#needed to get that wail of despair out of my system really
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Some notes on recent polling developments (long, fairly depressing)...
The YouGov MRP figures came out last night. This is notable because in 2017, the multilevel-regression approach was the sole one that spotted the possibility of a hung parliament. We all ridiculed it at the time - I'll confess that I side-eyed it too. And then - well, we all know what happened to Theresa May, don't we?
So, the MRP thing deserves to be taken seriously. And unfortunately, this year, it's looking grim for us. Briefly, the MRP is forecasting a Tory majority. They're also predicting that all opposition parties (bar the SNP, who only stand in Scotland) will lose seats. Labour in particular look in the danger-zone for a collapse, and contrary to their bullish predictions, the Liberal Democrats are also forecast to lose seats. (Note that this is with respect to their current strength - technically, the MRP result gives them a gain of 2 seats on where they were on the 9th of June. They currently have 19, due to defections from various other parties.)
I'll admit that I don't want to believe the MRP results, but this has never been a data-denialist blog, and I don't intend to start on that road today.
One caveat is that the reporting on the MRP results has ben remarkably-bad. The actual YouGov page is here: https://yougov.co.uk/topics/politics/articles-reports/2019/11/27/yougov-mrp-conservatives-359-labour-211-snp-43-ld-
Buried a long way down the page, they say this: "Taking into account the margins of error, our model puts the number of Conservative seats at between 328 and 385, meaning that while we can be confident that the Conservatives would currently get a majority, it could range from a modest one to a landslide."
As far as I can tell, the "majority of 68" figure is derived by treating 317 as a working majority and assuming that the Tory vote lands right at the upper end of their confidence-interval. This is poor statistical practice for a variety of reasons. It's also a bit questionable in terms of parliamentary arithmetic - the "working majority" thing depends on how many Sinn Fein MPs Northern Ireland elects (they don't take their seats, so count toward neither Government nor Opposition tallies). And we won't necessarily know how many that is until, well, December the 13th.
(Also, a further health-warning is that apparently the model isn't able to fully-represent some local phenomena, such as independent candidates, and the effect of the Brexit Party's partial stand-down is also apparently somewhat-unclear. The last caveat is that the analysis assumes data that has already been collected - that is, if public opinion changes between now and polling day, then obviously existing projections could become obsolete. This will still be a possible source of error even if the MRP sample is statistically-unbiased and the underlying theory/analysis is all sound.)
However, even the best-case scenario for us gives the Tories 328 seats, which is both a working and a (very small) absolute majority.
Obviously, this is not a good situation for us.
While not quite a landslide, nonetheless an inflated Tory majority will be devastating for this country. The stuff they'll do will be awful. Brexit will happen. There'll be a bus crash late next year, when the transition period ends. (No, they will have no plan for this - they won't feel they need one, as they'll be secure in power until 2024.) There'll be a Windrush for resident EU citizens. They'll trash the economy. They'll probably crash the NHS - the only question there is whether they do it through accidental negligence or through deliberate malice (say, an ideologically-driven trade "deal" that gives President Trump everything he wants on a silver platter). Nothing will be done about the country’s escalating housing crisis. They'll double down on all the maddest of the madcap "law-n-order" stuff - expect an explosion in jailable offences, accompanied by lengthy minimum-sentence tariffs and further restrictions on legal aid. They'll also resuscitate their plans to manipulate the parliamentary boundaries, and change electoral laws in their favour. The media? Expect no surprises from them. The newspapers are largely already Conservative Pravdas. The BBC - nervous about its precious Royal Charter - seems to be in the process of declaring itself for the Tories too.
Bluntly, if the Tories get re-elected this year, they'll gerrymander things so you have little chance of getting rid of them in 2024.
Perhaps this is the key thing to understand about Boris Johnson: really, he's less Britain's Trump, and more Britain's Victor Orban. He'll leave just enough vestigial democracy intact to make what he's doing plausibly-deniable, but he'll busily rearrange the furniture to favour himself and his friends. If he gets re-elected this December, you can expect to be seeing his face into the 2030s. The only reason I put the cut-off as early as that is that I expect the coming climate-crisis will wreak havoc with the Tories' internal coalition. (Oh you've built all your luxury millionaire mansions by the seaside? How nice for you, especially now that the sea is literally in your parlour. Umm, whoops.)
What can be done? Well, the first thing is to reiterate some discussions I've seen on Twitter recently. The TL;DR of them is that hope doesn't have to be something you feel - it can be something you do. (And that's just as well, because I'll admit that 2019 has destroyed what traces of social optimism I was clinging to. I'm dreading the bad end that's coming to us next month, but I also fully-expect it.)
So, my advice remains as it has been: on December the 12th, turn up, and vote for whoever you judge most likely to beat the Tory.
Remember, the MRP approach is fallible. "Mortal, finite, temporary" is absolutely in play here; no model is any better than the data that went into it. Or, indeed, the date when it was calculated. And at the end of the day, the only poll that genuinely-matters is the one on December the 12th, and that hasn't actually happened yet. (Though admittedly, given the storm-surge of pre-emptive grief that's flooding Twitter today, you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise.)
As for the horrible mess that are our opposition parties, I'll repeat what I said in 2017: it's OK to vote for a least-worst option. You're not perjuring yourself or committing any moral sin, rather you're trying to be a grown-up. Part of the package of being an adult is making the best of bad situations.
It absolutely does suck - believe me, this is one of the most soul-destroying election campaigns I've ever seen. Every single party has clown-show'd itself. All of them have done things that are ridiculous, inept or otherwise ghastly. (Well, maybe not the Greens - I haven't heard of any specific scandals surrounding them - but their cardinal sin is that they have no plausible prospect of winning the election.) But even then, the barrel we're going to have to stare down is going and voting for them anyway.
(As a related case-in-point, one factor that seems to have helped the Tories win their unexpected 2015 majority was that a contingent of left-wing voters simply stayed at home on the day. While it's hard to find concrete statistics on, nonetheless anecdotally, this absolutely was a thing. A lot of people were demotivated by Labour's confused and incoherent campaign, left cold by all the bothering about fiscal rules, and alienated by things like the mug with "controls on immigration" on it. All of those are 100% valid criticisms. Except, except, except ... it helped an even worse party back into office. The theory of "if the choices are bad, sit it out" has been tested to destruction. It turns out that looking the other way is also a choice, and not necessarily the best one.)
I would add that there are also real questions to be asked about the utter vacuum of political strategy of people nominally on the anti-Tory side - it seems the Opposition spent the summer fixated on the minutiae of House procedures, while never stopping to ask why they were on this battlefield to begin with. Meanwhile the Tories largely-ignored Commons process, and instead sent a political appeal straight to Leave voters. It lost them a lot of individual legislative battles (and I'm not minimising their defeats - they were important!), but it put them in a good strategic place to win an election. And in the long run, it turns out that was what mattered.
It's hard not to feel bitter while thinking about the events of spring and summer. Perhaps if Jo Swinson had been less blinkered about Jeremy Corbyn, perhaps if Labour could have had the minimum sense to call a Vote of No Confidence when BoJo was vulnerable, perhaps if the collective Opposition had been able to recognise the huge wave of unharnessed political energy washing through the country during the petition back in March, perhaps if Change UK had managed to be something other than an unfunny joke, maybe if Corbyn had taken the anti-semitism problem seriously in 2018 and had actually done something instead of sitting on his hands and letting it metastasize to the point where it derailed his election campaign ... but, no. That's for some other, better timeline, not the one we live in. We seem to live in the world that resolutely and firmly chooses the wrong fork in every road. I don't know whether our timeline quite qualifies as the Bad Place, but it's certainly a place full of bad choices.
In a weird sort of way, though, this brings us back to the key theme. Whatever you might think of what's happening in this election - and goodness knows I'm as appalled as anyone else - nonetheless, your vote matters. Use it. As we're seeing, this is the ultimate limitation on their power, and the one chance we have of stopping them.
So once more, let me reiterate: turn up. Vote against the Tory. Do it as a hopeful action, even if you don't feel hopeful. If nothing else, do it so that when the bad things happen, at least you can say you tried to stop it. I wish I had something less bleak to offer here, but this is where we are.
#UK internal politics#diary of a disaster#needed to get that wail of despair out of my system really#still feeling quite despairing though
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heajix ― jungkook (m.)
jungkook/reader | alien!au | angst, fluff, smut
wordcount: 13.1k
contents: violence, blood, stabbing, minor character death, murder, mentions of mass genocide, knotting, breeding kink/impreg kink, light size kink, dirty talk, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, begging, multiple orgasms, light cumflation, cum eating, cum sharing
― synopsis: you find yourself on palacios, home to the sehebon. unfortunately, it’s not by choice and you quickly realize how deadly the planet is.
note: heajix is pronounced hay-jicks
© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.
blog masterlist ― made of stardust masterlist
You'd been traveling, backpacking to be precise, through Fanet IV System — the newest system to be open for interplanetary travel. While you were traveling and exploring the newly available system and planets you began experiencing extreme technical difficulties. You wound up having to make an emergency landing on the planet of perpetual night called Palacios, home of the Heajix — an obscure, secretive race small in population.
Unfortunately, the least developed planet hadn't taken too kindly to their status of open-for-visits and had seemingly gone into a global lockdown of some sort since it began.
The second you stepped off your craft, you began to cough. The pollution in the air and smog that you could see had you scrambling for the mask you'd been given ahead of your visit.
You were in the heart of the capital city, Yathe, and it was nothing like you'd expected. Instead of a bustling metropolis like on all the other planets — it was nothing but abandoned buildings and graffiti covered walls. There seemed to be limited electricity supplied as street lamps flickered on and off, though most didn't work. The ones that were flickering helped you navigate your way around regardless.
The place was basically lawless, from what you knew, and the citizens did what they wanted to for the most part.
Pulling your backpack over your shoulders, you began to make your way through a nearby residential area. The houses, if you could call them that, were dilapidated and run-down; some had broken windows and others were completely destroyed. The Heajix's native tongue was plastered all over the ruined buildings and, while you weren't fluent, were talking shit about the other planets.
Using the flashlight on your phone, and aided by the illumination of the moon, you managed to find yourself in front of a house. It was small and wooden, no doubt old. When you walked inside, you realized it was just a simple one-room house with an attached bathroom as the only other room.
It was a gamble to assume it was unoccupied but, you really didn't have any other choices since you really couldn't spend the night out on the street. Your communications were down and there was no cell service.
You sighed and stepped inside, wincing at the visible dust floating around the room — thankful for your mask. When you turned to lock the door, you were dismayed to find there was only a broken locking mechanism. Groaning, you banged your head against the door.
"Why does my life suck? This planet might actually kill me!" You grumbled to yourself.
You dropped your backpack on the floor, unraveling the sleeping bag that was attached at the bottom and dropping it in a suitable sleeping place. There was a window right beside the front door, large enough for you to clearly see outside and allowing the moonlight to drift in.
You placed your bag in the corner near your sleeping bag and sat down. It was soft and cushioned, helping you to not feel the hard, rough floor beneath. There was a pillow sewn into the sleeping bag which you laid your head on.
The trip had been long and grueling, taking a week to complete so sleep quickly caught up to you. As your eyes fluttered closed, just before darkness completely overtook you, you swear you saw someone moving in the window.
Waking up to no sunlight was definitely jarring and you quickly realized that your circadian rhythm was going to flip out. Regardless, you looked at the time and it was just past 9 in the morning so you stood up and stretched, intending to take a shower. Grabbing your backpack, you dragged it over to the bathroom. Toting the thing made you realize how heavy it was — you'd packed so much into it for the trip. It hit the floor with a clunk and you were briefly concerned it would break the wood floor beneath.
There was a shower — a rusted spigot and a broken hot water nozzle. You groaned, realizing how shitty your morning was about to be. You reached in, turning the nozzle. The pipes clanged loudly and made a high pitched wailing noise before spurting out water. Your jaw dropped open and you let out a cry of despair at the yellowed water.
After finishing your horrifying shower, 20 minutes of holding in shrieks from the cold polluted water, you sat on the floor in the main area by the window. You did notice that the moon was a lot brighter than it had been and provided more visibility. Pulling out your file from your backpack, you hunched over the floor to take note of the crummy conditions the planet lived in along with their lack of fresh, clean water.
It was a hobby of sorts, traveling through newly opened solar systems and journaling your stay on the planets.
Checking your phone, you noticed it was nearing noon and your stomach began to growl. You slipped your shoes on and put the mask back on your face before stepping out; hiding your belongings in the bathroom to make it seem like the house was empty should anyone come by.
When you stepped outside, you felt a shiver travel up your spine at the ominous atmosphere. It was completely silent, not a single soul in sight and it set you on edge. Pulling the hood of your hoodie up, you kept your head down as you began to walk towards the area where your ship had been parked.
Truth be told, it was quite common on planets of weaker economies for the Capital Planet to provide the citizen with rations.
There were other planets you'd seen them on, and as you walked through the smoggy city you were pleased to find a run-down building marked with a giant red symbol of Vulia — capital of Fanet IV.
The glass doors were smashed open and you easily stepped inside. It was dark and dusty with minimal light helping to guide you. Finally giving in, you turned your cell phone's flashlight on and began to look around.
The place was massive and you were shocked to see that the shelves were still lined with food. It wasn't abundant but it was clear not many people had been picking from the rations.
You grabbed some things from the shelf, realizing you should have brought your backpack. Most of the food was marked in foreign text but you didn’t care. You just needed food or else you wouldn’t survive long enough, on the planet, to even figure out how to get home.
You put some in your pockets and carried others in your hands as you swiftly left the building. Looking around, you felt like someone was watching you but the streets were pedestrian-free. In fact it was eerily empty — it was reminiscent of a ghost town. Strange considering it was the capital city of the planet.
Not wanting to risk getting into trouble, you hurried on your way the your ‘home’. Regretfully, as you shut the door, you remembered the door didn’t properly lock. You weren’t particularly handy enough to really fix it by yourself, unfortunately.
You saved as much food as you could in order to avoid having to go back out and quickly found yourself bored. Looking at the clock, you realized it was only about 2pm. There was no way you could go outside to find something to do. Aside from the fact you knew close to nothing about the planet, you also didn't feel safe out and about.
So you sat there, watching the hours tick by. Your phone battery was depleting and there was no way to charge it — the planet wasn’t quite equipped with outlets and electricity. Once it was dead you were going to be so fucked — no flashlight and no way to tell the time.
It was still early when you decided to roll out your sleeping bag and lay down. You spent a while simply staring at the walls and ceiling daydreaming.
As you lay there in your own world, out of the corner of your eye, something shifted in the darkness of your window.
You sat up quickly, turning your head to look but found nothing to see.
"Now I'm starting to hallucinate," You grumbled, laying back down and turning your back to the window.
You sighed when you woke back up, glancing at your phone indicated it'd only been a couple hours. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, your gaze shifted to the window once again.
Your breath caught in your chest when you could make out the shape of a person standing there — silhouetted against the moon's light.
You couldn't see their face but you knew they could see you, you could feel their gaze burning into you, as they brought their hand to the glass and tapped three times. You didn't breathe, eyes wide with fear you watched as their head tilted to the side. They lifted their hand up again, no doubt intending to knock again when they froze.
You swear you could hear muffled voices but it was so faint it was nearly impossible to be sure that's what you heard. The person's head snapped to the side, body going stiff.
Much to your horror, a second figure made an appearance from a few feet behind them.
All was still for a second before the first figure bolted and took off running. The second person stood there for a second and you were scared they were going to harass you as well. However, the person turned and walked in the opposite direction the other one ran.
With your sleeping bag pulled up to your eyes, you knew you weren't going to be falling asleep again.
When the morning came, you began trying to fix the lock — the night before having made you terrified for your safety. It was a simple type of latch and it took you hours to figure out a way to get it to work — with the help of a bobby pin and a spare pen you had in your bag.
It wasn't the best but it gave you a sense of peace of mind.
You hoped you'd be able to sleep.
Staring at the window, you sighed — maybe you could find something to cover it up when you grew the courage to go out again. You really needed to, having run out of rations and on your last bottle of water that you had collected.
Your phone was almost completely dead after you had been using it to light your work on the lock. The bar was red indicating a sad 18% power left.
The time was a bit past 5PM and you decided to go while it was still technically daytime. Once outside, you wanted to cry with how much you hated it.
Curse you and you terrible luck.
