, come eat!"
When her mother found her and looked into her hands, she found the bird with its snapped neck. Her daughter looked at the animal with empty eyes. "Why did you do that?"
"Mercy. It would die anyway. Why let it suffer?"
Skuld chuckled at the memory and looked down at her arms; bloody scratches ran down her arms. She doesn't really remember giving them to herself. She recalls hugging herself from the cold and then the blood running down her arms.
Maybe she was as broken as the bird she killed. Mercy, that's what she called it. Who would show her the same favor? Would they let her slowly lose her mind before she starved to death? Putting her out of her misery would be nicer. What did she ever do to deserve this treatment? She was a royal guest to Aslaug. What reason does Lagertha have to lock her up and slowly kill her?
Skuld was like a crippled bird trapped and doomed. She killed him, and he got a proper Viking burial. Would they do the same to her?
"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die."
She giggled at the song that she heard when she was small. It was sung by some slave that was sacrificed in her father's honor. The old woman seemed at peace with death, so serene as they cut her throat. Would Skuld die the same way? Without putting up a fight when her body was too weak to save her? She doubted it, all the conflict in her way too stubborn to let go. Fuck them all; they won't take her dignity and sanity. She won't let them win.
Revenge was something her mother despised. Maybe that's why Ragnar Lothbrok survived, or perhaps Ylva gained more than she lost. After all, an Earldom for a husband was a fair trade. Even if it left you with six children, you have to raise on your own. But no matter who wronged Ylva, she gave them a quick death and never mentioned it again.
The faster it was over, the better. She would gather her warriors, wage war, and win the battle. Quick revenge, expected, but easily won. Skuld wasn't like that. When someone wronged her, no matter how dire, she would wait and then strike.
When she was a child, not younger than ten, a boy made fun of her for not having a father. Carefully she made her plan and waited for her moment. Within the year it came. The next winter, the boy was an outcast, ridiculed for his destroyed reputation.
Destroying a man's reputation was essentially harder than a woman's. Call her a whore, pay off a few people to say she did bad deeds, or was a witch, and she was done for. With men, it was more difficult. Loose morals were, for some reason, praised in boys and men. The more women he slept with, the better. But if he has no honor and no fighting skill, then he is shunned.
So she set him against Haldor, dressed as a commoner. The twelve-year-old boy believed he lost against a smaller thin farmer's child. Haldor had better training and thought the fight to be a game. A good excuse to be as dirty as he wanted.
The other boy was laughed at, and when news came out to the young girls of Yugar, he couldn't charm any girl for years after. The other men and boys ridiculed him, and the rumors grew worse. Now he fights alongside Skuld's brothers in the shield wall. Sometimes she still wonders if he ever found out it was Haldor who beat him and not a farmer.
Skuld's revenge on Lagertha would take time as well. She had all the time in the world to plan it. Undermining the bitch and killing off her shieldmaidens was a good start. Make her doubt her security and allies till she went grey from worry. Skuld giggled at the thought and hid her face in her hands.
The door to the hut opened, and the sun burned her eyes. She hissed at the bright light and shielded her eyes with her hand, till a figure did the job instead. Lagertha stood before her in a red gown, surrounded by her shieldmaidens. "Lady Skuld of Yugar. The little lion cub. I am sorry for the lack of hospitality. I had a lot to do."
"I am sure overtaking a kingdom is a lot of work. You could have spared yourself the responsibility and stayed Earl Ingstad." Skuld mussed with a shrug, looking up at the Queen from her spot on the ground. She shakily stood up and glared at the shieldmaiden.
"I took what was rightfully mine."
"And what do I have to do with it? I didn't take your kingdom or husband. All I did was fuck his son. Not yours, of course. I do have boundaries." Skuld chuckled and watched Torvi glare at her. What's her problem? I said I didn't fuck Bjorn.
Lagertha smiled at her and signaled with her hand. Two shieldmaidens walked in, one holding a dress and another a tray with food and drink. Neither was fitting for someone of Skuld's status or hunger. "It is simply a precaution. Your mother may be on good grounds with Bjorn, but she hated Ragnar. I do not know how she stands with me. Keeping you safe is my priority now."
Skuld chuckled and stepped closer, the shieldmaidens moving to protect Lagertha. What do they think I would do? Throw shit? Now that's a thought she could save for desperate times. "Ah yes, and starving me in a dark room with no chamber pot or water is so nice of you. If you think this will help your relationship with my mother, you are an utter fool."
"You haven't been exactly compliant either. You killed my shieldmaidens. Two, to be exact." Astrid answered for Lagertha. Skuld scoffed and shifted on her feet to seem less threatening.
"I come from a line of warriors. So I tend to attack and kill those who try to kidnap me. Sorry." Skuld obviously meant the last word to be mocking as she wasn't sorry at all.
"You were close to Aslaug and her sons. Keeping you secluded is the safest option, especially with you acting out. It is better for everybody. With your history." She sat down in her old spot and raised the cup of water to her cracked lips.
She looked at Lagertha with a raised eyebrow. "My history? Are you calling me a whore?"
"I am calling you a dangerous woman with love for violence and death. My actions didn't warm your heart to me either. So it is best to keep you in here till your mother returns."
"That could be months."
"So you better get used to your new home." Astrid mocked, causing Skuld to smirk and sip at the water.
"I hope you will mention my actions to your mother. After all, I could have had you executed."
Skuld chuckled and leaned back against the wall. In a fast movement, she threw the cup at Lagertha. "Get out, you hateful bitch! I hope you rot in Hel for eternity!"
The Queen turned on her heel, offended, and left with some of her warriors. The door closing behind them. Skuld sat there for a while, breathing heavily. Astrid looked at the girl with soft eyes, frowning at the dirty state she was in. "If you do as you are told and reign your temper in, you will get out of here faster."
Skuld chuckled and looked at the female with disdain clear in her eyes. "Manipulating me into liking you isn't going to work, Astrid. It wouldn't work either. It isn't my mother, Lagertha fears. She fears me." Skuld hissed, leaning forward, spit flying out of her mouth as her blue eyes grew wild. She looked like a rabid animal about to pounce.
"Nonsense."
"I fucked Aslaug's favorite son; I won her favor and Ivar's interest. I got my claws into Kattegat's population, the very people that your precious Queen wants to rule over. If I willed it, I could make them overthrow her. Which is no intention of mine, but Lagertha can't be certain of that. So she locks me up, maybe to starve me till my mother returns. Until then, she will gather a big enough force to beat an Earl."
Astrid smirked at her deduction and turned on her heel to leave. "You would have never been a hostage if you just didn't sleep with Ivar. Lagertha would have never noticed you if you didn't strive so high." She laughed, and Skuld shared her amusement.
With a creepy smile on her dirty face, the Earl's daughter sung the verse that gave her hope.
"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die."
Astrid frowned at the threat and left the room, closing Skuld in the darkness again. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling to calm her racing heart. "Since when had getting laid such a high price? I should have gone to bed instead." She groaned and collapsed back on the floor to catch some sleep.
#history vikings#vikings#original character#original female character#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar lothbrok#ivar#hvitserk lothbrok#Hvitserk Ragnarsson#hvitserk x oc#Hvitserk#ivar x oc
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oh fuck! that’s a tasty mental image 😋 ash clumsily, painstakingly, bandaging up callum & easing his pain as much as possible cause he can’t bear to see callum suffer but fully aware that there’s gonna be Consequences for disobeying callum’s explicit fear of his teeth. whatever you do, don’t imagine ash putting the muzzle on HIMSELF so callum groggily enters cell next day & ash immediately kneels at his feet, shaking, head touching stone, hands stretched flat at callum’s boots, anxious mess 😈
hhhHHHHHHH dude. Buddy. My pal. It is not often someone gives me whumperflies with my own characters. So, congratulations!!! This idea swept in and took me for everything I had.
Warning for needles/stitches/blood/mild gore up ahead! It should also be noted, for those who haven’t followed the last few exchanges, that vampire venom in this universe (from a young vampire) doesn’t turn people, but has pain-numbing qualities!
-
His hands are covered in blood. There are tears in Ash’s eyes, and an itching in his gums, as he tries again to get the needle through the hunter’s skin. Callum has stopped screaming; now he’s limp, ashen pale as Ash’s clumsy fingers grip the needle.
The hunter is lying on the cot in his room, the third of four renovated cells. Golden hair sticks to Callum’s cheeks and forehead as Ash works. It’s worse like this, when the human is limp and unconscious, because at least when he was conscious and hurting he could tell Ash what to do.
“C-Callum?” Ash tries again, but there’s no answer, and the next time he blinks tears slip down his cheeks. “Callum, I’m, I’m s-sorry, I don’t - I don’t know how to do this-”
He’s never given stitches before, only seen Callum do them himself.
It’s more serious this time, Ash could tell that even without his nose informing him of just how much blood the human has lost. There’s so much of it, and with every second Ash wastes, more comes seeping out.
The panic is there, hot and tight behind his eyes. It’s like a weight, physically pressing down on him - the urge to crumple to the ground and curl up and sob. Callum has always been larger than life to him; a pillar of strength and stability. Whenever Ash is frightened, or hurting, he could come to Calluma and Callum would fix it. But this time it’s Callum on the table. This time, if Ash panics, Callum will die.
The vampire’s hands are shaking, and every inch of him is terrified. But he grips the needle tighter, and reaches down to pull the edges of torn flesh together.
The wound is a nasty one. It looks like talons, as far as Ash can tell; four long, wicked gashes with ragged edges and a messy finish. There’s a patch of flesh that’s been gouged out, hanging by a thread of sinew, and Ash retches as he carefully snips it away. He’s stitched the first of the four gashes, but the other three are considerably deeper.
Callum wakes just as Ash is pouring alcohol over the crude line of stitches. It’s not a scream he lets out so much as a roar, loud enough to rattle the tiny cell, and to have Ash habitually scrambling out of range. But the hunter slumps back against the cot a moment later, and Ash watches with his heart pounding in his ears.
Callum’s torso is already full of scars, although most of them are hidden under the new outpouring of blood. Even so, there are many; silver-white and rippled, in the shape of claws and teeth and violence. Ash presses the sopping red cloth against the last three gashes, and Callum moans, eyes moving listlessly behind half-closed lids.
