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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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Hiii. if you're still taking requests can you do a azriel one? (Can't get enough of him🤭🥰) can you witte one where azriel gets really badly hurt on a mission and barely makes it back and the reader freaking out and being really worried.?

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: angst, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, sad shiz but happy ending

a/n: this isn’t as angsty as I planned but it’s a lil, pls comment if you like it and tell me ur thoughts <33

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Azriel had promised you the mission would be quick. In and out were his exact words.

You should’ve known better than to trust him when he spoke so casually about breaking into a palace in the human courts, you should’ve known that something would go horribly, inconceivably wrong. But when he smiled at you and held you against him, swaying from side to side you were too lost in his easy lies to care.

You had started going on more missions with him recently. While you weren’t a spy, you had an incredible knack for lying. Cassian joked that you were just a brat but even he couldn’t deny that you were talented when it came to batting your eyes and pressing a hand gently enough on a soldier’s arm that they would bend to your every will.

You and Azriel had also discovered that the most effective torture method was to trick whoever you had taken into a false sense of security, you would use a gentle tone and motherlike care to make them feel safe. And then they were always willing to speak, believing that once Azriel stopped his ministrations they could fall into the safety of your arms.

It was a good tactic and even Azriel was impressed when you first tried it. But that never quelled his protectiveness, the way an arm would find its way secured around your waist as soon as you had secured the information you needed, or the way he kissed you fiercely in his shadows when he was tired of watching men flirt with you.

The truth was you and Azriel were so completely in love, no amount of flirting could ever take you from the gentle but possessive grip of your mate. In some ways that’s what kept you going, knowing that at the end of the day you didn’t have to plaster on a fake smile and sweet voice.

At the end of the day, in the warmth and comfort of your share home you were yourself. You could wear the same jumper for weeks straight and laugh at crude jokes. You could do your makeup at 3am and then turn to your half-asleep mate with a pout, whining until he caved and let you do his makeup too.

But in the end, your complete devotion would come back to bite you in the ass.

It was your fault, or so you believed. If you had just kept your eyes on the general with bad breath and a crooked nose you wouldn’t be in this mess. But when he got to close your eyes flickered to were your mate stood, concealed in shadows, and through all the generals personal hygiene faults, he had been trained to notice subtle looks that gave you away.

He had grabbed you so tightly that you couldn’t help but yelp, drawing Azriel’s attention to you. And while you had disabled the general quickly you now had hoards of guards chasing you out of an area that was guarded against winnowing.

Azriel hadn’t wasted a second. You were his top priority and so he had abandoned the plan and grabbed you as quickly as he could, gathering you into his arms as he flew to the exit. You had spluttered apologies to him as he flew, your eyes trained on the guards chasing you, the guards who were now drawing bows.

Azriel was quick but the arrows were quicker. You threw your hands out, trying to bat off as many of them as you could with the limited power you held. But as concentrated as you were on the ones directed to his wings, you didn’t see the one aiming for his lower torso until you felt it graze you from where it left his body.

He grunted as you swore, finally out of the barriers as he winnowed to as close to home as he could. But while injured that wasn’t easy and you found yourselves standing in a wooded area, Azriel dropping you down much more roughly than usual, swearing as he leaned against a tree.

“Okay, okay I can fix this, you’re going to be fine.” You spoke, mainly to yourself as the panic inside you grew. You scanned the area, spotting a cave not too far off, not wanting to leave Azriel in the open when you had no idea what could be in these woods.

“C’mon baby, let’s go this way.” You slung an arm around him, just above the wound and began making your slow trek to the small cave. As soon as you had him sat down, you knelt in front of him, tears in your eyes as you cut open his top, so you had access to the wound beneath.

“Why are you crying sweetheart?” you heard him ask and you rolled your eyes, wiping away the stray tears.

“Why do you think dumbass,” you said, forcing a smile when he huffed a laugh.

“You can’t be mean to me right now,” he complained as you set about cutting off both ends of the arrow so you could remove it safely, wincing when he hissed, gritting his teeth.

You finally had both ends cut off and went to pull it out, removing your shawl and preparing to press it against the wound that was spouting far too much blood. You looked up at him with your hands pressed shakily against his wound and saw his skin was pale and sweaty, his eyes drooping as they tried to close. He fell forward slightly but you held him upright with your shoulder, panic rushing through you, white hot.

“Azriel c’mon no, none of that. You’ve got to stay awake baby, you’re too heavy for me.” You begged; your hands pressed tightly against his wound as you let the tears fall freely. You eventually had to pull away, moving him so he was leaning against the cave wall, taking extra precaution to ensure his head didn’t get hurt.

His eyes cracked open when he felt your blood-soaked palm press gently against his face, glassy and barely present.

“Hey, hey I need you to stay with me, okay?” you tried to smile, wanting to offer him any semblance of comfort.

“Always baby,” he whispered, and you smiled, pulling your hands away slightly and smiling when you saw the wound healing externally already.

“What are you getting me for solstice?” you asked, wanting to keep him awake and speaking.

“Not telling.” He muttered and you laughed.

“You have to, we have to talk about something.” You joked, pulling a hand away just long enough to wipe your eyes as you focused on his face.

“I had a few ideas; nothing seems good enough.” He muttered and you laughed.

“Tell me.”

“Well first I thought a necklace, books, maybe art supplies or something but that’s all boring,” he whispered, and you smiled, nodding.

“If it’s from you it won’t be boring,” you smiled, hands still pressed tightly against his wound.

“Well I also thought I could get you your own truthteller, maybe one with a pink handle.” He joked.

“Well you know full well I would love that, maybe baby pink with little white hearts on it,” he smiled at you, his head lulling slightly forward. You reached up to him again holding his head gently in your hands, before you lay him down, covering him in the rest of your shawl.

“You plan that then, I’m going to go get wood and we’ll start a fire okay, keep you warm.” You stroked his face gently, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

“Be safe,” he grabbed your hand as you stood to leave,

“You first.”

Your luck apparently ran out as soon as you looked at Azriel, given as soon as you walked out the cave the heavens opened, and you were soaked to the skin in the seconds. You grabbed as much wood as you could straight away, throwing it into the dry cave.

You then ventured further out, finding a rabbit, and killing and cleaning it out as quickly as you could, practically running back to the cave. You knelt down, starting a small fire, and removing your now dirty and completely soaked dress, ringing out your hair.

You then moved back to Azriel, brining him closer to the fire as you cooked speared the rabbit over it, cooking all the meat you could salvage of its small body.

“You’re so cold,” he muttered, pressing his nose into your bare skin as you shivered, moving even closer to the fire.

“Ah you know what they say, cold hands, cold heart.”

“I don’t think that’s the-“

“Shh,” you muttered, curling into him as you pressed together trying to steal some warmth from each other.

“If I get ill I’m going to kill you.” You whispered into his neck, and he chuckled, clenching his teeth when he moved to soon and your head shot up to him.

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” he shook his head, tightening his arms around you.

“No you’re alright,” he whispered. You lay there for a while longer, Azriel’s body limp, all his energy going into healing the deep wound in his side. Yours on the other hand was tense, ears perking up at any sound, half expecting a pack of rabid wolves to come eat you the second you allowed yourself to relax. When the rabbit was finished, you picked it apart, feeding it to Azriel gently, determined to get his energy back.

He was still so pale and no matter how hard you tried, nothing could quell the nausea in your stomach. Every time you looked at him when he closed his eyes your heart dropped, your anxiety telling you that this might just be the last time you ever see him.

You didn’t sleep all night, instead staying pressed against him, shivering in your undergarments as your dress dried by the fire. You regularly checked his pulse, temperature, breathing and whatever else you could, too afraid to take your eyes off of him for even a second.

By the time the sun finally rose, Azriel’s complexion had evened out and the wound in his side was puckering into a pink scar. You were beyond relieved, fussing over him when he woke up like the mother you often pretended to be.

You pulled your dress back on and stumbled to a near-by river to collect him some water, picking a species of berries you recognised along the way, and actively ignoring the cough you had developed over night.

You got back to the cave and almost cried in relief when you saw him sitting up, smothering the burning embers that used to be your fire. He looked over to you as you padded in and swore, standing to come to you.

“You look like shit what happened?” he asked, worry coating his features.

“Hey! I spent all night looking after you asshole,” you shoved him gently but he held tight, holding your chin in his slender fingers as he forced you to look at him.

“Shit it was raining last night,”

“Yeah?” you asked as he shook his head.

“That’s why you were so cold, c’mon let’s get you home you’re ill.” He muttered as you wildly protested.

“I’m fine, you need to rest,” you pointed at him, but he brushed you off, gathering you in his arms to winnow home.

“We can rest together, at home, in bed.” He stated, not leaving any room for argument so you relaxed in his arms, your head pressed against his shoulder.

“Okay,” you conceded, your voice small as he smiled down at you.

“Thank you for looking after me darling,” his voice was filled with sincerity, and you snuggled closer into him.

“Anytime.” You whispered as he winnowed you away, only vaguely aware of the feeling of him placing you down on your bed and curling around your back, arms tight and secure.

#acofas #acotar #acomaf #azriel #acowar #azriel x reader #acofs #acosf

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

pick your filter - pjm | m

mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter. which me do you want? the one to change your world, i'm your filter - filter, bts

↳ summary- You love turning Jimin on, and you’re desperate to make him punish you for it. Jimin loves punishing you while you listen to his music.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 5.1k

↳ pairing- jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is literally just smut, there’s 1% plot and it’s pornographic too, there’s some fluff at the end but i repeat it is still smut. there is no god in this chili’s tonight

↳ warnings- buckle up pals. established relationship, explicit descriptions of sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), BDSM themes, spanking, belt usage, dirty talk, derogatory names, pain kink, daddy kink, face-fucking lol, unprotected sex, slight impregnation kink but like not really they just wanna have a baby together and talk about it lol, jimin is filthy and i cannot portray him as anything but filthy but then he has like cute babie syndrome at the end.

↳ a/n- hi i feel maybe 1% shame in how fast i wrote this but whatever. thank you to @carly-bean-blog for sending the prompt in! i loved it and went from a planned drabble to 5k words lolol. one day i’ll be less verbose 🥴🥴 plus enjoy and feel free to send in more requests or just a message to say hi bc as you can see i love talking. also RIP to the wine glass i broke while writing this fic because i hit my table to hard. wine glass 2020-2020

Turning Park Jimin on was a delicious challenge for you.

When you first began dating, all it took was a ‘come over’ text, and he’d be there in 5 minutes flat regardless of the fact that he lived 15 minutes away.

Now, a few years and a marriage under your belt, it took a bit more.

That’s not to say he wasn’t the same insatiable man you met at university; even after all these years Jimin could easily go 3 or more rounds a night.

But really getting him riled up, getting him hard and wanting and desperate for you was another thing. Sometimes, you just wanted him to come home and take you right against the kitchen counter, so turned on he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

You’re determined to win that challenge today.

To be truthful, the day was terrible for you, and you were seeking release in the form of your husband dicking you down until you were speaking another language. You were desperate to let loose, push aside the emotional and tender sex that seemed to be more commonplace in the bedroom recently (and you enjoyed equally) but today you needed to be treated like an absolute harlot.

The idea rolled through your mind while you were busying yourself with housework, laundry and dishes. Options of how to get your husband to take you on the floor, rip your clothes off, make you beg for more, simmered in your mind and made the low flame in your stomach burn. Lingerie could do the trick, Jimin definitely liked to see you swathed in delicate lace or creamy satin. You had a nice deep red set that was dying to be used and discarded on the floor.

It came to you as you set your speaker to play some music as you flicked around the house. Jimin’s sweet voice filled the rooms, causing you to pause as shivers raked your spine.

His music. There was always something Jimin loved about having his music on in the background of your sex that made him work harder on you, fuck you deeper. Maybe it was narcissism at its finest, but who were you to complain if it benefitted both of you.

You discarded all thoughts of cleaning the rest of the house as you stalked towards your bedroom closet, gathering the red bustier and panty set, with matching garter belt and stocking clips. You purchased it rather spur of the moment, a huge sale at your favorite boutique, and you wanted to save it for something special.

It appeared the special moment was now.

You took care to curl your hair, a gentle wave with not too much product. Jimin loved to tug his fingers through your locks, and grip them in a ponytail as you sucked his cock. Any product would unfortunately get in the way. Makeup was minimal, a dash highlight on your cheeks and inner tear ducts, light pink lip stain on your lips. Jimin had been the test subject of many a lipstick, as you determined to find the most blowjob-proof one. Needless to say, none of the lipsticks were 100% solid, but it was the best time Jimin ever had as a test subject. You preferred to stick with the stains, easier cleanup for the both of you.

You complete the visual as you swap your grubby cleaning day clothes for blood red lace lingerie, smirking at yourself in the mirror. The cups of the bra molded against you, encasing your tits perfectly. Jimin would surely lose his mind. The panties were simple lace, and you had the inkling that they would not remain intact tonight. Jimin’s propensity for literally ripping your knickers right off you was legendary. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted your husband to be absolutely feral for you.

Step two of your plan was now underway as you slipped onto your bed, perfectly made now, and snapped sultry photos. You ensured your cleavage and smooth legs were in the shot, a finger on the mouth. You took a few more, exposing more and more of your body.

me 2:56 pm- hi babe what you up to?

mini 2:56 pm- baby!!!! Not much, just waiting for hobi to get back from lunch so we can practice this new choreo.

Mini 2:57 pm- what about you? besides being the world’s cutest wife :)

Me: 2:57 pm- oh not too much. I did our laundry and cleaned up the house a little. Now im just relaxing and missing my babe :(

Mini 2:57 pm- baby :( i’m sorry. I should be home in a few hours okay! I’ll order in pasta from your favorite place to make up for it

Me 2:58 pm- well, i was sort of hoping you could make up for it but… i don’t want pasta

Mini 2:58 pm- you don’t? What do you want? Pizza?

Me 2:58 pm- [picture attached]

Me 2:58 pm- no, I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.

Mini 2:59 pm- oh fuck

Mini 2:59 pm- baby you’re playing a dangerous game, teasing me like this.

You nearly had him, he was sniffing at the bait and soon he’d bite and you’d reel him in. You sent the next picture, showcasing your tits with one cup pulled down, nipple on display.

me 3:00 pm- you mean this kind of game?

mini 3:00 pm- christ

mini 3:00 pm- fuck babe, you’re gonna make me pop a boner at dance practice. You know I can’t come home for a few hours.

me 3:00 pm- hobi still gone? Go to the bathroom and i’ll send you a video.

mini 3:01 pm- holy fuck asdskadj okay

Time for the pièce de résistance. Ensuring the speakers blasted ‘Serendipity’, your husband’s full length solo, you clicked the record button and filmed your hand sliding down to your clothed core, rubbing over the mound with a rough hand. You breathed heavily, sighed, mewled a bit.

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Come home.”

You end it with a hand sneaking under the band and insertion of one finger. Leave him not just wanting more, but rabid for it. The video file is sent before you've even pulled your fingers from their spot resting on your clit.

Minutes passed, you were sure he was watching. The man lived for your exhibitionism.

mini 3:06 pm- you better have your hands behind your back and be on your knees when i get home, little one. In the middle of the bedroom floor.

mini 3:06 pm- i want you to listen to the music and think about me fucking you. Think about how i destroy your little cunt so good.

mini 3:07 pm- but don’t you dare touch yourself. Your pussy is only mine to play with, you got that?

me 3:07 pm- yes daddy

mini 3:07 pm- good. I’ll be home soon.

Congratulations, you smirk to yourself in the mirror's reflection across from you. You’ve won the grand prize. Please make sure you collect your prize from the man with the raging boner.

You idly realize that Jimin hasn’t told you when he’ll be home. You know that on any normal day he’d be home at 5:30. But was he leaving early? Could you chance it? As much as you wanted to disobey and face his delicious punishment, he also could just as easily punish you by not letting you cum at all. And the chances of that type of discipline tonight was high; Jimin would surely make you pay for teasing him at work by exacting torturous ache the same to you.

You’re spinning the pros and cons of preparing yourself now or later, when you are given your hasty answer by the sound of keys jingling in the front door. Your heart rate spikes dangerously, feeling like the muscle would force the blood out of your veins with the pressure.

You squirm off the bed and descend to the floor on your knees, resting back on your heels, and holding your hands behind your back. You lower your head to the floor, knowing Jimin loves it when you avoid eye contact until he tells you when and where to look.

His footsteps are heavy, slow and torturous because you know that he knows that you’ll be on the very edge of your sanity. The warmth in your belly is torched with tinder and starter and is flaring high. Jimin’s simple presence, just like this, is enough to get you to an incredible high. Nothing brings you to your knees faster than when he turns from your sweet, adorable and gentle husband into the sadistic and powerful dominating owner of your body and soul.

It takes 5 deep breaths from your belly before you hear Jimin enter the bedroom. He’s not saying a single word, but you can hear his soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. Your knees are aching at the pressure of the hard floor, but you ignore it. You’d ignore cauterizing wounds for the man hovering above you if he asked.

You’re trembling, you notice. Your thighs are quivering ever so slightly and the grasp on your hands behind you is weakening. You grip harder, determined to maintain perfect correct form.

Jimin is frustratingly silent. He walks around you, and you feel his eyes rove your body intently, as if looking for fault or reason to punish you. He seems pleased when he finishes his rounds, standing right in front of you.

“Look at me,” he states with authority, but his tone is gentle.

You finally tilt your head up to gaze at your lover and nearly gasp at the sight. Jimin is, on an average day, the most ethereally beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Today, he looks as if he descended from heaven mere minutes previous. His pink hair is pushed back, eyes darkened with desire, and wearing the tightest shirt you’ve ever seen, making his toned dancer’s body ripple under the cotton. Tight sweats that leave nothing to the imagination about what he’s packing between his thighs sit low on his hips and you spot just a hint of his lower abdomen, the v line of his adonis belt, and you’re sure you’re drooling.

“Look at me,” he corrects, a smirk on his face. Your eyes snap to his own again, and he winks at you.

“Have you been a good girl for daddy?” He asks, and it feels like a loaded question.

You play it coy. “Yes, daddy.”

He stands still in front of you, hand stroking his face as he watches you. His eyebrow arches.

“Are you sure? You have done nothing to upset Daddy? Nothing at all?” His voice becomes teasing, and the smirk on his features is sinister.

You bite your lip. “I sent Daddy a video of me, touching myself to his music.”

“That’s right, angel,” he murmurs and circles you again. You feel like his prey before he comes in for the kill. “You made daddy leave practice early. Don’t you think that’s not being a good girl?”

“No, I did wrong.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna make you regret getting Daddy hard and horny at work.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and you shiver. His hands are smooth, warm. You love the way you feel the cold steel of his wedding ring pressed to your skin, a tangible expression of his love and loyalty.

“Stand up,” he directs. You’re quick, thankful to be off stinging knees. He lets his hands glide down your back to meet at your clasped hands, pulling them apart and turning you to face him.

He threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, sealing your lips to his. His lips are soft and taste of chapstick, a hint of sweat, and something just so simply Jimin that is addictive. He’s gentle and tender in the kiss, the kind of kiss a husband gives his wife. It speaks miles beyond the simple action, and you chase it, revel in it, knowing it’s the last time he’ll be gentle tonight.

He breaks from the kiss, touches your nose gently and winks. It makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The control seeps back into his face; it's physically present in the tight gaze of his eyes and the coolness of his impassive features. It’s a stark opposite of who just kissed you, and you’re breathless at the sudden change.

“Gonna spank you with my belt, baby,” he murmurs. A hand slaps hard against your ass, surprising you and making you squeak out loud. “Lean over my desk like a good little slut.”

You obey immediately, jerking your body towards his grand oak desk. It’s gorgeous dark wood that matches the decor of your room perfectly and makes for a delicious spot for your sexual proclivities without being obvious. As much as Jimin wanted a sex swing, you would not cave to that.

You bend to fold your body over the desk, gripping the edge and pushing your hips back to allow for more access to your husband. The speaker system by your bed plays music, and you recognize the opening chords as one from his latest album with his six best friends. A smile slips to your face as the volume turns up, quiet enough you can talk, but loud enough it’s noticeable. His smooth, melodic voice is ringing through your bedroom and through your entire body.

He stalks in behind you and rubs at your soft globes.

“Mmm, you look so pretty in this,” he compliments. “You know I love seeing you in red.”

You turn your head to gaze at him, smiling. “That’s why I bought it, Daddy.”

“Good little bitch,” he sighs.

As expected, he rips the underwear from your body with one clean pull. You’re always surprised by the action. He never gives warning. Your eyes follow as the useless fabric soars towards the ground.

“Much better.”

He moves away from you, walking towards the closet. You train your eyes forward, keeping locked on the wall ahead of you, rather than staring. Jimin tells you when and where to look and you follow that.

The gentle clinking noise of a belt buckle causes your pussy to quake. You’ve been slowly moistening since you sent the first text, but you were now starting to drip as if you were overflowing. By the end of the night, you’ll be drowning in it.

He’s behind you again as quick as he left and he rubs the leather belt against your bare behind.

“What’s your word?” He asks, soothing at the skin with the device that will soon maar it. Jimin is ever careful, checking on your mental and emotional safety as well as your physical, and ensured a safe word was in place each time.

“Red,” you assert. He hums his approval and kisses your ass once, one quick little peck, before he lifts back up to standing.

“Count for me, little whore.”

The crack of the belt spanking your cheek electrifies you. You feel as if every muscle in your body clenches as the sting vibrates through your buttocks and down to your core.

“O-one!” You’re shouting, distracted by the pain in your ass to care about your pitch.

Crack. The next slap lands on the other cheek now, and you hiss at the pain. It bites at your skin, and it soaks your pussy.

“Two!”

He delivers the next straight in the center, hitting both cheeks and letting the sizzle melt its way to a pleasure that’s reverberating through your core.

“Three! Fuck!” you gasp.

SMACK. It’s the hardest yet and tears well up in your eyes at the initial whollop, before your hips are writhing and desperate for friction.

“Four!” You’re wailing and you know it makes your husband go even wilder.

“Stay still or I won’t let you cum for a month,” he grits. Your hips stay put, knowing he’s a man of his word and not wanting to face his wrath.

He continues his barrage, and you’re counting out 15 strikes before he stops. You’re sobbing, the pain and pleasure surging so forcefully through your veins that your cunt clenches around nothing and you’re dripping onto the wood of the desk.

His warm hands are soothing at the reddened flesh of your ass, the sensation stinging at first, but oozes away to a relaxing warmth against the punished skin.

“Good girl, baby,” he commends you, hands rubbing all over your flesh. “Took your punishment like such a good girl.”

You sniffle in reply and he pulls you up, making you stand on wobbly legs. He twists you around and pecks your lips again, a reminder that Jimin, your husband, is still there and loves you more than he loves life itself. It soothes you more than any salve could and it steels your resolve to continue. It’s easy to submit and thrill at the loss of control when you trusted the master with your entire being.

“Color?” He asks, checking in with you.

“Green,” you smile.

He’s pleased with your answer. He pulls away from you and pushes you towards the bed.

“Lay down on your back. Head off the side. I’m going to fuck your throat, and you will take it all.”

You’re giddy as you saunter to the bed and notice that Jimin is proud of the blooming red of your ass. It’ll be a literal pain in the ass to sit tomorrow, but it’s worth all the doting and affection you’ll receive in return for being such a good girl for him. The music has changed, another sensual track featuring your talented husband. It sends shivers down you, straight to your core.