You could only hope that the signals for help you'd sent out would miraculously find their way to someone who could help you. There was also the possibility of you finding someone in Yathe who could help you — whenever you gained the courage to venture around and find help for yourself.
Until then, you'd just suffer by yourself.
You did the rounds again, this time you stuffed much more into your backpack — which you’d remembered to take. Every little creak and gust of wind caused you to jump, the image of that person standing at your window was still haunting you.
You were going to be severely out of luck soon; with no phone, no way to contact Earth or a nearby planet to get to for safety, along with the apparent stalkers hiding in the dark. With worries weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself drifting into your thoughts. Anxiety riddled your being and you cursed yourself for not having been prepared for an event like the one you were in.
The only thing that pulled you from your thoughts were the heavy footsteps not far behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your hands began to tremble. Taking a glance over your shoulder, you saw a broad-shouldered individual meandering around behind you. With their hood pulled over their head, you couldn't see their face but you were sure it was a man.
When he noticed you looking, he picked up his pace intending to catch up to you. You held a whimper of fear in, speeding up your own pace.
His footsteps sped up again and you felt tears of fear pricking at your eyes — your house was right up ahead. You could get inside and lock him out.
Just before you reached your house, the footsteps stopped altogether. When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw the man talking to another person.
He had a friend.
You were in such deep shit.
Practically bolting to your house, you locked the door shut and placed your backpack in front of it — it was heavy and it wouldn't do much. Nonetheless, it helped you feel safe. You slid to the floor underneath the window, out of view.
Despite your fear, your stomach began to grumble with hunger. You chanced a peek out of the window and found there was not another soul in sight.
Your hands were shaking so bad it made it difficult to bring your drink safely to your lips. It took you an hour, according to your phone, to eat some of your food as you had kept drifting off into space.
A loud bang made your eyes shoot open, having fallen asleep against the wall with your knees to your chest. Drowsy, you looked around for the source of what woke you up.
Another bang and you saw your poorly locked door move with the weight of someone slamming against it. You scrambled backwards away from the door, eyes wide as tears pricked at them in fear.
There was nothing you could do as the lock gave and the door flew open. A man stood there, shoulders heaving as he glared at you. You could see only his eyes as his face was masked with scarf.
"Please..." You whispered, backing yourself into a corner.
"I knew you were a human," He growled, voice gruff and raw. "You know you're not welcome here."
"I-I..." Your mind blanked with any defense you could have made.
Just as he took another step forward, a second larger figured barreled through the open doorway. He was covered by an oversized black hoodie and black face mask. The heavy black boots on his feet added more to his height. You saw your life flash before your eyes and you just knew you were doomed.
"You—" The new man moved forward in the blink of an eye and had the other man jacked up against the wall by the front of his shirt.
"What did I tell you?" The second man asked, voice muffled by the full-face white mask he wore.
"Look—" The first man began but stopped when the second tightened his grip. "Fuck fine, I'll go."
The second man said nothing, simply letting the other go for him to run out the door. He sighed, shoulders relaxing as he turned to you.
You were frozen where you sat, his dark eyes, through the dark shadow his long bangs casted, doing nothing to quell your fear.
"What's your name?" He suddenly asked.
"_-_____," You muttered, not taking your eyes off him as he began to walk around your house. His boots thunked against the wood floors as he investigated whatever he saw.
"Well ______," He turned to you and sighed. "My name's Jungkook."
He crouched in front of you, the chain hanging on his jeans jingling when it met the floor, pulling the bands around his ears off and removed his mask.
It felt like the air was promptly knocked out of you. Even in the dark you could make out beautiful features on his face; wide, sparkling doe eyes with long curly bangs that hung in them. He had pretty, delicate lips with a small freckle beneath and a sharp jawline.
He was young and really good looking.
"N-Nice to meet you, Jungkook..." You stuttered.
He cocked his head to the side, fully sitting on the floor in front of you with his legs spread and arms resting on his knees. His dark eyes analyzed you, scanning over your features and body.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice portraying no identifiable emotion.
"I-I just found this e-empty house and—"
"No, I mean why are you here...on Palacios," He nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared at you.
"I um...I was traveling and had to make an emergency landing on the nearest planet," You explained.
"Why are you still here?" Jungkook's eyebrows were furrowed.
"My...my communications are down and Palacios doesn't have cell reception," You explained. "I attempted to send out an emergency beacon when I landed but there's no telling if it went through. And I've been too scared to try and make the trek back to see."
"It's probably been looted and dismantled by now for spare parts," He said, making you groan in despair.
"Are there any like...Embassy officials I can talk to? Government officials that can help me?" With every question, you felt your heart beginning to race with anxiety once more.
Jungkook's shoulders shrugged as he shook his head. "Do you not know anything about this place?"
"Only what's been released through the media," You replied honestly. "That you guys went into a lockdown or something."
"We don't...like outsiders here," He whispered before looking away. "There's no one who can help you. We're governless and we have no officials."
"Well how do you have laws a-and—"
"Does it look like we have laws, _____?" He snapped, making you flinch. "Look around. This isn't Earth. We don't have the luxury of being law-abiding citizens. We do what we have to to survive."
"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean—"
"Let's go," He cut you off again, standing up.
"Where?" You whispered, staring up at him.
"I said let's go," He growled, reaching down and grabbing your elbow. You whined when he aggressively jerked you to your feet, ignoring the painful grip he had on you.
"Wait! My things!" You complained, trying to break out of his harsh grip.
Jungkook growled, snatching up your backpack and tossing it over his shoulder.
"My sleeping bag..."
"You don't need it," He grumbled, yanking you out of the broken doorway.
As you walked, you noticed he tugged his mask back on — hiding his face. To your surprise, he pulled you only a few houses down from the one you had been in. He pulled out a key ring from the belt loops on his jeans and slid a key in the lock.
The house was still fairy dilapidated but it had clearly been renovated and fixed up to suit his needs. He hastily slammed the door behind him and locked the three locks that were there — a knob lock, deadbolt, and a simple latch lock like the one in the place you’d been hiding in.
The house was a bit bigger than the one you'd been in — it had an actual bedroom. All except a single window towards the back of the house and a window you could see in the bedroom were boarded up. Jungkook dropped your belongings on the floor with a thud and dropped to sit on the tattered couch in the living area.
"Um..." You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching as he removed his mask again and tossed it away. His eyes cut to you and he raised a brow in question. "Why am I here?"
"What do you mean?" He asked, closing his eyes as he laid his head on the back of the couch.
"I mean...at your house, why...am I in your house?"
He chuckled at your question and you bit your lip at the sight of his crooked smirk. "Well, you were nearly killed over there. Did you want to spend your night there?"
"Well, no, but..."
"Look," He sat up and sighed. "There was no way you could survive on your own in this place. Actual Heajix can barely survive. So, I'm doing you a favor and helping you out, okay? The least you could say is thank you."
"I...thank you." It came out more as a question and Jungkook scoffed.
"You can sleep here," He mumbled, getting to his feet and stalking past you to his room. As he passed you, a sweet smell, delicate scent wafted off of him and you couldn’t help but inhale. It was nice.
You felt around your pockets and realized you had left your phone behind. You whined as you sat down on the couch, not willing to ask Jungkook to go and retrieve it for you. Jungkook's door clicked shut and you were left alone and in silence. It was dark, the moonlight from the back window barely reaching where you were sitting.
You curled up, shivering at the cool draft and your lack of a blanket. Closing your eyes, you hoped for sleep to overtake you.
Soft footsteps moved around you and your eyes fluttered open. Jungkook stood in the kitchenette, shuffling with something on a plate. Sitting up, you winced at how sore your muscles were from curled up on the small space all night. Your neck felt stiff and hurt when you moved it a certain way.
"Um what time is it?" You asked, voice groggy from sleep.
"I don't know," He replied, not looking at you.
"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked.
He turned around, carrying a plate over to the coffee table and placing it down. He was wearing a loose white sweater and sweatpants, long curly hair messy and hanging in his eyes. "I mean...we don't exactly have a concept of time anymore. There aren't really functioning clocks so we all just...run on our own schedules."
"I see..." You watched him pick at some food on the plate and pop it in his mouth. It looked like some kind of diced meat. "What is this?"
"Food," He replied shortly, not offering any other information even as you glared at him. "Eat before you die of starvation."
You sighed but couldn't deny the hunger pains in your stomach. Albeit suspiciously, you took a piece of meat and popped it in your mouth. You hummed, finding nothing strange tasting about it — it tasted similar to ham.
The two of you finished it together and he leaned back on the couch with a groan, patting his stomach. You sat in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside.
"It's probably going to storm soon," He muttered suddenly, eyes drifting towards the window.
You hummed in response, picking at a thread around a hole in your jeans. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, truthfully his tough attitude and mannerisms intimidated you. The last thing you wanted to do was make him mad enough to kick you out and it seemed like he had a bit of a short fuse.
"Do you want a shower?" He suddenly asked, making you jump.
"Um...yeah I guess," You dreaded taking another shower in the filthy water but it’d give you a chance to be away from him and relax a bit.
Jungkook led you to the bathroom and you were surprised by how well maintained it was. He grabbed a towel from a shelf on the wall and tossed it to you. Then without uttering another word, he shut the door and left you alone.
You were pleased to see a hot water handle and eagerly turned it. Then, much to your surprise, the water came out perfectly clean and clear. Without wasting a second, you eagerly stripped and stepped under the warm shower.
It felt like you were in there for ages, having to use some soap Jungkook had to clean yourself. You hoped he didn't mind, though it smelled very good.
When you stepped out, you felt fresher and you were surprised to see new clothes on the countertop.
He had come in while you were shower.
Your face burned hot, hoping he hadn't looked. Throwing on the clothes, you hummed at how clean and nice you felt for the first time since being on the planet. When you walked out of the bathroom, Jungkook was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and arms over his chest like he was napping.
"H-How did you have clean water?" You asked, taking a seat beside him.
You heard him inhale and felt his body tense. For a second you thought he was going to yell at you, but instead he opened his eyes to look at you. "I hooked all my piping to a private water reservoir that continuously purifies the water."
"That's...impressive," You whispered. "How'd you learn to do that?"
He shrugged. "Took a lot of testing, trial and error with the purification. But my parents were mechanical engineers in Zlathe."
"Zlathe?" You asked.
"It was another city a long time ago," He replied, running a hand through his hair revealing his forehead.
"...Was? What do you mean?" You sat up straighter and he sighed.
"Before everything fell, Zlathe was a neighboring city even bigger than Yathe," He explained.
"I don't understand," You muttered. "What do you mean everything fell?"
"You really are ignorant," He chuckled, though it held no mirth. You couldn’t find it in you to be offended because it was true; but no one outside knew anything about the planet.
"Well it's not my fault your planet is a secret," You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.
"We were less developed than everyone...the other planets," His voice held nothing but spite as he spat out the words. "Palacios is the smallest and collectively they all decided, even as we rejected the idea, to create landfills here to dispose of their waste so their own planets didn't become a mess."
"So...that's what caused the pollution?" You asked.
He nodded. "The more toxic the air became, the more sick people became. Those who were able to leave did and those who couldn't were trapped. All of our government leaders left us without a word. Everything went to complete chaos."
"That's horrible! They just abandoned their citizens?" You gasped, eyes wide with shock.
"One by one the cities became desolate. Yathe is, from what we know, the only standing safe city. When the population became crammed into this last safezone those fucking Vorderans swept in and raided every nook and cranny they could. We went from 500,000 people to a mere maybe...20,000?"
"Vorderans?" You hummed. "The people of Vulia? Capital Planet for Fanet IV? Why did they do that?"
Jungkook scoffed. "Why would I tell you? So you can report it back to the Humans and they can take what's left of an already dying people? We're a doomed species — pushed to the brink of extinction over greed and classicism. Why do you think we kill any outside official that comes here, huh?"
"W-We just...everyone just said Heajix were very...private," You muttered, a little startled by his aggressive attitude.
"Yeah they would," He spat. "They don't want to have to explain the complete genocide and decimation of a planet they spearheaded."
"Did you say kill?" You suddenly whispered, brain catching up to what he’d previous confessed.
"Of course, any foreign person who comes to us...after we warned the Embassy to leave us alone...they sign their own death warrant," He said, absolutely no remorse in his voice.
"Is that why that guy broke in?" You asked, which he nodded at.
"Yeah, you were targeted by him even though it wasn't even discussed," When he heard you hum in confusion. "We may not have people in high positions telling us what to do but we do maintain some order. Any foreign person who comes here is watched and if they're deemed a threat we take them out. So far...every person has proved themselves to be so. But you...we hadn't caught you doing anything other than trying to survive and hide so we voted to leave you alone."
"So why did that guy—"
"He went off the deep end I guess, didn't trust you and wanted to take you out on his own terms to be safe. He'll be punished and dealt with appropriately," He said, pulling his sleeves of his sweatshirt up to show a wide expanse of tattoos written in a foreign text. "All criminals after punishment are made to have a tattoo on their skin detailing the nature and severity of the crime. It's kind of like a way to shame us for behaving that way. It’s a little piece of our culture we’ve maintained even after the fall."
You leaned closer, looking over the intricate text that was displayed. He had a handful from what you could tell.
"I take it you're not going to tell me what your crimes are?" You asked, unsurprised when he yanked his sleeve down harshly.
"What the hell happened to your arm?" He suddenly asked, changing the subject, eyes pinned to your arm.
When you looked down to follow his gaze, you were shocked to see a nasty purpling bruise around your elbow.
"I have no idea," You muttered. However, he grabbed your wrist and you gasped, attempting to yank yourself away. "That hurts, you know! Jeez, why are you so rough?"
"Rough?" He scoffed. "I'm barely even touching you!"
"Well, you've got a twisted concept of gentle," You muttered, rubbing your now sore wrist. "Oh."
"What?" He grumbled, pouting at having been chewed out by you.
"It's where you grabbed me yesterday," You muttered. "Jeez I knew you were rough but..."
"I wasn't that rough..." At the tone of his voice, you looked up and saw him frowning. He lightly ran his fingers over the bruise. "I didn't meant to hurt you."
"I..." You were shocked by how upset he seemed over it, showing actual concern. "It's okay...it'll heal. J-Just be more careful next time, okay?"
"I didn't realize how easy you are to hurt," He muttered, still staring at your bruise. "You're a delicate race, huh? I'll be more careful, I promise."
You smiled at him and nodded. His lips twitched upward in his own smile and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.
The following day, Jungkook stood before you with a backpack on his shoulders. His mask was in place and he looked at you where you sat on his couch.
"When I leave, lock the door behind me," He ordered you, watching as you quickly nodded your head. "And don't open up until you're sure it's me, got it?"
"Got it," You replied, feeling anxious over the situation.
His boots stomped against the floor as he walked to the door, casting one strong glance at you over his shoulder before walking out and slamming it shut. You quickly raced over and slid the latch lock in place and twisted the deadbolt while he locked the knob. Left alone in the silence, you felt extremely uncomfortable.
You looked around, eyes falling on the door to Jungkook's bedroom. Debating for a moment, you decided he'd probably be gone long enough for you to have a peek.
Pushing the door open, you were pleased at how nice it smelled — Jungkook's clean scent permeating from every inch.
As you stepped inside, you noticed a pile of old, worn books in one corner. He had a table beside his bed with a picture frame on it. Taking a seat on his mattress, you grabbed the frame and examined it. There was a picture of Jungkook, albeit a bit younger, standing with a man and woman on either side of him and behind him a taller man who looked similar to Jungkook.
You opened the drawer of his table, having to pull hard as it seemed to be off the track. It was empty inside aside from a paper you couldn't read and a bottle of lotion. Humming, you simply pushed the drawer back closed and looked around the room some more.
Deciding there was nothing else worth looking at, you stepped out of his room and shut the door. Boredom struck immediately and you dropped down onto the couch and curled up.
The least you could do is take a nap.
Your rest didn't last long because you were startled awake by violent knocks on the door. From outside, you could hear Jungkook calling your name. Jumping to your feet, you scrambled to unlock the door and let him in. He sounded so panicked that your hands were shaking by the time you slid the latch lock open.
Jungkook burst in the second the door was open and promptly fell to the ground with a groan. You shut the door and shakily locked it again before turning to him.
"J-Jungkook? What happened?" You crouched down and helped him pull his backpack off.