“Callum?” Ash tries again, but there’s still no response. The vampire whines softly, fearfully, and it’s distinctly inhuman.
Callum’s not waking up. So Ash will have to do this.
The hunter groans when the needle goes through his skin, and Ash jumps as one of his hands comes up, gropes blindly for the source of the pain.
“G’ off… hhgn. Get offa me.” Callum’s bleary with pain and blood loss, and for the first time, Ash hesitates to obey an order.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he says it over and over as the needle goes in and through Callum’s flesh. The hunter snarls, twists on the bed, and the needle slips in Ash’s hand again. Callum is horribly pale, and the four lines of red scored against his hip look dark and dangerous in the dim light. He screams through gritted teeth when Ash does manage to hold him down, but it never lasts for long.
It’s when one of his screams ends in a whimper that Ash can’t take it anymore. Ash knows screams like this, he’s been forced to make them often enough.
Callum shouldn’t have to scream like this. Callum is kind, and good, and merciful, and Ash knows a way to stop his pain.
Even if it will lead to swift retribution when the hunter is healed.
“Callum?” It’s whispered this time, almost guilty. Ash bites his lip as he presses the cloth against the bleeding and takes one of Callum’s hands.
He knows better than this. He does. The warning rings in his mind, one of those half-remembered commands he’d been given in his early days here.
No biting. You bite me and I will put a stake in your chest. Understood?
His chin wobbles as he takes Callum’s palm, gently uncurls those calloused, work-worn fingers.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m, I’m sorry, Callum.” He doesn’t ask the hunter not to be mad at him after. Ash knows the consequences.
He has to be careful; Ash’s thirst for blood has been largely beaten out of him, but if he proceeds without caution… Ash holds Callum’s hand with one of his own, and reaches up to his own jaw with the other. Callum had been the one to teach him this trick; the vampire finds the spot behind his ear, just under the venom gland, and presses.
His fangs drop instantly, and Ash whimpers at the feeling as venom start to pool behind them. His canines are still smaller than they should be, and Callum says that they probably won’t get much bigger. They’re like infant teeth, only instead of being young, they’d been yanked out and snapped off so many times that they refuse to grow any longer.
They still feel plenty long enough when Ash raises Callum’s palm to his lips.
He doesn’t let himself hesitate over placement; blood is still coming from Callum’s injuries, dampening the hunter’s bedsheets and spilling in rivets down his bare hip. There’s a deep-set terror in the vampire’s heart, but his resolve is set as he fits his teeth over Callum’s palm and bites.
The human’s palm is salty against his tongue, and his skin gives way under the creature’s teeth like puncturing fruit. Ash does his very best not to taste the blood as venom comes flooding into his mouth. It’s slightly bitter, thicker than saliva and chalky in his mouth. Some of it gets pumped through his fangs and into the hunter’s bloodstream, but most of it spills over, collecting behind the vampire’s teeth.
As soon it stops coming, Ash pulls away. He’s shaking from the ground up, cold terror gripping his chest from the gravity of what he’s just done. The venom is pooling in his mouth still, and it’s entirely instinctual to nuzzle into Callum’s palm, lapping gently at the bite marks. The venom can be absorbed through the skin or through blood, Callum had said - so Ash cradles the man’s wrist and runs his tongue over the marks until the pressure behind his fangs eases.
Then the hunter stirs. His eyes open just for a moment, colorless blue staring blearily into space. Then he fixates on what Ash is doing, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world holds still. Then,
“You - hhnggn. You fucking…” He’s still bleary, still weak, but Ash can see the way Callum is struggling for consciousness. The hunter wants to be awake.
Ash whimpers softly and drops his hand, and in that instant Callum lashes out and grabs his jaw.
It’s nothing like being grabbed before; it hurts, fingers digging into the creature’s jaw with strength born of panic. Callum’s eyes are somehow both alert and distant; Ash whines against his palm, the same one he’d been lapping at like a mangy dog mere seconds ago.
Somewhere in his mind, Ash knows that Callum is delirious. He’s lost so much blood, traveled for so long, dragged himself back to the lab leaking out of his side by luck and sheer stubbornness. It’s still ice down his spine when the hunter bares his teeth and says, low and dangerous,
“You fucking bit me.”
It’s like one of Ash’s nightmares has evolved and come to life.
The terror takes Ash’s knees from him, and the hunter’s hand comes with, still digging into his cheeks, the corners of his jaw.
“ ‘m sorry,” he whines past the hunter’s palm. “I’m sorry, Callum, S-Sir, please-” But Callum’s eyes are wild, unfocused. The man hisses in a breath through his teeth, glares up at the ceiling - he’s marshaling himself, it looks like, trying to get his bearings, trying to gain control of the situation.
He might have been able to, Ash thinks - if anyone could, it would be Callum. Except that the flesh of his left side is mangled like raw meat, and he’s lost so much blood his fingers are cold where they grip the vampire’s jaw.
He tries to get up anyway. Ash yelps a muffled protest as Callum tries to sit, then immediately goes grey. The hunter hangs there for a moment, feeling the gravity of his injuries, and then sinks back onto the cot with a little moan. The sheen of sweat on his skin has gotten shinier, and if he listens Ash can hear the human’s pulse; weak and quick, batting away in his chest like a caged bird.
Callum’s eyes are open, but he’s started to shiver.
It takes everything Ash has not to crumple to the floor and sob, cradling his throbbing jaw. He’s bitten Callum. Callum, the one person to ever be kind to him. Callum the hunter, who hadn’t needed to be kind, but had still taken him out of filth and despair and shown him a gentle hand.
For a moment, Ash fears that Callum will try moving again, will try to get up and grab for a weapon. Instead, Ash sees the moment his venom starts to work. Callum’s pupils are already dilated, but there’s a visible change between one moment and the next; the hunter makes a startled little sound, and his fingers loosen from their fists.
Ash’s vision is blurred with tears, and the terror that clogs his throat is both old and new. There will be repercussions from this, he knows - he doesn’t know what, doesn’t know how.
He doesn’t know what Callum will do, now that Ash has crossed this line.
He still pushes himself back to his feet and snatches up the needle. Callum’s pulse thrums in his ears as Ash douses his hands in alcohol again, then rethreads the needle. There are two gashes to stitch still, and he’s lost valuable time; the blood is coming slower now.
“Please lie down,” he whispers as he pinches skin together with shaking fingers. “Please, Callum, just h-hold still. I’m almost done, I’m n-not going to-” He can’t even say the words. Ash sniffles, blinks, feels wetness on his cheek.
His pleas are mostly unnecessary, though; at the first pass of the needle Ash winces, expects another scream. Instead Callum just grunts and frowns, as if he’s tasted something unpleasant.
The man is distant while Ash stitches up the last two slices. There’s no reaction to the pain of the needle, and no response when Ash waves a hand in front of his face. It’s like the hunter is a shell, reduced to a limp, unfeeling body.
Ash pours alcohol over all four messy lines of stitches, and all Callum does is wince.
The bandages happen on autopilot; this Ash has done before, and he’s careful while he presses down gauze and winds linen around the hunter’s middle.
Then, when he’s done, he stands there for a moment. Callum is pale, blonde hair a shock of color against his cheeks. His scar is more pronounced now, gnarled and warped down the left side of his face.
Ash lifts a hand to his own face, where an iron muzzle had once sat. His fingers dig in where Callum’s had, holds the shape of his jaw.
No biting, the man had said. It was the only thing he’d said; the first concrete command he’d been given, something Ash had clung to back in the very beginning, when obedience had meant being forgiven simply for existing.
The world blurs before the vampire’s eyes as he goes to the tool room.
Ash doesn’t like the tool room. Even now, over a year post rescue, the tool room fills him with dread. It’s not large - it’s an offshoot of the lab, about the size of a large closet, which Callum uses to store the tools of his trade.
On the walls are things of iron; arrows, lances, chains, manacles. The muzzle sits, mounted proudly on the far wall. Ash comes to a stop in front of it and folds to his knees.
He had started to believe Callum, at some point. He’d believed that the hunter wouldn’t hurt him, that he’d really let Ash stay in his home and keep him safe, even though Ash was something that shouldn’t exist in the first place. But now…
Tears spill down his cheeks as Ash retrieves the muzzle. It’s the leather one, the one with a steel bit that tasted like mercy. The smell is musty when Ash lifts it up to his face. It settles hard and cold against his cheeks, his jaw, and Ash whines as the memories surge.
He’s been bad. He’s been so bad, the creature thinks; he deserves this, he deserves to be treated like an animal if that’s what he is.
Ash makes it back to his cell (room, he thinks; Callum had made it into a room) and pulls the heavy door closed. He can’t lock it, not without the keys. But he folds down onto the cold floor, and he pulls the muzzle straps tight enough to dig into the corners of his mouth. It’s never tight enough, it doesn’t burn - in some corner of Ash’s mind, he knows that’s a good thing. But there’s a much larger part of him that is remembering, as if waking from a dream, how he deserves to be treated.
The bit sits cold and hard against its tongue. The creature curls up on the cold floor, like it can’t even see the cot, and it cries.
-
[END]
@wildfaewhump @pepperonyscience @robinshouseofwhump @angelsuperwholock @pennsss (both) @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump @what-huh-imconfused @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow-deacti @whump-em @umniyah-s @adventuresofacreesty @scarheart @kyra-plays @lionhxartx @blue-flare10 @whumpywhumper @doityourselfbombs @pastry-case @maybeawhumpblog @httyd-chocolate @to-hurt-and-comfort @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @manip-loki @dungeons-and-dragons-and-whump @ariirenn @poetofswords86 @whumpity–whump–whump @swagjudgehandsdragon@oracle-of-maybe @cuddlycryptid @the-potato-beeper @slam-whump @sweeterthanadonut @ffaerie-dustt @whump-in-the-night @elfo8792 @kinda-bad-poet @crackedskel @deluxewhump @this-zombie-will-eat-you @a-moment-to-write @stoic-whumpee @paradigmparadoxical @burtlederp @whump-with-wren @whimperwoods @winged-ace-whump @insanitywishes
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March Madness 2021
AKA Yooran Month
March 14th
Honestly, this is more of a stream of consciousness and not a specific thought or scene I envisioned. It's Yoosung's BD, two days too late but better late than never right?