You maneuver your body to lie on the bed, grateful for the soft blanket on your burning ass, and tip your head off the bed. Your mouth opens complacently and Jimin shoves his sweats down to reveal his hardened length.

You’re licking your lips like his dick is the finest meal money can buy, and he chuckles. His left hand strokes it, shivering at the cold press of his wedding ring mixing with the heat of his hand.

“You want my cock?” He asks.

You nod, captivated with the motion he strokes the shaft. You almost forget to speak, but his harsh gaze is like a whip.

“Yes! Yes, I want your cock Daddy!”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” he hums.

Well, this would be too easy.

“I want to suck you dry, let you fuck my throat so I can’t breathe. I’ll let you cum down my throat and make my face so messy from cum and spit that it gets in my eyes and messes up my pretty makeup, daddy.”

His strokes have become faster, and he sucks in hard for air. “Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

You open said mouth again, letting your tongue hang out like a welcome sign to your throat.

He growls, it’s guttural, and it feels as if it’s positioned on your clit, vibrating the nub. Your bliss is cut short as he drives his thick dick into your mouth and directly to the back of your throat, leaving you no time to prepare. You whine slightly around it, and he tsks.

“Don’t you fucking dare whine. Take it all,” he sounds ruthless and your pussy quakes.

He sets a punishing pace, the tip of his dick ramming through your throat. It doesn’t take long for it to become messy, saliva trickling from your mouth, falling towards your eyes due to the angle of your supine head. Jimin sounds angelic, the moans that leave the dancer’s body should be recorded and played for an audience, you think. You’d suffer through hours of this for the reward of his sweet voice crying out your name.

“Fuck, my little cock slut loves it when I fuck her throat, hmm,” he asks, breathy and harsh. You nod as much as you can.

“Yeah, that’s right. You love daddy’s cock, don’t you? You love it when I fucking choke the shit out of you with my fat cock, huh?”

The voice of an angel with the words of the devil himself. The duality is intoxicating and you are head over heels for both Jimin’s inside of him, every aspect of the man you pledged your life to.

“Mmm, you suck me so good,” he’s groping at your tits through the fabric of your bra. You’re surprised that it’s still on, but you trust he’s aware and always has a plan.

“Are you crying, baby?” He asks mockingly. Tears and saliva mix and your face is completely ruined by it. You nod again and blink. “Good, fucking choke on it.” he goes even faster and you’re moaning. It hurts and the gag reflex is there, but the pain gets you off, and you know the second it became too much, your husband would stop in an instant.

“Little sluts get their face fucked when they disobey daddy,” he chides, emphasising each word with a thrust.

It’s as if you’re desperate for his orgasm, wanting nothing more than to swallow every ounce of what he spills into you, clean him up and ask for more. He won’t have that tonight, it seems, as he’s pulling out of you as quickly as he entered.

“I want to cum in this tight little cunt,” he bites. You slither up from your position and wipe at your eyes, resting against the pillow after he orders you to remove the bustier. He asks that you leave the belt and stockings on, however.

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, baby,” he’s discarded his shirt and is sitting ahead of you, watching you. His gaze turns you on and opens you up like a flower.

Your thighs are spread far and you lean back further onto the pillows to put the star of the show on display. You’re coated with your slick; it’s slathered up and down your thighs and dripping onto the duvet below you. He breathes out in appreciation.

“I think my favorite thing about you is how fucking wet you get for me.” He’s still not moving and you want to beg him to touch you, please do something, but refrain. “You feel like a fucking dream when I’m inside you.”

“B-baby,” you break character and freeze, but he ignores it and allows you to continue as you sigh with relief. “I need you.”

“Do you now?” he banters, and you nod with wide, needy eyes.

“Touch yourself for me, then. Show me how badly you want daddy’s cock in you.”

A hand flies to your cunt in record time and you’re desperately eager to spread the lips of your folds apart and rub at your slick and swollen clit. A breathy, heady moan escapes you at the friction you’ve been aching for since you sent the sexy photo hours ago.

“Fuck!” you shout, circling the bud. Jimin’s eyes are glued to your hands, and he watches with awe.

“Finger yourself,” he demands and you’re obeying before he’s even finished speaking, two fingers slipping down to enter your channel. You arch off the bed and grip a breast in your other hand, flicking at the nipple for extra sensation.

He coos at you as you fuck yourself with wild abandon, gasping his name as you slip deeper with each thrust.

“Add another.” His voice maintains its even quality, maintained and cool. But if you opened your eyes, you’d see that he’s salivating at the sight, desperately restraining himself. His cock is weeping pre-cum and he could explode in an instant watching this too long.

Your ring finger slips in with the other two and you’re keening at the stretch. The pain is gone in a flash, just a pinch that simmers to a desperate pleasure.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he breaks his composure, momentarily. He’s so in love with you, every single fucking bit, that he can’t help it. “God, you’re beautiful.”

His words have you blushing, as if they’re the most lewd part of the evening and not the fact you’re fingering yourself in front of your husband while he watches and orders you around.

“Rub your clit with your other hand, love.”

The pressure of your added hand on your clit and the fingers thrusting into you has you soaring to your high and your throat chokes on the air. “O-oohhh fuckkk!” You whine.

“You close, baby? You gonna cum on those cute little fingers and get them messy for daddy?” He asks, voice violently serene.

“Y-yes! Please, I want to cum,” you beg. You know the rules, he tells you where and when your body receives its pleasure.

“You wanna cum?” He asks again, and you feel a spike of irritation. He’s already asked you that, haven’t you already answered?

“So badly, daddy! Please! C-close.” Words are escaping your mental capacity now. You’re there, nearly there, just one little tiny string holding you back from the edge of euphoria.

“Too bad.”

Your fingers are pulled from your cunt quickly and you’re crying. Tears are forming in your eyes as you feel an ache deep to your womb. You had been so close, so deliciously close. Jimin knows this, thrills at watching you edge further and further through the night. You won’t admit it at the moment, it’s pure torture then, but the buildup to the finale is indescribable.

“You don’t get to fucking cum until I tell you to cum. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes! Yes, Daddy,” you babble, nearly incoherent from arousal and denial.

He makes you writhe there, pussy so slick its soaking the blankets and you’ll have to change them later but the only thing you think about is your cunt, your weeping cunt that’s screaming to release.

You feel your breath slowing and know that Jimin wants you to come back down to earth before he’ll bring you up again.

“Good fucking girl,” he kisses your belly, licking at the navel. He whispers quiet words of adoration as he trails down your abdomen and end at the top of your mound. Your legs are shaking, no, they’re nearly convulsing from need.

He spreads your folds, and it’s pornographic the way he spits on your pussy, as if it needs any more wetness. It’s not about the wetness, though, and you know it. It’s about the message, the ownership.

“My favorite little fuck toy,” he murmurs, lightly tracing everywhere but the bud throbbing with need for friction. “I can’t wait to cum inside this little pussy tonight. Gonna flood your whole fucking cunt, babe.”

Jimin knows the way to your heart, and the way to your orgasms is through his words. Gentle whispered ‘i love you’s’ in the day and disgusting filth at night. It’s just another reason in a list of a million why you work so well together.

“Should we get you nice and pregnant tonight? You want to make a baby?”

You nearly sob at his words. He can fuck you harder with his words than his cock.

“Please!” You’re yelling, tears streaming down your face. “P-please! I want your baby.”

He leans down and smiles for a moment before speaking. “Well, my little wife will always get what she wants when she asks so nicely.” His lips attach to your clit, suctioning it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. It’s swollen and slick, and it feels like fucking heaven. His plushy lips are working for it, taking you so desperately close to the edge.

You’re gasping a symposium of his name and praising the ground he walks on. You’re sure if you died now you’d die a very fucking happy woman. The world around you is gone, and it’s just Jimin’s sinful mouth suckling at your cunt.

You’re close again, and Jimin knows it. You’re begging, pleading with him, but it’s useless as he roughly pulls away.

The music continues on in the background. It’s lighter, and Jimin croons in the speaker as he grunts in your ear.

He muffles your anguished cry with a messy kiss that tastes of you, and he’s thrusting into you. The slickness guides him in easily and he’s whining against you at the feel of your walls accept him and hugging him tightly as if they’ve missed his cock swelling within them.

“JIMIN!” You’re seeing fireworks as your husband fucks into you, holding you close to him. It’s as rough and kinky as it is intimate and sweet. He holds you, cherishes you, while he’s pistoning his thick member into your loud, drenched cunt.

“I love you,” he whispers, slipping a thumb into your mouth that you suck at eagerly, as skilled with his fingers as you are with his cock. “I love you so fucking much.”

His eyes align with yours, yours full of tears of absolute unrivaled pleasure, and his with full and never-ending devotion.

You’re both so close, and you pull him against you to kiss his lips. You want to connect completely to him as you cum, as he spills into your womb and creates something, someone there.

Your cunt flutters intensely, quaking in anticipation as it builds and builds and builds. Jimin breaks the kiss to breathe and warn you, “I’m going to cum soon, baby, please cum with me.” He’s gentle and sweet, the Jimin who cries at love stories and wears flower crowns now present inside you. You nod quickly, gasping as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

Your kissing is messy, passionate, and your hands grasp him everywhere. You’re tugging at his toned arms and solid back, seeking refuge as the tidal wave grows impossibly high, higher, so so high,

And crashes into you at 100 miles per hour. Your cunt is contracting and pulsing around him so intensely you nearly black out, crying loudly into his mouth. He’s groaning with you, the feeling of your already impossibly tight walls clenching down on him demands the orgasm out of him. He’s cupping your whole face in his hands as he spills into you and your walls suck him in further, so far he could disappear completely.

It feels as if you orgasm for hours, but it's merely minutes later that you’re trying to catch your breath and slip back into reality. You’re clinging to each other like last lifelines and the gaze between you is so intense it clenches at your racing heart.

The silence between you two is long and speaks an entire conversation before your lips even open. He’s singing so sweetly through the speaker, it sounds like he’s singing directly to you. “I love you,” you’re whispering to him.

He rubs at your cheeks in his palms, wiping away stray tears of bliss that have slipped down your face.

“I love you.”

You settle into him, unwilling to move a single inch away from your husband, and marvel at the beauty that is your life, your future.

Jimin holds you close, kisses you gently and sings softly along to the music as you fall asleep, and he adores the fact that he holds his entire world, his future, in his arms.

#bangtanarmynet #maknaesmutsociety #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #btswritersnet #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts jimin #bts park jimin #jimin #park jimin is a dom #you cannot change my mind #well maybe you could #but a girl can wish okay

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

Ectober Day 24: House - Sinner Are We Chap.3: The Home Of Broken Parts

Orrin sent a lot of time thinking and that could be both good and bad for those around him. One thing was for sure, even he knows the Gray-Phantom home was strange.

Orrin watches his father’s back as he walks away, out the hall doors. They had gotten into another minor brawl, not that that was uncommon in this family. Arguably it was a favourite past time for all of them. Not that his lummox of a brother was all that refined or skilled at it.

Speaking of that fool, Orrin steps back slightly to easily avoid a blast from him; spotting him glaring bloody murder at him. Orrin rolls his eyes, “are you really going to try that”.

Russet scowls at him and stalks over, “you’re supposed to stay out of the way”.

“I don’t listen to you”. Orrin sidesteps to avoid his brother’s claws, turning to follow Russet landing in a crouch, “I'm the alpha here. You’re just a little boy that prefers to hide in your room”.

Orrin rolls his eyes, easily bending out of the way of a lunge, “you tell yourself that”, sighing and stepping next to him, putting his hand to Russet’s chest, and promptly blasting him into the back wall, “and I’m more of the wanderlust type”. Turning and watching Russet pull himself out of the wall rubble, with the wall immediately repairing itself, and sighs.

Russet scowls and aggressively tosses off the little bits, snarling and clearly baring as much fang as he possibly can, “fuck you, Ori”, and stalks off with a huff. Orrin does catch the slight glance back with a hint of worry on his face though.

Orrin smirking, “fuck you too, Rusty”, quiet enough that one of the living absolutely wouldn’t have heard him. He gets it, Russet was a blowhard that felt he deserved to be the king of the roost; who just got upstaged by someone he thought didn’t give a damn. Shaking his head and turning to look up at Dove, who’s floating upside down and fiddling with the white lace frill of her baby blue dress. Crossing his arms loosely, he has a feeling she didn’t notice the animosity between her brothers. Sure they didn’t hate each other but neither would lose sleep over the other's demise; and neither have damn if the other was at home at the time or not.

But Dove... she was something strange and unfamiliar to him. Yes, he had understood from a young age and his many travels, that their family dynamic was all kinds of unusual. That most of the living and dead were far kinder and gentler than the rest of his family. Or him for that matter. That was perfectly fine with him. And other people and families were protective and supportive in a way his wasn’t, from what he had observed anyway. That’s not to say his wasn’t, his father was probably the most protective being on the planet in all honesty. His brother would have gotten himself destroyed by now otherwise. Not that Russet ever seemed to appreciate it, and not that father gave a shit if his actions were appreciated or not.

Father was quite content to protect them, destructive methods or not. While mother was much more of the ‘protect your damn self’ type. She was very big on them being as capable as possible from day one, and he knew more methods of torture than he really knew what to do with. Mother was a fighter, father was more of a scarer. Encouraging him and his brother to be more creative and dramatic about pretty well everything. Mother always gave him that weird fond look that used to make Russet gag when father was being over-dramatic.

The only dramatic bone Russet had in his body was overblowing his own power and throwing fits like an entitled brat. He also couldn’t build a weapon to save his half-life. But he had tank throwing down to an art and a knack for blowing shit up. While Orrin himself was more dramatic in the confident sense and always being the ‘beau of the ball’ in any room. He knew he could come off as quite snobbish, but he was better than the vast majority of people. And if someone had a problem with that then he’s got no problem force-feeding them an ecto-light or tripping them down a well. See he had creativity, panache; Russet was just a brute. A brute that was more mediocre strength-wise. Which was just a bit sad in his opinion. Sad in a pathetic way, not in a ‘he feels bad for him’ way. Russet has been a real bastard growing up after all. Russet never blooming into power was just him getting his comupins.

Moving his hands to motion Dove to float down to him, her sitting on his forearm. The problem he can already see with her is that she just felt gentle. And kind. Not powerful, or sneaky, or dramatic, or aggressive. She felt like the opposite in fact; which was odd in this household. Yes, she was young, newly born/formed, but even him and Russet had a feeling of danger to them from day one. Russet’s first word had been to scream ‘DIE!’ while incinerating his food according to mother. And he had always been a teeth-barer who liked fire and anything that went boom way too much. Orrin had been blown up more than a few times in his youth because of that bastard. Didn’t help that mother encouraged them both to play with weapons, bombs included. And their father had literal fire for hair and a tendency to set anything around his feet on fire. If he was somewhere recently you would know it, because there’d be foot-shaped scorch marks.

As for himself? Father said his first word, or phrase really, had been to tell Russet to ‘fuck off’ before shoving Russet over via a foot to the face. Father had apparently laughed so hard he tipped the chair over. And while the larger world viewed Russet as the ‘demon child’ all the servants of the Keep gave that title to Orrin. Mother had a collection of photos of all the times he’s scared the crap out of someone simply by being somewhere they didn’t expect. He hardly thinks it’s his fault that curling up in cupboards, cabinets, and other assorted small areas, was comfortable. It was certainly a plus that seeing that look of abject terror and shock flash over someone’s face was rather enjoyable. So what if he may have given one of the mortal servants a heart attack or two. Their fault for being weak.

Shaking his head slightly and floating off to Dove’s room, her staying tucked in his arm and grabbing his frock coat; his parents might be all over that skintight bodysuit style, but he could do without it. At least that one ghost had been nice enough to explain the best use of glamour to him. And by ‘nice’ he means suddenly very agreeable under threat of some very creative knife play. So now he could accentuate the vertically half black, half white t-shirt/shorts bodysuit he was born with. The frock coat, top hat, and cane were his general go to. Never underestimate the usefulness of a cane for knocking out people's feet or snagging some ghosts tail. The white gloves and thigh-high black heels he was also born with worked quite well he thinks. Having a leaner body than mother certainly helped. And it was very amusing that the borderline-stiletto heels confused father. As was the absolute chaos his ocean blue eyes caused. Since apparently father had neglected to tell mother that she knew him as a human. She had blown half the Keep to smithereens over that; which brother had giddily helped with.

Walking into Dove’s room and eyeing the pink-tinted white walls and plushies all around. The Keep had formed her a very different room than the rest of the family. It was incredibly foreign to him... and incredibly interesting. It said a lot though, watching her float off and scrunch up the down-feather comforter over her mouth. A teddy-bear -which is apparently something children normally had- falling off the bed, only being stopped from hitting the ground via Dove’s telekinesis; her floating it over to her and patting its head.

Him walking over, “why did you do that. It’s not like it can get hurt or even care”, and Gray-Phantom’s didn’t care if something outside of their family got hurt in the slightest. She predictably just hums at him, changing to her ghost-form seemingly purely to coil her ghostly tail around the plushie. Orrin’s not sure she’s ever actually spoken.

Shaking his head and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. Dove was the sweetest little thing he had ever seen. Wavy soft gray hair nearly twice her small body’s length and eyes the colour of pure amber. Pale skin so easily burned by the sun, while he and his brother were of a darker tone. She touched everything like it was the most breakable thing in the world, she was a gentle soul, and looked at everything like it was made of sparkles.

Their parents would destroy her. A Gray-Phantom wasn’t soft, gentle, or breakable; and that’s all Orrin could see in Dove.

Even her ghost forms outfit felt that way, it was reminiscent of a spandex ballerina, all white with little sparkling black stars dangling off the rim of the skirt and long flowing arm-sleeves; little black shoes and black spandex over her fingers topping it off. Father liked the stars, not that he said that, but if it weren’t for her being black and white like the rest of the family then their parents would likely have questioned if she really was theirs.

With him it wasn’t even a question if they were his parents. And Russet had their father’s bulk plus the more angular appearance to his military-esque jumpsuit. At this point people probably though the white machine guns he carries strapped around his hips were actually attached to him. Same with the military cap he wore over his shaggy black hair. Orrin gets a bit of a kick out of himself being the only one to get father’s fire hair. Even if his flames were a dark red. Which yes, was absolutely blamed on mother. Father had teased her for weeks about probably having red hair when she finally keeled over.

Sighing at the sound of an explosion. Russet was probably picking fights. Or just aimlessly blowing shit up like a rabid mutt. Russet absolutely had mother's tendency to hold grudges and overreact to the slightest slight. Dove looking up to the ceiling and tilting her head, like she didn’t understand the sound. At least she had their parents’ seeming fearlessness. Nothing seemed to startle or scare her. Even him and Russet had the sense to be somewhat cautious of new things that clearly had the potential of danger. Not that Russet would admit to that, or possibly even knew he actually did that. Dove was gentle and soft, never cautious.

Orrin seriously wonders how breakable she is, how strong she is. Mother and the FrightKnight already didn’t know what to do with her. She wouldn’t swing a sword hard enough to even give a piece of paper a paper cut. Her dainty fingers had a lot of promise for putting things together, for intricacy. But the little pistol she had put together at mothers prompting had fired flower petals somehow. Which yes, he had gotten her to use to fill Russet’s bed with flower petals. He was pissed. And in typical fashion tried to blow the both of them up. Which Dove had just stood there and took, giggled slightly even. Before pouting over there being ash on her dress. Mother teased father over her having his dodging skills. Which was fair, father’s dodging was practically non-existent even to this day. Though he could see that mother was actually just slightly concerned. The only ghosts -or halfas for that matter- that could get away without ever dodging were ones like father. And their parents' way of teaching dodging or fighting was just to get hit and shit kicked till you learned better.

Little Dove couldn’t handle that, he’s sure of that. She was good and kind and sweet. Which was strange and he was curious to see what would become of that. He also just didn’t want to see that sullied and stripped away. He didn’t want to see her become their mother. He was aware of what his parents used to be. Heroes. Which was also strange. But enough ghosts and even mortals had told of it or pointed out footage that it was undeniable. So he can’t help but wonder if Dove was a return to that. That the good that was destroyed in them rebuilt itself in her. It would explain a lot. And honestly? Orrin was well aware that their parents were not remotely good people. Evil and villainous really. Russet was just as bad, and Orrin himself was hardly better. He was more immoral and vaguely bad, rather than downright evil. Which was perfectly fine with him and the family. Dove seemed to be trotting right into the innocent sweetheart do-gooder territory though, and a family like this was bound to crush that into dust. The fact that their parents were once the good guys wouldn’t help. They knew the tricks and ways, and they knew how to break a ‘good guy’ and teach them anarchy at the very least, downright world-destroying merciless villainy at worst.

So what was he to do? He could stand back and watch things play out; he’s not too fond of that option. And a Gray-Phantom, a prince, doesn’t do things they don’t want to. And he wasn’t lying when he referred to himself as one of wanderlust, he could arguably take her away from here. Sure father could sense where any ghost, or half-ghost, was, but Orrin had made himself exceptionally skilled at glamours. If he didn’t want to be found, then he wasn’t going to be. It wouldn’t take much to get a small space amongst the living, sixteen or not he could seem older if he wanted; he could look as old as father if he wanted, older even. Age-morphing was an incredibly enjoyable power to have. Of course if he went that route then they would really be on their own, not that that was an issue to him or even out of the ordinary. And living arrangements wise it would be quite the downgrade. The living didn’t have partially nice living arrangements. Houses getting blown up or suffering some other form of destruction didn’t particularly encourage the living to build them well or fancy. Dove might mind that, or she might not care at all.

And living with mortals posed its own inherent issues, they weren’t ‘one of them’ and the living could be quite perceptive to that. If you acted like them then you could generally be fine, but he could only fake it so much and couldn’t really relate. Dove wouldn’t even know to fake it or hide her halfa status. Which if they did get found out that could be a problem, not to mention a blow to his ego. Both the living and dead weren’t entirely fond of the Gray-Phantom’s. Which he finds logical, they were dangerous threats who ruled through fear and destruction. If the mortals and ghosts could destroy or dethrone them, then they probably would; and likely without hesitation. And even if they could only destroy or harm Dove, they’d see that as a blow to the high royal family; which it would be. Sure, no ghost would with him around. Making an example of those troll giants served its purpose fabulously. Mortals, however, where much more willing to sacrifice their life for the supposed good of others. Martyrdom and self-sacrifice was quite romanticised by the living after all. Ghosts valued power, mortals valued community. Ah the differences between the strong and the weak.

But what really interests him with this idea was what will become of Dove and society should she make it to adulthood with her pure heart intact. What kind of change could that bring about. Would the living flock to her as some sort of symbol of hope. As the good princess that could reform the king and queen. Or perhaps usurp them. Would the dead see her as a chance for the Ghost Realm to flourish without all the constant destruction or ‘living’ in fear. Or would the two realms tear her to shreds in repentance for her lineage.

Regardless of his ponderings, if he wants to see this through he’ll need some sort of name. After all, him and his brother had their own titles. The Shadow Prince and The Poisoned Thorn Prince. Looking her over, watching her play with the legs of the plush animal, shimmer glittering in her wide amber eyes and smiling faintly. He finds himself breaking out into a grin.

The Golden Princess.

That would work splendidly.

#ectober #ectober2020 #ectober 2020 #danny phantom #phandom #dan phantom #valerie gray #dark grat #dan/Valerie #Villain! Valerie #implied/referenced murder #worldbuilding #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #alternate tue

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some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

You made me ship huwumi. You better take the responsibility. Love your fics.