He winced, making a hissing noise the second he was made to move. You gasped, noticing the way that he was holding his side — red seeping through his fingers.
"Oh my god, what happened?!" You cried, hands hovering above him not knowing what to do.
"J-Just a stupid accident," He groaned, the back of his head hitting the floor harshly when he tossed it back. The impact didn’t seem to bother him. "Was chasin' some animal and I fell. Caught myself on some scrap metal on the way down."
"Holy crap, how bad is it?" You urged him to move his hand so you could see his wound.
The metal had torn a hole in his shirt and you could see a deep gash across his ribs. There was blood gushing from it and you were worried about the possibility of infection.
"It needs to be cleaned and probably stitched, Jungkook," You muttered, watching him put his hand back over it to slow the bleeding.
"I don't have t-to clean it or stitch it," His eyebrows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched in pain.
"I have a first aid kit in my backpack," You stood up quickly, ignoring his protests, dashing over to where your backpack was leaning against the wall.
Zipping it open, you began to fish through your belongings searching for the little white box. You pulled out a towel, deciding it might be good to help clean him up some. You made a soft sound when you finally spotted the kit, pulling it out and holding it up in triumph.
Sitting beside Jungkook again, you helped him remove his shirt. There were a few tattoos and scars scattered along his chest and abdomen but you didn't have time to ogle at his naked body. You pressed the spare towel against his wound and apologized as he hissed in pain. His hand was covered red in blood — some of it having dripped down his wrist to his elbow. You noticed that his mask was gone as well.
"Okay, I'm going to put some antiseptic on it alright?" You asked, pulling the towel off slightly. "It's going to burn like...really bad but—"
"Just do it," He groaned. "Nothing can top this pain right now."
You sighed and ripped open an alcohol wipe. The second it touched the wound, Jungkook's entire body jerked and he let out a sharp word in his mother tongue that you assumed was a cuss. In another situation, you would have laughed at the reaction. Next, you cleaned it with some hydrogen peroxide, making sure to flush the wound as best you could.
"Wh-Where did you learn to do this?" He asked, voice tight with pain.
"Well...I have just basic knowledge from things I've seen on like TV and..stuff like that. So I don't actually know if I'm doing it right or not," You whispered. "But the point is it's getting cleaned, right?"
"Shit, I guess you're right," He mumbled, eyes focused on the ceiling above him.
"I-It's still bleeding, it really will need stitches...it's so deep," You whispered, watching as blood continued to seep through.
"Can you do it?" He asked.
"I don't know...the only thing we can do is try, right?" You were lucky you had a full first aid kit, complete with a sterile needle and thread.
It was quite dark and you had to lean close to see the edges of the wound. You took it slow, apologizing to Jungkook whenever the needle pierced the torn skin. Little by little, the wound was closed until you managed to tie a tight knot to ensure the stitches wouldn't open back up.
Sitting back, you let out a sigh of relief. "I have some pain medicine," You said, taking out a few tablets of Ibuprofen from the first aid kit.
"Thanks," He popped them in his mouth, wincing as he had to swallow them dry.
Then was a big sigh, his body finally relaxed against the floor. He blinked slowly, as if he was struggling to stay awake. You assumed his adrenaline rush crashed and he was growing tired — no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline crash.
"This is insane," He mumbled suddenly, voice sounding slurred.
"What is?" You questioned.
"Before I would just think of getting myself home safe and that'd be the end of it," His lashes fluttered as he fought the sleep that threatened to overtake him. "But this time...all I could think was that I had to get back to you so you would be safe. Unbelievable."
You couldn't help but smile, though he missed it as his eyes finally closed. In a matter of moments, his breathing evened out and you knew he fell asleep.
Right on the floor.
Chuckling, you shook your head and wandered to his bedroom to pull the blanket off his bed — just a thin throw blanket and one of his pillows. You returned to him and carefully, doing your best not to wake him, placed the pillow beneath his head and the blanket over his body.
Your own exhaustion seemed to catch up to you and you curled up on the couch, your own eyes shutting as you stared at Jungkook's sleeping form.
When you woke up, it was on your own. You saw Jungkook was still asleep and sighed. Quickly pulling yourself up, you wandered over to him. Sitting down, you peeled the blanket off of him. You moved his arm off his chest so you could look at his wound but you let out a harsh gasp at what you saw. Jungkook's eyes immediately popped open and sharply turned to look at you.
"What is it?" He asked, body relaxing when he realized it was just you.
"Y-Your wound..." You leaned down to get a closer look, looking at your uneven stitching over the red skin.
"What about it?" He hummed, looking down to take a look at himself.
"It's healed up..." Beneath the stitches, the skin was still reddened but there was no sign of the open wound that was once there. Just a puffy looking scar was left in its wake.
"Oh good," He sat up and stretched his arms — his joints popping at the action, making him groan. "Hand me my backpack, yeah?"
"What do you mean good?! Yesterday you were bleeding out on the floor a-and now you're acting like it's just okay?!" You cried, throwing your hands up in frustration.
He stared at you for a moment, looking confused before sighing. He rolled over and grabbed his backpack, pulling it into his lap and digging through.
"Eat something and then we'll talk, okay?" He pulled out a bar of something and when you opened it, it resembled a granola bar but was much softer.
When you took a bite, you were surprised that it tasted like meat. But it wasn't bad. Jungkook pulled out his own and quietly began eating. It was silent between the two of you, as you simply ate. Before long, you were finished and Jungkook simply threw the wrappers into his backpack.
"Now will you tell me?" You muttered, raising a brow when he sighed.
He stood up and moved over to the couch, leaving you kneeling beside his makeshift bed. He sat down and looked at you expectantly, making you rise to your feet and stumble over to sit beside him.
"I guess there's no reason to hide it," You scanned over him as he spoke, taking the opportunity to look over his body again. He was fit, no doubt, with faint abs and lovely, veiny forearms.
"So you have super healing abilities?" You asked quietly.
"We...our species produces a chemical naturally that can heal virtually anything," He explained. "It's in any fluid we excrete; even sweat. And it's in our blood, obviously."
"That's amazing..." You whispered, eyes drifting back to his wound. "Why did you let me take care of it if you knew it was going to heal up?"
"I...Because the other planets use us for it," He muttered, fists clenching. "Do you remember what I told you? About the Vorderans?" You nodded and he continued, "They...collected us for the chemical. They produce the highest quality super medicine in the solar system. And it's because they slaughtered thousands of us to get it."
"So...you didn't trust me to tell me?" You asked, though there was no tone to indicate you were trying to guilt him.
"No," He sighed. "But since you did take care of me...I figured I could at least give it a try, right?"
"Thank you, Jungkook," You smiled. "I'm really happy you're okay, you know. I was really worried. Without you, I'd be doomed here."
"That's very true," He smirked, relaxing into the couch. "You're absolutely helpless!"
"Hey!" You pouted. "You could teach me, you know?"
"Teach you how to survive out there?" He asked, nodding his head towards the door. You nodded and he shook his head. "You're too much of a target. I wouldn't be able to handle looking after you and trying to scavenge."
"I guess that's true," You muttered. "I just don't want to be a burden. You went out of your way to help me and I've done nothing in return for the fact you keep helping me."
He wore a frown as he looked at you. "You're not a burden. In fact, I actually appreciate having you around."
"You do?" You asked, your heart stuttering in your chest as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.
"Yeah," He smiled. "I hadn't realized how lonely I was. But with you here now, I feel a lot...happier. Lighter. It feels nice to not be alone."
"I...I'm happy I can make you feel that way, Jungkook," You whispered, meeting his eyes.
The two of you sat like that in silence. You felt a soft brush of Jungkook's fingers on your hand and he easily laced his fingers through yours.
You felt content; happy even.
You were curled up on the couch, unable to sleep through the howling sound of the wind outside. Rain was pouring down and the thunder was so loud your ears were ringing. Clouds blocked out the moon, blanketing you in complete and total darkness.
It was cold, Jungkook still hadn't given you a blanket and you were beginning to think he forgot. The storm had brought the temperature down drastically, leaving your teeth chattering in effect.
The storm was unlike anything you'd experienced on Earth. It was actually a bit scary.
You sat up, finally unable to take it anymore. There was no reason for you to suffer like you were.
You tiptoed over to Jungkook's bedroom and suddenly hesitated. You didn't want to wake him up for a silly blanket, you'd feel bad. Your shoulders sagged and you turned back to sit back down on the couch.
Somehow, you managed to doze off, curled up in a ball in an attempt to keep warm.
You were awoken very soon after by the weight of something warm being laid upon you. Eyes fluttering open, you met Jungkook's eyes. His brows were furrowed and when he saw you were awake, knelt down beside the couch.
"You're freezing, why didn't you ask me for a blanket?" He whispered, mindlessly tucking the blanket around you.
"I-I didn't want to wake you," You mumbled, voice wobbly from shivering.
"Don't worry about that," He grumbled. "I'd rather you wake me up than fucking freeze to death during a storm."
"I'm sorry," You whispered, eyes fluttering again as you finally warmed up. It felt so cozy beneath the blanket and it smelled just like Jungkook. "Thank you, Jungkook."
"Don't worry about it," He whispered, brushing some stray hair off your face as your eyes closed once again.
"It's my duty to take care of you now," He uttered once he was sure you were asleep.
The first time you noticed something was wrong was when you began to get dizzy randomly — usually accompanying a roaring headache. You ignored it, however, choosing to nap off the headache and continue your days on like usual.
Jungkook began going out for scavenging more and more — bringing home killed rodents and other animals. Sometimes he would come home with some rations or a snack from when the world was a functioning metropolis.
"Are you feeling okay?" He asked one morning while the two of you ate some breakfast you prepared.
"Huh?" You looked up from your plate at him.
He was gazing at you, brows furrowed as usual but his head was cocked to the side. "You just look really dazed. And you're barely touching your food."
"Ah, I just..." You cleared your throat. "I lost my appetite, I guess."
"Well, I'm going to go out again today," He said, eating the last of what was on his plate. "I'll be back tonight as usual, alright?"
"Yeah, be careful okay?" You whispered, watching as he hesitated staring at you.
He lifted his hand and placed it softly on your head, smiling.
"I'll see you soon."
Left alone, you ate as much of the food as you could before you had to toss it. You found yourself laying on the couch once again, feeling sluggish and lazy. Deciding a nice nap was in order, you let your eyes flutter shut.
When you woke back up, it felt like you were hit by a bus. You groaned, your head pounding making you whine. Sitting up proved to be a bad move as you felt your stomach turn. Immediately you let yourself flop back down.
Of course you'd get sick on a dystopian planet with no access to medicine.
The hours ticked by and there was no sign of Jungkook. You'd gotten accustomed to his schedule and the general time frame you both ran in so you knew he was well overdue for his return.
You became antsy, pacing around and taking naps when you could. The cold you'd acquired seemed to only get worse as you were plagued with an unfortunate fever. Hiding under your blanket didn't help and being out from the blanket didn't help either. You whined, knowing you didn't have any medicine to help break your fever.
Feeling crappy and concerned about Jungkook made tears sting your eyes; you were always a cry baby when sick.
The door opening finally is what woke you up. Jungkook grumbled, slamming the door.
"Why the hell wasn't the door properly locked?" He snapped, dropping his bag on the floor with a bang.
"Hey...that's loud," You whined, flinching at the way your head began to pound.
"Answer me—hey...what's the matter?" He asked, losing his anger for concern.
"I'm sick," You complained, watching as he kneeled down.
"Sick?" He mumbled, looking over your face — noticing your glassy eyes.
"I have a fever," You explained with a sigh.
He hummed, bringing his hand up to press his palm against your forehead. He hissed, pulling back and sighing.
"I was so scared you weren't coming back, you were gone so long," You whispered, shakily sitting up.
Jungkook's hands hovered in the air, ready to help or catch you if you fell. "I'm sorry, I went a little further than I usually do. But I was only gone overnight. It wasn't that long."
"It felt like days," You whined, tears stinging your eyes.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing some hair away from your eye. "I didn't mean to upset you so much."
"It's okay, I'm just...a crybaby," You muttered, cheeks flushing at the fond smile that crossed Jungkook's face — a cute bunny-like smile.
"I...can help you feel better, if you'd let me," He asked, moving to sit beside you on the couch. "My species can cure illnesses, remember?"
"How will you do that?" You asked, voice a little slurred.
"Well..." In the moon's illumination, you could see his ears burning red. "I...I can kiss you?"
Your mind blanked at those words, blinking several times to take in what he said. You recalled what he said about his saliva, or any fluid, possessing the chemical to cure illnesses. Still, despite the fact it was for medicinal purposes, your stomach fluttered with butterflies and your heart stuttered in your chest the idea of kissing him.
"I-I don't mind..." You uttered, subconsciously licking your lips.
He cupped your cheek, leaning down and ever so softly brushed his lips against yours. When you sighed happily at the contact, he surged forward and pulled you into a much deeper kiss. Your lips moved in unison and you couldn't help but reach up to wrap your arms around his neck.
Shuddering, you held in a whimper when his tongue met your lips. You eagerly opened your mouth, shuddering as the taste of him lingered upon your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his hair as you continued to deepen the kiss.
After several long, lovely seconds of the kiss — he finally pulled away. There was a small strand of saliva still connecting the two of you. He brushed his thumb across your lips, breaking the strand.
The two of you sighed, falling silent but he kept his hand on your cheek.
"You should rest now, you'll feel better soon," He whispered, standing up and stepping away.
You missed his touch immediately, and watched him until he disappeared behind his bedroom door.
You curled up under the blanket, fingers pressed to your lips as the feeling of him kissing you lingered. The way your heart began to race made you sigh heavily; what an effect he had on you.
The next day, you were feeling much better and were back to eating properly. You could tell Jungkook was happy; he was positively beaming and smiling at you every chance he got.
It was cute.
The two of you were playing a card game; using some cards you'd had in your bag for when you were bored on the trip through Fanet IV. You were teaching him Earth games and how to play.
You were just about to beat him for the 5th time at Go Fish when there was a heavy knock on the door. Both of you jumped and Jungkook was on his feet in a second.
His whole body was tense and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He carefully moved in front of you, shielding your body from the door subconsciously.
"Wh-What is it?" You asked, keeping your voice low.
"No one should come here," He whispered back. "Go hide in the bedroom, alright?"
"But Jungkook—"
"Just do it!" He snapped, giving a gentle push to your back to urge you into the open doorway.
You spared him a longing glance before he pulled the door shut with a soft click.
You took a seat on his bed, listening through the thin walls as Jungkook's heavy footsteps moved towards the door. There was a loud click as he unlocked the deadbolt.
There was a quick beat of silence before a slam so loud that you had to cover your mouth to keep from shrieking.
"Fuck! What the fuck are you doing here?!" You heard Jungkook shout.
"Followed you home," Came a gruff, almost bored-sounding reply. "You weren't very smart. Didn't even notice you were being tailed."
"Fuck," You heard Jungkook swear.
"Now, I hope you make this easy for me and just come along nicely," The stranger asked. “Maybe if you tell me where more are hiding, I'll go easy on you.”
Jungkook didn't offer a reply but you could hear heavy boots approaching the bedroom door. You kept your hands over your mouth to keep from making a peep as you slid off the bed and huddled yourself into a dark corner.
The stranger suddenly shrieked and there was a heavy thud of someone falling to the floor. Jungkook let out a string of curses before there was a crash, grunting and scuffling filling your ears.
What was going on?
From where you hid, you could see a little box beneath Jungkook's bed. As quietly as you could, you pulled it out and opened it up.
It was an array of several different knives. Eyes flicking over to the door, you hatched an idea to hopefully help.
If Jungkook didn't win, the man was going to take him away. The mere thought of that happening sent a spark of terror through you.
Picking up the biggest knife that was in the box, you tiptoed over to the door. You could still hear the two of them fighting, the sound covering up the soft click of the door opening. Peeking through the crack, you were shocked to see the table smashed completely. The man was pinning Jungkook down by his throat. Jungkook was struggling, obviously unable to get air. The stranger laughed mockingly down at him.
Your hands and knees were trembling as you quickly crept out.
"You barely even put up a fight," The stranger spat at Jungkook. "You Heajix never were able to take us on though, isn't that right? That's why we were able to kill so many of you! Such incredible strength yet still unable to protect yourselves. Pathetic.”
You couldn't even register his words as you finally stood behind him. Jungkook's eyes were fluttering and he was dangerously close to passing out.