They walked into the museum hand in hand. The morning had been heaven and Yoosung hadn’t wanted to leave the comfort of his bed. It was his birthday and Saeran had stayed the night, insisting on making breakfast (which he bought at the café down the street) and serving him in bed. They’d snuggled as they ate, feeding one another amidst laughter and warmth.
Saeran cleaned up the breakfast mess, even washing the few dishes they’d used while he made Yoosung get up and take a shower. Once he was squeaky clean and freshly dressed, they headed out to the museum. It was cool inside, bordering on cold. Yoosung shivered and Saeran put his arm around him, pulling him closer.
Saeran scanned the entrance and headed towards the ticket counter.
“Good morning.” The woman who sat behind the counter said.
“Good morning.” Saeran answered. “Can we get the museum pass and the eleven o’clock planetarium tickets?”
“For two?” she looked from Saeran to Yoosung.
“Yes please.” Saeran let go of Yoosung in order to pull out his wallet and handed the card to the woman. The cost was displayed on a monitor in front of Saeran, he tried to hide it with his body. Yoosung was a bit prickly if Saeran spent too much on him, and Saeran was planning on spending a lot more on his boyfriend for his birthday.
The woman handed Saeran the tickets, his card, a pamphlet with the planetarium information in it, and a map of the museum. “Have a great day and thank you for spending it with us.” She smiled and Saeran nodded, thanking her for her help.
“Let’s go.” He took Yoosung’s hand again as they walked towards the metal detectors. Damn, he should have anticipated this. There was metal in his ears, around his neck, his belt, and even his boots. Yoosung chuckled at the look on Saeran’s face. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just imagining them making you strip in front of everybody. Good thing you don’t have a piercing down there.” Yoosung’s purple eyes flashed to Saeran’s crotch making Saeran snort.
“I’d do it for you. Does the thought turn you on?” Saeran leaned towards Yoosung and nibbled on his earlobe. He didn’t need to see Yoosung’s face to know that he was turning beet red. The man was kinky as fuck, but it still made him flush from head to toe.
“Stop it!” Yoosung pushed him away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if he actually had a cock piercing. Saeran laughed but let it go. The officer had Saeran step aside and passed a wand over him. Yoosung simply walked through the arch. He wasn’t carrying anything metal. Even his keys were carried by Saeran. They met back up on the other side, Yoosung sliding his hand into Saeran’s and Saeran gave him a wink and a smirk.
Since getting together Saeran’s shyness began to evaporate as his walls came down. He smiled more, gained more confidence in himself and developed a sadistic streak that rivaled his brother’s. It was in good fun and not truly sadistic. Yoosung rather enjoyed it, even while acting as if he didn’t. Of course Saeran knew exactly how Yoosung felt.
Yoosung wasn’t too into what the Museum held, but he loved to see how excited Saeran got and enjoyed listening to him explain things. His boyfriend was incredibly smart and Yoosung was proud of him. He was like a child in a candy store.
“We should head to the planetarium.” Saeran suggested, looking at the time on his phone.
“Good idea.” Yoosung agreed.
They found seats somewhere in the middle. There weren’t that many people and when the lights turned down, they cuddled closer. Saeran whispered in his ear, explaining the stars as they flowed above them, ignoring the commentary from the museum employee. Yoosung liked Saeran’s rendition better. He lay back comfortably, watching as the sparkling stars swam above him, Saeran’s hand in his own, the words soothing in his ear.
He didn’t know what else Saeran had planned for his birthday, but he was sure this time, right here, right now, would be the most memorable. He turned towards the red head, a small smile on his lips. Saeran stopped mid-sentence when he saw the look in Yoosung’s eyes. His heart palpitated, as it always did when Yoosung looked at him like that. Leaning in, he kissed his boyfriend, oblivious to anything and everyone around them.
#my posts#Yooran#March Madness 2021#Yooran Month#Yoosung Kim#Saeran Choi#mysme#mystic messenger#mention of#lemons#Yoosung BD
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Lost You (Part 15) :
Starring- Jinyoung x reader
Genre- Angst
Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.
Jinyoung was growing impatient by the rate with which the meeting was proceeding, three hours in the meeting and he felt like he has already spent an year inside the conference hall. Hyunjin kept on mouthing incoherent things to him, trying his best to prevent Jinyoung from daydreaming in such an important meeting.
"I hope you liked the proposal, Mr. Park" The new business partner exclaimed happily, standing up from his seat, finally getting Jinyoung's undivided attention. Jinyoung nodded his head with a polite smile standing from his seat as well, "Mr. Jung, I'm really looking forward for our collaboration, thanks for your precious time".
"No worries Mr. Park, I'm glad that we are able to work together" He chuckled again with a genuine smile, "I'll let my secretary send you the drafts of the agreement, you can have a look at it and if you would like to make changes you're most welcome".
"Sure, thank you" Jinyoung spoke for the last time shaking hands with Mr. Jung, "Sir, I would like if you don't leave the meeting hall until I'm done escorting them" Hyunjin bowed politely before guiding Mr. Jung and his secretary the way out of the company. Few other employees who were also requested to attend the meeting left the hall after greeting Jinyoung.
With everyone out, Jinyoung immediately fished out his phone dialling BamBam's number. He ran his fingers through his luscious locks biting on his bottom lip impatiently. He wasn't able to concentrate properly in the meeting but he did take note of the main points, he was growing way too impatient to be beside you again, in these two months it's for the first time that he has left your side for so long almost three and a half hours.
"Why the hell isn't he picking up my calls?!" Jinyoung yelled tossing his phone on the leather chair, after BamBam failed to receive his calls.
Hyunjin entered into the room swiftly, standing in front of Jinyoung from the other side of the table, "Hyunjin, I have to go. Whatever the agreement will be just email them to me", Jinyoung expressed striding towards the door to leave.
"Ma'am is not in the hospital" Hyunjin stated slowly turning his head to face Jinyoung, who halted in his steps before he could even push the door open, "What do you mean by that?".
"Sir, ma'am is not in the hospital. Yugyeom hyung messaged me that Ma'am gained consciousness almost an hour ago and that they are taking her with them".
"S—She woke u—up?" Jinyoung's lips quivered with happiness, which he wasn't able to supress. He hugged Hyunjin tightly almost cutting his oxygen supply, "I—I understand but you're k—killing me—me...".
He broke the hug placing his hands on Hyunjin's shoulder, he reconfirmed "You sure, that they were not joking.....She really is......I mean she.....Oh god finally!". Hyunjin's heart warmed seeing Jinyoung so happy for the first time in these past months.
"I'm also very happy Sir".
"Why didn't you inform me earlier?"
"If I had informed you earlier then you would've surely left the meeting and rushed there, and you know this meeting was very important for us, for the company.....I'm sorry Sir", Hyunjin hung his head low in guilt for not informing him about you soon just because he was being thoughtful for the company and not for you who is Jinyoung's life.
"Yah!" Jinyoung called, shaking Hyunjin's shoulders, "There's nothing to be sad about, I'm so glad that you were always there beside me, always handled the official work whenever I failed to, I know these past months were hard for you as well. But not even once did you complain and I appreciate you heartily for that, Hyunjin-ah".
Smiling softly, Hyunjin nodded his head. Many of the employees of the Park Inc. wondered as to why Jinyoung tolerated Hyunjin when most of the times Hyunjin bossed Jinyoung around, but the thing which both of them hid very well was that Hyunjin was Jinyoung's cousin, he offered Hyunjin to work for him for the sake of work experience which Hyunjin gladly accepted.
He was afraid that people in the company would think that Hyunjin was trying to take advantage of being Jinyoung's brother, so he decided to not let anyone know that he was related to him instead he'll work as a normal employee along with others. Reluctantly Jinyoung accepted it, being such a young lad Hyunjin was super smart in every aspect of business administration, just like Jinyoung was. And within a small amount of Hyunjin became the most dedicated and hardworking employee of the company.
"Thank you hyung...." Hyunjin muttered softly, "So enough of this melodrama, we'll continue it later, I was starting to like it though", he teased Jinyoung for getting sentimental as he barely expresses his feelings to someone.
"Yeah.......sometimes it's good to cry and rejoice like people in daily soaps" Jinyoung added, both of them laughing heartily.
"Let's go and have Ma'am back in your arms now shall we?".
__________
"Will you both speak now?" You asked the two boys standing in front of you sternly, eyeing them in irritation. After the little confusing revelation of Youngjae being your bff, you started losing your temper growling at both of them for their stupid attempt to protect Youngjae and Jinyoung and have you to forgive them. Not knowing specifically what has to be done they brought you to their studio.
Crossing your legs on the only couch in their pretty decent studio, you sighed, "I have no idea what you both are trying to pull off.....but it's not enough to change my mind".
"Noona to be honest we are also as clueless as you", Yugyeom stated sitting on his swivel chair, "What do you mean?" You asked tilting your head.
"Can we know why you're so mad at Jinyoung and Youngjae?" BamBam cut in with a humble smile, "What did they both do? That you don't even want to hear their names".
"Did you both hit your head hard?" You blurted in disbelief, the two have been sticking around with you since the beginning of all the mess and now they are acting as if they don't remember a single thing. Unbelievable.
BamBam and Yugyeom both didn't want to force things on you seeing your still not very stable state, but your words were getting to their minds they have to know what's the reason behind your outburst, your anger for the other two.
Giving you a stoic face, they insisted for you to explain the thoughts going inside your head. With that you let everything out from the beginning to end, how Jinyoung alleged you of cheating on him with Jackson, how BamBam came to know about Jinyoung and Jisoo seeing eachother, how Youngjae was in love with you because of which he caused misunderstandings between you and Jinyoung. How your heart got broken by him because of which you lost your child and attempted suicide.
"But I'm alive any way" You grimaced rubbing your temples. BamBam and Yugyeom felt their souls leaving their bodies, their face got pale with cold sweats forming on their forehead.