NSIONEKBJ:SJNAjn;kjn!!! YOU FLATTER ME ANON!!!! But allow me to Welcome you into Huwumi with a lil ficlet~!

Takami Keigo was a fearless, calculating man with an eye for exploiting weaknesses in every situation. It came not only from his years of training under the Commision to be the perfect Pro Hero, but also from his years on the job itself. Only a small fraction of the population could make it in to and actually maintain a career in the Heroics business for longer than a year or two. Part of it was injuries on the job, sure, but more times than not it had most to do with the nature of their work. Not many people could see another person in danger and tap into the selfless need to help them. Long ago, before Quirks, it was why firefighters had been held in such high esteem. To be able to turn off one's own self-preservation instinct for the safety and protection of others was an extremely rare thing. He took a bit of pride in the fact he had those nerves of steel and that it took a lot to rattle him.

Like the woman who threw his office door open and strode in like she was the Pro Hero running the place. She rattled him a lot.

“So were you going to mention you’re dating Todoroki Fuyumi, the only daughter of one Pro Hero Endeavor, or was I supposed to figure that out via nasty gram from his PR team?” she barked when she reached his desk, tossing a folder in front of him, slamming her hands down on his desk and leaning into his personal space.

Takami Keigo feared Ono Junko, the latest handler tossed his way by the Commission. He had a bad tendency of - intentionally, more times than not - running his mouth and causing uproar in the Heroics community. He followed their orders to an extent that they couldn’t exactly punish him but he got to add a bit of extravagant flair. His constant button-pushing had him going through Commission sanctioned PR agents like they were the latest fashion accessory, which he supposed was where Ono came into play. Ono was a hard-laced woman that reminded him of the typical librarian; dark pink hair always knotted off in a high bun, narrowed neon yellow eyes behind sharp glasses and a perpetually suspicious scowl on her lips. It was like the woman could see through any attempt he came up with to dodge something she asked before he'd even formulated his full bluff. If not for the fact that he'd seen her Quirk - creating temporary, invisible force fields - in action, he'd be convinced she had mind reading abilities.

He stared at her before clearing his throat. "I didn't tell you," he trailed, "because I'm not."

She flashed him a smirk that made him visibly flinch. "A cute lie. Now try to tell me the truth and we can see about keeping your asses covered," she said.

"I am," he insisted. In all actuality, Ono was right on the money but he couldn't tell her that. He and Fuyumi had agreed that they wanted to keep things quiet and private between them. Fuyumi already tended to get hounded with questions about Pros when students figured out Endeavor was her father. He knew how exhausting that got to be for her. On his end of things, he didn't like the idea of rabid fans attacking her because they were dating. And, sure, he could have gone to Ono with the information, but he wasn’t sure how far she could be trusted.

He knew how the Commission operated and their views on relationships, on what “covering asses” meant to them. They had Quirk-users of all types under their thumb and would use them to take care of what they perceived to be distractions. If they found out, he could come to find they’d wiped Fuyumi’s memories of him and destroy what had taken months of commitment to cultivate. Maybe he was being selfish and stupid, but he didn’t think that asking to have one person he could be himself around was asking too much.

“PR Team says you’ve been creeping around the Todoroki home a lot and have been seen escorting the young miss home,” she snapped, tapping the folder with a shimmery-painted nail. He cautiously reached for it and flipped it open, reading through the email correspondence between Ono and someone named Fujimoto.

He raised an eyebrow and put on his best amused look. “Oh, does Endeavor not like the idea of someone watching out for his daughter? I mean, one of his sons got targeted by villains once before, right? Who’s to say they won’t target one of his kids again?”

She narrowed her arms further. “And the fact that you’ve been hanging around the estate?”

“It’s just to chat with Good Ole’ Endie boy himself! As One and Two, we should be making sure to coordinate on things, shouldn’t we? Just good business practices, given the times,” she hummed, closing the folder and sliding it back over to her.

“And the reliable source I have that says you two are dating?”

“They’re lying, or misunderstanding things,” He flapped one of his hands in the air as if to wave the suggestion off. It was mostly just some snoopy little journalist that had talked to Fujimoto or something, if he wagered a guess. Well, that or Ono making shit up in the hopes of forcing his hand.

A fury he’d never seen flashed in her eyes, mouth twisting open to say something before pausing. She instead swiped the folder off his desk and snorted. “I know my source is reliable. For your sake, you’d better hope they’re misreading things,” she warned before storming out and slamming his door behind her.

And until Saturday evening, that had been the end of it.

Fuyumi had suggested a double date with one of her work friends, Suzuki Nagisa. Keigo himself was vaguely familiar with the woman in question; about their age and a part-time sidekick who helped when extra medics were needed. He couldn’t exactly remember what her Quirk was but he knew it was healing based. She was the nurse at the school Fuyumi taught at. While she was a bit scatter-brained and easily distracted, she was incredibly empathetic and compassionate. He’d seen her a handful of times when coming by to join Fuyumi for lunch when he could find the time but she’d been a nice enough girl. A bit dense but well-meaning and sweet. Plus, one of the few friends Fuyumi had that she also trusted with the secret of their relationship. So, the idea of joining her and her significant other for a night of food, drinks and karaoke seemed fine.

But then she showed up on the arm of Ono Junko. His tongue lodged itself in his throat.

He had to do a double-take because she looked so damn different with her hair down and contacts in, but the displeased scowl was the big give away. He pulled the beanie he was wearing to hide his hair a little tighter down over his head and averted his gaze. “Fumi-Kins!” Suzuki squealed before darting over to embrace Fuyumi beside him. She then peeked over at Keigo and giggled. “Hello, Go-Kins! Good to see you again!”

“Heh, same to you, Suzuki-Chan,” he said, flinching at the click of boots approaching.

Nagisa perked up again, bright pink eyes lighting up as she released Fuyumi to dart back over to Ono. “Oh, oh! I should introduce you, shouldn’t I?”

Ono’s expression softened on the slightly shorter woman, leaning closer to press a small kiss to the top of her head, eliciting a bashful giggle from her. She then offered her hand to Fuyumi. “I’m Ono Junko. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you; I’ve heard a lot of good things,” she said, all cordial and warm.

Keigo felt uneasy and a little offended. Even when she’d first met him, Ono hadn’t been nearly that polite. Then again, Fuyumi seemed to just have an air of dragging the best out of people. “Todoroki Fuyumi. I’ve heard great things about you as well, Ono-San! Thank you so much for taking good care of Nagi-Chan,” Fuyumi agreed as they shook hands.

“Just Junko is fine; when I’m not at work, I’m not one for formalities. And I’m afraid you may have things a little backwards; it’s the other way around, more times than not, when it comes to us,” Ono said, flashing a fond look at her girlfriend. She then perked up and sneered at Keigo himself. “And it’s good to meet you, sir.”

Huh? He stared at her for a moment before meekly offering his hand. “T-Takami Keigo. It’s, uh, nice to meet you, too,” he mumbled. She gave his hand a form warning squeeze as they shook.

Fuyumi looked a bit concerned by his unease before clearing her throat and indicating the entrance. “So, should we get inside, then?”

“You two go ahead and get us a room booked. I have a quick question for Takami-Sama, and then we’ll be right inside,” Ono said, flashing the pair a reassuring smile.

Nagisa pouted up at Junko while Fuyumi flashed a concerned, inquiring look Keigo’s way. He offered a sheepish smile and held his hands up. “It’s nothing bad, I promise! We’ll be right in,” he reassured.

“Okay,” she trailed, in that tone that implied they’d be having a chat about this later. Nagisa grabbed her arm, though, and started dragging her inside, chatting eagerly about this or that as they went.

The moment the two of them were gone, there was a silvery gleam around them, indicative of one of Ono’s force fields. “Nagisa told you,” he breathed, whipping around to face her.

Ono’s arms were crossed over her chest and all the warmth she’d had a moment ago was gone. “Not in so many words. Most of my insights came from Endeavor’s team, but Nagisa had mentioned a friend of hers was dating a Pro Hero,” she shrugged.

He glared, feeling his feathers twitch and tremble in the bag he’d shed them into. “So, you’re gonna tell the Commission about this,” he growled lowly.

She blinked slowly then snorted. “I never said that,” she said, her arms unfurling. “Who I am on the clock and off the clock are different people. I’m not exactly fond of ‘spilling the tea’, as it were. Just creates more work for me.”

“But… When you first brought this up, you talked about covering it up!”

“No, you dolt, I said to tell me the truth so I could cover it up,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “See, if you agree to scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. The Commission only gets involved if I think the relationship poses a direct threat to either of you.”

He blinked slowly, cocking his head. “You’re… being surprisingly understanding about this,”

She shrugged again, waving one hand in a circle and causing the force field to start to crumble away. “You’re an incredible pain in the ass, you know, but you’ve been a bit more subdued since you got cozy with that woman. I notice these things. If being around her keeps you from giving me mountains of paperwork and pay-offs to figure out, then you’re fine. Besides, I get the distinct feeling that if I did rat you out and the Commission retaliated drastically, you’d just go more buck wild to spite us all. And, again, I’m not fond of making more work for myself.” She then blinked and flashed him a smile that was on the unnerving side of chipper. “Oh, but just understand that if you ever lie to my face or imply Nagisa’s a liar again, I’ll pluck your feathers off one by one and make some delightful yakitori with your wings while they’re still attached.”

“... A woman of good taste, I see,” he said with a nervous laugh.

She threw her head back and laughed outright. “Something like that. Now let’s get going before Nagi comes out here and pouts at me for taking too long,” she said, heading to the door.

Once they got into the room he draped an arm over Fuyumi’s shoulders and pulled her close, enjoying how he felt her relax into him. So she reined him in somehow, huh? The thought wasn’t quite as alarming as he probably should have found it, considering he hadn’t noticed the change himself.

But, he couldn’t say he didn’t like the idea that she made him a better person.

#crumbles grumbles #Huwumi #my fics #This was not the original planned trajectory for this fic #But I decided to shake it up a lil #Also hope you don't mind more of my OCs

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amatchforyourmadness · 4 years

Text

the way down the mountain

part of the Ladyhawke!Geraskier AU, being a work set before the main story the day the falcon dies.

words: 1884

it’s on the way down that it strikes for the first time. and, Melitele, of course that had to be day when the curse was set. of course he has to break his bones while nursing a broken heart.

( or the first time Jaskier turns into a falcon also happens to be the same afternoon his world fell apart around him; part of Geraskier! Ladyhawke AU )

Of all the people to fall in the arms of, it’s Yennefer that catches him when he falls to the ground, screaming in pain.

Geralt had made his feelings known, made his thoughts known, made his wish plenty well known and so Jaskier had given him the one thing he could: he had granted his wish and took himself away from his hands.

Of course, it was not a matter that had been gone over without tears, those bastard children of the ocean that every human had packed inside them to shed their sorrows with. The ocean. He should head to the coast, he should sing his songs, he should live a life worth of tales Geralt would dream to tell him.

He should have said ‘you are what pleases me ’.

He didn’t do it, though, because no part of it was what Geralt had asked for and, therefore, it wasn’t something he would give him.

It was only one wish.

Let him be in peace now Jaskier has taken the mess he is out of his life.

“Well, fuck.“ A familiar voice says ahead of him. “What did he do to you?”

And of course that he turns to find the sorceress to blame for this whole mess herself, leaning miserably against a tree: Yennefer of bloody Vengerberg, glorious even in the what should be the scrambles of her presumptious, reckless, greedy, nonsensical aftermath with the Djinn. He scoffs at his luck, looking around as if he could mock destiny as it mocks him, before he looks back at the violet eyes still inspecting him, a perfect brow arched at his direction. He merely laughs again before he raises his arm, every inch of him made of drama and theatrics.

“Easier to ask what didn’t he do. In fact, I’m just on my way to make do with his one wish.”

“Oh, my…” Her eyes steel themselves and her expression turns impossibly sour at that, standing a little bit straighter as if a change of posture could hide the effects of Geralt’s intervention in her matters. “We all know how good he is with those. What did he ask for this time?”

“Blessed silence.” Jaskier announces in a thunderous voice, shaking his hands on the air for added affect, and ignoring how his arms’ bones have started to ache, pulling them closer to cradle against his chest as he spits out the next words. “For me to be taken off his hand. I have decided to comply, I have put down my shovel, so my deepest congratulations, he’s all yours.”

He bows at his last words, exaggeratedly so, and stands ready to walk past her, saltwater in his eyes, but he rises to see she is now in the middle of his path, blocking it, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Whatever would I want to have him for?” She asks, her nose twitching away in disgust, like he had just said a pile of rotting meat or a dying stallion or a state that’s crumbling is hers to have and to be glad for it.

His skin is suddenly on fire from the inside out, and he can’t help but scratch his palms, the back of his hands. He mus have brushed some plant he shouldn’t have touched if the itching is as hellish and sudden as it is.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to sing the wonders of carnal pleasure, you’ve enjoyed it plenty of times with him.” He hisses, and iif he coul dpour venom, that’d be the time. yet the buring itch has travelled up his wrists, under his sleeves, and he can’t helpp but to try to scratch it awar, forcing his hands up his doublet’s sleeve and dragging his nails so furiously over the reachable patch of arm that his nails have skin he’s peeling from himself under them and it keeps burning and his back, his neck, his legs, everything itches and burns. “Or does the mighty sorceress need me to drop the ‘L’ word that regards feelings?” He’s no longer even bothering to look at her, instead reaching under his jacket to scratch at his nape and his neck and his shoulders until he can see spots of blood against the calloused pads of his fingers and be has to keep his hands balled at his sides and even that does not help, because he’s carving his nails on his pants in hopes he can claw at the skin underneath instead. Melitele, did he poison himself? Is he going to die? “You don’t have the Witcher excuse going for you, I’m afraid, Madam Witch, so don’t expect me to take you to be as emotionally constipatedd as him, even if you can be as much of a life wrecker!”

“Love him? I didn’t love him.” She scoffs and he can only muse bitterly at the comedic tragedy he’s part of; loving a man that doesn’t love him but is instead in love with a woman that does not love him. It’s almost enough to distract him from the burning, but not quite. His hands are on his knees now, and he looks up at her if only to take in the whole mockery of a love triangle they form in it’s fullness. “A bit of Djinn magic, that was all there was to it. I hardly wanted to keep him before, much less now. Speaking of which…” She approaches him, brows furrowed, taking in intently the rabid-dog like scratching and the way he draws in his breath with more difficulty by the minute until she’s standing barely a hair away from him, and holds his face to better inspect it right when he was about to double over in pain. “Geralt’s incredibly clever wish explains the Djinn magic surrounding you, but what else has he done? Or what have you done?”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest something laong the lines of hi not taking kindly to that acusing tone she has to her words, bit all that comes from him is a raspy breathless voice he just can’t stand to pronounce more than a word with, so he shuts his mouth in shock. He blinks; once, twice, thrice. There are black spots to his vision and it doesn’t make sense. Why is Yennefer getting blurry? Oh, he feels lightheaded. There are stabs of sharp pain all over his body but nothing makes sense. He hitches a breath when he feels such a pain to his lungs.

“What?” He slurs slightly, and his voice is slightly better if not a little hitchy. He feels more and more disconnected to his body as a burning sensation starts to creep up his spine. “Why?”

His skin is on fire. He can barely keep himself from scratching his whole body but he’s barely holding himself as it is, and it’s mostly due to her hand on his chin than anything else.

“I feel on you a curse of Aretuza.” She says, mysterious and full of finality to her words as if she’s telling him he’s been sentenced to death.

His lute falls from his grip and he cannot apologize mentally enough for that as he doubles over himself in pain and agony that comes from inside him. Now, he’s known for being dramatic and he knows he can feels intensely, with all his heart and probably still some more from all the other organs. He tries to hold it back as it comes from the depths of his being, but it’s no help: he screams.

Yennefer’s eyes shine with realization and recognition. He doesn’t need words to understand what she has figured out: he has been cursed. She had said he had reeked of magic, and given the growing distress to her features and her body language, she is not unfamiliar to this particular stench. Probably knows the mage. Probably knows whatever Jaskier is about to go though. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Four words. That’s all he means to ask her. ‘What’s wrong with me?’, simple, easy to do.

Yet he can’t.

Because the pain is no longer dull or the occasional pointed sharp stab, it’s expanding and taking over his throat and lungs and stomachs and he fights all of himself to keep standing, to keep looking at her.

This feels worse than the djinn and that cannot be a good sign. He clings to Yennefer’s arms and throws back his head in a scream as his legs break and he can no longer support his own weight. Still, the pain has not stopped. It feels like someone is pulling the bones of his his toes to stretch impossibly long and thin while shoving his other toes back into his legs.

He looks up to the witch’s face — and, Melitele, could it be possible that in the heights of his misery she could not look just a little bit disheveled in her horrified concern?! At least she looks tired, at the very least that. — as she holds him, cradling him on her lap, glancing over him in a panic and laying her hands over his legs as she whispers words in the acient tongue and seeps violet magic onto him to no avail. She’s weak from the mountain, and even though he knows shit all about magic outside his songs and what Geralt has grunted his way, but this one here is strong. Too strong for a weakened Yennefer. Too strong for—

— Geralt.

His arms breaks next and he sobs out screams of pain as his shoulder shift painfully backwards until his arm start where his backblades used to be, and his fingers stretch as his arms are pulled into his body. His skin itches all over, there’s something being pushed out of it, thousands of somethings. He wants to roll through the ground, scratch himself to the bone, jump in a bath of boiling water, but all he does is scream as his ribcage expands and expands and his broken legs are pulled into him and his jaw pushes up while his nose sinks into his face, teeth merging together and eyes growing and this is worse this is worse than the djinn it’s worse than anything and Yennefer holds his hand and she looks exhausted, the mountain wasn’t kind to her yet she holds him and tries to sooth him.

He should have told Geralt. He should have told him that he loved him. He should have thought to stay.

But the pain doesn’t fade. Nothing fades.

But then it would be Geralt, and not his lover (ex-lover? witch fling? lady love? does he really have it in him to care right now?) holding him through this last torture to an early grave.

Is he dying?

The pain doesn’t fade.

Oh, he hopes he’s far enough that his Witcher can’t hear his wailing.

He keeps thinking about Geralt and his heart breaks and there are feathers growing from under his skin, his bones are broken and his body is rearranging itself in the most painful of manners and the pain doesn’t fade.

So Jaskier just keeps screaming and screaming and screaming, until a falcon’s call cuts the air where his voice had been.

He screams every sunrise and sunset that follows.

—

understand the AU / check out the series on ao3 / buy me a coffe?

#geraskier #the way down the mountain #always together (eternally apart verse)#jaskier #dandelion #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #geralt x jaskier #archive of our own #Ladyhawke AU #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer z vengerbergu #cursed jaskier #cursed Geralt

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sadsentinel · 3 years

Text

i’ve been writing again (my magic story!)... and.. i can’t remember if i edited this it’s been so long :’)

patreon

i: norah’s pov

"GO! RUN!"

Alexander's deep voice rang out into the cold night behind me. I turned around to see him running after me, as fast as his legs would carry him. The daggers he carried, Earth and Fire, were gripped firmly in his hands, ready for a fight, but hoping to avoid one.

I felt the hot rush of electricity flowing through my arms before I knew what I was doing. I stopped and faced Alex's direction, much to his dismay. An arc of white-hot electricity shot out from my fingertips and connected with the beasts that were pursuing us. The ones closest to us stumbled, stunned from the jolt. That gave Alex a few more seconds of space between them.

He yelled at me to keep going, and I did.

The snarling began to grow louder as I splashed through the mud of the bog, and I knew we wouldn't make it. Certainly not while trying to traverse through the swamplands.

When I saw a small cave opening about a hundred feet in front of us, I knew that was our only chance. I glanced back and knew Alex was thinking the same.

That little bit of hope gave me the strength and energy to surge forward, despite the exhaustion my use of magic had caused.

I'd only managed to kill one of the werewolves and paralyze another when they attacked. That alone had drained nearly all of my strength and left us near defenseless. I didn't know how to fight without my magic. Alex's fighting skills would only get us so far; he was a mercenary, not a trained warrior.

I looked over my shoulder one more time before we reached the rocky entrance, just to make sure Alex was still there. He urged me forward one last time, and I dove inside, cutting my shoulder on a jagged rock as I did.

"Agh!" I cried out. Alex careened into me, smacking into the arm I'd just injured. Tears burst from my eyes and I struggled to my feet, eager to get away from the entrance.

"Are you okay? Norah?" He rushed to my side and grabbed my other arm firmly to steer me further away from the mouth of the cave. "Norah?" I looked him in the face and memorized as many details as I could. Just in case.

He noticed the gash in my arm then, and tore off a piece of his undershirt to hold over it. "Keep this on your arm. Press down as hard as you can stand it." He began frantically searching around, both daggers at the ready.

"What... what are you doing?" When I did manage to get the words out, my voice came out hoarse. Meek.

"Looking for a way out."

I could hear the vicious growls outside and the snapping of jaws. All I could think about was what it would sound like if one of those monsters got a hold of us. The way it would sound when the flesh was torn from the bone.

"Norah, do you see anything?" I'd become paralyzed with panic. Alex glanced back at me every now and then, whether to check on me, or see if I was finally doing something useful, I wasn't sure. "Norah."

He came back to me, and placed his rugged hands around my waist, weapons still in hand.

"Norah, listen to me. I will protect you until my last dying breath. But it won't come to that. We're going to get out of this. Do you have enough energy left to do something?"

By do something, I knew he meant pull a magical miracle out of nowhere, but the fact of the matter was, I was almost completely drained. Anything I tried could come close to either killing me, or getting me killed by those creatures.

A loud howl reverberated through the small area we'd escaped into. The monstrous gnashing and growling made its way inside, but I had to remind myself: we were safe. For now. But not for much longer.

I shut my eyes and focused on our surroundings. Not the sounds of vicious, rabid werewolves, but the sounds of the cave. I heard a droplet of water fall from the ceiling and splash into a puddle; the sound washed over me, as loud as a crashing wave. I flinched and focused my mind again, away from the feeling of Alex's strong arms protecting me, and to the feeling of freedom above me. I opened my eyes and looked directly above us.

Past the condensation coating the rocks, there was a thin shaft of moonlight reaching through a long crack. It was like a long stretch of the purest crystals. That was our only way out. Alive, at least.

"There." I lifted a shaky hand and pointed towards the ceiling. Alex's stormy grey eyes shifted from the massive paws that kept reaching in and towards the crack.

"I'll watch your back. Do you have enough energy left to safely break a way out?" I shrugged slightly, the corner of my lips turning up slightly. There was nothing to be happy about, but I couldn't help but try. I was almost positive we were both going to die tonight. If that was the case, at least we would die together. No more fear.

Alex pressed a passionate, but brief kiss against my lips before turning to face the entrance. He stood ready to fight, his daggers drawn in a defensive stance.

I summoned what little strength I had left and focused it towards the ceiling. Dust and pebbles began to fall as the ceiling seemingly swayed above us. I focused my energy to a smaller area, to the moonlit crack in the rock. My hands began to flow with heat and an otherworldly glow encased my fingertips until they were covered in blinding white light. With every ounce of strength I had left, I sent all my remaining power into the crack.

A massive cracking sound split the air. Immediately, rocks began to fall where I had focused my power. I fell to my knees. I couldn't run any further.