Steeling yourself, you raised the knife overhead and brought it down as hard as you could. The man shrieked so loud that your ears were ringing. The knife was stuck in his back, buried more than halfway through. Part of you felt proud for putting the power behind the attack.
Jungkook let out a desperate gasp, finally getting the oxygen he desperately needed. While you were distracted looking at Jungkook, the strange man spun around and grabbed you by your throat.
"I knew there was someone else here," The man snarled, squeezing your neck as hard as he could.
You couldn't even make a sound of pain as your feet were lifted off the ground. Your vision was swimming but you could make you Jungkook getting to his feet. The man, you noticed, had strange glowing eyes — as if a light were coming from behind them and illuminating the whites.
In the blink of an eye, Jungkook ripped the knife from your assailants back — making him drop you in shock. You hit the ground hard, knocking what little air you had left in you right out.
Jungkook was on the man before he could even blink, stabbing him several times until he was on his knees. Jungkook paused, chest and shoulders heaving as he glared down at the man.
Then, you watched with wide eyes as Jungkook lifted his leg and kicked the man so hard his body physically flew back. The man was limp, blood dripping from his mouth and nose — eyes open and unseeing.
"Holy shit..." You whispered from where you were still laying on the floor.
"Are you alright?" Jungkook asked, helping you sit up with a gentleness that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His hands were coated in the intruders blood but you didn't mind.
Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you knocked him down on his butt. You hugged him tight, sighing when you felt him wrap his own arms around you.
"I-I didn't know what to do," You whispered. "He was saying he was going to take you away. I saw you were about to pass out and I knew he would take you. I'm sorry I got involved."
"Hey, it's okay," Jungkook pulled back and smiled. "You saved me! Maybe you aren't as helpless as I thought."
You smiled, shaking your head. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. He froze for a fraction of a second but quickly cupped the back of your head and returned the kiss.
When you parted, you asked, "So what do we do with him?"
"The Vorderans are going to come looking for him when they notice he's not reported back to them," Jungkook mumbled, looking over his shoulder at the body. "I'll take him out somewhere and dump him off where they won't be able to link it to me."
"You're going to leave right after that?" You asked, your shoulders slumping.
"I shouldn't be gone long, _____," He smiled, brushing his thumb over your pouted lips.
"But what if there are more of them? What if they take you away and I don't even know!"
As if sensing the panic in your voice, he cupped your cheeks and brought your gaze to him.
"That won't happen," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead — sending your heart into painful palpitations. "It'll be easier to hide out there and easier to lose them if they do find me. I promise, I'll come back and everything will be okay."
"I'm just...scared, Jungkook," You admitted, feeling your eyes burn.
"I know," He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your cheeks immediately felt like they were on fire. "But I would never leave you like that."
You clung onto him as long as he allowed you before he decided it was best to get going. He told you to hide in his room until he got back and to just rest.
"Don't open the door," He warned, though he already knew he didn't have to worry about that.
Left alone, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You'd watched Jungkook lift the body like it was nothing — which only reminded you of what the Vorderan has said; Heajix just had incredible physical strength.
You had a much better concept of time since you weren't sick and you were sure 2 days had passed since you'd last seen Jungkook. You could barely sleep, anxiety plaguing every second that he was gone.
You'd taken to sleeping in his bed, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. Thankfully, Jungkook had managed to stock up on food so you were able to properly eat in his absence. Though it was more a mechanical task to pass the time than it was for actually sustaining you.
It hadn't occurred to you how much he had changed until you were laying in his bed one night. You thought back to the rough, cold exterior he had when you first met him. And now you were blessed with his smile and comforting caresses.
He made your heart ache in the best way and you wanted to hold him and have him kiss you over and over again. He was so sweet and did his best to take care of you.
You'd really been lucky that he was around when he was that night.
The fact he hadn't returned didn't help quell the fears of more Vorderans being around just waiting for someone to come around. For a Heajix to take away.
You didn't think you would hate an alien planet over the sake of another alien race but you knew the Heajix had been treated unfairly. It was cruel and the fact it was just allowed to happen and no one cared really made you angry.
If you ever got back to Earth you were going to do something to help.
You were lost thinking about the things you could do to help when the front door clicked open.
A spark of fear went down your spine as you sat straight up in the bed. Through the door and walls, you could hear heavy footsteps moving around.
They moved to the door and paused. You held your breath, pulling the covers up to your chin as you watched the door creak open.
A black head of fluffy hair popped in and smiled when he saw you sitting there.
"I was wondering where you—!" He was cut off by you flying off the bed and throwing yourself into his arms.
"You're home!" You gasped, burying your face in his neck. You didn't bother fighting the tears that tumbled down your cheeks.
"Yeah..." You could hear the smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around you, fisting the back of your shirt tightly as if you would slip away. "I'm home."
"I was so worried and..." Your cheeks burned before you muttered, "I missed you."
Reaching up, he cupped both your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him. You leaned into the feeling of his touch on your skin as he wiped your tears away ever so carefully. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.
"I missed you too," He smiled, pecking your lips again. "But I'm back just like I promised I would be. I told you I'd never leave you, right?"
"You're right," You whispered, moving forward to kiss him again. He eagerly reciprocated and you whined into his lips.
He gripped your hips, rough and harsh. You winced, pulling your lips away slightly only for him to chase them — muttering a soft apology before relaxing his grip.
Neither of you wasted time moving to the bed. With your back pressed against the mattress and his wide shoulders above you, you couldn’t help the shiver running down your spine.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down for another kiss.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” He breathed against your lips.
“Please,” You whispered, reaching down to tug at the hem of his dirty shirt.
“So pretty when you beg,” He growled, sitting up on his knees to pull the shirt off.
Immediately, your hands were roaming across his chest — grazing over scars and tattoos.
He groaned when your fingers brushed over his pebbled nipples. Leaning down, he nipped against the sensitive skin of your neck. As you sighed in pleasure, he began to push your own shirt up until he was able to toss it away.
Sitting up, he let out a curse at the sight of your bare breasts. One large hand cupped one, thumb rolling the nipple harshly until you whimpered. His lips moved down your neck to take the other nipple into his hot mouth, tongue flicking the bud. Your hands wound into his hand, back arching to get more of the delicious feeling.
“Jungkook, please…” You whined, arching your hips upwards. “I-I want you so much.”
“Yeah?” He groaned against your breast, moving to take your other perked nipple into his mouth. “Who would have figured I’d already have you begging?”
“I missed you so much, Jungkook,” You whined, sniffling softly as the emotions came rushing back. “I need you to touch me, please.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispered, leaning back up to peck your lips.
In one swift move, your pants were tugged down your legs until you were left in just your panties. He hummed cupping your heat through the fabric, easily finding your clit and pressing against it. You sighed, head rolling back as you ground your hips down into his touch. Unable to take it, you reached down and tugged your panties off. He allowed you, watching as you kicked them away and spread your legs for him.
“Fuck,” He groaned, dropping onto his stomach between your legs. “So pretty and wet.”
Your legs trembled as he slid two fingers between your folds, spreading them to expose your leaking entrance. He groaned, low in his chest before quickly diving in to catch some of your arousal on his tongue. You sighed, eyes fluttering close as he swirled his tongue over your clit.
“Ah, Jungkook!” You cried, gripping his hair.
“Fuck,” He growled, pulling back slightly. “Does that feel good, baby?”
“G-Gentle,” You whined, gripping his hair tighter. “It’s sensitive.”
He didn’t respond, simply chuckled before diving back in. He took your clit into his mouth and sucked until your back arched. Soon, he introduced his fingers — easily sliding two in. There was a slight burn but it lasted only a second.
“You can take 3, right?” He chuckled, rolling his tongue over your clit. “You’re gonna need that many to even think of trying to take my knot.”
“Kn-Knot?” You gasped, unable to wrap your head fully around his words as he pumped the two digits in and out.
Your hips bucked when he hit your g-spot. Your eyes rolled as he continued to abuse the spot while playing with your clit in any way he could.
“I’m gonna cum soon, Kook,” You whined, unaware the pet name had slipped through your lips.
He growled, viciously pounding his fingers upwards and suckling your clit into his mouth. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your stomach. Opening your eyes, you looked down to see his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He looked like he was in utopia himself.
What broke the cord, however, was when he eased the third finger into you. You gasped, back arching as you cried out his name — cumming around the digits. He didn’t stop, fucking your spasming hole and sucking on your twitching clit throughout your entire high until you were whining and pushing him away.
He separated his mouth from you with a lewd pop and slid his fingers out. You felt empty, clenching around nothing as he popped his cum soaked fingers in his mouth. His eyes rolled back at your taste and he chased what was left on his lips until there was nothing left of your cum.
He stood at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them slide to the floor until he could step out of them. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and you nearly drooled at the sight of his hard cock— weeping at the flushed, red tip with a soft swell at the base of his cock.
You scooted forward on your knees, wrapping your hand around his shaft and leaning forward to slide your tongue of the slit. He sighed, head falling back on his shoulders as you took the thick head on your mouth and sucked. The taste of his precum was delectable — salty-sweet with a bitter tang.
“You’ll make me cum too fast with your pretty lips on me like that, baby,” He whispered, gripping your hair to pull you away.
You whined at the loss but let him urge you onto your back. Your feet hanging off the end of the bed and Jungkook standing at the end with a fist wrapped around his cock made you lick your lips. He looked so powerful standing over you like he was.
“Scoot back,” He ordered, crawling onto the bed after you.
With your head in the pillows, you spread your legs for him. Knees on either side of his waist, you both looked down to watch as he slid the head of his cock between your wet folds — coating himself in your juices. A split second of hesitation as he positioned his tip at your entrance felt like an eternity.
“Are you sure you want to…?” He asked softly, mindlessly slapped your clit with the head of himself.
“Please,” You gasped, wrapping your hand in his hair to tug him down.
Your mouths simultaneously fell open as he pressed inside, the fat head spreading your walls open. The sound was wet as he sunk inside, dirty and obscene. Your eyes rolled back as he finally bottomed out — the base of him almost as thick as his head.
He dropped down onto his elbows beside your head, pulling you in for another kiss as he began to thrust in and out of your clenching walls.
Every time he sunk inside, he grazed your g-spot making you moan.
“So fucking tight,” He growled. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to take my knot, babygirl.”
“K-Kook—”
“Fuck!” He snarled, cock twitching at the sound of the nickname, slamming his cock into you harshly, making you whined. “Keep calling me that.”
“Kook!” You cried, scrambling to claw at his muscled back.
“I’m gonna knock you up, beautiful,” He breathed, chuckling when he felt you clench around him. “Oh? You like the sound of that? Tell me.”
“Pl-Please kn-knock me up, Kook,” You begged, voice breathy as you fought back sobs of pleasure.
“Yeah, sound so pretty begging for my cum,” He chuckled, reached down to find your swollen clit. “How about you cum for me first?”
Your mouth fell open as everything became even more intense. He didn’t stop the rapid circles on your clit until you were crying out his name and arching. You gushed around him, walls spasming uncontrollably as he fucked you through the high.
As you came down, everything became more intense and sensitive. Every time he sunk inside, the base of his cock would catch at your entrance and stretch you just a tad more. You clung to him, eyes closed as he fucked his knot into your sensitive walls.
“I’m gonna cum,” He warned, suddenly pausing balls deep — his knot popped into your walls, swollen big enough that he couldn't pull back out.
You could feel his cock as it pulsed inside of you — a hot rush of cum immediately following. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he moaned and trembled above you. The knot at the base of his cock throbbed — urging more and more cum out of his cock.
He chuckled darkly, looking down at your swelling tummy — having been stuffed full of his cum that couldn’t escape around his knot.
Your cunt clenched around him and you whined. You felt so full but it felt so good.
Jungkook's nimble fingers found your clit and began to circle the hardened bud in brutal circles. With a dark smirk on his lips, he met your gaze where your eyes were wide and your mouth was open in a silent moan.
"That's it...give it to me, baby," He ordered, grinding his hips against you — his knot and cock stirring your sensitive walls up. “Cum on my knot for me, like a good girl.”
Your head fell back against the pillow as your back arched. The both of you moaned in unison at your orgasm, the tight squeeze and gush from your orgasm set him off again. Tightening his grip on your hips made you whine but the pain blended into the pleasure as Jungkook's knot throbbed as more cum poured into your already well-filled cunt. Slowly, his body relaxed and he heaved a sigh before beginning to change your positions.
His knot tugged at your walls, making you both hiss. You laid side by side, your head resting on his arm.
As you both caught your breath, you felt his knot slowly shrink until he was able to pull out completely. You whimpered at the gush of cum that followed — oozing out of your stretched entrance and staining the bed beneath you.
He groaned, dropping back onto his stomach between your legs. Feeling embarrassed, you moved to close your legs but his strong hands caught you and forced them back open. You covered your face with your hands and whined as he suddenly slid his tongue across your cum-soaked folds.
Absolutely obscene sounds of him moaning and licking you clean filled the space. Your hips jerked in oversensitivity whenever he brushed over your clit.
Sliding his tongue into your entrance, he caught and swallowed down everything he could reach. Him eating his own cum out of you had your walls clenching again and he chuckled before pulling away.
Pulling your hands away from your heated cheeks, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You whined, circling your arms around his neck as he fed his cum into your mouth for you to swallow.
You moaned at the taste of him, swallowing everything he gave you — continuing to kiss long after you swallowed it. The remnants of his cum lingered on your tongue and on his lips.
Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours and moved to lay on his side beside you once again. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled your body close to his.
The two of you dissolved into a comfortable silence; his fingers tracing random shapes along your skin and you taking in his sweet scent and enjoying the warmth of his arms around you.
You were sitting with Jungkook on the floor in front of the couch. Since the table was broken, the two of you were using the couch as a makeshift table. He had an array of papers and old book across the surface and had been spending the last two days teaching you to read the Heajix written alphabet. It was difficult and you frequently confused letters but Jungkook was patient — and gave you kisses whenever you got something right which was great incentive.
Unfortunately, the relaxing atmosphere was broken by a series of knocks on the front door. Jungkook was on his feet immediately, knife drawn and at the ready.
You stayed back, watching as he approached the door and slowly unlocked it. You watched as he took a deep breath and threw the door open.
"What—" Jungkook was at a loss. There was a man standing at the door with his hands up to show he was unarmed.
"My name is Hakyeon," He said, motioning to his badge. "I work for the Interplanetary Embassy on Earth. We received an Emergency beacon and we've been told the human was here."
"Holy shit! It actually got through?!" You cried, jumping to your feet and running over to the open door. "Why did it take you so damn long?"
Hakyeon looked confused, shaking his head. "We received it only 2 days ago...I was the nearest representative and was tasked with finding you."
"Weird..." You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders. "I guess I can go home now, right?"
"If that's what you wish still, yes," He replied, eyeing Jungkook by your side.
"Um," You cleared your throat. "Your ship will be nearby right?"
"Yes, I'll...wait for you there," Hakyeon said, taking the hint.
The door shut and Jungkook was silent.
"Jungkook—"
"I guess you're leaving, right?" He asked, keeping his eyes down. "There's no logical reason for me to ask you to stay here...it's dangerous and you should be somewhere safe."
"But Jungkook..." You reached forward to touch him but he backed away.
"If I'm honest, ______," He wandered away, leaving you to watch him. His voice was shaky, wobbling with the onslaught of tears. "I really don't want you to go and I know that's selfish! But I really don't think I can be alone again. Especially after finding someone I can actually love."
"Jungkook!" You snapped, making him look at you. You sighed speedily walking up to him and pressing your lips to his before he could back away. "I love you too."
"But—"
"Come with me," You whispered, clutching the front of his shirt in your hands. "Come back to Earth with me. We'll find someone there who will help. The Embassy would be more than willing to assist in the cleanup and protection of Palacios and Heajix. You can speak for everyone here who is struggling to survive and those you haven't."
"You want me to come with you?" He breathed, covering your hands with his. Tears still fell from his eyes but in a matter of seconds, he was smiling and pulling you against him in a hug so tight it knocked the air out of you.
"Of course I do, stupid!" You laughed, hugging him back as tight as you could. "Why would I leave you when you refused to leave me, huh?"
"...I love you," He whispered, giving you another kiss.
"Let's get our things together," You said before the two of you separated.
Jungkook packed his bag with anything important, sentimental or not. You noticed he packed his picture away with a sad smile.