"Th—That w—was.....What w—was t—that?" Yugyeom stammered wiping the little sweat beads from his head, "None of this has ever happened? Then what are you talking about?" BamBam spoke with widened eyes staring into your chocolate orbs.
"Please don't act as if you've forgotten everything! Their betrayal is not something to be forgotten within two months!"
It's not like they wanted to shout on you, but your stubbornness made it impossible to let the things run smoothly, they had to burst your bubble because whatever you were saying was nowhere close to normal and if extended it can cause harm in real as well.
"We haven't forgotten anything! You— Whatever you're saying has never happened, none of it is true. You said I was the one who told you about Jinyoung hyung cheating on you right? Then why the fuck don't I remember a single thing?!" BamBam snapped rising from his chair pacing back and forth in the room.
"What the fuck do you mean by you don't remember a thing?" You snarled at BamBam, "How can you forget everything so easily? Or you're sympathizing with Jinyoung and Youngjae?".
"I'm not sympathizing with anyone Noona! I'm fucking not!" He yelled back, "You said you committed suicide, but let me tell you, you didn't commit such a crime!".
"BamBam stop! I clearly remember that I slit open my wrist with a shard, wait let me show yo—", You pulled the sleeves of your shirt, to see your wrist but words got caught in your throat.
"What? Show us" BamBam added, crossing his arms to his chest, almost challenging you. You traced your wrist which was badly teared open by the shard, "How—How....c—come there's n—no mark?".
BamBam stood beside you taking your said hand in his, "You slit it open here?", He emphasized, "And there's clearly no mark, do you think it some sort of a joke that hurting yourself with a sharp piece of shard will leave no scar?".
"Okay, let's assume it didn't leave a scar but after stitching your wrist up will the stitch mark fade so soon?" BamBam proclaimed, "Two months are not enough, sometimes the scar remains for lifetime".
"And that's the proof that whatever you told us.......was something that never took place" Yugyeom concluded, nodding his head at you.
Thats true, even a knife cut would take months to heal then how come such a severe wound will heal this fast. Your skin seemed to be absolutely normal, same as that of your other hand, yanking your hand from BamBam's grip, you bellowed "But all I remember is dying and then all of a sudden I woke up to your face! Can it be some coincidence?".
"We don't know what it is, but all we know is that whatever you are saying is nothing but your own imagination, since nothing, not a single thing has ever happened in these past few months!" BamBam grunted, almost losing his calm.
Your mind was spinning like anything, every single moment is burnt in your memory, you can call out every single detail of whatever you've said to them. Then how come they both are trying to defy your not so old past. Everyone was aware of how much BamBam and Yugyeom are fond of joking and pranking but this time there was not a slightest hint of humour in their eyes or body language instead their faces were emotionless and voice was stern.
"What is happening?" You mumbled trying to soothe your pounding headache which suddenly caught upto you. Rotating your eyes across the room you eyes fell onto the desktop calendar.
Striding towards the table, you grabbed it, pair of eyes following your each and every move, "What month is it?" You asked.
"It's November".
Your gasped at the reply, "How can this be even possible?" You mumbled to yourself. When you committed suicide it was the month of November. Then how come it's still November.
"If I didn't commit suicide, then why was I admitted to the hospital?".
"Yes you were admitted to the hospital, but not because you had committed suicide but because you had a severe concussion", Yugyeom revealed, pointing at your head and that's when you realised a bandage was wrapped around your head the entire time which you failed to pay heed to.
"Two months ago, you had an accident in which a lorry ran into your car", BamBam professed looking at your wrapped head, "Your car was found upside down, your head smashed against the dashboard, it was a huge trauma for all of us".
"Noona we don't know what's going on with you, but trust us, none of it ever happened. We can never do injustice to you by saving them if they would have done such a terrible thing to you", Yugyeom expressed softly with a subtle smile, "And the truth is that Youngjae hyung is your bestfriend and Jinyoung hyung never cheated on you".
Youngjae is your bestfriend.
Jinyoung never cheated on you.
Pondering over his words, you forced your brain into recalling the events from the past, shutting your eyes close all you saw was a small glimpse of the time where you were grabbing coffee with Jackson teasing him bout Minyoung. Gripping on your scalps harshly, you groaned at the excruciating pain shooting through your brain.
Part 14 // Part 15
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(A/N: I seriously have no idea what you guys are going to think about this chapter so just let me know, sorry for all the mess, probably the next part will be the last one.Anyways thank you so much to you all).
#got7 imagines#got7 jinyoung#got7 x reader#jinyoung imagines#got7 angst#got7 bambam#got7 jackson#got7 jaebeom#got7 mark#got7 youngjae#got7 yugyeom
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It Wasn’t Supposed to Be (Like This)
My entry for Rumrollins Week, day 1: Apology/Angst. Apology is only there if you squint.
Warning for suicidal behavior.
After the Uprising, Brock builds a haven for himself and Jack.
It’s hard work in his state to ensure they’re safe and comfortable, to make sure Jack has everything he requires and could ever want, and not to forget his own needs in the process. His body reminds him, though, its ache begging for rest and comfort. It exhausts him and makes him run out of patience sometimes, but they manage.
Before the Uprising, Jack talked a lot about their imagined future—imagined, because they never expected it to come. He talked about a house with a white picket fence, the romantic he is, and a rose garden. A fireplace, and a fur rug lying in front of it on the polished floor. It would smell of the roses, freshly chopped wood, and Brock’s cooking. Brock added a vegetable patch and a king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets to that fantasy.
Jack doesn’t talk anymore, and so he doesn’t say anything when Brock finds them a house with a white picket fence and a vegetable patch; he waits patiently in the driveway as Brock sneaks in to take care of its owners and doesn’t even twitch when Brock points out the fireplace and suggests buying that fur rug Jack had wanted. It’s frustrating, and he’s tired, so he parks Jack next to the nice leather couch and flops onto it to rest without uttering another word.
Later, he buys a rose and plants it in the garden, so Jack can have a small part of his dream come true. Just that light task has his burned body protesting, so he rests with Jack in the living room for a while, walking him through the plan for the day.
When he starts feeling better and peckish, he wheels Jack to the kitchen and cooks a simple meal for them. Watching Brock and the delicious smells starting to fill the air cause a smile to appear on Jack’s face for the first time since they found the house, and Brock smiles back in relief.
“That’s a good look on you,” he quips. “You should do that more often.”
The smile doesn’t quite fade away, and they eat their dinner in good enough moods Brock isn’t even salty about his meal having gone cold before he starts.
Then, he wheels Jack outside to show him the rose. The orange rays of the setting sun paint its white petals and Jack’s face that becomes somber at the sight.
“Do you like the color?” Brock asks conversely. “I thought it was nice.”
Jack doesn’t react at first, but nods eventually, the sad look on his face contradicting that gesture. Brock sighs and crouches down in front of him, resting his hands on his blanket-covered knees and looking up to meet his gaze.
“Look, I know it’s hard. I know. I can’t do half the things I used to either.”
Jack glares at him, and this Brock understands; he’s pointing out he can still walk, talk, and use his hands.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Jack’s angry glare shifts to resignation, and he nods. Brock smiles, a little forced, and kisses him on his way up.
Everything has changed after the Uprising and not in the way they expected. They were supposed to rule the world, not be on the run from the law with both their bodies barely working. Even Jack’s kisses changed; they’re more desperate, more passionate, and he never turns away from them, even if he’s mad, perhaps because he can’t initiate them as often as he wants anymore. There’s something heartbreaking in the raw emotion he pours into them and in how he strains his neck to chase Brock’s lips even after he moves away.
“Let’s bathe,” Brock says. “Then we’ll go to bed and kiss some more, m’kay?”
The promise makes a small smile appear on Jack’s face, and it brings Brock both relief and a heartache.
Out of all the ways Brock has had to learn to take care of Jack, bathing is by far the easiest and the most pleasant. The hardest part is to lift Jack off the wheelchair and place him in the full tub. Brock still remembers the first time he actually picked up Jack, scooped him up in his arms in a bridal carry not out of necessity but because he was feeling romantic; he was heavy even back then when his body was fully able. Now he grunts when he lifts him, even though Jack has lost a lot of his muscle mass as well. Brock still trains when he can, but there’s no hiding he isn’t as strong as he used to.
The bath is big enough to fit both of them, and so Brock strips and fits himself between Jack’s legs. His body sends him contradicting signals; where he isn’t burned, the water is pleasantly warm, the more sensitive places read it as scalding hot, and the most scorched spots where his nerve endings burned away don’t feel the temperature at all. He waits for his skin to get used to the water, then leans back with a sigh and his eyes closed, letting his muscles relax.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Jack staring at him, and his old friend self-consciousness settles low in his stomach as he remembers how ugly he is now. His skin, once olive, now is full of waxy, charred, blistered, and red patches, dead spots where it won't stop peeling away. His body, once perfectly chiseled, is now that of a wimp. Jack, although disabled, hasn’t suffered the same amount of injuries, and looks mostly the same if a little smaller. His face is sharper, thinner, but not burned, and it has gained no new scars. The rest of his body is also untouched by fire, the bruises he had gotten from the rubble crushing him had long faded away and all that remains is the spine injury that left him paralyzed. Brock isn’t even sure if the rubble also damaged his vocal cords somehow or if his mutism is a mental response to the trauma. It isn’t like he breathed in hot fumes and swallowed sizzling engine oil that turned Brock’s voice gravelly and made it hard to speak sometimes.
Brock’s chest burns hot as he thinks how ugly the Uprising left him and how dependent on him it made Jack. Sometimes he wonders how many of Jack’s moods result from the frustration of not being able to move, and how many from the fact he’s now stuck with the boyfriend he can barely stand to look at. He can’t even afford to let Brock know he doesn’t want to be together anymore. Brock pretends he doesn’t suspect he would if he could, and they get by that way.
To turn his thoughts to something else, Brock reaches for the soap and lathers his hands to then gently rub Jack’s skin. His fingertips feel numb, but his palms were protected by his fingerless gloves and are just like they always were, one of the few mercies. Jack can’t feel his rough fingers, but Brock can feel the smoothness of the foam, the softness of his skin, the warmth of his body.