Alex darted to my side so fast I would've thought it was magic if I didn't know better. The rabid creatures outside grew even more agitated as the magical energy permeated the air.

"You did it! Gods above, I am so proud of you." With incredible strength, he lifted me to my feet as if I were a doll. I stood on shaky legs as he began helping me towards the rocky path that had begun to form. Several boulders had crashed down onto the cave floor to form a sort of staircase to the small hole in the top.

I began to feel light headed, and remembered that I was still bleeding heavily from the laceration in my arm. Despite my stumbling, Alex held me up firmly. Until the cave mouth split open further.

My magic had not only ripped a hole in the ceiling, but also down the side of the cave as well. I was exhausted, in pain, and couldn't focus my power the way I normally could. It was wild, and unpredictable while I was in this state.

"Fuck," Alex breathed. A dark look passed over his face before it changed to certainty.

He was watching the werewolves outside. They were clawing at and throwing themselves into the small opening. Within seconds they would be upon us. Maybe we would've been safe if I hadn't lost control. Maybe I had just killed us.

"You have to go." He lifted me onto the first rock and made sure I was stable on my feet.

"What?"

"Go, now!" He kissed my cheek and readied his weapons once again. He thought he was going to fight his way out.

"Not without you." My voice was soft, barely audible above the crashing, cacophonous sounds of the crumbling ceiling. The rumbling of the earth, the shaky feeling nearly consumed me. I balanced as best I could, but I needed Alex. I wasn't making it out of here without him. It wasn't worth making it out without him.

"You have to. Let me do this for you." He gave me one last loving gaze, one last smile, before his eyes turned to steel and he yelled at the monsters. "Come and fucking get me!" he snapped.

As soon as the last word left his lips, they were in. One of them launched at him, and he sliced his dagger against its throat as he rolled out of the way. He'd barely gotten to his feet before another began circling him.

"GO!" His voice held no trace of love now. Or perhaps it was the ultimate kind of love. Tough love. The kind that was forcing me to climb the next rock.

The ceiling was still collapsing as I made my way onto the highest rock. I glanced down at Alex as I prepared to lift myself out of the cave. He was still fighting, harder than I'd ever seen. He was fighting for his life.

He was covered in cuts, from claw marks or falling rocks, I couldn't tell. His left cheek was already turning purple from some injury I hadn't noticed earlier. A cut above his eyebrow gushed blood, almost certainly obscuring his vision in one eye. The rock beneath me swayed and I knew that was my cue. I couldn't waste Alex's attempt to save me.

I blinked tears from my eyes and hoisted myself out of the cavern. A rush of cool wind met my face and I felt free, until I watched the complete cave-in of the earth behind me. The yelp of a dying werewolf filled the air, but lasted only a split second. It was dead. Just like Alex. Beneath the rubble, he was either dead or dying. Breathing his last breath so I could keep going. But what was the point?

A wave of guilt crashed over me and threatened to consume me. How could I have let him do that? Whether or not he wanted to didn't matter. I didn't want him to. He was gone, and now I had no one.

There was no way he could've survived. He gave his life. For me. ME. So I could live.

I nearly choked on my tears and cried into the empty, cruel night. A piece of me had died with him, and I would never be whole again.

I choked out his name, over and over again, until my vision grew dark around the edges. My energy was completely sapped. I couldn't move. I rolled onto my side, my glassy eyes locked on the stars above. That was when I heard a voice. A man's voice.

Alex?

"Over here!" The pounding of footsteps grew louder as my vision grew darker. I let the blackness swallow me whole. There was no point in continuing. Not. Without. Alex.

#current wip #nanowrimo 2020 #writing #original character #original story #writeblr #norah hightower #alexander echelet #blood of enchanters #stuff i write

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liliesoftherain · 4 years

Text

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 7 The Big Day is Here!

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Here’s the next part!! Finally we get some action(: I hope you all enjoy and I’m sorry for nay mistakes! Thank you all!

TAG LIST: @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(:

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You spent the last two weeks training extensively, focusing on how to use your quirk while trying keeping up your stamina up and your heat down. You felt confident when the time for the sports festival rolled around, especially since you were able to train with your father whenever he had the time. Training with him was always nice, because he was a strong man who didn't hold back, too much anyways.

So when you found yourself in the locker rooms in the arena, you didn't understand why you were feeling nervous. Maybe it was because you'd be on every television screen in the country? Or that'd you'd have to go up against classmates? While it could have been both, you also believed it was due to your dad watching you from the crowd. Even if he didn't care if you placed, you wanted to make him proud.

"Awh man!" Mina's whine ripped you from your thoughts, " I was totally hoping I could wear my costume!"

"At least everyone will be in uniforms," Ojiro smiled, "That'll keep things fair right?"

"Some people have costumes designed to help enhance their quirks, and the other students who aren't in the hero course don't have costumes at all, so it would make it an even bigger disadvantage for them."

"Oh that's true, I guess you guys are right." She huffed at your words of wisdom, still wanting to wear her costume because she wanted to be cute.

"I wonder what they'll have in store for us in the first round." Sato asked in a nervous manner, he didn't look so confident.

"No matter what they prepare we must persevere ."

"Right."

Iida busted through the door, screaming as always, which caused everyone to turn to him.

"Everyone get your game faces on! We are entering the arena soon!"

You let a small smile grace your lips, hoping it would somehow wash the nerves away.

"Modoriya." Todoroki called out to the kid, stopping to be face-to-face with him.

"Hey Todoroki, what's up." You all looked on at the boys not really caring that it was almost like eavesdropping, they were talking out in the open after all.

"I think from an objective standpoint, it's fair to say that I'm stronger than you."

"Uh! Um, well yea.." Izuku trailed off, brows pulling downwards.

"However, you've got AllMight in your corner helping you out. While I'm not here to pry about what's going on between you two, just know that I will be the one to beat you, even if you have his help."

The stare between them caused high tensions to fill the room, Denki tried his best to to lighten it up but it did nothing.

"Yea what's the big deal, why are you picking a fight all of a sudden?" Kirishima added, putting a hand on Todoroki's shoulder before the said boy threw it off, not even turning to him when he responded back.

"We aren't here to be each other's friends. Don't forget this isn't a team effort."

"Wait a sec Todoroki," Midoriya called out to him, halting Todoroki from leaving. "I don't know what's going through your head or why you need to tell me that you'll beat me, and yea you're better than me, you probably have the best potential out of everyone in the hero course.."

"Midoriya maybe you're being a little hard on yourself, and the rest of us too.."

"No, he's right you guys. All the other courses are coming at us with everything they've got. We really need to do what (y/n) told them we would that day, and bring our best. And fight to stand out. And I'll be aiming for the top too, using no one's help but my own, that means even AllMight's." Izuku finished his speech, eyes set firm in determination, staring straight into Todoroki's cold eyes.

"Fine." Todoroki turned his back on him, looking at you instead, "we've all got secrets and help, even if we don't want to admit it."

"Excuse me?" You questioned, not liking his tone.

"You heard me Hakamata, do you believe I have no idea who your father is?" Your eyes narrowed, standing quickly to look him down, which didn't do much because you still had to look up, but you felt it was now a more level playing field.

"You think you know me based on my father? Even though I know who your father is too, I never once said anything about you being his son. I never accused you of "getting his help" whatever that's supposed to mean. I don't know about you but I'm fighting to prove myself, by myself, just like everyone else here. And I'm not going to let my father's fame blind everyone around me." You jab a finger in his chest.

"Even if they know who I am, I'm going to show everyone I'm more than just my father's daughter. You too should be wanting to prove you're nothing like yours." You saw his eyes open for a moment, before you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, heading down to the opening of one of the arches that lead to the field.

You were told you had to wait here, and could come out once you've been announced by Present Mic, and from under the cover of the large opening, you saw his face pop onto the screen

"Hey welcome to the U.A sports festival! Make some noise you rabid sports fans! Get your cameras prepped and ring your horns because this year we're bringing you some of the hottest performances in sports festival history! I've only got one question before we get this show on the roll, ARE YOU READYYYY?! Let me hear you scream for these awesome students!"

Being told to go out in groups, the first one being your class, you were huddled together to wait for the right time to go out. You made sure to stay away from Todoroki as possible, ignoring the side eye he was giving you, as well as all the other looks from your class. Now was not the time to get distracted. You had a festival to win.

"While these up and coming stars fight for the chance to win it big and get first place, this first group who you'll have the pleasure of seeing is the group all know and love, who are no strangers to the spotlight, the ones who withstood a villain attack, the famous hero course students from CLASS 1-A!"

Everyone began to walk out, almost blinded by the light and made deaf by all the screaming. It was incredible to see so many people here for the first year fight, normally the arena was only this crazy for third year students.

"I didn't know there would be so many people!" Izuku stuttered, his head whipping around to look at everyone around them.

"I hope we're still going to be able to give a good show with all these eyes on us."

"That's what heroes have to go through every day Iida, the public eye watching and demanding. It's no different form now." You responded with a smile, turning away and looking forward.

"Present Mic sure did talk us up a lot, kinda makes me nervous." Kirishima was doing the same thing as Izuku, just less intense as he was scanning the crowd. You put a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a reassuring smile before turning to Bakugou.

"How are you feeling Bakugou?"

"Yeah man, you look a little.." Eijiro trails off, seeing Bakugou looking at the ground, a little surprised when he lifted his head with a dark smile on his face.

"I'm not worried, this makes me wanna win even more!"

As Present Mic announced all the other students, you couldn't help but try to look for your dad in the crowd, even though you knew you'd never be able to spot him from here. Filing into rows, you tore your gaze away from the crowds, and looked to the announcer standing on the podium.

"Now for the introductory speech!" The R-rated Hero Midnight stood tall, an interesting choice of a weapon in her hand. She winked and blew kisses before getting serious.

"Silence everyone!" She smacked her whip-like object and you felt yourself blush. Was this really appropriate for this kind of event?

"For the student introductions, we have Katsuki Bakugou!" You turned to look behind you and moved slightly so he could walk by. You shared a look with Momo who shook her head.

"This is going to be a disaster.."

"He's the first year rep??"

"Well I guess that hothead did finish first in the entrance test."

A large sigh was made at your right, and you saw a girl from the gen ed studies. She looked at you all with annoyance in her eyes and arms crossed.

"He only placed first in the hero course exams."

"Oh right, sorry." Midoriya apologized, Sero leaning closer and muttering to all of you,

"That girl seems to really hate us."

"Yea and we've got Bakugou to thank for that." Denki pouted.

Your eyes rolled at his pouts and looked to see Bakugou walking up the steps to stand in front of the microphone next to Midnight. Silence rang throughout the crowds, spectators and students alike holding their breath to see what he would say.

Bakugou stood with his hands in his pockets, looking over the students.

"I just want to say, I'm going to win." You along with everyone else in your class sighed at his words, hearing the boos come from other courses. Bakugou simply threw a thumbs down, uncaring as he called everyone a stepping stone.

"He may be brash but he is strong, I don't think it's over confidence, just him being rude as always." You whisper to Kirishima.

He only mumbled an agreement, not wanting to get trashed talked any more than the class already was. Bakugou walked back to stand behind you, and you turned your attention to the screen. The words "First Game" in large writing stood out.

"Anyways without further ado, it's time to get going! This is where you students really begin to feel the pain!" Midnight pointed her whip at the crowd.

"The first fateful game of the festival is..." The board spun and spun till it stopped. "Tada! An obstacle race!"

"All 11 classes will participate in the dangerous race, the track being 4Km going all around the stadium. I won't restrain anyone, at least in this game." A sinful grin crossed her lips.

"As long as you don't leave the course you're free to do whatever your heart desires! Now then, take your places contestants!"

The students walked over, and you managed to snag an area towards the front, but not good enough. If you thought this through, you knew everyone would be rushing, and it would be packed just like how it was when the students panicked the day the reporters broke through the school walls. You had to make sure you weren't caught in their swarms.

The lights started to dim one by one, and you prepared your body, waiting for the last light to dim so you can sprint off. You took in a breath, as you heard the last buzzer.

"BEGIN!" And you were off, shoves from other students threatened to send you to the floor but you weren't budging.

"And we're off to a racing start! How about some commentary Mummy man?"

"How did you talk me into this?"

"What should we be paying attention to this early in the race?"

"The doorway."

The yells from everyone around you made your head pound as you pushed people aside to get through. You used your power almost like stilts to push you up, making you slightly taller than the people around you before you dropped your power to start running on them. You felt bad, of course you did, your shoes were probably painfully digging into their shoulders and heads while using them as push off points.

Many kids tried to knock you down and many almost succeeded, it was hard to use living beings as a runway after all. Yet you always were able to land on someone else for support, and even though you wanted to apologize you had no time to do so. Next thing you knew a blast of freezing cold air came through the tunnel, and you saw the students you were running on unable to move.

You were outside of the area now, and saw Todoroki speeding away while leaving everyone else stuck to the ground. You used some kids shoulders to jump off of, seeing the ice unable to let him fall, and skidded after Todoroki.

The ice was slippery but you caught yourself on solid non-frozen ground, using your quirk to quickly speed after him. Hearing shouts from your classmates behind you made you smile, until you locked gazes with the half-and-half boy as he looked to see who wasn't caught in his trap. You stared at him hard, a smirk coming to your lips as his eyes narrowed before looking ahead.

"Nice trick Todoroki!" Momo shouted.

"I WON'T LET YOU TWO AHEAD OF ME SO EASILY YOU BASTARDS!" Bakugou yelled after the two of you, and you felt pride swirl in from getting ahead of the boy.

Although it didn't last long as he used his quirk to get ahead of you by blasting himself in the air, and while it was hard to tell you assumed he was. It was amazing that Mineta actually jumped by you with incredible height, surpassing both you and Bakugou. You watched as he was going to land on Todoroki, till the boy was knocked from the air by a giant robotic arm.

You watched him fly back, nowhere near you guys anymore. You came to a halt, breathing heavily while trying to see what was going on. Giant robots from the entrance exam blocked your path, and you felt more students stop behind you, as you stared ahead.

"OH! Looks like we're in for a treat here, enemies showing up out of nowhere! A test of strength and cunning! IT’S THE ROBO INFERNO!"

Shouts around you about the disbelief that hero course students had to take these on during the exam were drowned out as you looked for any point of passing by them without getting too physical. You remembered your battle during the entrance exams, and the zero pointers were definitely better to avoid than to attack head on. Not that they were too challenging, you just needed to save strength for the rest of the race and couldn't afford to get overheated here at the beginning.

One attacked, and Todoroki was quick to freeze multiple at once.

"I wished they put in more effort, seeing as my dear old dad is watching." You heard him grunt out while looking in shock about the force behind his ice attack. There was an opening between the legs of the robots and you wondered why he created a path. He must've had done so for a reason, no way he'd leave the opportunity for everyone to cross.

He ran off and you waited while everyone tried to follow, it was a trap. He was going to set everyone up. He confirmed your suspicious and he let them fall haphazardly towards the ground, and you used your quirk to launch yourself up as soon as they did. By willing the light in your feet to shoot out, it gave you a boost to send you up while everyone was running back, giving you a heads start from the others besides Todoroki.

"That's Shouto Todoroki from class 1-A pulling ahead to an early lead with a devastating display! Amazing! He's the one we should be watching, it almost seems unfair!"

"His attack was both offensive and defensive-"

"NO WONDER HE WAS LET IN ON RECOMMENDATIONS! He's never even fought those robo infernos before, but even still they didn't stand a chance for those jaw dropping moves!"

More robots came through the dust cloud that was created by the others falling. You grit your teeth as you were heading straight towards it, no way to dodge it unless you wanted to fall back flat on your ass. Best chance you had was to keep going, and land on the robot to either slide down his back or do another jump.

"Eijirou Kirishima from class 1-A makes it out from under the scraps of metal, SHEESH talk about a breakthrough debut for this rookie! WOOOOH TETSUTETSU FROM CLASS 1-B WAS ALSO STUCK UNDERNEATH, going beyond!"

Once you landed on one and had no time to think as you launch yourself off of that one to the next. They tried to swing at you but you dodged, using your quirk to help your speed and make you jump more swiftly. That led them to miss you while they swung for you.

Once the last row of robots was cleared, you saw the ground come at you faster and faster, and you had no good way to brace your fall. You sucked in a breath and encased yourself in light, hoping it'd take off some of the sting. You landed with a hard thud, and felt yourself rolling. You tried to catch your breath when you finally came to a stop, grunting at the pain. You'd have to work on it if you ever wanted to do something cool like that again.

"Class 1-A's (y/n) Hakamata is launching herself over the big hunks of metal! What a genius! As the number 2 in this race right now, we should also try to not let her out of our sights! GO GO GO STUDENTS!"

You pushed yourself off the ground, running through your pain. You didn't have time to sit around, you knew students would be coming soon.

"ANOTHER 1-A STUDENT, KATSUKI BAKUGOU, IS LAUNCHING HIMSELF JUST LIKE MISS HAKAMATA. She's such a trendsetter! But she better pick up the pace if she wants to stay in her number 2 spot, otherwise she may have it stolen right out from under her!"

"Thanks for the idea glitter bomb!" You heard Bakugou yell, and used your quirk to try to give you some more speed. While you only heard him because let's face, it he was loud, you knew it was only a matter of time before he'd take your spot. Just like Present Mic said.

You saw the next obstacle approaching and stopped just in time, spotting Todoroki's back facing you. He gave a quick glance back unfazed before jumping onto the rope, allowing the ice to bind his feet to the rope before sliding all the way across.

You felt stuck, unsure of what exactly to do, but you needed a plan before you fell behind.

You decided to try something you never thought of before, and willed your light to solidify in your hands, and melded it into a hook of some sort with a strap. You let this strap wrap around your wrist and you connected the hook to the icy rope Todoroki made. You let yourself fall and yelped as it hurt to hold yourself up with one hand.

You brought your other hand up bracing yourself as you used your feet to push off, using the rope as a zip-line. Thankfully the rope didn't snap from the heat, all thanks to the ice acting as a barrier.

Reaching the end of the rope where it connected with another dirt pillar, you brought your feet up to stop yourself from slamming into the side. Reaching up with one hand to the top, you pulled yourself up with difficulty and unhooked the claw from the rope. You panted, looking to see you still had quite a few left, but you'd be fine as long as you stayed on the path Todoroki took.

You heard popping sounds and looked up, seeing Bakugou fly over you and all you did was curse as he made a snide comment.

"Thanks for sucking enough to let me pass, I'll look down on your from the winners podium shitty glow worm!"

You picked yourself up and continued your half-ass attempt of a zip line, noticing other students starting to make their way to the beginning.

"For those of you who thought that task was easy, let us see how you feel about the second one! If they take a spill down they're out, to pass this test they'll have to get creative!"

You ran up to the last one, but you jumped down too fast and screamed out as a searing pain made its way down your arm. You couldn't lose focus, unless you wanted your light to turn back into its regular form and have you drop into the abyss. So despite the pain you still held on, using your other hand for support as you made it to the other side. But when you reach the end, you couldn't pull yourself ups, it hurt your right shoulder too much.

'I must've dislocated it!' You thought in a panic, trying to figure out a way to move unless you wanted to go down.

No. That wasn't an option. You bit your lip through the pain as you began to swing your body, feeling tears make their way down your cheeks as you finally had enough momentum to kick you legs up and use that as a leverage to use your good hand to pull you up the rest of the way.

You clutched your arm, not knowing what to do. You looked back and saw students already at least a third of the way, so you ran on, still clutching your arm to make sure it wasn't jostled too bad while you did.

"In the world of heroes, it can be hard to get popular without a flashy quirk, right EraserHead?"

"I don't know what you're talking about idiot."

"Looks like Todoroki is still skating by easily! And it looks like Bakugou has taken over second place from our little miss Hakamata-Oh what's that? It looks like she hurt herself! Whatever will she doooo!??"

"Obviously keep going, she's still in third place isn't she. She managed to pull herself up with a hurt arm and all, she wouldn't let herself quit now."

"YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT, KEEP FIGHTING GIRLY WE'RE CHEERING FOR YOU!"

They were embarrassing you, and letting others know you had a weakness right now. You ran on glaring at the ground in front of you and grumbling.

"And now that we're approaching the last obstacle, so when everyone else catches up, you better tread carefully cause, YOU'RE STEPPING ONTO A MIND FIELD!!! If you look hard enough, you can see where each little bomb was placed, so you don't have time to look around, keep those eyes on the ground! YEAH!"

"You better tell them the disclaimer."

"RIGHT! Keep in mind folks these were designed for the game, so while they may be loud and flashy, they're not that powerful.."

"Good."

"JUST ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU WET THOSE PANTS!"

"Oh get a hold of yourself.."

You came up to the 'DANGER' sign and looked behind, noticing people running to catch up to you, since you weren't as fast as you wanted to be with your shoulder the way it was. You kept your eyes down and tried to speed walk, being swift but as careful as possible. One bad move and you could be blown away, that wouldn't help at all.

At first all you heard were little explosions caused by Bakugou's quirk, before explosions from behind you drowned it out. People were rushing and acting carelessly, trying to make it to the lead. You wondered if it would be worth it to try to make those light rays into stilts again, even though your body was already warming to an uncomfortable level, it was still bearable.

You looked and saw those two weren't that far ahead, and if you tried hard enough you could take them both. You felt heat pool at your feet, extending it till it solidified and you grew taller. You were even more careful now, making sure the bottoms had no chance of touching any bombs.

"You made your declaration of war to the wrong guy!" A blast followed Bakugou's shouting rang out and you saw he was attacking Todoroki!

"JUST LIKE THAT A NEW STUDENT TAKES THE LEAD! The crowd is going crazy, there's nothing we love more than an upset! Hey hey hey, the rest of the competitors are catching up too! C'MON HAKAMATA KICK IT INTO HIGH GEAR IF YOU WANNA STAY IN THE TOP 3! "

"You're supposed to be unbiased.."

"Uh... AND WHAT'S THIS !? CAN OUR TWO LEADERS FIGHT EACH OTHER AND STAY IN FRONT OF THE COMPETITION?"

You were getting close to them. you planned on sneaking past them while the were too busy fighting and running into the lead. You were right behind them now, only a couple steps behind, when an explosion larger than any other went off. You snapped your head back and saw something, someone, soaring through the air.

"What was with that explosion, that's way more powerful than it should of been!? WOAH LOOK AT THAT, INCREDIBLEEEE! Whatever just happened, it caused class 1-A's Izuku Midoriya to be suddenly in hot pursuit of first place!"

He zoomed passed you guys, and you felt your eyes widened in disbelief.

"AND JUST LIKE THAT THE LEAD IS MIDORIYA'S!"

Even though he was still cutting through the air, you saw his momentum slow and Bakugou took off after him.

"DEKU, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HUH?"

Todoroki created an ice path, before sprinting off, it seemed he didn't care to try to keep from unintentionally helping the others, he just wanted to catch up to the boys. You quickly used that to your advantage and willed your stilts to go down, just leaving enough heat to grip the ice as you raced off after them.

You were trying to catch up, the pain becoming numb as your body was ignoring it while adrenaline ran through your veins. The only sounds you heard was your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears as you continued to chase the three.

"LOOK AT THAT PLOT TWIST, THOSE TWO AREN'T FIGHTING ANYMORE, THEY'RE CHASING MIDORIYA! Having a common enemy will do it for ya in this type of competition! This fight is far from over!"