Once the two of you were ready, you took his hand and walked out the door. He paused and looked behind him, at the house he'd been living in for the longest time. The boarded up windows and the water reservoir he'd spent ages perfecting.
You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. He smiled, taking the first step away.
You felt yourself relax against the seat once the two of you were on the craft. Jungkook was gripping your hand tight — it was hurting a bit but you didn't say anything. His gaze was locked on the window, watching as his home planet disappeared from view.
The surface was covered in a green, gaseous layer of pollution and smog that he seemed almost surprised to see. The pollution of the planet was most evident one outside of the planet's atmosphere.
"I'm happy you're here, Jungkook," You whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder.
"I am too," He replied, resting his head against yours as he watched the stars and planets pass by until Palacios was out of view.
#btssmutclub#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#bts imagines#jungkook imagines#jeongguk smut#jeongguk scenarios#jeongguk imagines#jungkook x reader#jeongguk x reader#bts x reader#bangtan x reader#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic#jeongguk fanfic#bangtan fanfic
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To the Limit
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Severus Snape x Fem. Reader
Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.
Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤
A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.
Word Count: 2,947
“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”
__
Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.
Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.
Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there.
Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time.
It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.
His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.
Oh, how wrong you were.
Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended.
Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief.
He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.
When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual.
You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.
“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.
Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.
With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight.
You had to tap out.
“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.
In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong.
“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.
“I-I just...”
Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.
“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.
The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin.
“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.
“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.
“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.
Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.
“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.
Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face.
“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.
A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.
“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”
You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly.
“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”
Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible.
“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”
“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”
The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.
“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.
“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.
“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace.
Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object.
He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.
“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.
You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.
“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.
When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy.
But he knew that life would never allow it.
Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.
“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.
“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.
It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.
Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.
“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.”
A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.
“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”
“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.
A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.
“Okay, okay.” He agreed.
“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.
He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.
“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.
He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up.
The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.
“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.”
You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.
And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.
#severus snape#severus snape x reader#severus#severus snape x you#severus snape x y/n#severus snape x female reader#severus snape smut#harry potter#harry potter snape#harry potter fanfiction#alan rickman#seriouslysnape#anon request
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hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!
cw: angst + heartbreak
note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*
[Xiao]
One Call Away—
The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.
“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”
“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”
Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”
“No!”
Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.
But now he’s stuck with them.
“No?”
“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”
He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.
“Fine.”
And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.
Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”
“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”
Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”
“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”
The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.
So then why are you so sad?
Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.
Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.
“Is...something wrong?”
He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.
“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”
“You’re not sad?”
“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”
Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.
“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”
“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”
But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.
Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.
Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.
[Scaramouche]
To Mend a Broken Heart—
You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.
He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.
“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”
“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”
“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”
Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.
“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“
“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”
“I get it. I’m not a good person.”
“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”
Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.
“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”
“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”
“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”
“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”
Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”
“Hm?”
“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”
It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.
“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”
Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”
Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.
You feel the same, right?
No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.
“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”
And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.
Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.
You Must Break Another.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact scenario#genshin impact xiao#xiao x reader#xiao scenario#xiao#genshin impact scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche scenario#scaramouche
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it’s ok to struggle
♡︎𝙰/𝙽: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 @redgh0sts
♡︎𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: 𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎/𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚏𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎
♡︎𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚎/𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐
♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎
“Y/N! Where are you?! You’ve been ignoring our texts!!”
“You’re worrying people, woman! Answer us!”
The duo searched all over for you but it was like you vanished. Until they noticed the light on in the bathroom connected to your room. Eijiro snatched the key above the doorframe and unlocked the door, cautiously opening it. You were on the floor, shaking, crying uncontrollably and rocking back and forth. When you noticed them, you wanted to scream at them to get out but you couldn’t find the energy to move.
“What happened?” Eijiro immediately rushed to you, checking your body for any signs of injury. “Did something happen?”
You tried to steady your breathing, looking for all the tiny CareBears you decorated the room with bus they were all smudged from your tears.
“Talk to us, Y/N. The kids have been wondering where you are…” Bakugou said, walking off into your room.
“I…I messed up again.” You sputtered, clutching your knees. “I’m sorry, I made a mistake and I’m trying to fix it…”
Kirishima helped you stand, walking you out of what felt like a claustrophobic area, the air becoming so much more thin and breathable. He sat you on your chair, taking deep breaths with you until you were ready to talk again.
“I went to a party with some friends, I thought I was ready to go, but I-!” You looked at Bakugou as he held a bottle of medication. Your world stopped, realizing everything you were building was cracking into shards of despair. You let out a wail of pure despair; you couldn’t ever forgive yourself for such a dumb mistake.
“I took them from a girl’s bag at the party! I couldn’t stop myself! I’ve been taking them for weeks, and I was around the kids with them! I don’t trust myself with them anymore… so I tried to stay away from you guys to solve it myself.” You broke down, your eyes becoming puffy and red, your vision blurring and burning from the overwhelming guilt flooding you.
You didn’t think it’d get this bad; just get a little stress relief from how difficult life was right now, take one whenever you felt too much at the moment. You didn’t think you’d be seen high from them by your kids, them wondering what happened and why you hurt yourself. You tried to keep everyone away but now you were in your green chair, sobbing in front of your partners.
“Listen, I don’t know what goes through your head, but it’s not your fault. It wasn’t you who took them, it was the part that still thinks you need them.” Bakugou looked at you with a stern look, “Do you need these?”
You quickly shook your head, stumbling over excuses.
“Then it’s ok. You want to get sober, to be coherent for the kids, their dance recitals, soccer games, band concerts or whatever the fuck they decide to do when their older. You want it, you want the real you there. Not the you that’s in this bottle and every bag and needle some supplier has.” He said.
“Katsuki’s right. It’s wasn’t you who grabbed those, and won’t ever be you. You have a support system, you’re strong and it’s not your fault.” Kirishima told hold of your hand. “I’ll be here, if you wanna call, text or meet up. I got you.”
“You don’t think it’s my fault?…” You looked at them with big eyes, so confused by them.
“It’s just what happens, you didn’t know what you were doing when you were thirteen, and nobody takes stuff seriously at fifteen. Now you’re taking all your actions seriously and that’s all that matters in this situation. Plus, you hurt yourself and not another person.” Bakugou said, throwing the bottle in the trash. “As long as you don’t act like that, like you’re fine with hurting people to feed this, it’ll be ok.”
You wiped the wet stains off you face, looking in the doorway as you heard the security system announce the front door had been opened. Little feet scampered through the house, a little rugrat charging toward you, arms outstretched.
“Mama!!!!”
You picked up the girl, putting on a smile for the little thing, her sharp teeth gleaming.
“We’ve been looking for you!” She squealed. Another set of feet came after her, telling her to come here.
“Sorry, she’s really fast, quirk and all.” A boy stood in the doorway, pushing back his glasses and frizzy hair. He caught his breath and quickly snatched up the other booger who attempted to barge in the room.
“Nooo! Put me downnnn!” She shouted, using her white hair to smack her brother. The two tussled and wiggled for a bit until you took her, then got a good look at her hair.
“Why is her…” You stopped yourself, staring at the redhead and blonde who both knew they’d been busted.
The girls hair was cut, pieces of it had been colored on with marker, crayon and a few had been dipped in paint….
You tried to hold your laughter, telling the three to go in the living room, letting you yell at the boys who tried to sneak out.
☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽
“Ok, now you can come up!” Kirishima waved to the little girl who now had her white hair cut short. She bounded up on the bed, snuggling into Bakugou’s back, a cheeky grin on her face. The man sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get her off till morning. Your son chuckled as he set his glasses to the side, wrapping himself in a blanket. Your other daughter was fast asleep, suckling on her thumb, and dreaming of sugar. You poked at your son, asking him how things went and he shrugged.
“They held it down, beside Kaila and her hair.” He said. You nodded, pulling him toward you.
“Anyone you wanna tell me about? Boy, girl, human?”
His face lit up in embarrassment and you giggled quietly. You eased his anxiety, saying you won’t pry him for answers and told him to get some sleep.
Soon all of you fell asleep, snuggled into each other as you slept, blankets and pillows all over your bed. This is what you all did when someone had an exceptionally bad day or just wanted to bond, a nice family thing.
#mha bakugo x reader#mha bakugō#katsuki bakugo imagine#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou x black reader#bakugou x kirishima#drugs#drug usage#tw drugs#kirishima x y/n#kirishima imagine#kirishima x you#bnha kirishima#mha kirishima#kirishima x bakugou#kirishima x black reader
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i loved the way yohan broke gaon down by challenging him.
all throughout their interactions, yohan had been on guard with gaon, because gaon was constantly questioning and challenging yohan. is this the right way to get justice? shouldn't we follow the law? do the ends truly justify the means?
but that's not all he does. not all he tries to do. gaon tries to learn what it is that is driving yohan to act corruptly. he doesn't believe in evil with no motive. he sets out to find about yohan's past and learns a lot about the pain yohan lives with. yet it's not the pain he understands (gaon has his own pain and he probably knows that no one in the world quite understands anyone else's individual pain, not really), but rather yohan's anger. because that's easier to understand: that someone can be angry because they suffered an injustice.
yohan, of course, knows about gaon's past from the start. he has gaon's file on his desk, along with the news article about his parents' deaths. the people yohan surrounds himself with, who work to tilt the scales in yohan’s favor, are people he knows are suffering from the same anger he and gaon suffer. yohan could've accepted gaon's line, "even if nobody else in the world understands, i do,” but he needed gaon’s trust and, more importantly, he needed gaon to believe in their fight.
but he decides to do what gaon has been doing. gaon, who has challenging the monster narrative yohan created around himself by asking him if he was truly a monster he wouldn't be running from his own pain, wouldn't be isolating himself, being angry with those closest to him when they've clearly done yohan no wrong. gaon, who was deconstructing the narrative yohan built up about himself. gaon, who was bringing yohan back to gaon’s level by getting him in touch with his humanity again.
yohan decides to challenge the narrative of understanding and acceptance gaon created as a shield years ago. so you say that you understand my anger? let's see if that's true. so you say that the law and the justice system's punishment for the one that hurt you and your family was fair? that it was enough for you? let's see if that's true.
so, yohan takes gaon to the prison where gaon expects to see the man who hurt his family, but where gaon finds something else entirely. the man sitting behind bars suffering for the pain he caused gaon was not the one that was meant to be there. someone had ferried him away, set him free, put someone else to suffer in that man's stead. (i wonder, if gaon had found the man sitting there, in luxury but the right man, if he would’ve gone into as much despair, if he would’ve abandoned his morals and joined yohan at all.)
the things soohyun and jungho told him about how justice works, how even if it feels unfair if they (the people, the police, the judges, the system) are impartial, if they stick to the law, if they're ethical, then it's true justice—they're gone, replaced by this consuming, burning anger that makes him wail and scream and cry. there was no justice. none.
he turns against yohan, at first, angry because he believed yohan had been the one behind it, that he was just manipulating gaon again. he turned toward soohyung, looking for comfort, for someone to validate his concerns that this was all yohan's doing, that there was something worth investigating, that it was all too perfect to be true. (it’s interesting how big of a risk yohan took here. if he had been wrong in his understanding of gaon’s anger and need for justice, gaon might have easily turned against him and become more firmly fixed in the need for a neutral and ethical legal system. if they had one, no one would’ve helped free youngchoon, after all.)
when gaon investigates and finds out the truth, however, soohyun's support, jungho's guidance turn out to not be enough. he needs more. he needs justice.
yohan took a risk and shoved gaon all the way to the edge, pushing him to the point where gaon felt he was losing his mind. that he was unraveling.
and he was. but what was unraveling inside him were the things he used to comfort himself from the pain that never really left him. and to go from this place of painful acceptance (and it had to be painful, for how can anyone content themselves when their need for justice outweighs what society and the law gives them?) to this raw state, the state he was in when he saw the man walk off the bus, the state he was in when he pulled out the knife and ran toward the man with murderous intent. and that made him realize just how hollow everything he had filled his life with was. how he needed something more.
yohan's challenging of gaon, yohan's questioning of gaon's beliefs, caused gaon to realize that he was lying to himself about how satisfied he had been with the legal system he is a part of, and realize that he was telling the truth to yohan when he said, "the anger, i understand that. [...] even if nobody else in the world understands you, i do."
and yohan, at last, managed to get gaon to stand beside him instead of in his way. and not only did he get gaon on his side, but he got gaon to tap into an anger he had long since suppressed and who now needs his own kind of justice instead of that of the game-like system he had before.
#e.e.c. watches the devil judge#one of my favorite things about gaon/yohan#is how they are really trying to meet each other in the middle#gaon is trying to pull yohan back up from the darkness by reminding him of his humanity and his heart#yohan meanwhile is dragging gaon down from a place of sanctimonious judgment to a place of genuine rage#they both are unraveling each other#gaon unraveling yohan's monster narrative#yohan unraveling gaon's ethical/rule-of-law narrative#it makes me think that they truly are what each other needs#and i honestly can't wait to see how far they push each other as the series goes#how much of his heart yohan regains. how much revenge gaon needs to feel at peace.#and if anything or anyone will stop their ascent/descent#also i associate their challenges w/that toni morrison quote about how she challenges her characters#it's a good quote + i can see the writer here is pushing his characters to their respective edges quite nicely too#anyway i love this show~~~
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Hide and Seek (pt. 1)
Something for @petrichormeraki‘s Grumbot Lives AU! Don’t worry, there’s more coming.
“Grumbot! Time to go!”
Grian glances around the barge, trying to find his son. Grumbot was ‘helping’ him stock the chests, which meant Grian had really handed him a few stacks of random materials and then followed him around putting things back in the right places.
But now Grumbot’s hiding, and Grian feels a small grin growing on his face when he hears a robotic giggle.
“Oooh nooo,” Grian moans, “Where did Grum go? I swear he was right here…”
He hears another giggle, and tries to locate the source of the sound. “Oh, I’ve lost him! How will I ever tell Mumbo?”
Grian spots Grumbot’s antenna peeking over the ledge on the second floor and wanders over to the stairs instead of just flying up, occasionally looking into flowerpots and going, “Grumbot? Are you in there?”
When he’s on the fourth step, he hears the sound of heavy metal footsteps as Grumbot scrambles away to find a new hiding spot and chuckles.
“Oh, it would be such a shame if Grumbot was waiting to egg me,” Grian sighs loudly, stepping onto the second floor. “I do so want him to take after Mumbo, and be-”
“SNEAK ATTACK!”
Grian laughs and ducks as Grumbot pelts him with eggs from his perch on one of the shelves, a gigantic grin on his screen. Most of them miss, but a few manage to break against him and cover him in goo, which is going to be fun to clean out of his feathers later.
“Oh no! You got me!” Grian cries dramatically, falling to the floor. “I have been slain!”
Grumbot cackles and Grian feels the thump as the boy jumps down. “Yaay! I beat the Resistance!”
“Wait a sec!” Grian wipes the egg from his eyes and fake-glares at Grumbot. “I thought you were on my side!”
“Daddy said you didn’t have any good vaults,” Grumbot says as an explanation. “And Jellie doesn’t like mushrooms.”
“You’re not allowed to hang out with Uncle Scar anymore.”
“NOOOO!” Grumbot wails. “I like Uncle Scar!”
Grian has to bite his cheek at the look of utter despair on Grumbot’s face. “I’m kidding, Grum. You know your Dad’s a big joker.”
Grumbot looks instantly relieved.
“Now c’mon,” Grian says, glancing up at the sky. “We need to head out now if we want to get home before dark.”
“Daddy, who’s that?”
Grian spins around to see a player he doesn’t recognize building a wither in midair, right behind him. He steps in front of Grumbot and shouts, “Hey! What are you-”
BOOM!
The blast blows Grian and Grumbot through the glass wall of the barge as the player vanishes. With strength Grian didn’t know he had, he twists in mid-air and hugs Grumbot close, wrapping his wings around his son and maneuvering himself to take the brunt of the fall.
Then everything goes black.
<multiple system failures detected…>
“Daddy?”
Grumbot’s screen is cracked, cutting off all but some of his vision. He can see his Dad’s warm red feathers covering him like a blanket. There’s this horrible screeching noise, too.
“Daddy, what happened?”
Dad doesn’t respond. Grumbot tries to get up, so he can wake up his Dad, but his legs aren’t working right.
“DADDY!”