Jack watches him with an odd but not uncommon softness in his eyes as Brock washes him, the evidence of feelings still alight in his heart even if they’re for a memory and not the person Brock now is. Brock also remembers how they used to bathe together sometimes, and the things they did that were far from the innocent washing Brock’s doing now. He’s sure they both miss those times and the people they used to be back then, the love that was true and not a way to survive.
Later, Brock wheels Jack to the bedroom and sets him down on the bed, arranging him securely on his side.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, making sure the pillow is fluffy enough. “Sorry I couldn’t be bothered to look for fresh sheets. But hey, at least I didn’t kill them in their beds so we’re not sleeping in their blood.”
Jack gives him a look, and Brock sighs.
“I wish I could read your thoughts.”
It’s apparently a wrong thing to say, because Jack drops his gaze. Brock doesn’t have the energy to try and figure out how to fix this, so he just ignores it. He flops onto the mattress next to Jack and arranges them both into a half-embrace; Jack can’t hold him properly anymore, but it’s still nice to feel the weight of his arm across his waist. Brock nudges his nose with his own.
“Hey, stop moping. I thought you wanted to kiss.”
Jack’s eyes are closed already when he reaches for Brock’s lips. Brock knows he’s imagining he’s kissing his old, handsome boyfriend who has energy, stamina, and a working dick. Brock can’t blame him; all he can do is to kiss him back like he still is that boyfriend.
At least Jack’s dick isn’t any more working than Brock’s so neither of them becomes frustrated.
*
Brock doesn’t feel rested when he wakes up, and each day is full of work; at this point, he’s sure he’ll only be given a chance to rest after he dies.
Jack is awake already, his thoughtful gaze fixed on a spot above Brock’s head, his arm still thrown haphazardly across his body.
“Hello,” Brock says, his voice strained. He clears his throat, but it only makes it more sore and dry. “Slept well?”
Jack nods. Brock doesn’t dare ask him for how long he has been awake. How much time does he spend alone with his thoughts, unable to distract himself when Brock is resting or absent? No wonder he’s always so moody when those thoughts can’t be happy and optimistic.
Brock gets up to make coffee and breakfast; his skin is burning, so he forgoes clothes. After he feeds Jack and forces cold eggs down his throat, it’s time for Jack’s rehabilitation.
Brock doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he’s sure it’s necessary. He consulted the internet on what he could do to help Jack, learned exercises for him from YouTube. He wishes he could do more; Jack deserves professional care, but it’s impossible—the Avengers are still tracking them, for fuck’s sake. In his thoughts, Brock curses Hydra, curses himself for believing in their shady propaganda, finally for recruiting Jack into it. If it wasn’t for Brock, he wouldn’t be stuck here, maybe he wouldn’t have been in that room with the Council on that fateful day, maybe he would have the time to flee from the crumbling building…
They’re both tired after the rehabilitation, so they rest in each other’s embrace again, and Brock doesn’t even wince at the sting of Jack’s sweaty skin sticking to his burned.
He picks himself up when he gets bored, sets Jack down in his wheelchair, covers him with a blanket and wheels him outside, rambling about working in the garden.
“Remember how I said I’d give you a show on my hands and knees, covered in dirt?” Brock jokes, ignoring the pang in his chest saying no one would want to lay their eyes on him now, not to mention watch him. “Maybe some veggies are good for picking already, we could eat them for lunch.”
Brock expects Jack to glare at him for making him eat like a rabbit, but for once he doesn’t. He’s looking around the garden instead. It’s nothing much: a few shrubs, a lush green lawn, an apple tree, a small patch with cucumbers and carrots, and a glasshouse with tomato and pepper plants. In the center the rose is growing, the white of its petals blinding in the summer sun. Brock brings a watering can and helps Jack water his rose, then leaves him in the tree’s shadow. He returns inside for a moment to put on some clothes and a cap, and to turn on the radio so they can listen to it through the open backdoor.
He only manages to weed and water the vegetable patch before the damaged skin of his arms begins to burn in the sun. He wipes sweat off his brow and decides to call it a day. His legs have cramped up a little from crouching, and he approaches Jack in a slow, unsteady gait.
“Are you doing okay?”
Jack nods, watching him with visible worry.
“I’m fine,” Brock says, because the last thing he needs is Jack worrying about him. He has enough things to worry about. “A little fatigued, a little sore, you know how it is.”
Jack shakes his head in what Brock guesses is disapproval as he wheels him back inside.
“I’m okay, I promise, but I need to rest. Did you enjoy the show at least?”
Jack’s lips break in a smirk at that, and he looks Brock up and down appreciatively. Brock’s face still warms under his gaze like it could be more than a fucking joke with how disfigured he is.
“Hopefully, the TV will have something nicer to look at.”
Brock sets Jack’s wheelchair next to the couch and flops down onto it. He doesn’t miss his sad look when he switches on the TV.
“I know,” he says, “I’ll read you a book when I catch my breath.” Hopefully, his eyes will stop stinging by then. He changes channels until he sees a movie just starting, some action flick he has never heard of before. “You okay watching this?”
Jack nods; the movie can’t be any good, but that’s exactly what Brock needs, to look at some cheap, terrible effects and turn off his brain.
“Are you okay? Do you want to lie down, or have a drink?”
Jack considers his question for a moment, but then shakes his head.
*
They’re running out of anti-clotting shots.
Brock doesn’t tell Jack, but he can probably guess as much from how tight Brock’s face is when he’s giving him one and from the fact Brock hasn’t been on a medical supply run in a while.
The worry doesn’t let him fall asleep, so he quietly digs out his gun from the nightstand drawer and leaves Jack’s side. He sneaks out of the bedroom and into the hall where he left the gun cleaning kit, and he takes it with him to the living room.
He hopes he won’t be forced to use the gun when breaking into a pharmacy at night, but he hasn’t cleaned it in a while, and he has nothing better to do at this hour. The silence in the big house feels oppressive, so he turns on the TV on a low volume. He works thoroughly and yet he doesn’t completely run out of the nervous energy filling him when he’s done. He leaves the lights and the TV on and returns to the bedroom to put the gun away before having a glass of wine to help him fall asleep. He takes a look at Jack when he enters—it’s a force of habit to check if he’s alright. He’s lying on his side facing the door like Brock has arranged him, and his eyes are open, fixed on the gun in Brock’s hand. Taken aback, Brock stops in his tracks.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” He raises the gun in a way of explanation. Jack’s eyes track the movement. “I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d clean it. I’ll have ta go on a supply run tomorrow night.”
Jack finally meets his gaze, but Brock can’t decipher the meaning behind it. He shrugs.
“I’m sorry if it upset you. I’ll have a glass and join you.”
He takes a step towards his nightstand, but Jack’s eyes boring into him make him hesitate. Jack slowly looks away toward the gun still raised in Brock’s hand, then back to Brock, then back—
Brock’s blood runs cold when the realization of what Jack’s asking for dawns on him.
“No,” he says, his voice sharper than intended. “Never ask again.”
He reaches the nightstand in one stride and yanks the drawer open. He wants to throw the gun in, but years of training force him to lay it down gently. Then he closes the drawer, turns on his heel, and leaves the bedroom.
His hand shakes when pouring bourbon. It burns going down his throat, heats him up from the inside, like swallowing burning oil, but better.
He stands at the window, but all he sees is his own reflection. His anger slowly evaporates as he’s sipping on his bourbon, leaving him in fear’s cold clutches. His knuckles go white as he clenches the glass, dries it, and on a bit unsteady legs, he returns to the bedroom. He wraps himself in a soft blanket that doesn’t irritate his skin like the itchy sheets and lies down next to Jack. He wraps one arm around his waist and presses himself close. Having adjusted to the darkness, he sees Jack’s eyes are closed, but he hasn’t been gone long enough for him to fall back asleep after what just happened.
“I can’t lose you,” Brock whispers, pulling Jack’s hair back. “I just can’t.”
Jack keeps pretending to sleep.
*
Brock starts breathing a little easier once he has raided a pharmacy, even when Jack becomes more moody and generally uncommunicative after what happened that fateful night. Brock finds he doesn’t care as much anymore—perhaps it’s the result of taking more painkillers than he used to, now that he has a seemingly endless supply.
Days pass fast and suddenly, they’ve been living in the house for a month, and Brock realizes they have become too comfortable. It’s a small town, and their neighbors grow more and more suspicious of them, asking when the actual owners are coming back from their ‘vacation’. The house begins to stink so much from the bodies shut down in the basement, no amount of Febreze can cover it up anymore. The Avengers are probably getting closer to finding them. They need to move again.
They spend their last day in the garden, Jack in the shadow next to his rose, and Brock working on the vegetables. He will miss it; who knows where they end up living next. Perhaps somebody’s forgotten basement or a stuffy one-room apartment.
The sun is setting already, but the air is still humid when Brock decides to call it a day. He walks over to Jack, who’s looking at the rose.
“It looks ready for cutting,” Brock says conversationally, lightly touching the rose’s opened corolla. “Wanna cut it?”
Jack stays still for so long, Brock’s about to drop the topic and wheel him back inside, but then he nods. Brock retrieves pruning shears from the shed and cuts the rose, leaving its stem long.
“Here you are.” He cuts off the thorns and rests the rose against Jack’s chest. “We’ll put it in the vase inside. Maybe we’ll even take it with us?”
Saying it, he already knows they won’t. They need to travel lightly, and the rose isn’t essential to their survival. Still, it’s a nice thought he supposes Jack would like to entertain.
Jack leans down, and at first Brock thinks it’s to smell the rose, but then he catches its stem just below the calyx between his teeth and strains his neck towards Brock, looking up at him meaningfully.
“Oh, it’s for me?” Brock takes the rose back absentmindedly, distracted by a rare smile blooming on Jack’s face. “It was always supposed to be for me, wasn’t it?” he realizes. “The entire rose garden you wanted.”
Jack nods, and as Brock stares into his eyes that are full of affection, he suddenly understands Jack still loves him. All this time, it’s been him who can’t stand the way he looks, not Jack. Jack doesn’t mind. Brock sighs, the weight in his chest making it hard to breathe, and crouches down, resting his hands against Jack’s knees. Jack follows him with his gaze.