Izuku was falling fast, looking as if he was about to headbutt the two boys while coming down face first. You were only a few steps away and you willed your legs to pick up the pace.

"Dammit!" You cursed, trying to hurry. Izuku twisted in the air and swinging down his large piece of metal, hitting the ground causing an explosion to go off and you ran straight into it. You were tossed up and yelled in pain. You somehow were pushed forward by the explosion, and landed clumsily on your feet. You stumbled, holding your arm tighter as pain shot through it once more. Two blurs raced by out of the smoke and you bite your lip so hard you began to bleed.

'I refuse to lose!'

You raced after them but it was no good, even though you cleared the minefield you were now pretty far behind them.

"With another stunning move, Midoriya has blasted by his classmates from 1-A, I don't believe it but he cleared that minefield in an instant! EraserHead, your students are amazing! What the heck are you teaching them?!"

"This has nothing to do with me, each of them is powered by their own drive to succeed."

"There you have it, EraserHead is a terrible teacher!"

"I'm what?"

"Who would've imagined at the beginning of this race that the climax would be so thrilling! The first to make it back to the stadium is the winner!.."

You were in the last stretch, begging your body to keep your fast pace, using your quirk to try to pass the boys. Already feeling the sweat pouring down your face as your tried to breath in. It was almost impossible and you felt like you were drowning with not enough oxygen. You entered a hallway, the finish line up ahead. But you were too late..

"Izuku Midoriya is our champion!"

You slowed down once you have passed through the doors, your hand on your knee as you gasped in breath, trying to calm your wild heart and cool your body down before it hit unsafe zones.

Other students began to pile in after you, and you smiled nonetheless. You came in fourth, and there is nothing wrong with the number 4.

You arm was still hurting and you knew you had to pop it back into place somehow. You were going to ask Bakugou, but he seemed too upset, probably at the fact he lost to Midoriya.

Speaking of Izuku, he was most likely the best person to ask.

"Hey Izuku, can you help me?" You motioned towards your dangling arm, he squeaked at it.

"W-WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"I dislocated it, can you help me pop it back into place?"

"I uhm yea I guess uh, how do I do that?" You felt uneasy, maybe he wasn't the best person to ask. You'd do it yourself but you didn't have the time to sit through the pain, you needed someone to do it for you.

"The contestants are pouring in one after the other, let's hear a round of applause for all of our competitors as we get the results ready!"

"Here." A gruff voice spoke out, grabbing your good arm and dragging you away from Izuku as Ochaco and Iida came up to him. Izuku looked at the two of you surprised, trying to call out but his attention stolen by his other friends. You were just as surprised to see Todoroki of all people, especially after what had transpired between the two of you in the waiting rooms. You eyed him carefully, and he saw you were hesitant.

"Do you want help or not. I'm most likely the only one here who knows how to do this." As much as you wanted to be stubborn and walk away, you nodded. You did need the help.

He made you let go of your arm and slowly began to lift it. You hissed, the pain sharp and hot as he slowly raised your arm. Both of his hands held onto your wrist as he made slight up and down motions while going continuing to lift.

Once your arm is about a 90 degree angle, Todoroki makes small circular movements for a bit, before titling your arm towards your head, you let out a whimper and he stopped. You looked up at him and saw he was staring back to ask in a silent way if you were okay.

"I'm okay, keep going please." So he did, moving it by your head to make about 120 degree angle, still rotating your arm till you both heard a pop. It hurt, just like when you dislocated it the first time, but now the pain faded and you were left with a sore feeling, you went to rub the muscle when ice touched it.

"Icing helps." You didn't know what to think of this guy. He acts like a total dill-hole one second and a perfect gentleman the next.

"Yea.. Uhm, thanks Todoroki. Look I'm sorry about-"

"Don't. I still meant everything I said. I'm going after Midoriya.." He stopped, looking away and taking his hand off your shoulder.

"But I too, want to prove myself. So be ready because I wont lose to the daughter of Best Jeanist, even as you fight as your own person. I'll be the one to take you down too." His eyes narrowed at you, but this time you looked past the malicious intent in them and saw the eyes of a boy trying to be something greater than himself.

So you just smiled, giving your sore shoulder a roll, even though it still hurt it was feeling much better now that you can move it. Staring right back at him, a similar look in your own eyes.

"And I won't lose to you, as you fight just as Shoto Todoroki."

"The first game for the first years is finally over and what a game it was! Let's take a quick look at the standing shall we?"

You both looked at the board as Midnight yelled out, interrupting your conversation and pulled up the results:

1: Izuku Midoriya

2: Shouto Todoroki

3: Katsuki Bakugou

4: (y/n) Hakamata

5: Ibara Shizoki

6: Juzo Honenuki

7: Tenya Iida

8: Fumikage Tokoyami

9: Hanata Sero

10: Eijiro Kirishima

The rest of the students were announced but you were still staring an awe at the top 10. Poor Bakugou looked done as he placed third. You'd trade him spots if he wanted to complain.

"Only 42 students made it into the next round but don't be upset if you didn't make it, we have made other ways to help you guys bask in the spotlight hehe." Midnight smirked.

"Now the real fun is about to begin, the chance to move yourself into the limelight. Give it your best shot!" She cracked her whip, which made the screen start to roll in deciding what the next round was going to be.

"Let's see what we have in store for you next! Let's see... Ah, prepare yourself for this young ones!"

'Calvary Battle' popped up on the screen, and you wanted to groan. Now you'll have to take part in a team, which wasn't bad but now you'll have other people to worry about more than just yourself.

Midnight explained the rules revolving the silly game, but added a twist.

"Each player has been assigned a point value based on their results from the race. It starts from the bottom for example, the 42nd place is worth 5 points, and the 41st is worth 10. Till you go up and up, and 1st place is worth... 10,000,000!!!"

You all looked at Izuku, his face going white in shock as he processed his information. Some were in disbelief, some were starting to plot. Everyone was going to go after the first place winner to get those points, no doubt about that.

"That's right, it's the chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top! Let's get started!"

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pax-2735 · 5 years

Text

Fanfic: The moment I knew (5/7)

And it’s day 5 already of our wonderful ‘Jonsa: a dream of spring’ celebration, with @jonsadreamofspring . Time flies when you’re having fun!

Prompts for day 5: AU Day: Modern /Historical /Movies

Summary: Modern day AU, rock band. Jon Snow and Sansa Stark’s relationship hits the news.

Song for the Sea

“… the statement also claims that, despite her close relationship with them, Miss Stark is not in any way part of the band and therefore, her private life is not and will never be up for discussion. What do you say to that Hannah?”

The camera changes angles, focusing on a petite blonde woman wearing a practiced smile. “I say she sounds way too smart to be dating a rock star, Miles.”

Sansa hears the first traces of their joint laughter before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV with a scowl. She shouldn’t be surprised really. She is used to being somewhat in the spotlight once Robb’s band hit it big, even though most reporters were polite enough to keep a respectful distance when it came to the band’s families. The fans though were an entirely different matter and when it became known that she and lead guitarist Jon Snow were dating, well… it felt as though her entire life had taken a tumble and been swept upside down.

She had been in Essos for nearly a month now, a newly graduated marine biologist with a great career opportunity and a lot to prove. Jon and the rest of the band were back in Westeros, getting ready to begin recording their newest album. She hadn’t really thought much of it, the day she saw someone taking pictures near the boat that would take herself and the rest of her team to another day’s work.

It had taken a frantic call from Sam and going online to see those pictures splashed all over the Internet, headlines going from the more mild ‘Jon Snow’s girlfriend enjoys day at the beach with friends’ to the downright accusing ‘Is Sansa Stark cheating on Jon Snow?’

She had been furious then, and more than a little hurt. She knew better than to pay attention to any of it but it still irked her to no end that people would just assume something like that and spread it all over the internet, with no regards for the consequences. She had wanted to throttle them, much to Robb’s amusement.

Gotta get used to it sis. She unconsciously mimics Robb’s voice in her head as she remembers his smug look when she had called him. Or else find a different boyfriend. Maybe a lawyer.

Jon hadn’t been much help either, even if he was slightly more sympathetic. I know you’re mad at this Sansa, but there’s really not much we can do about it. I know it’s crazy but we just have to live with it.

In the end though, their manager had thought it important enough to release a statement about the whole thing, stressing the fact that Sansa was working in Essos and clearly labeling everything else as unfounded rumors. She still wasn’t happy about it but she supposed it was the best she was gonna get anyway.

She picks up her phone, dialing the familiar number as she settles back down on the couch. It only takes a couple of rings for him to answer and she allows the familiar feeling of safety to wash over her like a warm comforter or a well-worn sweater.

“Hey babe.” His voice is gravely and rusty, the way it gets when he spends way too many hours recording.

“So I just finished watching a segment about how Sansa Stark has a life that doesn’t pertain the band and she should be left well enough alone.” She raises her eyebrows even though he can’t see her. “Care to comment?”

There’s a pause, almost as if he is trying to figure out what to say and she smiles. For all his talent writing songs, he can be incredibly lost for words sometimes. “Yeah, about that… Edd thought we had to say something about it, to try and put a stop to all the rumors.”

“And why’s that exactly? Last time I checked, I had to learn to live with it.”

There is another pause and she can hear him clearing his throat before speaking. “I might have had a… an issue with one of the reporters.” He sighs and she can clearly imagine him running a hand through his dark curls. “He was asking if the whole thing, you and me being together, was just a publicity stunt.”

She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. From a practical point of view, it isn’t the worse she has heard. Hell, she is fairly certain she will hear far worse than that in the future. Still, she can see why that had stung him. They had gone through more than enough bullshit before getting to this point to have some asshole of a reporter question what they had.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line and she can’t help the softness that comes over her voice, even if she was planning on teasing him for a while longer. “Jon. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His reply is immediate, and she smiles at his constant need to protect her. “Nothing, it’s just… I just miss you Sans.”

Her heart stops for a second before rapidly picking up speed. She knows it’s stupid, she should be more than used to him saying things like that to her, because he says them so often, but she still thrives at the sound.

“I miss you too Jon.” Her voice sounds small, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “I thought it’d be cool you know? To be the one that goes away this time, while you stayed there. Turns out I don’t like it either way.”

He sighs again before answering her. “I don’t either.”

She allows her eyes to close for a second, letting the sound of his voice replace the longing she feels for him. Feeling calmer, she tries to lighten the somber mood they seem to have fallen into. “You know, they finished the segment with, and I quote, she might be too smart for him.”

“You are.” She furrows her brows, not quite expecting that answer. “Every day there’s a small part of me that wonders if that’s the day you’ll realize you could do so much better than me and just leave.”

“Jon.” Her tone is harsh and she lets the anger flow into her voice like fire. “Don’t be stupid. If there wasn’t an ocean between us right now I’d be hitting you over the head. Hard.”

He chuckles at her words and she relaxes somewhat. “If there wasn’t an ocean between us I wouldn’t be saying it. You pack a mean punch.”

She lets out a soft laugh, letting her body stretch out on the couch, unwinding from the long day. “So how are things going at the studio?”

“Fine.” She raises an eyebrow at the stilted answer, and can clearly hear the laughter in his voice as he continues. “They’re going great. Just finished two new songs.”

“Are they about me?” She can’t help but ask even though she more than knows the answer.

“They’re all about you, you know that.”

“And how are the fans treating you, now that they know you’re being cheated on?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, and he answers her in just the same way.

“They’re being very helpful actually. I’ve gotten more than a few offers to help me mend my poor broken heart.” She scoffs at that, and he laughs.

“Well, you better behave, I don’t wanna have to murder someone when I get back because some rabid fan assaulted you because you gave her the time of day.” Her voice is still playful even if she’s only partly kidding. About the murder anyway.

“You’d murder someone for me? I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She lets out a startled laugh, her heart soaring at the easy banter. “Yeah, well, don’t push it. It might be you I murder.”

“Harsh Stark. Very harsh. You wound me.” His voice sounds pouty and she feels the unresistable need to kiss him.

“Hey, is that my sister you’re talking to?” Robb’s voice comes over the line and her smile widens at the happiness in his tone. “Wait, of course that’s my sister.” There’s a pause before she hears him add in a much more serious voice. “That’d better be my sister.”

Jon’s voice is still playfully warm as he answers him. “No, that’s my girlfriend.”

#jonsadreamofspring #jonsa fanfiction #jon snow x sansa stark #works-by-pax #game of thrones #fanfiction

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wahbegan · 4 years

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Red’s Retro Reviews - Condemned Criminal Origins

Hello and welcome to the tag where I use my otherwise useless and time-consuming habit of taking very old classic games that I’ve wrung all the enjoyment out of like a troubled child with an injured bird and turn it into entertainment! Maybe one day the editor of some chic magazine will hire me to talk about how much I know about Batman: Arkham Asylum and how much I hate myself for it.

Anyway, this week I thought I’d start off with an overlooked little gem that had a bit of cult notoriety and good critical reception, but which otherwise nobody gave an ounce of rat shit about: the Condemned series. More specifically, the original game.

Now, when I ask you who started the extremely lucrative habit of live-streaming themselves hilariously over-reacting to horror games, you might be tempted to say the Game Grumps, or Markiplier if you’re younger, or Pewdiepie if you’re the kind of person who unironically uses the phrase anti-white racism. But you’d all be wrong and stupid. Also possibly nazi sympathizers, but I digress.

NO! The first college-age white boys who decided it would be a good idea to beam them fucking up a video game to thousands and thousands of people online are..........lost to history because archiving of the exact history of internet trends is such an enormous clusterfuck that for years people were convinced, and some still are, that Slenderman was a real urban legend and not something some dickhead made up for a photoshop competition circa 2009

But ONE of the first was the 4 Players Network, or 4 Players Podcast, or 4PP. I know very little about these guys, so if they all turned out to be nonces and serial killers please don’t @ me, but what i DO know, is that they uploaded a video that changed my life forever. This video was “Holy Crap That’s a Bear !” Certainly not a name that would stand out in today’s massively oversaturated Let’s Play market, but this delightful video documented these two dumb assholes losing their shit over a game. The game of course, being Condemned 2: Bloodshot. Specifically, the level in which you are chased through a hunting lodge by a rabid bear. As an aside, I looked it up, having never heard of the phenomenon, and apparently it’s very rare, but yes bears can and do get rabies, usually with just about as fatal results as you would expect. So sweet dreams!

Anyway, watching this couple of dipshits get jumpscared and mauled to death by a poorly rendered bear again and again as they were repeatedly outwitted at every turn by an entity with a few lines of programming instead of a brain was, in y’know the year 2008, the absolute most fun a 14-year-old boy could have. Clearly it still is, but you always remember your first time, particularly when the only LPs i have watched since were a handful of markiplier videos with a girl in college who liked to get me very stoned and then put them on because she thought that counted as courtship.

A n y w a y, apart from the unfortunate and definitely a mistake innovation of streaming video games, the sequence of being chased through a claustrophobic environment by a bear which can rip down doors, break through walls, run faster than you, shrug off 15 shotgun blasts to the face without so much as sneezing, etc. seemed incredibly tense and original, an amazing concept for a game. Once again, this was circa 2008 before “Run for your fucking life” had become the norm for horror games.

So then why the fuck are you not reviewing that game?? You might be thinking if you’re still reading this which someone clearly is or my narrative voice would have ceased to exist by now in that tree falling in the woods kind of way. Well, dear reader, while Condemned 2 was better than the first game in a LOT of ways, it’s always worth taking a gander at the one that started it all. Also, Condemned 1 is, if only slightly, probably better known. Also, Bloodshot commits the cardinal sin of over-explaining the first game’s mystery and a result making it kind of goofy and ridiculous see also the entire history of the Halloween franchise, and as a result the ending is....well, a bit shit, to be honest. Finally, and most importantly, it’s not on Steam for 3 dollars, so shut up

The thing about Condemned is that while Let’s Plays and seemingly inanimate objects moving only when you’re not looking at them and unstoppable juggernauts of wanton death have now become the norm for video game horror (and thanks a fucking bunch, Doctor fucking Who, for always being what people say started the inanimate object fuckery even though Stephen King did it in The Shining in the FUCKING 70s and let’s be honest it’s just a primal universal fear and i’ll be in the cold fucking ground before that bloody show sees one ounce of credit where it isn’t due), Condemned as a whole has remained remarkably unique. Not wholly unique, the developers have heavily borrowed from genre-straddling crime horror movies like Silence of the Lambs and Se7en and in fact almost beat-for-beat stole the most infamous jump scare from the latter, but if it still ends with shit in my pants, and it does, I can’t really call it a failure.

Most of the creativity the game DOES have is in the gameplay itself, or rather one aspect of the two aspects of the gameplay. It’s the combat I’m talking about the combat, seeing as that’s basically all there is. Let’s just get this out of the way first, the forensic investigation shit is........well, it’s a bit shit. Oh yes, there’s a couple crime scenes you have to “solve” in a cursory almost a cutscene sort of way, where you have helpful premonitions about where you’re supposed to look and, as your lab tech helpfully informs you, “the system will choose which tool you need for you, so don’t worry about that!” Well, Christ kill me, thank God YOU know between the three fucking tools I have, one of which is an everything sensor and one of which is just a fucking camera which I’m supposed to use, God knows I wouldn’t have liked to have solved that mystery myself. It’s a shame because some of the crime scenes are quite intricate and yes, I would have liked to have put together myself that “wait a minute there’s a handprint in the paint here that matches the killer but the UV light shows an old blood spatter on the wall right above where he’d be sitting to make it, THAT MUST MEAN-” but nope. No you just have a premonition of the guy getting clobbered over the back of the head because the game is so terrified you won’t be able to put two and two together that it points out both the twos and hands you a multiplication table and nudges you and looks meaningfully at four every few minutes if you hesitate.

Anyway, that’s all the whingeing about the gameplay out of the way, because the rest of it is just delightful. Condemned is the rare first person game that focuses almost solely on melee combat and the almost unheard of one that does it well. In fact, it is the only example I can think of that’s not shit. Weapons all have individual stats to do with their heft and how far they can reach and how much of a man’s skull you can cave in at once with it and you have to choose between the plank with nails sticking out of it you can swing three times a second but you have to beat a man so badly with it it’s tiring just to watch and the sledgehammer, which demands a two weeks’ notice in writing if you’re planning on hitting someone with it, but will basically render every living thing in its considerable swing arc sent to the fucking Shadow Realm upon impact.

Something about the sound effects and the way the weapons in this game control really gets under my skin, I was killed by a 300-pound Subway-dwelling crazy survivalist wielding the aforementioned sledgehammer, and when I went down, I was sure I was familiar with the sound effect that played when it struck my skull, a sort of distant, muffled ringing of bone hitting metal. Wait a minute, I thought, I know I’ve experienced this in real life, how did they get this sound effect? Did they kill a man with a hammer to get this sound effect? Was I killed with a hammer in a past life? Killing people is equally fucking unpleasant as even the most vicious and inhuman looking ones don’t go down easily, and you can see them spit gobs of broken teeth and blood and god knows what, hear the lovingly researched impact noises, and almost feel the impact as you necessitate years of reconstructive facial surgery with one swing of your mighty chunk of concrete attached to a rebar. Then some of them have the gall to shakily get to their knees, not quite dead, trying to mumble something and you’re required to hit them AGAIN, which is always harrowing. To quote another underappreciated piece of media about the joys of gruesome murder: Why won’t you just die?! This is hard enough for me!!

The guns you do get are absolute balls, generally having about three bullets in them, you can’t reload them even if you find the exact same type of gun later, you can’t hold them in your inventory, and if you want an aiming reticle you have to actively turn it on in the options menu, and you can almost hear the game laughing at you for being such a shameless pussy.

Well, you now might be thinking to yourself, cheers for making the effort, but I’m not an insane person and therefore do not think the idea of a brutally beating people to death simulator sounds very enticing, but that’s the thing, it’s not really supposed to be. It does have a strangely addictive quality after a while, but for the most part it’s panicky and harrowing and grotesque and you really don’t want to do it but you have no choice, which is absolutely the best kind of survival horror. See, the combat in survival horror is always a bit of a sticking point, isn’t it? Because if you give the player too much firepower it just becomes an action game with spooky set pieces, but if you give them none at all, as is chic today, you better have loads of other surprises in store buddy boy, because the sheen on that trend has died and now you’re just likely to get slapped with the dreaded WALKING SIMULATOR sticker.

No, the best kind of combat for a horror feel is exactly the kind Condemned delivers, so of course they never FUCKING did it again. You leave every fight low on supplies, exhausted, badly wounded, and a bit sick at what you just reduced a human being’s skull to. Too often, the combat in games is, even that word “combat” it’s clean, it’s cold, it’s detached, it’s a very unique euphemism for butchering God knows how many people. I play this little game in my head when I go through games sometimes trying to keep track of how many unique, thinking, feeling entities I’ve just reduced to a mess for the janitor to mop up, and I always lose track around the third level. Condemned isn’t like that. Its violence is violence: horrible, awful, terrifying violence, and it doesn’t let you forget it.

The graphics also add a lot to the horror if you can get past the dated polygonal weird-ass xbox 360 at launch faces and cutscenes, which is actually pretty easy once you get used to it. The level and character design is fantastic, and really adds a lot to the whole feel of the game. Everywhere you look is dark and labyrinthine, crumbling with rebars jutting out and exposed paneling and plumbing beneath holes rotted in the walls and grime and blood and god knows what just staining everything. This game is really nihilistic in tone, and you get the sense just from the graphics that you’re somewhere nobody gives a shit about, in a part of a city that’s just been left to die and rot. One almost gets the feeling moving around the fourth or fifth condemned (ohhhhh I see what they did there) building that the whole city is just a ghost town full of nobody but violent lunatics, and also that if you keep playing for too long you might get hepatitis just from exposure.

Plot-wise, I could fill another twenty paragraphs with petty gripes. It’s a bit Kill List which i’m sure is a reference you all understand in that it starts as a crime thriller about catching a serial murderer and ends in some bizarre insane bullshit halfway between Hereditary and Hellraiser, and leads you into it gently enough that you never really notice a sudden lurch.

You play as Ethan Thomas, a very boring and generic FBI Agent called in to investigate a serial killer case by two cops who are REMARKABLY blithe about murdering people, and it’s a bit jarring in today’s political climate. Though distrust, fear, and hatred of the police isn’t exactly new, and violence amongst police officers is brought up at one point, albeit in a loading screen, so honestly I can’t be arsed to speculate on what level of self-awareness we’re operating on here. Regardless, it’s bothersome.

“Oh yeah, this place is full of addicts, hopped up on something, I think, just shoot ‘em. What? Lost your gun, eh? That’s fine here’s a fire axe go nuts, kid, we’ll deal with the paperwork later”

Anyway, you are ambushed by a man you believe to be the killer for.......no real reason, really. He was spying on you checking out the crime scene, but we just established this place is full of squatters, what if one of the 8 people I murdered on the way into this ambush was the killer??? Case solved!

Anyway, needless to say, without wishing to spoil, the dude IS the main antagonist the yellow eyes are a helpful giveaway, and he takes your gun and swiftly shoots Generic Beat Cop and Generic Dick with it, then throws you out a window, whereupon some other asshole whose main role in the game is to be enigmatic and plot-convenient, you know, one of THOSE characters, spirits you away from the scene, making it look like you just killed two cops and fled.

Now, in real life, as we all know, a cop can’t be indicted for murder even if 50 people saw him do it, but in this world, it means you have to go on the run from the FBI (not your lab tech, though, who is somehow assisting you from the lab and sending confidential data to your phone unnoticed??) while trying to solve the murder.