<high stress levels detected>
<preparing to enter sleep mode>
No, he can’t go to sleep yet. He needs to wake up Dad.
Why won’t Dad wake up?
<Shutting down…>
#is this angsty enough for you petrichormeraki#you challanged me and I have answered#hideandseekau#grumbot lives au#hermitcraft#angst#grian#writing
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Siren Song
Sum: Pirate Remus hears a song on the water and needs to find out what it is. Nothing can console me, but my sailor bold.
Written for @dukexietyweek Day 3: Pirates
Warning: possible manipulation, referring to a creature of unknown origin as ‘it’, mild descriptions of drowning, kisses.
--
Salt isn’t the only thing in the air. The crew can feel it. Anticipation or dread. There’s something dangerous lurking in the water they know. Of course none of them have seen the thing, but it’s in the hit against the hull of the ship, the scratching they can hear late at night, the sound of a song that permeates through the waves. There’s something down there they know, and the captain is eager to find it.
“Simple really,” Mad Captain Remus says to them, securely tying their longest length of rope around his torso. The crew shifts from foot to foot unsure if they should allow this to really happen.
“Pull me up if I scream,” The captain says and falls backwards off the edge of the ship. The crew rushes to the edge and looks over into the water, seeing the line of rope down into the sea foam but none of their captain. They whisper to themselves and take positions near the rope, waiting and waiting for the tug to signal pulling their captain back to deck.
--
It’s cold. The water presses on his chest and constricts his breathing. Remus has a chance to catch another gulp of air then lets the water drag him down. His fingers are already numb but he keeps his body moving to ward off most of the chill. It does little but Remus isn’t one to give in so easily.
Which is mostly true. He’s heard the siren song on the water for weeks now, getting closer to his ship. At first he wanted to destroy the thing, protect his crew from their trickery and potential death. Perhaps sell the hide and teeth for a pretty penny to treat the crew a day of relaxation and well deserved pillaging.
Then he started listening to the song, which is probably his first mistake, part of the trickery involved. He listened, and the song sounded sad, more sad than any he’s ever heard before. Desperation, sorrow, despair. Remus felt it burn inside him and fester till he felt like his flesh would rot due to the emotions whirling inside him. None of the rest of the crew could hear it as well as he could, could feel what he could, it drove him more mad than he already was.
Perhaps that’s what the siren wanted, to make him feel, and give in. Remus doesn’t much feel like he’s giving in even as he breaks the surface of the water to breathe again. He feels dangerous, challenging even, wanting to play the siren at their own game. He takes another deep breath and dives back under the water.
It’s so dark he can barely see through the murk, but he can see enough though it stings his eyes. He spins weightlessly in circles, trying to figure out where the sound of the siren is coming from. Their voice echos through the water and bounces in every direction he can’t directly pinpoint where the singer is. As soon as he thinks he knows where the siren is, the song is behind him, making him spin dizzy in circles.
He pops over the surface of the water again. Refusing to go back to the deck without seeing the siren if it kills him. Which may very well be what the siren wants. He inhales slowly and gathers as much as air as he can, and sinks back down to a song closer than it was before.
His eyes burn with the strain of searching, turning this way and that, trying to catch merely a glimpse of the creature that has been haunting his nightmares. The song is vibrating in his skull now, loud enough to block out the waves above him. He closes his eyes tight and clamps his hands over his water logged ears to block the sound out.
Suddenly it stops. Silence besides the rush of waves. Carefully Remus lowers his hands and opens his eyes to the water around him, coming face to face with rows of sharp jagged teeth.
He blows out a puff of bubbles, clamping a hand over his mouth to not waste any more air as the siren tilts it’s head back and forth at him. His lungs are already burning with a need to breathe but he’ll be Davey Jones himself if he lets this moment pass him.
The siren is there, floating in the water not a foot apart from him. Dangerous points of teeth stick out of their mouth and their eyes are solid glowing purple. Their color marking are hard to pick out in the dark water surrounding them but Remus supposes that’s the point. He can detect hints of grey, black, and that brilliant purple, but nothing definitive.
The siren lets out a coo, trill and sharp and it sends a shiver down Remus’s spine. The siren reacts positively to that, smiling wickedly at him and swimming in a circle around him that causes the length of their body to curl around him possessively. Whatever emotion Remus is feeling at the action he can barely focus on it as his chest begins to spasm.
He lets out the last of a puff of bubbles and thrashes for the surface. He doesn’t quite make it, a hand, cold and quick, wraps around his ankle and yanks him farther downward. He wants to scream or fight, hand reaching for the dagger strapped his side but the siren is faster, hands gripping him and body coiling around him as much as the shark like body will allow.
Remus tries to inhale once, body desperate for something to breathe, and expects to swallow down salt water but that doesn’t happen. Just as he opens his mouth, lips cover his and air, warm and hot, enters his lungs instead. He nearly gasps and ruins the whole thing, watching as the siren’s gills work to breathe water in and air out for him.
Once he feels able to hold his breath he pulls back, surprised the siren lets him. Their hands on his face are colder than the water, eye shimmering with subtle movements. Remus can’t help it. A grin begins to spread across his face, an expression that gets wider when the siren returns it fully showing off their sharp teeth.
Morbid curiosity consumes him and Remus touch the teeth boldly, feeling the point and nearly pricking his finger on it. The siren lets him touch, another trill of noise curling out of their throat. Remus shivers again at the noise. It draws him in, something deep and longing calling him closer to it.
The siren makes another noise, more pointed and direct this time. Despite the water threatening to bring him to his grave, Remus opens his mouth and repeats the noise as best he can. The siren spins around him again, kissing air back into his lungs.
This time Remus knows he has to pull away or he’ll stay down there forever. As tempting as it is. He points up to the surface and siren glares at him, letting out a hissing noise. Still it helps him up. Remus inhales hard once he breaches, coughing up the water that infiltrated his lungs. He can feel the creature curling between his legs as best it can with it’s size, reminding him it’s there.
And Remus wants to stay there, wants to float in the water forever staring at the creature and their hypnotic eyes. He only wishes he could tell if the want is because it wants him, or wants to kill him. He’s scared and excited by both options, which is how he knows he needs to get out fast.
So Remus screams, a strangled sound from his salt water wrecked throat. The reaction is instant. The rope around his torso tugs hard, dragging him upwards, as the siren lurches up, a pained noise escaping them as Remus clambers up the side of his ship. He can hear it crying as he hits the deck, covering his ears with his hands to block out the noise. He wants to dive back down and console the creature, let it keep him forever. It burns his soul and the only thing to stop him from doing so is his crew, using the rope around him to tie him to the mast and hoist the anchor to get the ship moving.
The crying follows them for three days, a wailing noise that has the crew miserable but none as much as Remus. It affects him so much more it seems, able to hear the sound clearer than the others, hear the sorrow in the song that makes him scream and cry. Still he does not return to the water or look over the edge of his ship for three days.
It’s on the evening of the fourth night that something changes. The song is softer this time, more subdued, begging now instead of demanding. That’s not what gets Remus to stand from his chamber and stumble his way out to the deck to lean over the edge of his ship looking for purple scales. It’s the fact he can understand the words being sung to him.
“My heart is pierced by cupid, my disdain all glitter and gold, there is nothing can console me.. but my sailor bold.” The song stings right through him, his soul vibrating with knowing he is the sailor being sung about and the words leave his mouth before he can think.
“His hair hangs in ringlets, his eyes black as coal, my happiness attend him, wherever he may go.” He’s lucky, or perhaps unlucky, none of the rest of the crew is around to hear him or see him. He scans the water, nearly desperate as the song, when the siren surfaces, letting out a coo to him. Relief floods Remus’s system at seeing them, something settling his frayed nerves at being apart. He mimics the noise back and siren smiles. They open up their arms to him and coo again. Come down here.
The urge to jump is commanding. Remus holds fast and instead repeats the noise with a gesture up. Come this way. The siren grimaces at him and coos again, more forcefully. Come down, please. Remus does not. He shakes his head and siren lets out a cry that hurts. Please.
Remus wants to. He wants to jump over the edge and follow the siren wherever they may lead him. He can’t. Not knowing their intentions with him.
“How can I understand you now?” He finds himself asking, clawing at the banister of his ship, anything to ground him to where he is. He debates tying himself down if it’ll help his urge. The siren tilts their head at him and smiles with their teeth, letting out a trill of a noise.
You belong to the sea, to me. The siren says. Remus knows this. Seven seas save him he knows this.
“What do you want with me?” He asks then. The siren smiles more genuinely at that and disappears under the water. Remus nearly does jump then, not wanting this to be over, but the siren appears again, shooting up out of the water claw their way up the boat. Once they’re close enough, Remus leans over and helps them settle on the edge.
He can see all the patterning of their body now, swirls of purple and black and grey, blending into one another it’s hard to say where one color ends and another begins. Their eyes now have a ring of black around the edges of the purple, adjusting to being out of the water. They coo and drag a finger across Remus’s cheeks softly and he melts into the cold touch.
I want everything, you are mine. The siren says and Remus kisses them. He cuts his lip on their teeth but it’s nothing compared to the feel of their scaled skin under his hands.
“Stay with me,” Remus finds himself asking. The siren coos happily and Remus echoes the noise. The night is wiled away cooing at each other until the first of the crew wakes. They catches Remus curled in the arms of the siren, both sleeping on the deck. The creature leaps over the edge of the boat as quick as it can and Remus jumps to watch them fall into the water until they can’t be seen any more.
Whatever questions the crew has he can not answer. He is unsure of the nature of what just happened himself. But come next night, he’s tying a rope to his torso and jumping overboard. The siren catches him and trills and teaches Remus it’s language.
Despite the concern, the pattern continues, a night above, a night below. Perhaps worrying when Remus begins to grow gills on the side of his neck, but he’s the same reckless captain the crew knows. Reckless as anything when he spends his nights with a deadly sea creature.
Word spreads when another ship threatens to attack, half the crew jumping overboard with a glossy look in their eyes and the sounds of a siren’s feast follow after. The crew wasn’t sure to be fearful or thankful considering the siren had not done the same to them. Remus couldn’t have been more besotted.
The rumors spread and when the crew docks, Remus stays on the ship with his siren. The crew tells hims tales of what everyone says and he laughs with them and they laugh when the siren trills from over the edge. They are feared even more now on the waters than ever before and they take full advantage of so.
Davey Jones prays for those who come across Mad Captain Remus and siren song for a lover.
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Angst prompt
I cannot for the life of me find the prompt in my Inbox that left this one, so I am posting it on it’s own. The prompt is, This isn’t your fault, and was for Caleb Shepard and Kaidan Alenko.
Setting: Aboard the Normandy after the Cyone mission, somewhere later in the war.
Warnings for grief, minor character death
~~~
After the coup attempt, the pace of the war picks up momentum. There doesn’t seem to be a moment for any of them to just stop and breathe. The reapers have been gaining ground much faster than before; whether that’s due to earlier success and the creation of new ground troops, more reapers arriving from dark space, or the mounting losses by Milky Way races. Whatever the case, the undeniable fact is that the reapers are winning and that in turn means they are running from system to system, seeking out resources, patching up holes and hoping that everything they’re trying does some good.
Exhaustion stalks like a panther, night or day. Poor decisions. Losses grow in number. Nothing about it encourages, so how are they to find their way through? Shore leave is increasingly difficult to work into the schedule, no matter how desperately needed.
The Normandy collects the shuttle and zips out of the system before the reapers know they’ve left. Before they hit the relay, Kaidan is showered, changed and back on duty in the CIC. There is too much to be done, too few to do it, and too little time left to get it accomplished. He is content to do his part and then some, especially if it gives Shepard a break. He isn’t the only one to notice that with each passing day, his shoulders seem a bit lower, the circles beneath his eyes darker, his mood more and more inconsolable. Something needs to be done; when no one else steps up, it falls on him. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They’re on the way to the Citadel, Cyone in their rearview mirror, when he reaches Shepard’s cabin. He’s got a datapad in hand – not the best of news by a long shot, and likely will devastate Shepard once he sees it, but it is not the absolute worst, either. That is the fact Kaidan hopes the man will see. The door opens almost immediately after he knocks; Shepard stands there, damp hair in his eyes, blank look on his face. “Kaidan?”
“Got a second?” Kaidan asks, lifting the datapad.
Shepard steps aside and gestures him in. They descend to the lower level, and while Shepard reads over the information, Kaidan takes a moment to look into the fish tank. At the same time, he counts the seconds that pass.
Behind him, Shepard curses in Irish, wraps his hand around the side of the datapad and flings it with enough force that it ends up corner-first wedged between panels of the wall. Kaidan turns the moment he hears the grunt of disgust and catches the end of the display. Slowly, his eyes meet Shepard’s. Fifteen. “Impressive.”
Shepard has the decency to look abashed for all of about a second before a scowl marks his face and he glowers back, a wall firmly slamming in place between them. “You expect different? We’re losing this war, Kaidan!” He brushes past him and heads to the desk where he keeps a bottle of the ‘good stuff.’
By the time Kaidan walks over, Shepard’s all but shoving a glass in his hands. He knows it’s bad, really bad, when Shepard tosses back the drink without his usual toast. Not even a hint of Sláinte, the easiest one there is. Not only that, but he downs the entirety of the glass all at once. It burns – it has to no matter how good it is – and the man’s lips thin into a straight line as he shakes his head once, then reaches out to pour another. That one is gone before Kaidan is halfway through his. When Shepard reaches for the bottle third time, Kaidan blocks the move, taking it in hand and setting it off to his left out of Shepard’s reach. Time for intervention.
Sudden tension fills the room, anger and frustration building. Kaidan repositions himself between Shepard and the bottle. Setting his own drink aside, he folds his arms across his chest and stares back at the man just as coldly. Minutes tick by in silence. The fish swim lazily in their tank, but out of the corner of his eye, the movement seems herky-jerky, as if even they sense trouble. Kaidan isn’t worried he’s bitten off more than he can chew. No, his worry is centered on the man in front of him, the one dressed in PT shorts, a tank top and his damp hair still straggling down in his face. The one who currently has one of those, if looks could kill, sort of looks in his eyes. The worry is for the man inside, the one who hurts, the one who is at his limit and is too damned stubborn to admit it. The Irishman who is far more stubborn than any man has a right to be.
“Kaidan.”
There is warning in that voice, a hint of barely restrained violence. Hard, cutting edges, brooking no argument. One used to giving orders and having them carried out, one not used to being questioned.
Kaidan doesn’t move, doesn’t turn away, doesn’t do anything but return the look. In that moment, it isn’t Kaidan reacting, but Major Alenko. “Do not make me relieve you, commander.” He can give orders too, and if necessary, pull rank.
For just a moment, the anger bubbles higher in those blue eyes and it looks as if it might spill over the edge …
Kaidan lunges forward as his knees give out, slides an arm around his waist, pulls his arm around his shoulders, and leads him over to sit on the edge of the bed within a heartbeat before Shepard can collapse to the floor. “Sit,” he urges quietly, easing him onto the mattress before looking around the room and spotting the N7 hoodie on the back of a chair. This he grabs and drapes around Shepard’s shoulder.
His worry grows as Shepard sits there, staring straight ahead, breath coming in short, panting gasps. Taking a knee in front of him, Kaidan waits patiently. Each time he tries to connect their gazes, however, Shepard averts his. It takes time, and lots of it, before his breathing eases. Still, he does not look at Kaidan.
Shepard grimaces, eyes filled with a deep pain that Kaidan can only guess at, but finally the man rasps, “Word of advice; don’t ever get between an Irishman and his drink.”
Kaidan remains where he is, ever patient, still silent. Finally, finally, Shepard looks at him. A lop-sided smile toys at his lips and he reaches a hand out to brush Shepard’s hair out of his eyes. “Some risks I’m willing to take.”
“Mo ghrá, …!”
Rising to his feet, Kaidan sits beside him, reaching over to take his left hand in his right and lace their fingers together. “Better now?” he asks, changing the subject. It isn’t, he knows that. It won’t be for a long time to come, but the road needs to start now or it will not start at all.
Shepard’s shoulders collapse as the man lifts his free hand to cover his face. Wrapping his arm around Shepard’s shoulder, Kaidan leans over, presses a gentle kiss to his jaw. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”
“Isn’t it?” Shepard’s hand drops and he turns to face Kaidan, disbelief etched throughout his face. “I am the one in charge of all of this! I am the one they expect to give them another bloody miracle! I am the one who – !”