“Jackie.” Brock hesitates, the words he’s about to say almost impossible to force out of his mouth. But he needs to ask, because maybe Jack loves him, but he doesn’t love his life, and it’s unfair of Brock to force him to keep on living like this. His throat is tight when he finally manages to form the words. “Do you… wanna go to sleep?”
His eyes and throat burn, the pain spreads down his chest, and it’s like he’s drowning in scalding hot oil again. He blinks back tears as he watches Jack’s eyes widen as the meaning behind those words dawns on him. Brock’s heart stops as he waits for a response, his lungs ache from the lack of air, but Jack seems to be stupefied.
Then, slowly, he shakes his head.
The breath of relief Brock takes at that feels like a second life. He pulls himself onto his feet and presses a kiss to Jack’s cheek.
“Good,” he breathes, his voice failing him again. “That’s good. Let’s pack up then.”
As he wheels Jack back inside, he feels much, much lighter.
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Day 314
Title: “Crash”
Description: Sooyoung gets in a car accident and calls Taeyeon
Prompt: “I’m at the hospital.”
Features: Sootae | Sooyoung & Taeyeon [platonic] (SNSD)
Word Count: 1,222
Tags: Angst, Minor Character Death
Content Warning: car accident, blood, cursing
Sooyoung’s bloodied thumb hovers over Taeyeon’s contact information.
She’s been trying to write a summary of what has happened in the past 3 hours. Memories flash quicker than lightning. An unorganized stream of thoughts courses through her brains, but attempting to sequence and formulate the story is still incomprehensible to Sooyoung. Feelings damage her in more ways than the car crash she just endured.
What hurts more: the cut on her head, her sore body, or the ache in her heart?
To her dismay, the screen shifts and the phone in her hand is buzzing. It’s a phone call from the person she’s been dreading to talk to for the past 15 minutes.
It rings 5 times. On the first ring, Sooyoung is still numb. On the second ring, she wants to back out. On the third ring, she knows she needs to answer. On the fourth ring, she realizes she can’t do it. On the last ring, Juhyun’s name is repeated and she knows she can’t hide forever.
There’s no salutation. Sooyoung doesn’t think she deserves the respect of it, nor does she have the time for it.
“Sooyoung! Why haven’t you been answering? Where the fuck are you? You guys were supposed to be here 2 hours ago! I hope you guys didn’t actually run away to dick around! All the guests are waiting for you guys!”
Sooyoung’s eyes well up again. She’s been crying nonstop ever since she gained consciousness and heard the news, but she tried to muster up some courage before talking to Taeyeon.
It’s bittersweet. Yuri and Tiffany were on board with being late to the party after grabbing some drinks. Only the maknae was against it. Tiffany was trying to coax her with a familiar club name, and Sooyoung thinks Juhyun might budge, but she never did. Sooyoung switched lanes to the freeway exit to Itaewon for teasing purposes, but knew she was going to keep her promise with Taeyeon.
Her head throbs and her throat is tight.
Maybe if she never made that detour to Itaewon, this would not have happened.
A flash of car crashing into each other stop Sooyoung’s train of thought.
“Choi Sooyoung! Answer me!” Taeyeon is rarely angry. That’s what hurts the most at the moment.
Sooyoung bites her lip. She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle a sob that was about to come out. She turns her head away, only to see her friend in the adjacent hospital bed, still unconscious.
She didn’t have to do this, but she feels obligated to do so. Taeyeon and the rest of the girls can’t be left in the blue about their whereabouts. Sooyoung is the only one conscious and who knows how long they’re going to be here.
Taeyeon growls, another characteristic trait that only comes out when she’s mad. “Sooyoung! I swear! I’m going to—!”
Sooyoung cuts her off, not emotionally stable to endure Taeyeon’s fury. “I’m at the hospital.”
The line is silent and Sooyoung has to check if it got cut off. When she realizes Taeyeon is still there, she repeats the story in her head.
How was she going to start again? Should she start with the accident? Should she build up to the events, starting at the last memory of flipping over? Should she start with the condition of the visitors? Should she start with herself, who has bandages all over her torso, or with the news of the Faithfully Departed?
The news about her friend still rings in her head and she feels herself starting to spiral out. Honestly, Sooyoung still can’t fully process anything and maybe she shouldn’t have called Taeyeon.
However, something was eating at her. She couldn’t hold onto the news alone. It’s been 2 hours since she regained consciousness. Apparently, this was the same time the paramedics announced the drunk driver and Juhyun’s time of deaths during the accident. An hour ago, Tiffany was admitted into operating room for an emergency surgery.
She didn’t want to break the news to anyone yet, but the idea of keeping this to herself didn’t seem right either.
Taeyeon’s stammering slightly keeps Sooyoung grounded. “Wh-What? What do you mean you’re at the hospital? Which hospital? What happened? Is everything okay?”
Sooyoung shakes her head. She sharply inhales and this time she can’t hold back the cry of pain. It doesn’t matter where the pain was coming from: the abrasions on her head and arm, the broken ribs, or her guilty conscious ness. It was becoming too much again.
“Sooyoungie.” Taeyeon was begging at this point.
“Just please don’t be mad at me.” Hot tears escape Sooyoung’s eyes and land on the hospital blanket. She takes a deep breath and feels the choke. There’s no point attempting to contain it. Her exhale is shaky and she’s sure Taeyeon can hear it.
Everything seems to be hitting her all at once.
It dreads her thinking this wouldn’t be the worst of it.
There will be another wave when she gets her. There will be another wave when everyone else finds out.
She can’t afford to think about that now.
“Mad? Why would I be—? What’s going on?”
Sooyoung hears shuffling around and she can only imagine that Taeyeon is dressing up and grabbing her keys.
“Who is that?” Hyoyeon can be heard on the other line and it’s another pang in Sooyoung’s heart.
Is everyone else there? Is Yoona waiting for Yuri to come back? Did Soonkyu bring the wine that she promised? Did Jessica actually come through?
How are they all going to respond to this?
“Unnie, I’ll send you the location and I’ll explain later. I have to go now.”
Sooyoung doesn’t give Taeyeon or Hyoyeon the time to respond as she immediately hangs up. She shares her location, but ignores the incoming calls. Without a care in the world, she cries out, thinking about Taeyeon’s horrified expression when she sees Tiffany in that hospital bed or hearing the news about Juhyun’s departure.
From the cries, a few nurses rush over to calm Sooyoung down. She doesn’t remember much except getting stabbed by a needle and then feeling lightheaded.
--
This was not the college reunion Sooyoung had in mind.
It was supposed to be nine women reminiscing their time in university and catching up with each other’s lives. They’d sing karaoke, drink wine until the sun came up, and share news about clothing store openings, marriages, plans for children, and more.
It wasn’t supposed to be seven women dressed in black and the other two’s remains in their respective urns. Sooyoung and Yuri are in wheelchairs. Taeyeon and Yoona push them around the mortuary.
“It’s not your fault.” Taeyeon and Hyoyeon constantly remind Sooyoung.
Sooyoung knows Taeyeon is right. The drunk driver was responsible for a five-car collision, ten injuries, and six total deaths, including his own. Still, guilt eats Sooyoung up. The memory of waking up in the ambulance still stings her. “There were four in the red van, but one of them didn’t make it,” still rings in her head. By the time she heard Tiffany didn’t survive the surgery, she was already numb and she knew it wasn’t from all the drugs. Tiffany and Juhyun’s banter and laughter haunt her in her sleep.
“Everyone has their destined time and place.” Sooyoung has heard the phrase more than 50 times by now, she thinks. She’s starting to hate the mortuary, but she knows she has to be here for her sisters.
Why now? Why then?
---------
Request Guidelines | CuriousCat | Twitter
#ive been kinda in a slump#but my head is still turning so i decided to just write whatever#found this prompt and cranked this out in 30 minutes#not the best but i really dont care#i just need to express feelings at this point#just feeling a bit angsty#gonna write some fluff after#littlepanduh#365 Challenge#sooyoung#taeyeon#angst#snsd#girls generation#snsd fanfiction
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Devil’s Ballroom Ch.5
A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink.
-
As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.
Spinel/Reader
collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants
Within minutes, the two of you arrive at your house. It’s along a narrow street with a couple of other residences, in a pretty well-lit area. You walk up to the door, grabbing the keys out of your bag while you almost trip on the literal only step in front of the entrance. Smooth. You drunkenly fumble your keys attempting to unlock it. Spinel is next to you idly looking around, mildly interested in her surroundings. Once you unlock the door, both of you step in, and you close it behind you.
“Home sweet home,” You say to her while toeing off your flats, and setting your bag down on the entrance table. “Make yourself comfy. And please take off your shoes.”
“Nice place.” She says as she’s currently eyeing your photos with your dad on the entry wall. You watch her bend down to untie her shoes and you almost want to help her, because she’s clearly struggling. Inebriation and basic motor function don’t go hand in hand.
“Thanks. It’s not much but with dad here, it’s home.” You reply with. You point at one of the more embarrassing photos, the one from the fair when you were young and crying, ice cream on the ground, and your dad laughing his ass off. “This is my dad. As you can see, he’s a huge dillhole.” You say while smiling, despite yourself. She looks at it more carefully once her shoes are off, getting a little closer to it and squinting.
“You look a lot younger.” She says, finally.
“Humans grow, remember? This was over 10 years ago, anyway. I was still a kid.”
“Did your dad grow too?” She wonders out loud.
“He’s an adult, so he stays the same, but aged some. He’s got a huge beard now. And since I’m an adult now too, I shouldn’t really be growing anymore.” She honestly just kind of gives you a look like that’s fuckin weird, but whatever. “Give me just a second, I’ll be right back.” You say to her, and leave her by the entry staring at your family photos as you make your way to the kitchen and grab two glasses out of the cupboard, filling them with water. You also grab a bottle of aspirin, and head back over to Spinel. You hold out a glass and the pills for her to take, and she does. "They’re just basic painkillers, you’ll thank me for it later. Don’t wanna be hungover in the morning and all.” You take yours, and down them with almost all of the water. She eyes hers, shrugs, and does the same.