Meanwhile, in the background, in an “I’m sure this isn’t important and will in no way inform the last level of the game going batshit bonkers” kind of way, all of the people, including the cops, in certain dilapidated and neglected areas of the unnamed City City appear to be going what is medically known as balls-to-the-wall kill crazy, and birds are dropping dead from the sky by the thousands. Even you, protagonist, are prone to horrible screaming nightmare visions coming right the blazing blue fuck out of nowhere and that you never feel the need to comment on or go take a lie-down. I’m sure it’s nothing.

The voice acting is what you’d expect from this era of video games i.e. not good and the writing has an absolutely DESPICABLE habit of having characters tell Ethan things he should already god damned well know for the sake of gameplay or exposition, leading to my current theory that Agent Ethan Thomas has some kind of horrible head injury and can’t remember anything from over 2 minutes ago like Guy Pearce in that pretentious movie where he accidentally kills his wife and then runs around for two hours terrorizing random-ass people about it.

The game never full-on plays the AND THE MAN YOU’VE BEEN PLAYING AS WAS CRAZY THE WHOLE TIME card and leaves things a bit ambiguous, but after caving in the 15th vagrant’s head and the 7th vision you’ve had of being murdered by some Cenobite-looking motherfucker while conducting an unsanctioned investigation during a suspension prompted by you presumably murdering the shit out of two guys, you start to think this may not be standard FBI protocol.

It’s all a bit hard to swallow is me point, a bit hard to sympathize, and a bit muddy if we’re supposed to or not. But you know what? It certainly isn’t boring, and I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t effective. This game is now one of only two to have genuinely given me nightmares, and I think it’s rather telling that after I played the hallucination part I had the nightmare about, I was having genuine trouble remembering if something happened in my nightmare of it or in the actual version.

Condemned is batshit crazy, hilariously easy to write off as “that game about killing hobos”, and very, very dated. But it is genuinely harrowing and unpleasant, and was clearly genuinely made by artists with the intent of saying.....errr i’m not exactly sure what, but SOMETHING! It’s about as far a cry as you can get from the Triple A crawling with microtransactions like your MCM is with crabs milk-you-for-money-until-your-udders-bleed look-at-how-shiny-we-are games, and even a lot of indie horror games who think it’s a measure of a masterpiece being able just to constantly trigger your fight-or-flight response again and again and again so you can make a hilarious Let’s Play out of it not to name any names Five Night’s at Freddy’s. It’s a relic of a different and i think a better time in gaming history, where big-name publishers were still taking chances and hadn’t quite yet worked out the formula for how to distill games into their most skeletal, malnourished, corporate, addictive, glorified gambling form.

Also it’s 3 dollars on Steam and you can finish it in like ffffffffucking...two days? So really why the fuck not. I have no idea how to assign numbers to things i’d probably give ir a 7 or 8 or 4 out of 5 stars but i’m bad at systems like that, just play it if you give a shit. If nothing else, a bunch of people snapping it up out of nowhere will really fuck with marketing, which is always a noble pursuit

#game reviews #Condemned Criminal Origins

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porchwood · 5 years

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Hey friends,

I’ve been struggling to come up with a sufficient thank-you for all your help with the GoFundMe, but it seems every time I sit down to try to write a response, some new awful thing arises. And this past week was the worst yet (maybe the worst ever).

When last I spoke to you, I was getting over a bad cold and preparing to ease back into work after my injury. The PT office finally called me back and I went in for one session to make sure I was at a recovery point where it was okay for me to do massage again; the therapist did a quick assessment - no exercises demonstrated or recommended - kinesiotaped the knee and charged $100 that I had to pay then and there. (So a waste, and an expensive one, but I guess it could have been worse?) The next day I started back at work VERY part-time (one 60-90 min client a day) and it absolutely killed me. I was no longer wearing the brace and my knee actually did okay with the work (bending/crouching notwithstanding), but the rest of my body (esp core muscles) were just drop-kicked by the work. I went home exhausted and shaky every day and finally tried substantially increasing my protein intake, which felt a little ridiculous (we’re talking a 24g shake + an 11g bar for breakfast or two entrees at lunchtime), but it’s done a world of good, and that’s all thanks to you guys. (Protein of any kind isn’t cheap and your incredible donations made it possible for me to buy good food to rebuild my muscles.)

The end of my first week back at work, I fell hard on the ice outside my house. Miraculously, my left knee never even hit the ground, but I fell flat on my back and my left wrist - without any lasting injury, thankfully, but I was absolutely worthless for the next 24 hours and had several days (crucial returning-to-massage days) of varying degrees of pain in that wrist. In the meantime, I made a couple of other adjustments (raising my massage table to take the strain off my lower body, getting back on an ibuprofen schedule instead of just taking it after the fact, when I was hurting badly), all of which helped, but I’m still only about 85% back. My knee still hurts every morning when I wake up and gets stiff and sore whenever I have it bent for any length of time. My workplace has been surprisingly good about letting me work a slower schedule as I build back up (ex. 3 clients a day instead of 5), and last Friday I finally got a paycheck for the first time in over a month (!).

Then, two weeks ago, I was wakened at 3am to Lucky (my little rat terrier) falling off the bed. This has happened before and is usually comical after the fact, but when I picked her up, she emptied her bladder all over me, and when I tried to set her down to check on her, her back legs had gone limp and wouldn’t support her. Terrified (I’ve heard enough end-of-life dog stories to know this isn’t good), I was about to take her to the emergency vet when she sat up like nothing had happened and began licking herself. I took her outside and she walked around a bit, completely sound on her feet, and pottied again - business as usual. Worried and mystified, I messaged my (LPN) mother who thought the urination sounded like a shock reaction to the fall, so I gave Lucky a bath and spent most of the day just cuddling with her.

For about two seconds, life seemed like it might finally be getting a little better. I was able to pick up two massages at a local inn (which pay substantially better than massages at the spa and provide some very helpful extra money). And then on Thursday, I came home to a slightly anxious Lucky (howling quietly on my bed), and when she got up to greet me, her back legs wouldn’t support her. I scooped her up immediately and her entire body went limp (seemingly lifeless), her head and neck lolling over my arm. As I ran through the house with her, her bladder emptied down the front of me and - still lifelessly limp - she gave the most horrifying howl I’ve ever heard. I was convinced she was dying in my arms.

As we tore down the road to the vet’s (thankfully, about a 5-minute drive from home), she sat up on my lap and by the time we’d reached the office, she was acting downright normal again. I was able to get us in with one of the vets about 10 mins later (a tech checked her out right away to triage her and make sure she was stable), and he wanted to get some data on her heart. She’s had a heart murmur for almost her entire life and, while I’ve asked repeatedly what we could do for that, the only advice I was ever given was hawthorn and ginkgo supplements (which she takes on a more or less daily basis), and at one point we tried a canine cardiac formula for a few months with no notable changes.

She had an EKG, chest x-rays, and a blood draw ($516, including the office call) and then that info was sent to a veterinary cardiologist in Portland. All they could tell me in the meantime was that her heart is enlarged and to just have her take it easy for the rest of the day; they would call me first thing the next morning with the cardiologist’s report. Lucky was sleepy but normal for the rest of the day and I passed an awful night of bad dreams (including one about rabid dogs) and waking every hour or so to make sure she was okay.

I was scheduled for my typical split on Friday but had only one client at the end of the day and was an emotional wreck, so I asked if I could just go home to be with Lucks and I found another therapist to cover my client. I still hadn’t heard from the vet by 10am, so I called to check in. He gave me a brief summary over the phone and asked if we could come in for some more tests, which was another hour and a half and $236. (I was able to put these two visits on my CareCredit card but for some reason the vet only gives a 6 month promotional period instead of the 12-18 months that other places do. If you’re not familiar, CareCredit is a great option IF you can pay off everything quickly. If you can’t, you’re clobbered with obscene interest on the entire sum at the end of the promotional period, even if you’ve paid off almost all of the principal.)

I’m still making sense of the cardiologist’s report because it’s quite in-depth and my knowledge of the heart isn’t quite that high, but here’s what I’ve been able to glean:

- “severely enlarged” heart - borderline tachycardia and occasional arrhythmia (her collapse was considered a syncopal episode, if that helps anyone) - some degree of mitral valve issue - at risk of developing congestive heart failure

She was put on two heart meds, pimobendan/Vetmedin (which is supposed to be very effective and is also very expensive) and enalapril (an ACE-inhibitor), and she has a kidney check-up in about a week to make sure she’s doing well on them and adjust the doses if necessary. The vet seemed to think the prognosis was pretty good (considering that at this point we’re talking about staving off heart failure :/) - he said small dogs with mitral valve issues tend to do well on these meds - and other than this insanity with her heart, Lucky seems to be in pretty good shape. Before Thursday she was extremely active and happy; there’s no sign of neurological issues, and her BP, thyroid, kidneys, etc are all looking good. So I’m trying to stay hopeful.

She’s been a little extra sleepy (understandably) the past few days, but this afternoon she seemed unusually “off,” so I’m trying to figure out whether it’s her tiny body adjusting to the meds (which she needs to stay on for the rest of her life) or if her heart is suddenly starting to get tired and this is the new normal. :( I called my mother earlier (a mistake) and got a lot of pessimism-in-the-guise-of-sympathy that left me feeling like Lucky is on hospice and I should start making end-of-life arrangements now.

I’ve been crying for the better part of the last four days, and I don’t think I can articulate how painful this is for me. I didn’t think it was possible to donate a human heart to a canine but I looked it up just in case, because I would give her mine without hesitation. Lucky is my whole life - my soul running around in a little black-and-white body, and five years ago when my life systematically fell apart, she was the only thing misfortune didn’t touch - and I knew this, and I was waiting. Since then she developed sleeping bladder leaks (which, while frightening, were easily and effectively treated with estrogen), then severe separation anxiety (which I’ve been struggling to treat since 2016, and yes, I blame myself for the anxiety making her heart worse, even though I’ve done absolutely everything to help her overcome it). Lucky is absolutely the reason I didn’t try to end my life at various junctures over the past five years, and I don’t want to think about what will happen to me if she’s not here anymore.

And as ridiculous as this will sound: I was supposed to be married by now. When I got Lucks as a puppy, I knew the inevitable would one day come (unless Jesus comes back before then so Lucky and I can just go to heaven together, which I haven’t given up on), but I knew my life would be much different by then. I would have a home and a husband to help shoulder the financial and emotional burden. I was not supposed to be alone, sterile, and struggling just to make ends meet. I love my roommate dearly, but it’s not the same as having a spouse, nor should it be. She can give me hugs and listen to me cry, but at the end of the day it’s me in that dr’s office, holding my hurting baby and promising to pay for whatever they have to do, and me that has to hold everything together and keep going when the worst happens.

Incidentally, last Sunday was my birthday. I’ve mentioned before that my birthday has some kind of perverse curse, and if this year didn’t prove it, I don’t know what will.

My father (living in Nebraska, and with whom I’ve had a strained relationship since my hysterectomy) has congestive heart failure, and my mother called me shortly before all of the Lucky stuff to tell me that he’s failing and to try to talk me into moving back to Nebraska to help keep an eye on him. Which is a subject for another time entirely, but over the past few days I’ve been wondering if I should think about going back (temporarily), if only to be around family myself. It would be a complicated situation (I’d still be on the Maine lease and paying for half of everything, Lord knows if I’d be able to keep my Maine job when I came back and I’d end up back at Massage Envy in Nebraska, not to mention I’d be scrambling to pay down my medical bills and Lucky’s), but maybe it’s something I should consider.

Anyway: that’s where I’ve been. :( And I’m sure I look like an ingrate for not saying thank you about the funds sooner, but between the fatigue and the heartbreak, it’s been hard to manage much of anything lately.

#personal #lucky bloom #did i mention we got kicked out of our house four months ago?#and that i'm still recovering from an acute knee injury?#i almost can't even process this #and i know i'm quietly ignoring the parts i can't handle

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fanesavin · 5 years

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The Driftwood Prince and Lady Florent share last words and a creature is loose in the castle.

@thatwhichbindsus @ianncardero

Iann paced. He could hear the cries and calls from outside of the Keep. After the funeral, which both placated and incited the commonfolk, the gates of the Keep were now open, to an extent. People were allowed in, Nobles were allowed out. The Inquisition was drawing to a close, the Cloverry on its way to choosing another High Raj. The funeral was perfect, in a way - as was the destruction of the Kesleys, as was even that incredible assassination attempt in the Lower City on the Queen of Dark Woods. People got the burst of excitement (and since it happened in the Lower City it wasn’t too alarming; terrible things happened to poor people all the time), they got the closure they wanted in the might and majesty of Sharma’s funeral. And now they wanted to move on. But the needed the Castle - and the Sunlit Throne in particular - to tell them how they were to move on. Prepare for war, or settle into peace? This middle-state of anxiety could go one way or another. The crown was now removed from the Sunlit Throne itself, and Iann headed to the Great Hall, to look at the empty throne, no longer guarded. There was no more need. It sat there, in a sliver of sun, as if aching for someone to be seated in it. With the boldness of an impatient man, Iann took a step up to the dias, then turned to look out over the Great Hall, if only to understand that vantage point.

“Not quite the same view as the Driftwood throne is it, my Lord?” Ciara asked, approaching him as if she had always been just beside him. Her hair was twisted up - she had been working, until not so long ago. Black dress and black gloves, each befitting her grief as Lady Florent, the little known lady, not as the master of whispers. Her face was fixed as stone, as she looked him over, standing up. He hadn’t been standing much further than this when he had slit the throat of that herald. It had prevented panic, but at what cost? What a fine act it had been too. Cast himself as one of the heroes of the hour. Be interrogated early, when all the pieces were still hidden, rather than later on.

Iann was gazing at the spot on the floor, so near the flagstone of the Forty Isles. The blood from the herald had almost reached it, but not quite. “You know your way around this Castle better than I,” Iann replied with a glance at the Lady, words intending to imply that she was very good at sneaking. “This is no view for me,” he added, casting his gaze back over the Great Hall. He looked to the left of him, which opened up to the ocean. “I get news of my father almost every day, now.” He turned to look to Ciara. “I believe the new Coronation will be swift, once a High Raj is chosen and then we shall all be on our way again, under whatever manner of peace we can take.” Like feeding off meagre scraps, rather than a full belly after a feast. Perhaps it was better that way. “You’ll plan to remain in the Castle, I assume.”

“Does his news concern you?” She asked, sidestepping his comments as easily as she sidestepped bodies. Ciara had her hands clasped before her, her head tilted, watching, her eyes seeking. “Perhaps. Who would you see on the throne, that would give us peace?” She stepped aside, glancing to the sea also, and wondered whether it called his name out loud, or only whispered it in the dead of night. “Wherever I am wanted.”

“No, not wherever you are wanted,” he said with a smile, recalling their last conversation. “You feel most useful here, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a mild realization. As a Prince he had the luxury of feeling wanted, and useful, everywhere he went. He took it for granted that people would want his company (while others detested his presence but had no choice but to accept it). Third daughters of fallen lands didn’t have that advantage, of course. She needed a purpose, whereas he could drift on a whim. “I want who ever the people would find peace and contentment in…” But then Iann frowned when he said it. He’d observed Cassandra’s actions, since the High Raj’s death. Although Iann honestly couldn’t fathom that she was behind Sharma’s demise, he did notice her political manoeuvring towards becoming beloved by the people, ingratiated to the Cloverry. He’d been prepared for that possibility. He’d even been planning to offer Cassandra his ally-ship and support. But then he’d heard news that perhaps Miguel had gotten to Cassandra first. And on top of that, Miguel and Ciara were also seen together, heads bent towards each other. “My father’s news always concerns me. That much should be obvious by now,” Iann said, his voice sounding heavy.

“Where I am wanted is usually where I am useful,” Ciara replied in measured tones. Here, she had evidence. Here, she had the capacity to shape a new era of peace, to help Miguel help people (even if that was to Lord Iann’s loss), to forge trade and bring in a new era of prosperity. Bring her family honour. It was selfish, but also kind. His answer was plain and diplomatic, his face as revealing as a thunderstorm. The thought vexed him, as it did her. “I did not mean to diminish your father’s health,” she said softly, and found herself walking closer once more.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Iann said drily. How much reach did Lady Florent have, exactly? She held secrets, that much he’d known for years, ever since the secret she held for him. How likely was she then to help Miguel do what Iann never would: patricide? His father was ailing and weak, but he’d been a good ruler. If Iann was impatient for the man to die, it was only so Iann could rule properly. But he would wait. He wasn’t sure his younger brother would, especially now that the Inquisition was drawing to a close. Iann grew colder, like a Northern sea. He thought of the Inquisitor, likely longing to return to that predictable, unforgiving cold. “Is there something you need from me, my Lady? I’m at your service.”

“Your observation skills perhaps,” Ciara replied, as he became cold and sharper still. Her bones ached - like everyone else, she was tired. She lay asleep at night with guards watching every corner, and since she had soaked her hands in the blood of lord kesley, she could think of nothing but. “Have I done something to offend you, my lord?”

Iann turned to look at her. “Don’t presume to answer my question with questions of your own, Lady of Florent,” Iann replied. “You wear innocence and naivety like a flimsy veil that does nothing to hide your scars.”

Like all men, he snapped and snarled, a rabid dog baring its teeth in warning. Ciara raised an eyebrow, and did not once shift in the breeze. She could not ask him to mind herself, nor threaten him. She had no armies, no true power. Just the servants in the walls. “Perhaps, but my veils suit you well, do they not?”

There was no snap or snarl to his voice. Iann wasn’t behaving rabidly, nor was he baring any figurative teeth in warning. Why would he need to, when their ranking was so distinct and far apart. The Lady heard what she wanted to hear, to justify her own sense of defense. “Answer my question, what do you want.”

That was an order, and Ciara lowered her head just so in respect, although as with all things, it came with a small edge. “It is no great thing, my lord. One of my servants has a daughter who cleans bedrooms in this castle. Lately, she hasn’t heard from her.” Ciara lowered her voice slightly, as she was about to discuss baser things. “Of course, with this many people in so small a space, it is not so surprising. I wondered if perhaps you knew anyone whose tastes leant that way. But do not let me take more of your time if it does not suit you. You have a great deal on your mind.”

A servant? Iann blinked, not expecting any question to do with a servant. He wasn’t stupid of course; he understood that servants could be just as useful as anything else, when it came to information at least. What he had been, was ignorant. Of course - of course a Lady of this Castle who was held in high esteem by the late High Raj, concerned herself with the business of servants. It all fell into place in Iann’s mind now: servants and secrets. “Why would I know anything of the sort. That is gossip, and I don’t think you need to come to me for that sort of illicit gossip,” Iann stated. He stated again, wording it differently yet again. “Ask me what you want to ask me, Lady.”

“I assume you know a great many things, my lord, of whatever may serve you.” Ciara tilted her head, but as she did, the door to the great hall opened, and one of the Rajisthangard stood, staring at her, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “It appears you’ll have to excuse me, your lordship.” Ciara said, with a tone suitable for any nobility interupted by the commonfolk.

“As you wish,” Iann replied, watching her leave, at the cue of a Rajisthangard who’d clearly come to speak to her.

Ssssnek wasss cold. Lossst. Confusssed. It’s bifurcated tongue flickered out over the cold stone of the palace floor, trying to capture a familiar scent, if one existed. It found none.

Scared Lords and Ladies shrieked and scuffled away at the sight of the snake slithering down the corridor.

Ssssnek slithered down the edge of the corridor. It’s tan, slim body was nearly five feet long, and even though it blended well with the stones, it was hard to miss such a creature. It sensed warmth ahead, and the vibrations of… prey? The warmth neared, but it was not prey. The humansss feared ssssnek, so they ran. Ssssnek was glad for thisss. For it had been drained of its venom by the woman, and would need time to replenish it’s stores.

Scared Lords and Ladies trampled and shoved one another to get away from the terrifying creature slithering the halls. “Help! Help!” their calls echoed down the corridor as they rushed and panicked shoving one another out of the way to try and get ahead down the narrow corridor.

Unsupervised NPC child was nearly trampled as the crowd of adults ran by. He thought it a game however, and turned to follow. Until he saw the curious creature moving down the corridor.

Fane heard the commotion coming from one of the corridors and frowned, heading in that direction to investigate the disturbance.

Ssssnek curled up slightly, startled at the shrill cries of the humansss as they ran from it. It nearly struck at them, but they did not come back. After a tense moment, ssssnek loosened itself and moved on.

Scared Lords and Ladies didn’t care if they trampled one another, all they cared was getting away from the snake nor did they care about the little child lost amongst the crowd. Some, thinking to get rid of enemies grabbed tunics and yanked them back to the floor to clamber ahead to survive.

Unsupervised NPC child saw the ssssnek. He smiled. His father had a book that showed drawings of them, and the boy had been fascinated since the first time he sat on his father’s knee and learned their names. But his father had never seen a serpent in his whole life. Not a real one. Perhaps he could capture this one and take it to him.

Fane seeing the rush of people coming out of one of the hallways frowned, gesturing for a couple of the guards who followed at his heel to come with him. He let some of the panicking crowds pass until there were less left in the corridor. Only then did he see the child and the ssssnek. “Lad, why don’t you come here,” he called to the child eyeing the reptile warily.

An open door along the corridor took the sssnek’s attention. It lifted it’s head slightly, flicking it’s tongue into the new space. There was warmth here. Warm stonessss… smell of… othersss. It smelled of furwearers. The serpent slid across the threshold, oblivious to the child that was reaching for it.

Unsupervised NPC child wondered why all the grownups were so frightened. He looked back down the corridor at the chaos, glad they had passed him over to run away. They always thought they knew better. But he knew about serpents. Books made you intelligent, after all. That’s what his father said. so intent was he on his quarry, that he did not see the Inquisitor as he reached for the tail of the serpent, who’s attention was on something or someone in the room (who the child also did not see), and wrapped his hand around it…

Scared Lords and Ladies continued to panic and scream into the rest of the castle their cries and wails echoing in their wake.

Fane seeing the child go to reach for the tail of the snake didn’t hesitate, he launched into a sprint stooping to catch the child under the arms and heft him out of the way before he could be bit.

Unsupervised NPC child made a sound of protest as he was snatched up. The serpent jerked it’s tail briefly as the child’s fingers brushed it’s scales, but otherwise did not turn towards him. “My Lord, I nearly had him!” the boy protested. “He was lovely. Did you see him?? And now he’s gone…” The boy sagged. “My father will be so disappointed…”

Ssssnek could feel the vibrations of the still panicking humans. They were timid creatures usually. And if the serpent had been capable of forethought, it might have realized that news of it’s escape would spread like wildfire.

Fane lifted the child out of the way despite his protests, “I know you did lad,” his words were soft but concerned as he drew him away from the serpent “but that there’s a very dangerous beastie.” He glanced at his guards who were eyeing the serpent warily, “don’t just stand there find a way to contain it, a cage or… box or something.” He carried the child down the corridor, “is your father here in the castle lad?”

But being a serpent, it’s only thoughts were of finding somewhere warm to hide, and perhaps a meal of mice. But it could not eat if it was cold. Though the smell of furbearers was strong. It slipped slowly through the room, among crates and tables and baskets, tongue flicking as it followed the scents it had picked up. Soon it had disappeared altogether, into the walls and the crevices of the keep. It would find it’s back out eventually. Perhaps in the night, when things were quiet.