Kaidan uses his free hand to grasp Shepard’s jaw and force him to look directly at him. “You see yourself as one man against the galaxy, but you aren’t alone. We are all in this together. You. Me. The crew of the Normandy. The Turians. The Krogan. The Asari. The Salarians. Everyone of us!” He releases his hold, absently noting the red marks his fingers leave behind. “We all stand together, Caleb, or we do not stand at all! Can’t you understand that?”
Shepard blinks once. Twice. His lips part, a strangled gurgle in his throat trying to break free, and in that moment, Kaidan finally sees it. The crack. The pain taking over. The despair. He slides his free hand around to the back of Shepard’s head while still holding his other, fingers laced. Gently, he tilts the man’s head toward his until their foreheads touch. The ragged breaths are back again, as Shepard fights it. “Kaidan, I –.”
Kaidan’s hand tightens around Shepard’s. “This isn’t your fault!” he repeats. “She was N7 just like you! She knew the risks!”
The tremors begin gently, building to something far more violent than a body should be able to withstand, but like Shepard does with most everything, he still fights it or will die trying. Kaidan desperately prays it doesn’t come to that.
Long minutes pass, but something changes. What exactly, Kaidan has no idea, but Shepard’s eyes close, tears leaking past them and trailing down his cheeks. His breathing becomes labored, rough, raspy, painful. But it is the wail of grief from the deepest depths of his soul escaping past his lips that is what he has waited for since walking through the cabin door. Kaidan winces, but does not pull away, does not move to cover his ears. He will willingly pay whatever consequences may follow from this, but for now he is where he needs to be.
Time has no meaning, and it could be hours later when Shepard finally lifts his head, shudders one last time, but does not pull away from Kaidan. He tries to speak, but only a hoarse whisper escapes. Kaidan pushes to his feet and guides the man up beside him before helping him around to slide underneath the covers. “I’ll be right back,” he promises as he releases his hold. Shepard’s head snaps up toward his, but Kaidan simply repeats his promise and steps away. When he returns less than a minute later, he has a bottle of water in hand which he opens and passes over before sitting on the other side of the bed next to him. “Better?”
“I … feel numb. Empty.” Slowly, he looks over at Kaidan, adding in a whisper, “Lost.”
Kaidan scoots over next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “I know.” And he does. After Alchera. Just weeks ago, when hearing the news about his father. Death is never easy, no matter who you are or the circumstances. He isn’t about to waste time with platitudes. Instead, he holds him close and murmurs, “When you are ready – today, tomorrow, a year from now, whenever, or never – tell me more about her? She sounds like a remarkable woman.”
Shepard sighs and swallows past a lump. “Aye,” he finally manages. “Rosa was one of the best of us …”
#writing prompts#angst prompts#ladya writes#Caleb Shepard#mshenko#Kaidan Alenko#grief#death#minor character death#mass effect fanfiction
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I've been having breakfast in the same kitchen for the past 4 yrs watching the news with every report on how Monster in Chief has been dismantling the world by every action and the only thing that goes thru my mind is how far? How far can he go before for the people who are suppose to protect us finally take him out of his position and prevent any more collateral damage and death? They really let this orange imp with no sense of decency destroy everything, didn't they?
So... I’m going to talk about my dad for a minute here.
My dad is a very old fashioned guy--to the point where I kind of compare him to Henry Huggins and Homer Price a lot--he’s like... this essence of salt-of-the-earth suburbia, we’re talking some Leave It To Beaver shit. Those Boy Scout First Aid pictures I posted? Those were from his old Scout Manuals. He literally reads the bible every morning. And no, he’s not a conservative. I’d slot him in the section of... I guess constitutional democrat? Federalist??? He accepts me as a bisexual, he’s still figuring out a lot of the nuances of queer culture, but he’s willing to listen and learn. See, he’s an American history teacher, and being an American history teacher, he’s no stranger to firebrand presidents, and while he shares Washington’s sentiment that we were never meant to fall into a 2 party system, he’s kind of always been of the mind that you need balance between maintaining the stability that is while working to improve the situation. Like he views conservatism vs. progressivism from a very bare-bones perspective with an attitude of “How do we improve things without throwing the baby out with the bathwater.” Obviously he was as unhappy as the rest of us when Trump got elected, but he had faith in the “Checks and balances” of US government.
For the past 4 years I have been listening to my dad wonder aloud when American conservatives are going to stand up to Trump. When they’re going to say, “No, this is not the brush we want to be painted with. This is not who we want to be associated with.” There was a period of about 4 months back in... I want to say 2017 when I would listen to him say, over and over again, “This is going to become a battle for the soul of the Republican party.” He’s stopped saying that. Because at this point it’s clear: Anyone who would side with Trump, anyone who doesn’t speak out against this fucking disgrace of a president is complicit in fascism. Is complicit in the avoidable deaths of over 100,000 Americans. The Republican party has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that it has no soul, that it’s little more than a handful of fascist corporate oligarchs in a trenchcoat, maintaining itself through gerrymandering, mass incarceration, and hate-mongering. Capitalism has painted a thin veneer on a very ugly reality, and if it takes rioters to strip that veneer away for the ugliness it truly is, then fucking riot. Newscasters can wring their pearls about “destroying your own communities” but parasitic corporate storefronts forcing you to work ridiculous hours in a pandemic while funneling the profits of your labor out of your community and to some asshole practicing his putt in a corporate office aren’t a community. Fucking Target isn’t a community. You are the community.
So this brings me back to my dad. A few nights ago we got in an argument over the protesters--he, growing up in a neighborhood that had the safety and privilege for everyone to know each other, for people to greet him on his morning paper route (and yes, he had a fucking paper route), he was obviously upset because “Why would these people be harming their own community like this” and meanwhile I’m pretty leftist thanks to going through several long periods of protest in college so I’m like “Psh. It’s Beverly Hills. If it takes burning trashcans and broken glass and stolen designer handbags for people to get their point across and get these rich assholes’ heads out of the sand, so fucking be it.” But the next morning he watched our local church livestream, and he shifted his position a bit. He said to me, “I remember in the bible--when people are grieving, when they’re despairing, they ‘Rend their clothes.’ They don’t have that much, they don’t have that many clothes, but they rip them apart while wailing, and this destruction is an expression of their grief. It’s not fair to judge someone simply for the destruction of their things without understanding their grief. I was judging on the actions and not where the action was coming from.”
And like... that’s the thing that’s going to save us. Our only hopes are in compassion, and understanding, and solidarity. We can mock Trump and call him an orange imp all we want, but we’re fucking stuck with him unless we start effecting change in our own communities. So ask yourself if you’re going to let this be Trump’s America. Ask yourself what your America looks like.
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Rejoice! It is time.
This picture was taken just a little over 5 years ago. More specifically, it was taken on October 22, 2015 while I was living in Michigan. And ever since October 22 of this year I have been trying to get the words out of what this year’s anniversary of this picture has meant to me, but every time I feel like I come up short. I’ve tried to write it out, pray it out, and talk it out with those closest to me, but every time I feel like I’m at a lost for words as to how to adequately convey what this year’s anniversary means to me. Because for the first time, I am not afraid.
I usually hate this time of year. During this time of year I usually avoid any old posts, old pictures, and most especially any old memories. I try to avoid anything that could remind of the day this was taken. Because on this day 5 years ago, I went into the hospital for my first time ever. It was for my depression. The days and weeks leading up to this day were intense. My mind was completely gripped by the conviction of suicide. I was starting to think in lasts. Last time I would see my family, last time I would talk to friends, last time I would drive down roads, last time I would walk along paths.
There was one time in particular I was walking along a path I had been walking almost daily. It was actually a beautiful fall day, but my mind was very very dark. I started to see everything as an opportunity, and I had already made up my mind that once I got back home that would be it. But by God’s providence alone, I was met with a busy house, too busy to do anything so severe. So I trudged along.
There was another day in particular where I was alone at work. I had gone to vigil Mass and stayed behind uncontrollably sobbing in my pew till everyone was gone and all the lights shut off. It was to the point I even had another parishioner check on me before they left. I bawled all the way down the hallway back to my office and tried so hard to distract myself with work and worship music, but nothing helped. Eventually I sought out professional help, but even that brought no relief. But again, by God’s providence alone, my therapist from California, who I hadn’t talked to in 8 months, randomly called me just to check in and talked me through all the thoughts I was having. She told me “Don’t let this be the end. FIGHT! Which for you mostly means, RECEIVE!”
One other time that I will always remember was one evening we all came back home from something, maybe vigil Mass, and it was one of those days where I had to fight with all my strength not to completely break down. So the moment we got home, I went straight to my room, locked the door, and just tossed and turned in agony on my bed not knowing how to deal with the swirl of sadness, darkness, hopelessness going on in my head. I texted Ate right away that I wouldn’t be joining them that night for whatever dinner or movie they were gonna do. But she sent Jobo to go check on me. I paced the room debating if I should just push through, let him in, and go join them. I decided against it and shooed him off. But with God’s loving and relentless providence, He sends Ate down to check on me who refuses to let me keep the door locked. I open the door, and immediately she just scoops me up in all my despair and lets me cry in her arms. We spend the rest of the night just laying in my bed as I word vomit all the sadness I had been bottling up.
Finally the day came when my doctor wouldn't let me sit in my thoughts anymore. It just wasn't safe. So she made me promise I’d take myself to the hospital, call her when I got there, and have the hospital call her if they didn’t admit me. I drove home completely stunned, shocked, and dumbfounded that it had actually reached that point. It was one of those drives I had no idea how I got home. Very emptily, I packed my stuff trying to accept the fact that I was going to the hospital with a very high chance of me staying there overnight. My brother called in that moment, and that’s when I started to break. He told me, “This is only the beginning, and I can’t wait to see you come out the other side. You’re gonna be so much stronger.” He then asked if I wanted him and Rose to come out, and very timidly, I said yes. It was hard for me to admit, but I really really needed them in that moment. I needed the assurance of love. I needed to know it was going to be okay. I needed to be taken care of. So I gave in.
That night was by far the scariest moment of my life. Kuya and Ate stayed with me till the doctors and nurses said that was as far as they could go and as long as they could stay. My heart sunk in that moment as things started to get more and more real with them leaving. I did my orientation interview with the nurse, and that’s when she told me the soonest I could get out of there was Monday bc the minimum was usually 3 days and the discharge doctor doesn’t work on weekends. Monday was 4 days away. I went to bed that night in medical robes and bawled myself to sleep. If I didn’t have a roommate I would probably be wailing with every bit of fear and anxiety within me. I was doing one of those big silent cries, where the weight is so heavy but I’m not able to make a sound.
The next 4 days were intense as I had to face my darkness straight in the eyes for my first time, with no other distractions, no other escape. I spent my days calling anyone I possibly could from those free phones, just desperate to hear a voice outside those hospital walls. Something to keep me grounded that there is life outside of this, there is hope and people waiting for me. I lived for 4-5pm, the one hour a day we were allowed to have visitors. That first day in particular, it felt like forever till Ate got there. Ohhh but when she did, it was over. We were a mess. We both hated that I was there, and we both desperately wanted me to leave, but I just couldn’t. The following days Ced and Rose were there, and a couple times even brought me the Eucharist :) It was a scary time, but also very reflective. At this point I was 99.9999% convinced I was made for suicide, and if anyone found me loved and lovable, it was them that was being deceived. But the nurses and doctors couldn’t understand why I was there because it was clear I had a good life and was blessed with a solid support system. But as I was reading through my notes from my time there - which I almost never do, except this year - I wrote what one of the doctors told me, “life starts over every 5 years, stick around and see if it gets good.”
And well, here I am 5 years later, and for the first time, instead of running in fear from the memories of this time in year, the only word I can come up with to sum up how I’m feeling is REJOICE. This year on October 22 all I wanted to do was rejoice over the memories. Instead of hiding in shame, I wanted everyone to know it’s been 5 years bc I’m honestly so proud. Because waking up on October 22, 2020 it felt like I could finally exhale. There’s something about this year that makes me feel like I can finally say, “You did it. You survived. It’s over.” There’s something about this year that makes it feel like this chapter of depression is finally over, and I can now move on. And I wish I can tell you what exactly made it that way, but I just can’t. Maybe there’s more to process, but it’s as if I just found myself on the other side. The other side that Ced talked to me about right before I went in. It’s like one of those war movies, where the scene cuts just as they’re in the middle of big explosions, and everything feels overwhelming. But the very next scene is the solider waking up, and the next thing he knows is the war is done. The battle was won, he fought the good fight, and he’s free to return home. That’s where I’ve seemed to find myself. It’s as if I found myself with the strength that Ced almost prophesied over me right before I went in. And it blows me away that on the one year I’m actually brave enough to read my old notes, this is the one I find - “life starts over every 5 years, stick around and see if it gets good.” And it’s not even that I would write to Past Mare of 5 years ago and say, “Yes! Stick around bc it does get good!” As if all this will go away soon and all my dreams will come true. Bc that 100% didn’t happen. But I would tell myself “stick around, feel the feels, voice all the thoughts, and just keep fighting. bc one day, you will find yourself free.”
Bc that’s exactly how I feel - free. It’s as if I’ve been chained down all this time, and by God’s grace the locks have been broken, and I can walk free, no conditions, no tricks, just free. Almost like Genie at the end of Aladdin. He fought the fight, he was faithful, and now the cuffs are simply off and he’s free to go. Just like that. And every time I’ve tried to write this out, pray this out, talk this out, I am brought to tears bc the freedom isn’t just from the fear and despair I felt 5 years ago in that hospital. The truth is that hospital bed was a lonnnng time coming. The tears of rejoicing that I shed now are not only for Hospital-Mare 5 years ago, but for St. Rose-Mare 7 years ago who felt like a piece of shit every single day, Newly Graduated-Mare 8 years ago who felt life was hopeless, Senior Year of College-Mare 9 years ago who couldn’t help but be attracted to the idea, and Senior Year of High School-Mare 13 years ago who felt no one would even notice or care. Bc for the first time in 13 years I am no longer plagued by the conviction that my life is irreversibly hopeless and helpless, that I am intrinsically unloved and unlovable, and that as sure as the sun will rise, I am destined for suicide. For the first time in 5 years I am no longer afraid of this time of year bc there is a still but sure certainty that my life is about to change as this 13 year battle has finally come to an end. Not that depression will be fully behind me and will no longer be a thing for me for the rest of my life, but that depression no longer runs my life. Depression no longer dictates my life. Depression may still be in the car, but it no longer drives the car of my life. And I can’t help but weep over this triumph.
It’s such a trippy and almost anticlimactic experience though bc there really isn’t 1 particular moment I can point to. (Well maybe there is but that might be for another story ;)) But even then, there was more before leading up to that moment. Like so many people, 2020 has brought a lot of loss for me. But most of mine are relationships (for different reasons). I lost a couple relationships with people who have guided me through many years of my life; I lost a very personal and close relationship; I lost the relationships from my job and all those that came with it (at least the nature of them). And while each loss has brought a lot of grief, worry, and tears, at the end of the day there was peace bc it all just felt part of the plan. It felt like watching the series finale of a show where everything starts to find resolution, bringing the show to a final and peaceful close. With every loss this year, it felt like another resolution and another part of the story coming to an end. It felt like the final pages of a book closing. And something in me just knew, this is it.
And again, I wish I could say I went to the hospital and that was it. Life was beautiful and perfect and made complete sense. But that’s just not true. I went 2 more times before moving back home to Cali and went another time for a very long stretch for what ended up being lupus. I lost a lot of dreams and cried many tears of agony and frustration and honestly straight anger towards God. But I had to keep moving. The freedom I live in now didn’t come with one big moment. It came with the last 5 years after the hospital, and the 4 years before the hospital, of doing the hard work in therapy. I had to learn to grow in trust and vulnerability. I had to learn how to receive care and love (probably the hardest part of it all). I had to be docile to practice what I was learning in therapy. I had be honest with my thoughts and feelings to myself, my therapist, the group I was in therapy with, and most especially with those closest to me, especially those I lived with. It also took a lot of trial and error wth medication. It took hard work, and a lot of it was being brave enough to enter into the darkness, let myself feel the feelings and voice the thoughts. It took a lot of letting people speak truth to me and even speaking truth to myself, even if it all felt like a lie. It took faithfulness to holy hours, receiving the Eucharist, and daily prayer time even if all I had was anger or indifference towards God, even if it all felt empty and pointless. It took repeating the name of Jesus, endlessly reciting the Memorare, and begging for St. Michael’s intercession in the scariest moments of my depression. It took long, hard work, but what brings me to cry tears of rejoicing now is not only how long it’s taken me to get here, but remembering the faithfulness of God to His promises.