“Wanna sit on the couch for a little while and watch tv? I kind of want to wait a little bit before sleeping, if I go to bed this drunk, I’ll wake up nauseous.” You say to her while grabbing the glass from her hand, and put them back into the kitchen.
“Sure, it’ll give me some time to sober up as well.” She follows you to the living room you share with your dad, and sits next to you, one leg tucked under the other. She puts her arm over the back of the couch, between you two. She sighs and her face relaxes, and sinks a bit into the couch.
“Comfy?”
“Very. This is comfier than the bed Lapis gave me. I don’t need to sleep really, but I kind of like the break it gives my mind.” She says, and you chuckle.
“Some human things aren’t so bad, yeah?” You grab the remote, and turn on the tv to the science station. Fuck yeah, ‘How It’s Made’ is on. Nothing else that’s on matters anymore.
“I mean I kind of have to adjust to human things while living on earth. Don’t want to be a complete outsider, I guess,” She smiles, looking over to you. “I like ice cream, and booze, and finding new weird human music. You guys are good for that.”
“You don’t sound like you’ve tried enough human things, and you’ve been here how long?” You say, already thinking of a few things you’d like Spinel to experience. The show a murmur in the background while you two chat, narrator describing the process of putting peanut butter into jars. You’ve seen this episode countless times by now, but you still catch yourself watching it every couple of seconds.
“Actually living here? Give or take.. 4 months. I was going back and forth between the diamonds, before I figured out that living with them wasn’t the best for me.” She’s watching the show, vaguely following along. She moves her arms to take the ponytail out of her hair, and lets it fall all along her shoulders and the back of the couch, running her fingers through it to smooth it out. You can’t really help but stare, because she looks different with her hair down, like way more casual, and soft, and for a very brief moment you can imagine what a domestic life would look like with her. You shake your head to clear your rampant thoughts.
“4 months, and just that? I’d figure you’d have a few more things under your belt by now.” You say to her, watching her put both her arms over the sofa back, completely relaxed. She’s staring directly at the screen now, almost pointedly.
“I don’t.. really know how to exist normally, yet.” Her tone is a little quieter. You’re still staring.
“What does that mean?” You ask, slightly concerned.
“Remember earlier I told you someone important abandoned me?” You nod. “Her name was Pink Diamond. I don’t know if you know, but gems are created for a purpose, and they know exactly what they’ll be once they come into consciousness. I existed to be her companion, and best friend. Things were wonderful for a while.. but. I guess she grew out of me, because the next thing I knew was that she said she’d be back, and then I basically stood in total isolation on a floating garden, waiting for her to come back, like she said. For six thousand years.” What the fuck, you think to yourself.
“You talked to no one?” You ask.
“Nope.”
“You didn’t leave? You.. waited?” You ask, not caring that you’re not even pretending to watch the show. “Did she ever come back? What happened?”
“She never came back. She doesn’t exactly exist anymore.” Her tone of voice hasn’t really changed, but you can kind of tell she’s masking a lot of emotions.
“Disappeared? But.. how did you know? Did someone come and find you?” You feel like you’re prying, but she hasn’t given you any indication that she doesn’t want to talk about this.
“About a year ago, I saw a broadcast of Steven.” The gears in your sloshed brain slowly start to turn. “Peace and Prosperity, and that also, Pink Diamond I had been waiting for? Steven’s her son, and she basically gave up her form so he could be born. So.. she’s gone, now.” She lets out a long breath, and pauses for a moment. “I’ve never felt worse in my life than in that moment. And, well, you know the rest since it was your planet that I almost destroyed.” She chuckles, albeit slightly off.
Oh.
Oh, it all makes sense now. You know the rest. It’s only been a year!? And she went right back to the diamonds.. no wonder she came to earth instead after a little while.. Oh.. and her only friends are a few other gems, who went through different problems than her, so she hasn’t had anyone to relate to, or really share her grief, anger, or feelings of worthlessness you know she’s going through.. and she’s been on this planet for what maybe feels like a minute compared to how long she was isolated. Like, at least you still had your father with you when your mother left, and you gained really good friends. You’re completely lost in your thoughts about how horrible what she went through was, that you don’t realize that she’s watching you now, with an unreadable expression.
“Are.. you okay?” She asks you. You look up.
“What a fucking massive bitch.” You say to her. She stares, sits up and turns to you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the light mood. I-"
"No. Don’t apologize. I’m just mad that she had the gall to be your so-called best friend, and pull a total shit move like that. You didn’t deserve any of that. You deserve so much better.” You say. “Both her and my mom can burn in hell.” You’re fuming a bit at this point.
She looks vulnerable and you want to hug her. Fuck it, your drunk brain foregoes any rational thought and you surge forward, wrap your arms around her middle, and hug her. She makes a startled noise and freezes. “And I know that you’ve probably struggled with abandonment, and worthlessness, and she never had any right to make you feel that way.” You feel her arms relax and wrap around your torso. The feeling of her gem pressing against your chest. It’s hard, of course, and not at all cold like you had thought. It’s quiet for a moment, and you hope you hadn’t upset her in any way. You’re starting to fret to yourself, before she speaks up.
“Does this make us friends now?” She asks. You laugh loudly, and snort a little, much to your horror. You can feel her body shake, and for a moment you think she’s crying, but you can also hear her laughing a little.
“We were basically friends after 10 minutes of knowing each other, why are you even asking.” You reply. You can feel her smile against your bare shoulder, and you feel your heart jump. She’s so close, and warm, and you like the way it feels to hug her. Your heart feels like it’s beating itself out of your chest, and you’re worried she can feel it. Before you can even think about pulling away, something jumps up on the couch suddenly and startles the two of you apart, both of you screaming. It’s Jellybean.
“Fucking cat,” You say, hand over your heart, breathing heavily. “You little asshole, you’re going to send me to an early grave". Jellybean chirps and headbutts your hand, smearing half her face on you in loving affection.
“Oh, she looks so soft, I love her already.” Spinel says, and tentatively reaches out to let the cat sniff her hand. You watch Jellybean sniff a little, and then headbutt her hand as well. Spinel melts immediately as your cat crawls onto her lap, purring.
“What a little attention whore.” You say, chastising your cat. She ignores you for pets. You look to the tv and see the episode wrapping up, and yawn. You guys should probably sleep. “Listen. I’m exhausted. My whole ass body hurts from work today. I’m gonna go sleep. Would you like to borrow some spare sleepwear?” You ask her, looking at her pants like they don’t seem that comfortable to sleep in. She shrugs.
“Yeah, it’d probably be a lot more comfortable if I did.” She replies while petting your cat. You stand up, a bit reluctantly.
“Gimme a sec, I’ll be right back.” You say, and head upstairs to your bedroom. You go over to your dresser and grab a spare clean oversized shirt, and some shorts that you hope will fit her. You also grab a spare set of blankets, and a pillow. You head back downstairs with the items in your hands, trying not to trip back down the stairs. “Hope these are okay.” You say as you hand the clothes over to her.
“They should be fine.” She says, still petting Jellybean. You suspect your cat loves Spinel more than you now. “And hey,” She looks at you. “Thanks. For everything.” She’s smiling softly and sleepily, and you fight down a blush. She’s really pretty, and you’re trying really hard to not think about it.
“Don’t mention it.” You say, and turn around to go to bed before you do anything weird. Or stupid.
Before you know it, you’ve stripped down to your pajamas, you’ve taken your makeup off, and you’re flopping into bed. You fall asleep pretty quickly, and for once, and no dreams.
By the time you’re awake, it’s near noon, and Spinel has already gone. She left the clothes she borrowed on the couch folded in a neat pile, and looks like she accidentally left her hair tie on the couch. You check your phone. Spinel left a text.
Spinel: Thanks again for letting me crash for the night. You’re a doll.
You smile and go on about your day as usual running errands, with thoughts of Spinel occasionally on your mind. You decide to send her a text in the evening.
Y/N: Hey, do you wanna hang out in a few days? You can pick what we do since I’ve done basically everything around here.
She replies back within seconds of you sending the message.
Spinel: Yesssssssss.
It’s definitely just hanging out, and not a date, you attempt to convince yourself. You wonder what she’ll pick.
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THE PUBLICIST - CHRIS EVANS X READER PART 2 (THE END)
I just uploaded the first part and I was going to wait to publish this but then I thought, why should I wait if I have finished it? so I hope you like it and as always, English is not my first language, I’m sorry if there is something wrong.
PART 1
"What are you going to wear tonight?" Chris asks you while signing some documents, It was a good question, you still didn't know, a friend in common was going to celebrate a halloween party tonight, "I could be someone who has not had time to buy a costume" you say while answering emails "I'll see if I have a costume from previous years, but I think I don't dress up on Halloween since my university parties, what are you going to wear?" you look away from your phone towards him "I'm going to dress up as Star Lord" he says and you certainly didn't expect that costume "people will love it" You can already imagine what they would say on social media, fans would love it. Chris leaves the papers on the table and sits next to you, he takes you by the waist and sits you on his lap "I could pick you up and go to the party together" he say playing with your hair "Of course, that wouldn't attract any attention to us" you both know that you have to be careful "Okay, but you know I plan to accompany you home at the end of the night" Chris gives you a kiss on your neck "I didn't expect less from a gentleman like you" you kiss him "but I better go, I have to send those documents and search my closet to see if I find a costume that fits me, i'll see you at the party" you get up from his lap "I can't wait to see you in your sexy college party costume" he says with a wink before you leave his house.
After half an hour looking in your closet you find several costumes but for your luck only one fits you, no doubt you had gained some weight since college, So apparently you were going to be dressed as Sandy from Grease (inspo). An hour later you arrive at Richard's party, the decoration of the house was impressive.