Unsupervised NPC child pouted as he pointed the Lord Savin in the direction of his father and was carried away, serpentless.

#got au #got scene

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years

Text

More! Part One

Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Eventual Tenya Iida/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello all, it's time for the first chapter of my prime indulgence! To any of my anime-inclined broskis out there, welcome aboard!

In The Shadow

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For gratuitous,canon-typical violence and facial trauma. Stay safe!]

Tenya had been informed time and again that college was slightly different from high school. He endured a few weeks of mental gymnastics when he realized that he wouldn’t have a uniform. College was different and yet...not. Certainly, no uniform to iron the night before and the ability to make your own schedule were boons. Nearly all of his ‘new’ classmates were old friends from high school which meant that he wasn't lacking in company, but many people didn’t seem to share Iida’s enthusiasm for continuing to better oneself even after the preliminary quirk training of high school! He wanted to be the best hero he could be, he wanted to make his family proud!

That was why he made the choice to attend college in the first place, with Tensei's wholehearted support behind him. He knew that any time he wanted it, he could have a job at his family’s hero agency. So why not be the best possible fit for his future job? Tenya was incredibly fortunate to have a secure career, and he took his studies very seriously.

Leona Moore wasn’t a troublemaker, though the way that she dressed had set off warning bells in Tenya’s brain. It was the pants, he decided, the overlarge cargo pants that had too many pockets. She was notoriously early for her classes, sometimes by an hour or so. Tenya admired her dedication, consistently fifteen minutes ahead of schedule himself. She always had a lollipop stick protruding from her mouth, her shoulders hunched slightly underneath the leather jacket she usually wore. She couldn’t seem to decide on whether she wanted to make herself seem larger or smaller, her clothes all slightly too big for her frame and her jokes never failing to make Kirishima snort with laughter at the worst possible times.

Her quirk made her a little touch-shy, Izuku had kindly pointed out to Tenya when Iida was confused over her standoffish behavior during their warm up period before general training. “She’s had to be pretty careful, Iida. She didn’t learn how to use her quirk until halfway through high school. Before that, she didn’t even know she had one!” Iida could only imagine how volatile the situation for that revelation must have been, seeing as she had a quirk that doubled the power of any kinetic force she withstood.

She also had control, seeming to have mastered the ability to turn it off and on at will. Tenya's misguided pity had turned into genuine admiration after watching her perform in their college sports festival. Granted, next to the explosive display of Bakugou versus Ururaka or the emotional minefield of Todoroki and Deku's battle, Leona's bout wouldn't stand out overmuch to the average viewer.

Leona had been paired up against Mineta, who made the fatal mistake of immediately pelting her with his ammunition in an attempt to incapacitate her. The kinetic energy from his rapid-fire slinging seemed to send her into overdrive, the young woman slamming an uppercut to his jaw that landed him in the lower stands. One punch, and the round was over. Iida silently approved of the way she had turned and bowed to the crowd before leaving the field. As a hero, one of many priorities would be to end fights quickly and decisively. Another one was courtesy to bystanders and officials-

...

How strange, he mused, thinking about her at a time like this. His rage continued to boil and yet…

He closed his eyes. Just for a minute. God, it was strange. Would she be proud of him? Proud of his rabid behavior? What about his family? Fear lanced through Tenya's heart, the first he had felt in ages. What if his parents lost him to this ill-advised fight? What if...what if this was the end?

The blade in his shoulder twisted sharply and Tenya bit back a sound of pain. He refused to show any more weakness to this monster, regardless of what he might endure.

“Hey, what the hell are you doin' to my class rep?!”

Tenya's eyes shot open. No. That's-

“You've got the nerve of a bull elephant if you're takin’ on ‘Genium. Who do you think you are?!”

“Run More! Get away from here!” Tenya yelled. “He’s got some kind of paralysis quirk, don't let him get close to you!”

Stain grunted, obviously a little startled by the young woman's abrupt presence. From what Tenya could see out of the corner of his eye, his classmate Leona (hero name More for reasons he had yet to discern) looked red in the face like she’d been running for a while. Her shoulders were still heaving up and down even while she raised her fists.

“You're another trainee. Interesting.” Stain remarked, almost as if he was talking to himself. “So you're also from the college. And you called him the class rep, which means he and you are in the same classes.”

“Mind like a steel trap on ya’.” Leona replied dryly. “Any other obvious insight you want to share, or can I beat the shit out of you now?”

Tenya bit back the reflexive shout of language!, shocked out of his impotent bloodlust by how brazen his classmate was being. It was an admirable strategy. Or at least, it would have been if she actually had backup.

“Another fake hero who needs to be cleansed from the planet.” Stain eased his blade out of Tenya's arm agonizingly slow.

“Thanks, but I'm plenty clean. Took a shower this mornin’ and everything. The name's More, and I'm no fake!” Leona called to Tenya then, her voice sharp with poorly-concealed worry. “How you holdin’ up, Calf Crusher?”

Tenya groaned. Her nicknames never ceased to send the class into fits. “I can't move. I'll be no help at all. He's just going to kill you. Why did you interfere?”

“You've gotta' be shittin’ me right now, Rep. Like I would just stand by and watch you get fucked? What kind of friend would that make me?” She sounded incredulous. If Tenya didn't know any better, she actually sounded a little irritated.

“One that keeps living, that's what kind!” Tenya snapped. We're barely friends! his mind added traitorously.

Leona pounded her fist into her palm and then jerked her hands up in a way oddly reminiscent of how Iida would move when he was excited. “I know who this guy is. More importantly, I know who you are and I figured out what you were up to when you picked Hosu for your internship. It's okay.” She reassured him.

You're going to die. “I'm begging you. Please leave.”

“I'm not gonna’ let you degrade yourself by beggin’ me, bud.” Leona retorted. “Second oldest son, heir to the Ingenium name, badass extraordinaire and all around decent dude, shut the fuck up and let me do what I can to make sure you can keep doing the best that you can!” She all but shouted, leaving Tenya speechless as Stain stepped over his body.

“‘More’, huh? Why, because you're always trying to be the best? Maybe because you want to protect more people. At least, that's what you would say, right?” Stain sneered, brandishing his sword.

“No way man! ‘More’ because the more the merrier when it comes to me!” She shot right back, that teasing grin firmly fixed on her face. “I may not be fast or smart like ‘Genium...hell, I'm not even all that special compared to the other people in my class, but I'm still here!” Tenya's eyes widened as she advanced on Stain, extending a hand. “I look forward to apprehending you, sir!”

“You'll be fun to kill.” Stain lashed out a second too late, Leona barely ducking his blade in time. “Another false hero, proud to wear the title and unwilling to do the damn dirty work that comes with it!”

“I feel like this is pretty dirty work right now.” She pointed out, catching his next strike with her gloved hand and grunting at the impact against the padding of her gloves. “Whew, a little harder next time and you'll take me down for sure!” She encouraged sarcastically, twisting the blade and coming close to ripping it clean out of the villain's grasp. She was so focused on his sword that the knife thrown at her arm caught her by surprise.

Stain’s speed and raw power were devastating. The blade sank deep, so deep, too deep. Tenya's brother in that hospital bed was burned into his mind, I can't feel my legs I can't feel my legs. “More!” Tenya had thought he felt helpless before, but it was now multiplied tenfold. “Damn it, I told you to run!”

“It shouldn't be too tough to keep him here until the pros arrive. I'm in for the long haul, Calf Crusher. Don't worry.” Leona said calmly, her rational words only serving to confuse the engine hero. She was built to take hits and he had never witnessed any particularly mindblowing strategies from her. Maybe he had written her off too soon. Maybe-

Stain rushed her, that deadly sword smeared red with Iida's blood. Moore jerked the knife out of her arm and used it to hastily deflect the worst of the cut from the sword away from her torso, snagging the blade under her arm instead. Stain drew another knife, this one serrated, and slashed at her face with it. One of the teeth on the knife caught the edge of her mouth and split it open nearly to her cheekbone. Leona staggered back, holding her cheek.

Stain turned up the pressure, releasing his sword momentarily in favor of cracking a fierce punch into her wounded face. Blood spattered from the impact, Stain's knuckles that sick red. “That all you got? Gimme’ more!” Moore slurred through her broken mouth, that infuriating grin still-

Oh. Tenya felt like an idiot. She was the endurance hero. She absorbed punishment like it was oxygen, a kinetic battery that could only be charged by violent outbursts. And when she decided to strike back, she doubled the output...but her body had limits, he had seen them in action during training. Midoriya had given her a kick at her request and instead of explosively discharging the extra power, she just passed out.

His heart slammed in his throat. If she pushed herself too hard, Stain wouldn't even have to do anything.

She swung at the hero killer and the doubled power of her blow threw him to slam his back into the alley wall. Stain wheezed for breath, clearly confused by the force behind her hit. “Just who the hell are you?” He panted.

“Beat me an’ maybe you'll learn.” Blood was spilling between her gritted teeth, running in a brilliant trail down her chin to drip off the bottom of her jaw. She was smiling like a fiend.

“I've never met anyone so eager to die.” Stain grimaced, rotating his shoulder and then shaking it out.

Tenya heard a strange crackling noise, almost like electricity. Midoriya rocketed over his head and bounded off the walls of the alleyway, a green missile with fist extended to crash into Stain. “Smash!” He yelled. Green energy, lightning, whatever it was it was blanketing his body. The Hero Killer was flung further back in the alley from the impact. Izuku skidded to a halt beside Moore, shaking his hand and hissing in pain. “Sorry I took so long!” He said brightly, like he hadn't just given the man responsible for killing a multitude of heroes the most thunderous of haymakers. “How you doing?”

“Take care of ‘Genium. He can't move, help him get out of here!” Leona said urgently.

Tenya refused to meet Midoriya's eyes, ashamed at how his own filled with frustrated tears. Midoriya reached for him and then went stiff. Tenya's heart fell into his stomach when he noticed the small tear in Midoriya’s glove and the blood blotting the fabric. Just enough. “Uh...I can't...move either?” Midoriya muttered slowly.

Tenya watched Leona freeze as well, her arms grinding to a halt. “Stain, your fight is with me! Leave them alone!” Tenya yelled, his voice cracking.

Further down the alleyway Stain grinned, giving his knife another lick. “I think I'd rather play with your friends. At least they landed hits on me. Unlike you. How does it feel to know that this is entirely your fault, fake hero?”

An ugly noise of agony fought free of Iida, rasping in his throat like sandpaper. It was true, wasn't it? Tensei worked so hard because Tenya believed in him, looked up to him, and the eldest Iida wanted to make his little brother proud. If Tenya hadn't been such a child, maybe…maybe his big brother wouldn't have tried so hard to rid the world of injustice. Maybe his big brother would still be able to walk. Fake hero.

And his classmates, friends, tangled up in this mess because of him! Midoriya crouched so close and yet so far away, his eyes darting around as he tried to figure out where Stain would come from. Moore, frozen in place with her back to the two of them while she was forced to face down the Hero Killer. “I'm so sorry.” Tenya breathed finally.

“Don't apologize! I should be apologizing. I should have gotten you to talk to me after what happened to your brother.” Midoriya looked tearful. “I should have said something. I just didn't want to pressure you. I'm sorry I'm a bad friend.”

Tenya was at a loss for words, losing his ability to stave off the tears streaming down his face.

Flames suddenly illuminated the whole alley, the gout of fire threatening to cook Tenya in his armor. “Next time you send your location, give a little more info.” It was Todoroki! And he was using his left side! Tenya was aghast. How many acquaintances had his blind rage dragged to this slaughter?

“Easy! I think you singed my hair!” Midoriya fussed at the icy hot hero. “That was all I had time to send!”

Stain hammered a fist into Moore's side, making the endurance hero spit out a mouthful of blood. Her arm wound up for a swing of her own, body sluggishly chugging forward like she was moving through molasses. The fact that she could move at all, though-! Was it because she absorbed the momentum from his hits? Or was Stain’s control weaker the more people it was spread across? Tenya found himself pondering the ins and outs of the man's quirk even as Stain pummeled Moore. She was defenseless, where was the honor in this?! Tenya's fingers twitched, uselessly tapping the cracked blacktop.

Todoroki drove Stain away from Moore with a combination attack, fire and ice arcing through the air as he switched rapidly. Leona slid one foot back, then the other, spitting more blood off to the side and slowly raising her arms in a defensive move. “Icy Hot, you-”

“I know. Keep my distance. Shouldn't be too difficult.” The flames on Todoroki's left side burned even brighter. “I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with my fire yet, but I can't deny its applications here.”

“How many children will throw themselves upon my blade tonight?” Stain cackled incredulously. “Bad enough that your friend in the armor didn't have the brains to run and get help just like his stupid brother, but now the rest of you feed yourselves to me!” He shook his head. “This next generation of heroes gets weaker and weaker. At least I'm lessening the workload on your professors.”

“You be quiet!” Iida shouted, fingers digging into the asphalt. “Ingenium was the model hero, the perfect example of selflessness and respect for others that a villain like you couldn’t possibly understand! I'll never forgive you for hurting my brother!” He screamed, able to move his neck now so he could look up at Stain while he issued his ultimatum. He didn't care how idiotic he must look, barely managing to wiggle his fingers while he yelled his fury at this man, this villain, this monster who had fractured his family.

“You're selfish. Dragging your friends into this fight because of your petty need for revenge. You're the furthest thing from a hero. You're a weakling.” Stain sheathed his sword, drawing two smaller knives instead and lunging at Todoroki and Moore.

“Don’t listen to him!” Midoriya said fiercely, somehow already able to move again! Was Tenya really that weak? Or was Stain’s quirk overpowering him because he had been the first one hit? “He’s just-”

“No. He's completely correct.” Tenya cut him off dully, clenching his hand into a fist. “If I hadn't been so consumed with this...if I had just been stronger, maybe…” Emotion closed his throat.

“Knock it off!” Leona yelled, startling him with the fury in her tone. “You don't need to be a fuckin’ martyr, Iida! What good does it do your brother if you get your ass killed?” Her voice was rough, words hard to understand through the injury she had sustained. “Think about how your parents will feel, and especially think about how your brother will feel! We're here to help, Rep, but you gotta’ take our hand!”

“Ingenium wouldn't give up!” Todoroki continued where she left off. “Be Ingenium! Get up and fight!”

As though a switch had been flipped, feeling surged through Tenya's arms and legs. Pins and needles so harsh it made him wince, and it was nothing compared to the pain in his limp arm, but he was up, he was up-

He staggered to his feet, splaying his stance just to stay vertical.

Stain hacked Midoriya’s leg out from beneath him after barely avoiding another Smash and then rushed Todoroki, nimbly dodging the fire and ice attacks in an attempt to bring that sword down on Todoroki's left arm, he would sever it clean at his shoulder-

Tenya felt like everything shifted to quarter-speed. Leona's fingers grasped desperately at Todoroki's shirt to try and pull him out of the way in time. She was still too slow, still sapped by the hero killer's quirk. Shoto's eyes went wide in realization, the young man attempting to recoil backwards away from the blade. Midoriya was yelling something, Todoroki's name no doubt, tears shining in his eyes.

Tenya's breathing echoed in his ears. In, out, in--

The engines in his calves came roaring to life in a glorious rush of Reciproburst! and without a thought for his own safety, Tenya was there between Todoroki and that sword. His armored knee shattered the blade before he whipped his whole body around via bicycle kick and re-aimed his leg at Stain's side. The hit made landfall accompanied by a shower of blue sparks from the heat of his engines, essentially drop-kicking the villain out of midair.

Stain was flung head over heels. Iida stumbled as his right leg gave out, clumsily dropping to one knee. His engines sputtered to a halt, shudders of pain from his calves flickering over the all-encompassing agony in his wounded arm. Fleetingly he wondered if he had ruptured something in his frenzy.

“Iid-Ingenium!” Todoroki shoved the larger man behind him and issued another burst of flame, barely warding off the rallying villain in time. “He’s fighting like a rabid animal. Be careful!”

“Give me a good kick, ‘Genium!” Leona suggested eagerly. “I'll get his ass back down to ground level so you and the others can wreck him!”

“My Reciproburst shot my engines and I don’t think a regular punch would offer you sufficient damage, I've overheated and I need more…time...” Iida paused, his eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to him. “Todoroki! Can you freeze my legs without plugging my exhausts?”

Todoroki opened his mouth to reply and Stain roared in outrage, bolting through Todoroki's flames in the distraction for another attack on the icy hot hero. Tenya and Moore moved at the same time, Tenya extending his good arm in front of Todoroki’s chest to offer him the protection of his armor while Leona rushed forward to fight Stain one on one. “You're in the way!” Stain snarled at them, leaping backwards up the icy pillars Todoroki had created.

A folding knife found its mark in Tenya's upper arm after penetrating his armor and he gritted his teeth in pain, doing his best to hold fast. “Todoroki please-!” A larger serrated knife followed the first, slamming into Tenya's forearm so hard he was forced prone. The wind was knocked out of him by his abrupt change in posture and Tenya choked for breath, still bewildered by the Hero Killer's power and tenacity.

“Iida!” Todoroki actually stopped his elemental attacks on Stain in favor of reeling back his fire-wreathed fist and whacking a heated punch into Moore's shoulder (to Tenya's dismay). Leona laughed (also to Tenya's dismay), easily accepting the blow while the air began to reek of smoldering cloth and lycra. Todoroki quickly slapped his other hand down on the burning area of her vest, extinguishing the heat before it could get out of hand.

“Just freeze my legs!” Iida yelled, startled by the fierce cry Moore let out before she lunged upwards at the retreating Stain.

A distraction, a distraction, he realized suddenly, take the punishment and double it to give us time. Please Leona!

Midoriya was back up again, limping badly. Cold ripped at the armor covering Tenya's calves, the frigid temperature almost too much to bear. This was an incredible risk he was taking, pushing on past the natural boundaries that his quirk and familial training had instilled. He hadn’t had enough time to recover naturally from his last Reciproburst. If something gave out under the strain, he would be incapable of defending himself.

It didn't matter. Tenya felt his engines choke, sputter, and then rev wildly. His left arm was useless at this point. He used his teeth to pull out the knife in his right, retching at the sour taste of old blood on the handle. Both arms were effectively unusable.

It didn't matter. He would use his legs. As long as Leona could land a hit that would get Stain off-balance enough for himself (and possibly Midoriya, but it might be presumptuous to rely on him) to capitalize on, that was all that he could ask for.

Iida stood, bending his legs at the knees as he prepared to leave the ground. Leona wisely aimed at the building directly beneath where Stain had jabbed the remaining stub of his sword in to perch, the doubled power from Todoroki's hit easily crushing the cement to instability. Thank God the buildings were long abandoned. Stain at least picked fights far away from where people would frequent, isolating his victims. A solitary, fiendish predator.

Iida crouched as low as he could, his exhausts glowing bright blue with the horsepower he was putting out. A new word came to mind.

“Recipro-” The engines in his calves stalled and keened, out of sync with one another as the ice dissolved into rivulets of moisture on the heated surface of his armor. “-extend!” He left the ground behind, a cloud of dust billowing in his wake.

If I just…

Tenya rocketed towards Stain, his eyes locked on the villain.

...use my leg…

He was vaguely aware of Midoriya out of the corner of his blurred vision, a brilliant streak of verdant green that seemed to hang in midair perpendicular to his path of upward motion.

...that's all I need…

His knee threatened to hyperextend even with his armor to brace him. Iida squinted fiercely and gritted his teeth.

...to beat this guy!

Midoriya’s fist planted in Stain's jaw the same time Iida's foot crashed into the villain's unprotected side. The impact rang in Tenya's ears, metal on cloth on skin on metal, high reverberations that sent shivers down his back.

Even after that tandem strike, the conniving villain still managed to swipe wildly at Tenya with one of his many knives. Tenya barely moved his head in time, feeling the blade just catch on the top of his dark locks. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the fact that the three of them were now rapidly returning to the ground. Izuku started scrabbling at the wall, trying to grab a handhold.

“I will defeat you Stain!” Iida shouted passionately. “Because you are a criminal, and I am a hero!” His second kick didn't miss the free-falling villain either, cracking into Stain’s side so hard Tenya could feel the older man’s ribs collapse as they plummeted towards Todoroki and Leona in the alley far, far below.

Arms locked around Tenya's hips and Leona pushed off the wall in an abrupt redirection, moving Tenya so Todoroki could have a clear shot at the villain. How had she jumped so high, so fast?! She skidded to a stop on a pillar of ice that Shoto had made, still holding tight to Tenya’s waist. Iida shifted his weight as low as he could, trying to help so they wouldn’t go over the edge. His legs felt like gelatin, like they would fold underneath him, and he was immensely grateful for her strong hold on his armor.

Shoto's mastery of ice was intimidating enough up close and personal, but his barely-controlled flames were a sight to see. Tenya supposed it probably had to do with man's deep-seated primal terror involving fire, if he had to chalk it up to something. A massive fireball engulfed Stain, missing Midoriya by the barest of inches.

“Deku!” Leona yelled, sighing in relief when the young hero gave her a thumbs up and a wavering smile from his own slippery perch.

“Get up and keep fighting, you three! I doubt that was enough to…” Todoroki trailed off, his eyes widening in confusion. Stain had crash landed on yet another of his icy plateaus, the villain’s eyes rolled back in his skull. He looked like he had been knocked unconscious.

Is he dead?

Tenya hated the sick, joyous thrill that sang up his spine at the thought. He had been so selfish, so blinded in his fury that he believed his actions righteous. It was terrifying that he could so coldly rationalize the taking of another human being’s life, even one so horrible as the Hero Killer! He would never forgive himself if his own mistakes had urged Todoroki forward into doing the unthinkable.

Moore went limp against Tenya’s back, her relief palpable. “Icy Hot, I think we’re all going to need an assist at this point.” She slurred. “I’ve lost...a lot of blood. Head wounds, you know the drill.”

“Your mouth! Moore, are you-”

“I think he knocked out one of my teeth?” She mumbled over Tenya’s frantic question, moving to sit beside him and then carelessly dragging the flap of skin from the split side of her mouth aside (presumably so she could count her own teeth). Tenya fought a wave of nausea at her rough actions, thankful that at least the destroyed side of her face was outside his limited field of vision. His own pain and injuries he could take in stride, but someone else’s because of him was…

He didn’t care for the sensation at all.

Todoroki eased them to the ground through careful manipulation of his quirk, until finally the three heroes and one villain were safely down. Stain had indeed been knocked unconscious, but whether by the punch, kicks or outright fireball was anyone’s guess. Shoto wasted little time securing the villain with some clothesline he found in a dumpster, practically mummifying the older man with the half-frayed rope.

“We need to get him to the street. The pros and the police should be able to handle it from here.” Todoroki said calmly.

“I can drag him!” Tenya offered immediately, taken aback when Todoroki shot him an incredulous look.

“Have you forgotten about your arms, Iida? What will you drag him with?” Shoto deadpanned. Tenya deflated a little. He had almost forgotten the beating he had taken, if he was being honest. Adrenaline.

Moore’s snicker was a half-hearted gurgle at best, the endurance hero scooping Midoriya up onto her back and starting the slow limp to the street. “C’mon Calf Crusher, let’s get you home. I’m sure your pros are really worried about you guys.”

Iida trailed silently after his classmates (friends, he reminded himself), flushed with shame. Moore hung back for a second, letting him come up alongside her and Midoriya.

“Hey, you know that this isn’t your fault, right?” She murmured as best as she could. “I would have done the same thing no matter who the hero killer was going after.”

“I wish I had said something at the train station that day.” Midoriya whimpered. “I could tell that you were hurting, Iida, but I just...I didn’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

Iida shook his head dejectedly. “Don’t apologize to me, Midoriya. It’s not your responsibility to look out for my emotional wellbeing. I ought to have better control over my-”

“As your friends, it’s absolutely our responsibility! We need to pay attention to each other in this line of work, Iida!” Midoriya actually interrupted him. “You never know...you never know what could be the thing that pushes someone over their edge! You’ve always been there for the whole class since high school and the one time you needed us, we weren’t there for you!” Izuku was always so passionate about hero work, throwing himself headfirst towards any new challenge they faced. It should be no surprise to Iida that he would have a speech prepared for this situation.

So why were tears blurring his vision further? Tenya tried to no avail to wipe them away with his limp arm, ending up smearing blood across his cheek instead. Moore clicked her tongue at him (an impressive feat in and of itself due to the wounding of her oral cavity), pausing in her forward motion to dig in her pocket and tug out a red bandanna. “Never know when you’ll need a field dressing.” She shrugged, using the cloth to clumsily mop at Iida’s face. “There. That’s better. Look a little less damp.”

“I’m relatively certain that I’m the furthest thing from ‘less damp’ right now. But…” Tenya hesitated, unsure if this was overstepping a classmate or coworker boundary. “Thank you for your, er, concern. I will...do my best to rectify this grave error in judgement.” His bow was, as ever, perfect. “I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“You don’t need to, Tenya.” Moore using his first name snapped Iida’s eyes up, the large man startled. She gave him a thumbs up and a grin that was a wince, her facial expression a little more kindly than he was used to seeing on her despite the gruesome flap of skin that hung from her cheek. “Let’s go, dude.”

“Will you pull yourself together? You’re the class rep. You're practically our mascot.” Todoroki complained, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Gratitude closed Tenya’s throat and he nodded hurriedly, trying to blink back the fresh wave of tears.

#original the character #I meant to post this on the first...#Iida Tenya #Izuku Midorya #Todoroki Shoto #My Hero Academia #College!AU #alternate universe #Hero Killer Stain #Hero Killer Arc #My indulgence is legendary and my cares are none #The kids are in college and havin' a good time #original character #(definitely original)

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zicosmullet · 6 years

Text

Fall Dates with Monsta X (Part 1/3)

- Part 1 out of 3 of my “Fall Dates with Monsta X” imagines.

- Members: Shownu, Wonho

- Notes: FINALLY posting something new. ;u; I wanted to write something soft to get me in the mood for fall. And starting off this series with my biases ahhhhhhhh. Mayhaps I also just dropped all my money on preordering all 4 versions of their new album, so I’m really in my MX feels lately. They truly own my heart and my wallet. :’)

Shownu

The two of you take a walk through the park or neighborhood to look at all the newly colored leaves together, breathing in the brisk air.

He holds your hand the entire time as you stroll along in a comfortable silence.

Whenever a gust of wind blows by, he squeezes your hand a little tighter. Partially to keep you warm and partially to keep you from being blown back a bit.

If you’re walking near a road, he’ll walk on the side closer to it as a small gesture of protecting you.

You hum a little tune to yourself as you find yourself slightly straying from the sidewalk/path a bit so you can kick and crunch your way through small gatherings of leaves that have piled up.

He curiously watches you with a warm smile, also feeling the sudden urge to kick at a few piles of leaves along the way himself, causing his smile to widen even more.

He tells you that you make him feel young and you blush a bit at the sudden sappy confession, but you still respond with how he’s not even that old, which just makes him chuckle.

Everything comes to a halt when he notices your shoe is untied and stops so he can crouch down and tie it for you. Now it’s your turn to feel young.

You smile wide and kiss the top of his head as thanks, loving how it makes his concentrated expression soften. He always takes such good care of you.

When he stands back up, he kisses the top of your head in return.

Despite the crisp, chilly fall air, you feel so warm inside and full of love.

As you walk on and it gets later, he’ll ask a few times if you want to wear his coat. Even though you’re already wearing one, he wants to give you an extra layer if you need it..

But you decline and just cling to his arm for warmth instead.

He doesn’t mention it, but he kinda likes this better. He’s happy as long as you’re warm, but he really loves it when you cling to him.

You like to point out cool things to him that you notice while walking. Whether it be a dog, a pretty pattern of leaves, a twisted tree trunk, or some spooky Halloween decorations, you find yourself excitedly saying “Look!!” while pointing.

He thinks it's incredibly cute that you get excited by such simple things that others might not always see.

And you also think it's incredibly cute when he makes an effort to point out things to you too.

If a puddle blocks your path while you’re walking, he will always ask if you want him to lift you over it.

Sometimes you’ll say yes, but other times you’ll challenge yourself to see if you can jump over it.

Once before he had the chance to say anything, you jokingly asked if he wanted you to lift him over it, and he really got a kick out of that.

When you make it back home, Shownu absolutely wants to cuddle. Fall walks are invigorating but also a little tiring from being out in the cold so long.

He prepares warm beverages for you two while you prepare snacks.

You both bring them into the living room so you can comfortably tangle yourselves together on the couch under the biggest and softest blanket that you own while watching a movie or a show.

Not that it matters what you watch, because both of you will most definitely end up falling asleep in each others arms while watching.

Wonho

One day while you two are out shopping, you pass a bakery with a huge display of pies in the window for fall.

They look really delicious and both of you comment how you absolutely need to have pie sometime before fall ends.

So that's when you get the idea to surprise him with a homemade pie. You might not be the best cook, but you know that baking a pie with your own love will be super meaningful to him no matter how rough it turns out.

So on a day that Wonho won’t be home, and one he thinks you won’t be home as well, you go out to the grocery store and buy all the supplies you need.

You didn’t even want to risk spoiling the surprise by having the ingredients around the kitchen so you waited until the very last second to buy everything.

The grocery store is pretty busy so it takes a little longer than anticipated, but you FINALLY manage to make it out with all the items on your list.

Once you make it back home, you’re so giddy about your whole plan that you nearly spill the groceries everywhere; luckily you manage to save them at the last second.

However, you nearly drop them a second time once you start to hear noises coming from the kitchen.

Wonho had left before you so it shouldn’t be him?? What if it was a burglar?? Or a rabid animal that somehow found its way inside??

Arming yourself with an apple from your grocery bag, preparing to launch it in defense, you tiptoe your way towards the kitchen.

And SURPRISE, it actually is Wonho after all. But you panic a little because why is he home when he told you that he wouldn’t be?? Is he okay?? Why would he lie to you??

Surely the panic is showing on your face because when Wonho looks up from whatever he’s doing and immediately catches your eye as he registers your presence, his face goes beat red.

He looks half shocked and half guilty for some reason. You’re not really sure how to interpret the situation until it suddenly hits you. Your mouth begins to curl into a bit of a smirk as you scan the kitchen, noticing the ingredients, trays, and cookbook all laid out.

You begin to lower the apple back into the grocery bag and as you do, his expression shifts as he too interprets the situation.

Before you know it, the two of you are a smiling, giggling mess. And he’s showering you in little kisses despite the fact that he’s already somehow all covered in flour. And you’re trying your best not to have him crush the groceries that you’re holding. But your heart is just so full, you wouldn’t dare to try and pull away.

He’s so warm and already enveloped in the smell of cinnamon, you could almost stay like this, drowning in his affection.

BUT there's a pie to be made here, so once you’re both done gushing about how you’re completely and utterly in love with each other and how you can’t believe that you’d both had the same exact idea on the same exact day, you get right to work.

He’s already set out most of the ingredients and supplies, but now you’re here to give him a bit of a guiding hand, which really boosts his confidence.

Although neither of you are master chefs, you still have so much fun trying to figure out the recipe together.

One of the highlights of this experience is definitely getting to watch him roll up his sleeves before kneading the dough with the rolling pin.

Much back hugging also ensues. It slows down your process a little bit, but he can’t help it. When he sees you leaning over the counter so focused on something yet still smiling through the task, he can’t resist the urge to pull himself close to you.

And you’re equally as bad. Seeing Wonho’s back as he slices apples or uses the rolling pin is almost too much for you to handle sometimes. You absolutely have to take this opportunity to rest your head against it and wrap your arms around his waist.

Even with all the distractions, the two of you manage to successfully bake a pie. It's not the best, but it's not too shabby either. And no matter what it looks like, it still tastes pretty good.

The hardest part was waiting for what felt like an eternity for it to cool.

But once it's ready to serve he absolutely insists on you having the first bite and absolutely insists on him feeding it to you.

And you’re absolutely fine with this as long as you get to feed him a bite next.

#Monsta X #Monsta X Imagines #Monsta X Scenarios #Wonho x Reader #Shownu x Reader #Wonho Scenarios #Shownu Scenarios #Monsta X x Reader #Scenarios #scenario #KPop Scenarios #KPop #KPop x Reader #Fall #MX #Wonho #Shownu

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warofshadowstheorder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 18

Goldman led Bledsoe, with Hunter standing next to her, back into the welcoming open air of the Monastery grounds. As they walked, Bledsoe remembered something she wanted to ask the Shepherd.

“Shepherd Goldman,” she said respectfully, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Goldman answered.

“When exactly did you leave Chicago; doctor?”

“How did you know I’m from Chicago?” Goldman asked surprised.

“I’ve been in the Midwest enough to recognize that accent,” Bledsoe answered bluntly.

“And that I was a doctor?” Goldman asked.

“The way you described the cut people make before they get possessed kind of gave it away,” Bledsoe answered.

“I told you she was sharp,” Hunter commented proudly.

“Fair enough,” Goldman said, “I’ve been here for about ten years. I left Chicago after some Hell beast took my hand.”

Bledsoe winced involuntarily at Goldman’s statement. She’d wondered about his hand after seeing his hook at the table, but didn’t dare to ask him about it. Remembering the Parasites, she didn’t want to imagine what some kind of creature that a man of Shepherd Goldman’s experience and stature would only refer to as a beast was like.

“Not long after that thing attacked me,” Goldman continued, “some Knights who were in pursuit found me. One of them went ahead and killed the beast while the other one stayed behind and stabilized me. The one who patched me up told me to get to the nearest emergency room and make something up. Then he went after his partner.”

“I told the doctors at the hospital that I was attacked by a rabid dog, and they bought it. Of course after I lost my hand my career as a vascular surgeon was over. I took it really hard and started drinking a lot. But then, Shepherd Nolan, my predecessor, came to me and offered me a post here. I gratefully accepted, and moved here with my wife Rachel and our kids shortly after. The leaders here instructed me in everything I needed to know to become a Shepherd. Immediately after that, I was teaching field first aid to Knights in training. After Shepherd Nolan died, I was named Shepherd for the United States.”

“Have you ever been back?” Bledsoe asked.

“Of course,” Goldman answered, “my explanation to my extended family and friends was that I volunteered to teach medicine in rural third-world schools. So, to maintain my cover it’s important that I occasionally go home and tell people about what I’ve been doing.”

“And they don’t get suspicious?” Bledsoe asked.

“I interact with enough people from all over the world over here that I have no problem convincing them that I’ve traveled the world.” Goldman answered.

“You and your family don’t mind living here most of the time?” Bledsoe asked again as Goldman led her to a specific building and then up a staircase.

“My kids were less than thrilled at first,” Goldman answered honestly, “but they eventually realized that they have an opportunity for a first-rate education here and that everything they need is readily available. And, through the cauldrons we’ve been able to go on some awesome vacations.”

“Fair enough,” Bledsoe said content with the answers she’d received to her questions.

The stairs ended in a room with several large circular wooden tubs filled with water. Chloe was standing next to one of the tubs and gave a smile when Goldman and the Bledsoes entered. Bledsoe noticed a few men getting out of one of the other tubs. She blushed slightly when she saw that they weren’t wearing anything, but she also couldn’t help noticing some of the strange marks resembling tattoos on their bodies.

“Thank you gentlemen,” Chloe said to the men who were wrapping towels around themselves and heading out.

“No problem Gifted Murphy,” one of them said with a South African accent accompanied by a smile and wave, “thanks for preparing our bath.”

“Anytime,” Chloe answered, “I thought you’d be more comfortable bathing alone,” she said turning to face Bledsoe.

“Gifted Murphy,” Goldman said, “will see to your needs. And Gifted Murphy,” he faced Chloe, “the Apostle would like to see her after her bath.”

“Fine then,” Chloe said, “I’ll find you after I take her there and water Olcán’s Geraniums.”

“I should be getting back,” Hunter said, “I need to relieve Troy at the camp.” He turned to look Bledsoe directly in her eyes. “You don’t know how hard I prayed for you when I was first told what happened,” Bledsoe was surprised and visibly taken aback by his statement, “and I hope I never have to repeat that.”

“Since when have you ever been a praying man?” Bledsoe asked surprised.

“Since not long after your beautiful sister-in-law bewitched and seduced me in that bar,” Hunter answered, “now that you know about this place we’ll have to talk about a few things in more details the next chance we get.”

“That’s for sure,” Bledsoe said looking at her brother with fond admiration.

Hunter pulled his little sister to him in a strong embrace, which was promptly reciprocated. They held each other for several moments before Bledsoe relaxed her grip, prompting Hunter to do the same.

“You take care of yourself Lexi,” Hunter said with a strong voice, “and keep in touch.” Bledsoe could only nod in response and accept Hunter’s kiss on her cheek before he gave a smile and excused himself.

Shepherd Goldman gave a respectful nod and exited the room with Hunter. Chloe then smiled and turned to face Bledsoe.

“Go on and set the robe and gown down here,” she gestured to the ground by the tub, “and climb in. The water should be fine.”

Bledsoe felt apprehensive about undressing in front of this woman who was still pretty much a stranger to her. But she remembered all that had happened since she’d been in the Monastery and knew she had nothing to fear or worry about. She removed the robe and gown she was wearing and slowly, almost cautiously, climbed into the tub.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the water very warm and inviting. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she climbed into the relaxing water and let the pleasant sensations she was feeling take over. She let out a deep breath of relief and couldn’t help but close her eyes and almost drift to sleep.

“Is the water to your liking,” Chloe asked, “because I can make it warmer or colder if you like.”

Bledsoe nodded. Chloe placed a finger into the water and, to Bledsoe’s surprise and astonishment, a warm and comforting feeling began coursing through her entire body. She could feel any discomfort related to her ordeal, physical or emotional, dissolve away, and was left feeling more calm, assured, and peaceful than she could ever remember.

“How did you do that?” she asked with what breath she could muster.

“It’s another one of our gifts,” Chloe answered, “didn’t Shepherd Goldman tell you about us?” Bledsoe could only manage to shake her head in response.

“Oh,” Chloe said fondly, “he probably figured I’d be better to tell you about the Gifted Ones.”

Bledsoe turned so that she was facing Chloe and listened intently. The scholar in her newly awakened, the more she learned about the Order the more she wanted to know.

“Did he at least tell you about the Order going into hiding during the Inquisition?” Bledsoe nodded.

“Well,” Chloe continued, “after the Order started up again, it was revealed by God to its leaders that there were more ways prepared to further the cause. One of these was women who had been given special gifts to help the Order. They call us Gifted Ones.”

“And what exactly do you do?” Bledsoe asked intensely interested.

“The main things we do,” Chloe answered, “our main gifts, are that we can heal people. It’s a lot like magic, only it’s a gift given to us by God. We also use the cauldrons you saw to transport Knights to their assignments and allow members of the Order to communicate without fear of being discovered. Most of us live and work here, but there are a few Gifted Ones that live on the outside so that Knights can go to them in case of an emergency.”

“And the water,” Bledsoe asked, “how do you do that?”

“It’s another one of our gifts,” Chloe answered simply with a smile, “Watchers or Knights will often find us, or we’ll be born in the Monastery. Then other Gifted Ones will teach us to use our gifts. We, you could say, enchant the water to heal and restore those who bathe in it to their full strength. We can also give a very good massage through an ability we have of providing comfort through our touch.”

Bledsoe thought all of what she had heard was fascinating, and the calm feeling she felt after Chloe saw to her in the room of recovery had been explained. Bledsoe was finding herself more fascinated with what she was learning, she was trying to convince herself that it was real and not some kind of fascinating dream. She settled back into the tub, immersed herself in the water for a few moments, then came up and surrendered completely to the incredibly comfortable and soothing healing waters before falling asleep.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

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pomrania · 7 years

Text

Unspoken

((part of the Little by Little AU, and sort-of sequel to The Plush Tooka; it’s the same character))

She saw him around a few times. It was unavoidable, really; the base was only so large, so unless someone was particularly reclusive, they would probably be encountered once in a while. He hadn't seemed interested in talking with her again, so she let him be.

She heard about him, of course. There wasn't much else interesting going on at any given time, and especially when the person in question was one of the Jedi, it was going to be talked about. It didn't feel right, but she understood why it happened.

She tried not to watch him too intently, looking for any signs. He was more than what had happened to or was happening with his body. They all were.

She knew what it felt like, at least somewhat. She should be better than the other people. She didn't want to be part of the problem, or make the problem feel even worse than it already was.

She hadn't been searching for him. She found him anyways; slouched against a stack of crates, head down, scuffing the dirt with his foot. He wasn't precisely hiding, but he was definitely in an out-of-the-way location. He wasn't looking in her direction.

She didn't have anything she needed to do at the moment. She coughed slightly; loud enough to be noticed, but not something that would sound too obvious. Hopefully.

He looked up, and recognition flickered across his face. His vision was still good enough for that, apparently. He flashed a weak grin. "I guess you know what it was now."

She briefly smiled in response. It was equally empty of any real joy. "Honestly," she started, "I was more surprised that your name's Ezra. It's not that... I mean, I'd been certain it was 'Ettar', so anything other than that would have been a surprise, but I didn't know what you had with.... Whatever it turned out to be, I hadn't had any strong ideas on it, so I wasn't expecting it but it wasn't a surprise, and...." That was not how she had wanted to say anything.

She glanced over to check his reactions. He seemed more confused than offended, so it wasn't an immediate failure. She could still make something out of the situation.

She took a deep breath. "That's not important," she said. "Sorry. There were some things I wanted to say, if I ever -- talked with you again."

He reacted to that, it was obvious. The lines of his body tensed up, and he seemed more closed-off, although she wouldn't be able to describe how.

"You've probably had people tell you all sorts of things, that they're so sorry or they can't imagine what it must feel like, or that it could always be worse, or you'll feel better eventually, or any bits of advice that do absolutely nothing."

He nodded, automatically, almost involuntarily. "Kanan also said...." He cut himself off. "So, you too. What was... no, it doesn't matter."

That was a relief. She would talk about what had happened with her, if he asked and she needed to, but she really would rather not. Those memories would always be painful; even though they no longer bled on contact, they were still incredibly sensitive. And besides, the only similarities in their circumstances were that they hurt, and their bodies had betrayed them.

"This is something I wish I'd heard, earlier." She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "When there's something bad like this, it's only human to get mad at the galaxy for it. It isn't right. It's not fair, it shouldn't have happened. It's okay to feel angry, and it's completely natural to get mad at the people who only make it worse. Doesn't matter if they weren't trying to, it still hurts. It's okay to want to grind someone's face into the dirt when they say something they really should have known was a bad idea, if they took half a second to actually think. They're just so stupid at times, and sometimes dwelling on that fantasy was the only thing that kept me going through a shift without actually attacking anyone. Your anger isn't wrong, it's a part of you, and don't let anyone make you feel guilty about it."

"It's not...." He shook his head. "It's a Jedi thing. You wouldn't understand."

She felt a flash of her own anger at those words -- she wasn't stupid, how could he say that she wouldn't understand -- but pushed it back. She didn't know "Jedi stuff", and he could have picked a better way to say it, but he almost certainly wasn't in the best mental place. And going by the way his expression had shifted, there were other unpleasant things involved. Life didn't give you a break just because of problems in one area, after all.

She'd controlled herself in the face of far worse things than somebody saying something dumb while in pain. He at least didn't mean anything by it, and simply had wanted to drop the subject.

She could do that. She had more to say than just that subject, after all.

"This may be one of the most awkward questions, but... how do you want people to treat you?"

"Normally," he breathed, like the word slipped out of him as natural as his exhale, and the remembered sensation almost broke her heart.

"I'm so sorry," she said, "but there is no such thing any more. Even if they don't know, and they act exactly the same with you as they did before, you're not the same as you were, and you'll carry that with you." That emptiness that was yet so heavy....

"But I am the same!" he retorted, and she didn't know who he was trying to convince. "Nothing's changed with me. The only difference is that people know about it now. I never should have...."

She was losing him. If she wasn't careful, he'd reject everything she said, thinking of her as just another person who thought they knew what was best.

"So, uh... how about that med droid? Still the worst bedside manner in this part of the galaxy?"

His face twisted in remembered disgust, or maybe annoyance. "'It's so fascinating'," he mimicked. "A rabid loth-cat could probably program something nicer than Noisi!"

"Oh, you call them 'Noisi'? I've been using 'En-zero-one', but yours is shorter. Have you been bugged about getting an, uh...."

She sighed. "Where I come from, before all this," and she waved a hand, "whenever we needed a safe and easy conversation topic, we'd just ask about the local sports team, or if we were really desperate, the weather. Can't do that here though, there's nothing much except the dokmaaagh!"

As she had shifted her weight, her foot came down on a hard round surface that hadn't been there before. "Sorry!" she immediately said. "Dokma. They've been getting everywhere, and I'd swear they were specifically trying to trip people up."

He grinned at that, but it abruptly faded, like he had been reminded of something. "Yeah," he quietly said. "They have been."

There had been something about that with him, a bad experience -- probably recently -- related to "tripping over dokma". And then she realized, and felt sick to her stomach. It was hard enough to avoid the creatures when she could see perfectly. He had almost definitely stepped on one that he hadn't been able to see.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's okay."

They both knew that it wasn't okay, but also that nothing could really be done about that, and asking would just make it worse.

She pretended nothing had ever happened. It was what she would have wanted.

He was getting uncomfortable, and she didn't want to lecture him. "L-listen, if you never want me to talk to you again, just say so, and I'll leave you alone for as long as we're both alive. Unless we're assigned to work together for something," she added, "that would be awkward."

"No, it's... okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Well then."

She looked off into the distance, in the pointless hope that a solution to everything would present itself on the horizon. The sky looked the same as it always did. The sky didn't care about them.

"I've said pretty much everything I wanted to say here," she said. "If you ever want to talk about stuff, or talk about anything but stuff, I'm here. And I still have some pretty extensive repair work to do, so I'll be guaranteed around for a while."

"I'll be around too," he muttered. It wasn't intended for her to hear, so she acted like she hadn't.

"You can tell me what a loth-cat is, and I can tell you about sports on my homeworld."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She hadn't expected anything more than that. She wouldn't have done anything more than that. Still, hopefully even the offer would do some good.

"And if anyone's giving you problems...."

"What, are you going to offer to fight them too? I can take care of myself, you know," he bitterly said.

She blinked. "Well, I was going to say that you can rant and yell about it to me, but if you choose to fight them, I'll cover for you."

That got something that was almost a smile. A real smile.

"Well then," she said. "It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah. Bye."

As she turned to leave, he acted like she was already gone. But that was okay. She had done what she needed to; everything else was up to him now.

#fandom: star wars #star wars rebels #original content #not a reblog #writing #little by little #ezra bridger

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