You immediately look for Chris, you search the room until you finally find him and he looks beautiful as always, he's talking to a group of boys, you only recognize Scott who is dressed as a policeman. You see the moment he sees you, how he swallows and looks at you from top to bottom, the way he looks at you makes your heart race. It was going to be hard acting as if you didn't want to spend the night in his arms. Chris apologizes to his friends and heads in your direction, he comes straight to you, your feet move without giving them any orders in his search "YN...you look beautiful and hot...so hot" he says in your ear and your skin shudders to feel the breath on your skin "it was the only one that fit me" he bites his lip "it suits you too well, I'm going to have to spend all night frightening men" he gently caresses your waist. You see how a group of girls take out their cell phones and take pictures of Chris, that seems to bring you back to reality and you step back, separating you from him. Chris looks around, he has also come back to reality, a reality where you are not together, at least not in public "You better go back to your friends, I'm going to have a drink at the bar" you inform him and he sighs but before you walk away he stares at you and say "stay close okay?" you simply nod and go to the bar, the good thing about these parties was that alcohol was free.
You were drinking a beer when you feel a hand on your back and when you turn around there was woman dressed as a sexy cat "Sarah, you look amazing" you say giving her a hug "Y/N we're at a party, leave the beer for another day" she says taking the beer from your hand "four shots of tequila, please" she asks the waiter who immediately prepares them, Sarah takes one and puts it in your hand "I want you to have fun tonight" she looks at you with a raised eyebrow until you take the shot. You regret it as soon as you feelt the burning alcohol in your throat, she also drinks hers and offers you another. You look around, everyone was drinking and dancing, it's been ages since you had fun, now it's just work and some beers in a bar if you're lucky, you don't think about it anymore and you drink the next one, Sarah smiles "that's better, now let's dance, my mission tonight is to find you a boyfriend" she says grabing your hand and taking you to the dance floor with his friends. For her and all your friends, you've been alone for more than a year, if they knew the truth...
Your eyes search for Chris on the dance floor but you find him leaning against the wall talking with friends and as always surrounded by girls. He seems to have felt your eyes because he turns in your direction and smiles at you. Without realizing it, you were biting your lip, then you hear Sarah call your name "YN this is Liam, Liam she is YN" she pushes you in a not so subtle way towards Liam "Hi" you say and he runs through your body with his eyes "that costume suits you" He says near your ear, the music was very loud, you just smile at him, this was very uncomfortable, you hadn't realized that Sarah was gone until you see her approaching you with a drink in her hand "Now that you know each other, let's dance, I love this song" she says screaming so you can listen to her above the music. You take one last look at Chris who was now talking to a girl who was practically naked, she had a hand resting on Chris's chest. Before you know it, you had already finished the drink that Sarah had just given you, and you need all your self-control to not go there and take her hands away from Chris's body. Luckily for you Sarah takes your arm and makes you dance with her. Your body starts to move with the music, normally you are embarrassed to dance but not tonight, you close your eyes and move your hips to the rhythm of the music. You feel little drops of sweat running down your neck from dancing when someone grabs your arm, you know who it is because of the reaction of those around you, Chris.
"sorry, Scott says he needs to talk to you" He stares at you, you know perfectly well that Scott has nothing to do with this "I'll be right back" you say to your friends and follow Chris to a room "what does Scott need from me?" you say following his game "are you drunk?" You start laughing, it's not funny but you can't help it "God, you're drunk" he runs his hands through his hair "why do you care?" you say crossing your arms "You've been all night dancing with a stupid guy, fuck he was touching your body" he was mad, he had also drunk what was his problem? "I was just dancing and you have no right to get jealous" you point him with your finger "you, I've seen how you let a beautiful half naked girl touch you" you say trying not to yell "but you haven't seen how I removed her hands from my body right?" you start laughing "do you find this funny?" He says approaching you while you keep laughing "I'd better take you home, you're very drunk" he still upset and you know it but he tries to hide it "I want to stay" You turn away from him and shake your head "let's go" he insists, but once again you move away from him "no, I want to stay" you say again "I wont stay to see how you dance with that idiot YN" He was really angry, you could see the vein in his neck, and yet you decide not to give in, you know that deep down you wanted to go with him, but alcohol doesn't seem to agree with your mind "then leave, I am sick of this" you say pushing him to the door. You really don't know why you said that, you just wanted him to leave you alone. He looks at you in pain and slams the door as he leaves the room.
Before you know it you start crying. Love shouldn't be so complicated, maybe it isn't, you just made it complicated. You clean your tears and leave the room and go straight to the bar, you see Scott looking at you with concern but you shake your head, you didn't want to talk, you just wanted to drink to forget, at least for tonight. Ten minutes later you finish a bottle of rum by yourself.
You remember some hands caressing your skin, lips on your neck... Everything was in slow motion "god you are so hot" lips are joined with yours. Chris's are softer. The music seems far away now, where are you? but your eyelids are too heavy. You feel relief when your heels disappear from your feet, but then you notice how your pants disappear too and a chill runs through your body. "no...stop please" you don't know if you said it out loud or not. Some lips silence you when you notice the weight of his body on yours. You were striving not to lose consciousness when a strong sound makes you open your eyes for a second. It was only a second but you saw him, your body relaxes, he was here. The weight on your body disappears "shit" you hear someone say but you don't know who it comes from. "Chris stop, Chris" that voice... Scott? The next thing you remember is someone covering you up with something, it smells like Chris. "Chris" you say in barely a whisper, some hands caress your face gently "i'm here babe" you wish you could open your eyes to see Chris blue eyes. "I'm going to take you home" he says and the last thing you remember was the feeling of his lips on your forehead before everything went black.
Chris P.O.V
Chris leaves without saying goodbye to anyone, he's so angry that he just needed to get out of there "shit" Chris hit the wheel of his car with his fists. Scott sends him a message asking what happened, he still didn't want to talk about it, he was too angry "I'm going home" He sends it to his brother knowing that it was only going to cause him more questions.
He has been driving around in the car for an hour, for some reason he didn't want to go home, that's not how the night was suppose to go. Instead of spending it together she has got drunk, the memory of her dancing with a guy still torments his mind "fuck" He was driving aimlessly but apparently his subconscious betrays him because he ends up in front of the house of the party. He might be mad at her but he couldn't leave her alone. He gets out of the car and take a deep breath before entering the party. He searches the entire floor but she is no there. Chris starts to get nervous. Y/N friend was kissing a guy but no sign of Y/N. Then Chris sees Scott and approaches him "Scott have you seen Y/N?" he asks anxiously "she was drinking at the bar, she seemed sad, what happened?" Chris hits the wall "shit, we argued, she was drunk and I need to find her" Chris says still looking for her in the room "We should look for her in the rooms" Scott says and the possibility had not crossed Chris mind ... she would never cheat, she's too good to do that, but what if someone tries to take advantage of her?.
Chris runs up to the top floor followed by Scott. They go to several rooms and most were empty, some had couples having sex but YN wasn't there. Maybe she called a taxi and went home, he starts thinking, but then he enters the last room and what he saw froze his blood, or rather, made his blood burn. There she was lying on a bed with a man on top of her, the man was kissing her neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move but then, he listen to her say "no, stop please" in barely a whisper, as if she had trouble saying it. His body comes back to life. Chris takes the man away from her and throw him to the ground, he had felt anger before but never like this, he gets on top of the man and starts punching him until Scott gets in the way "Chris stop, Chris" Chris gets up willing to keep hitting him "Y/N, she needs you" when he hears her name Chris calms down instantly, shit, she was almost naked, he takes off his jacket and covers her body. "Chris" It's almost a whisper but it's reassuring to hear her voice "i'm here babe" Chris caress her face, he had to get her out of here, she was almost unconscious "i'm going to take you home" He bends down and kisses her forehead. Scott helps him to dress her but Chris covers her again with the jacket "I'll get the car and wait for you at the back door with her okay?" Chris says and Scott nods "They can't see me carrying her in my arms, people will take pictures and ... she wouldn't want that" he says buttoning the jacket so she won't be cold "don't worry, i'll see you there Chris" Scott squeezes his shoulder for support, but he was worry, he would never be able to take that memory out of his head.
Your head was going to explode "fuck" you cover your face with your hands as if that would help. "Take this" Chris offers you a pill and water. You take the pill and thank him, you were at his house, in his bed, he was sitting in an armchair next to the bed. He had bags under his eyes "You haven’t slept?" you ask him although you already know the answer "I couldn't sleep, how do you feel?" he asks "my head hurts, Chris..." you bite your lip "I'm sorry" you say both at the same time "why are you sorry? I'm the one who got drunk and...." You didn't want to say it out loud, "thanks for coming back" you say holding his hand "I shouldn't have left you alone" He caresses your hand "I want ... I need to know if ... my memory is a little blurry...did he.." you stop "no, he ...he didn't" He says almost in a whisper and sits next to you on the bed. A weight has been taken off you, you had your doubts if he had....
"we can't go on like this" you say breaking the silence "i know" he simply says "I want to be able to hold your hand, dance with you, go to dinner without having to carry a mountain of papers to pretend it's a business dinner" he caresses your back "i know" he says again "I think you have to stop being my client" you say finally, his hand stops "I do not want to lose you" he finally says "i know" you say this time "but if we continue like this, you know that we will end badly, we have been like this for more than a year Chris" Chris looks away "what is the plan then?" he says staring at the wall "I’ll work for another actor, we can continue in secret for a few months and then make it public" Chris finally looks at you "I'm going to miss having you around all the time" he takes your hair away from your face "but it’s worth it if i can kiss you in front of everyone" You shorten the distance and kiss him "i love you" you say brushing his lips, in response he kisses you again.
A year later your life has given a radical change, now you work for Scarlett Johansson. Everything had worked perfectly, she needed a new publicist and Chris recommended you, to tell the truth, Chris told her about your relationship and as she already knew you, she hired you. Your relationship went public a few months after you stoped working for Chris, as always there were comments about sleeping with his client but most people were happy to see you and Chris together, even his fans seemed happy with the relationship. Although maybe it was because you were going to give him a son. You caress your stomach. Chris surrounds you with his arms and brings you closer to his body. You had endured a lot to get here, but it was worth it. This was your life and you wouldn't change it for anything. Chris, your son and Dodger, that's all you need it in your life.
THE END
I had planned to do more chapters but I know myself and if I extend it I will not finish it so I hope you liked it!
MASTERLIST
#Chris Evans#chris evans imagine#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans x reader#fanfiction#marvel fanfic#MARVEL FANDOM#marvel fanfiction#celebrity fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#Steve Rogers#Ainstgirl
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