7 years ago I was given the penance to read the Gospel of Mark, and the verse that struck me right away was Mk 5:41 “Taking her by the hand He said to her, ‘Talitha cumi,’ which means, ‘little girl I say to you, arise.’” Instantly, I knew the Lord was talking to me. The first promise.
5 years ago hiding in my hospital bed, I was looking for a specific verse in Isaiah, but I ended up on Is 43:18-19 “Remember not the events of past, the things of old consider not; see I am doing a new thing! Do you not perceive it? In the wilderness I make a way, in the wasteland, rivers.” Once again, instinctively I knew this was for me. It was the beginning that Ced was talking to me about before going in. The second promise.
Over the last few months, the verse that I find myself repeating to myself over and over, especially in times of most anxiety, fear, and worry is Jer 29:11 “For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.” The third promise.
This year I can’t help but cry as I look at this picture and reminisce on all the intense trapped darkness because I feel like I am now standing in the fulfillment of these promises He made to me so long ago. I just feel like He’s saying, “it’s time.” It’s finally time for me to rise up. It’s finally time for me to see this new thing He’s been building and shaping for me. It’s finally time for me to walk on the water. It’s time for me to rise out of my fear and reclaim the life and joy depression has stolen from me all those years. And in that rising, in that reclaiming, also comes the gift, the permission, the freedom to dream again and the grace and courage to pursue those dreams. Me! Me, dream again! It’s the most surreal experience that I could actually be free to walk into the light, dare to dream anew, and live unafraid of the consequences should failure come. Me! Unafraid! I just keep thinking, who the heck do I think I am that I could dream and live unafraid? That I could be free to live life joyfully again? To live bravely? To live unchained? Who am I? And I honestly can’t answer that. I can’t say I’m deserving. I can’t say to myself it is safe and possible. But the Lord in all His patience and authority just keeps saying, it is time. Today, once again in God’s providence, I happen to come across Dn 10:19 “Fear not, beloved, you are safe; take courage and be strong.” And I just feel like He’s like “Yes, you!” haha. What trips me up is realizing that healing isn’t always this big, extravagant thing. Sometimes, it’s the slow but steady work of God. Sometimes it’s just doing the work day in and day out, and being faithful to that work, and one day the Lord gives you the grace to see you’re already there. The fight is won, and you are free. No strings attached, no tricks. Just free.
I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I’ll be honest, I’ve been fighting the Lord like “Are you sure??! bc I have no idea how to do life outside of this depressed world!” I feel like Rapunzel in Tangled, who dreams all those years of leaving her tower to pursue the lights. But once her chance has finally come and she’s able to taste a new, free life, guilt takes over her, and she goes back and forth if it was the right decision - Do I dare to believe my identity could be more than my depression? This reality I’ve known for so much of my life. Do I dare take the Lord up on His offer and leave my dark tower? - But as she keeps going and finally makes it to the boats, she admits she’s afraid, “what if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?…and what if it is?” To which she’s told, “that’s the good part, you get to dream a new dream.” And as things unfold, she suddenly finds herself unafraid. And that’s where I feel I am. It’s scary bc I don’t have all the answers, I don’t have it all completely mapped out like I’d like, but all I know is it is finally my time to arise. It’s time for me to feel that water as I step out of the boat. It's time to dare to dream again, dare to live life again, and this time walk along side our Lord every step of the way. Let Him dream His dreams through me. Let my dreams unite with His. And dare I admit, I’m actually getting excited about it! :)
It’s scary, and it calls for a new level of vulnerability, and I am begging everyday for the courage to lean into this new life. But at this point all I can say is I can’t believe I made it! I can’t believe it’s over! I can’t believe I survived! And I know I wouldn't be here if it weren’t for the countless prayer warriors I have out there, prayer warriors I’m not even aware of. All the prayers, the rosaries, the Masses, the holy hours that have been offered up for me. Graces I’m sure I will be unpacking for the rest of my life. And I most especially wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for those closest to me while I was in the thick of it. Special shout out to the Urginos, to my parents, to Ced and Rose, to Ming and King, and to Age - those that literally stopped their lives just to be by my side 5 years ago. And to Hyds and Anhel who dealt with every frantic text during that time (and who still do) and never tired of speaking truth to me. I’ve screenshotted so many of our texts, and I still go back to them every now and then on some of my hardest days. And of course to my therapists, my doctors, my spiritual directors. For carrying every heavy thought with me and never letting up. And finally, to all my Kuya and Ate Saints, I know it was you guys holding me up and keeping me close to the Lord when I couldn’t do it myself.
Glory to God through Mary! I have no idea what’s next, but thank You in advance for whatever happens from here. Let’s get it! :)
LDM
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Rekindle
Pairing: Erik x Thick Black Reader
Summary: You and Erik finally split ties, but it was far from a clean break..
“Seven years. Seven years of my life, I gave that man. Down the fucking drain.” Your living room is covered in party decorations, wine bottles and your best friends sprawled along the carpet. Big gold balloons filled with helium spelling out “FUCK HIM” are tracing your ceiling; the “Happy Divorce” cake has been rationed out amongst your girls, still left uncovered. All of them drunk and half asleep. Not you. The celebration of your divorce has fizzled out and left you in a state of despair and confusion. How did we get here...
Talking to no one in particular, you muse out loud, eyes watery, clutching a glass of Cabernet. “I gave that nigga everything. My body, my mind, my fuckin spirit, and we still couldn’t get right. What could I...what could I have done...?” A lone tear dropped and you gulped the entire glass down your throat.
All you could think about were the divorce proceedings. Erik didn’t fight you on anything you asked for. It was hard to read him, just like usual. Blank expression, dead eyes....you had no idea how he felt at this very moment signaling the end of your union. You requested child support, the house you and him had built from the ground up and being the custodial parent to your four year old daughter, Nneka and you got it. No matter what you felt for Erik, you would never keep Nneka from her father. He cherished her, she was his pride and joy. You wanted that for her; it was something you never had.
Irreconcilable differences was the grounds on which you filed for divorce. You both grew up so differently from each other and that became very evident as the relationship progressed. Erik, orphaned in childhood, fighting and surviving in the Oakland foster care system, overcoming every obstacle before him by taking control of his life, going to college, enlisting in the Navy, and traveling the world, leaving his dreadful past in the dust.
You, the only child of two Black yuppies who had their nanny practically raise you, were thrusted into the world of prep schools and country clubs, groomed from birth to be the wife of some senator or judge with an impeccable pedigree. Born to be a Black Stepford wife. That wasn’t you, and if your parents actually took more 5 minutes to talk to you about it, they’d know too. You were free and needed to spread your wings on your own terms.
This fueled you to rebel and shit on every expectation your parents had of you. A flawless grade point average, you could write your ticket to any school you wanted. When you told them you were going to Spelman over Dartmouth, they hit the roof. You were determined though, to set your life path without the black cloud of your parents looming over you.
Shortly after you graduated from school, you made a life in California, far away from your family. Beautiful weather, beautiful people, beautiful weed. You adjusted nicely being a brash East Coaster, adapting to the relaxed lifestyle of the west coast. Finding some really good girl friends, securing a bomb condo, killing shit at your new job. And in walks hurricane Erik...
He was a livewire, always the center of attention even when he wasn’t seeking it out. Erik was the director of several outreach centers in the state, with close ties to the Wakandan government as their primary benefactor. Developing after school programs, multicultural outings, or just making sure the kids of the community were fed; that was what he had his hands in every day. A Black knight in shining armor. It didn’t hurt that he was fucking gorgeous, with the charm and wit to match.
You guys met at a gala for the center headquarters in Oakland and like a moth to a flame, y’all were inseparable. He just started growing his locs, gold canines in tow, and bulging muscles through his suit jacket that you could hardly rip your eyes from. He romanced you in one night, banter over champagne flutes and hors d’œuvres. A fine ass Black man who was driven and passionate about the welfare of his people, with a slick mouth, you were a goner. But Erik wasn’t the only one with game. You gave as good as you got it, evening gown wrapped around your curves, showcasing what you were working with. Erik noticed that, and he pounced accordingly. Imagine his surprise when you had a mouth on you as well. Your brown skin, shimmering with flecks of gold, natural hair in an updo to flaunt your neck and décolletage, and a sort of whimsy in your eyes. It took all he had in himself to not ravish you in the midst of this fine engagement.
“You’re not the only one who’s charming, Mr. Stevens...” you remember whispering in his ear. You were a little tipsy from the bubbly and feeling uninhibited. You guys spent the whole night talking, slow dancing a few times. He felt so good holding you, smelling like a dream, his body warm and substantial to hold on to. You guys exchanged numbers and he kissed you on your cheek, his hand at the small of your back, “I’ll be seeing more of you, Miss Y/L/N......”
You got blankets and placed them all on your girls in the living room, and stumbled to your bed room. The tears are flowing now, and a hot shower could at least wash the day’s events off of you. You undress and step in and let the water roll off your skin. It did no good though. Your mind can’t stop thinking about the last decade of your life, mulling over the big and small details.
How he made you laugh so much at the late night diner on your first date. When your car broke down on the side of the road and he came and saved you by changing the spare. The first time he entered you and gave you the most earth shattering release you’ve ever had. The uneasiness he felt when he finally told you about his past life and the symbolism of his scars. The tears in his eyes when he bent down on one knee and asked you to be his wife. The utter peace during your honeymoon in Aruba at the thought of your newfound union. The contractions you felt as you wailed loudly, bringing your baby girl into this world. Him cheering Nneka on as she learned how to walk. The emptiness you felt when you miscarried when Nneka was a toddler and him consoling you. Your rage at him coming home late consistently with little to no explanation. His ugly and controlling words to you about him being the head of the household and how you belonged to him. The shock and awe on his face when he was served the divorce papers. The one slip of his poker face as he held the door for you to exit the boardroom after finalizing the dissolution of your marriage. You read shame, anger and even a hint of sadness on his visage, all a shock to your senses. “I told you I would give you whatever you wanted, Y/N..” Those were the last words he spoke to you earlier that day as you both exited the building, going to your separate cars. He pulled off and you could have sworn you saw a tear streak down his cheek.
All these memories bombarded you at once. The hurt, the pleading, the despair at separating from the only man you’ve ever loved, the father of your child....you allowed yourself to really feel it. Your tears mixed with the shower water, and you slid to the floor of the shower, hair be damned. This was the first step, everything was so fresh and still so raw. You bawled, doubling over as your cries filled the space of your once shared bathroom with Erik. You would give yourself this night. To cry and scream and bellow at this unfortunate moment. After this....you were moving on, by any means necessary.
#coparent erik#erik stevens#erik stevens x reader#black panther fanfiction#black panther#killmonger imagine#killmonger#erik killmonger#smut#erik killmonger smut
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Baby Mine - A DnD Inspired Origin Story
A/N: Another DnD Oneshot! I’ll probably do one for each PC and NPC to explain origins or what’s happening between scenes with PCs. Many of these are DnD gods, with the exception of Dawn which I’ve mad as the Sun and Light Goddess. This was based off one of the songs from my playlist for this campaign, “Baby Mine” from Dumbo. Hope you enjoy! - Minty
TW: Mention of Murder, Abandonment, Familial Separation. (Let me know if I missed anything!)
Summary: Scepter’s story.
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Dawn yawned as she cradled her newborn baby closely. It had been a long night, but she was happy to finally meet her son. Her attendants smiled happily at the newborn as they quickly left to clean, having known the deity would need some rest. The baby cried as Dawn held it closely, soothing the newborn with a soft tune. The small creature slowly grasped his mother’s finger, and Dawn looked down at her son fondly.
It had been quite the task indeed trying to find a new heir to take her place in the sky once she was tricked by Talona to be poisoned, her life now a ticking clock like the mortals below. Dawn always enjoyed the mortals and loved watching and observing them from above. They were created by the gods long ago to inhabit this new world they’d created, and Dawn was impressed by what they’d made with what the gods had given them. Towns, roads, houses, mills, even castles! Dawn also loved to see what they do, or how they act - they can love so deeply and tenderly, yet feel such sadness and deep despair. She knew she wanted her heir, her child, to be a part of these amazing creatures.
The hard part was choosing the right mortal.
She’d had her favorites, but she knew they’d already committed to others. It was on a rainy day in that large town that she found him - Abaddon. A simple farmer working the fields by day, and searching scraps for food by night. He’d had a good heart, and was kind to others. He used what he had to help those who needed it, even when he needed it.
It was that rainy night, the moon’s glow reflecting the raindrops off the buildings, that she fell in love with him. Abaddon, giving half-moldy thrown out bread to the children shivering in the alley. Brown eyes and dark hair. She’d never admit it to the other gods, but after returning back pregnant, she’d missed him. She hadn’t seen him in so long, and she wondered if he’d missed her too.
“For you, my son, a name that shows compassion and care, a name that every mortal will soon come to know - Scepter,” Dawn said, looking down at the small baby as it looked up and gurgled in delight.
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Scepter was held close to Dawn’s chest, swaddled in a warm blanket. “You wanted to see me, Lathander?”
“Dawn, my old friend!” Lathander smiled. His body glowed white as Dawn’s was bright yellow. His hair swooped to the side as the god carefully hugged his friend. “How great it is to see you out of bed! Are you feeling better?”
Dawn smiled. “Quite.” She looked over at Lathender’s changed expression from joy to something of worry, even… guilt? “What’s wrong?”
“As the god of birth, I know my fair share of children, even celestial ones, as it may be. Something worried me about Scepter, so I decided to do a bit of research.”
“What would worry you about him? He’s just fine, he’s eating, sleeping, and playing wonderfully.” Dawn said, glancing down at the sleeping baby in motherly concern.
“While yes, developmentally he’s doing wonderfully, I’m worried more so about his celestially, immortality,” Lathender said. “He should be presenting his powers by now as they merge with his system, causing the glow. But, he hasn’t.” His eyes met his friend’s. “Dawn… he… he’s gotta be-”
“He’s not, Lath. Just a late bloomer, for sure.” Dawn clutched little Scepter close.
Lathender just looked at his friend. “Are you sure?”
The new mother was silent a moment, looking down at her son as he yawned awake, smiling up at her with those brown eyes that reminded her so much of Abaddon. If he really was mortal… he’d die, just like her. Just like what the others so desperately wanted to avoid.
He was her heir. He needed to be immortal, to look after the world when she eventually left. He needed to be able to access the sun, to control it - make it hotter some days, colder on others. Without the sun, the people, the mortals… they’d die.
Without Immortality, Scepter WASN’T an heir.
Dawn didn’t know what the others would do, what she would do, but she needed to figure out something. She just needed time.
Dawn looked back to her friend. “I… I don’t know.” Dawn grabbed Lathender’s hand before he walked off. “Lath, please… don’t say anything. I just need some time. I just need to come up with something, please…”
“Alright, alright. I promise.”
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Dawn didn’t get time. It went from a fantasy dream she’d always wanted to more of a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. She was called into a meeting the next morning, and it was all over. Someone must’ve told them, someone knew. It was all over.
“Lathender? I hear you’ve been keeping critical information from us.” Cryic asked, his snake-like eyes faintly glowing yellow as he smirked on his throne, watching the god before him crumble. “You would blind-side your fellow celestials, would you?”
Lathender exchanged a glance with Dawn, who nervously looked back toward the ground, her wavy long hair slightly protecting little Scepter from view. Dawn held her son close, never wanting to be apart from him for as long as she had left in this life. Lathender sighed, looking toward the god of lies in distaste. “Of course I’d never lie, Cyric. I was merely getting all the facts before I presented it to you all.”
Tyr looked to the god with slight suspicion. “Then, please present it.”
“As you all know, the new heir has been born, and… uh… there’s been… I’ve had some-”
Suddenly, a knife was thrown, pinning the god and his robe to the wall. A god with armor and incredibly short hair sat up from his spot, looking at his work for a moment. Tyr looked annoyed. “Helm, what’s the meaning of this?!”
“Oghma knows, Tyr. Oghma knows and it’s not good. The boy… Scepter… he’s not one of us. He will never be.” Helm jumped and stood in front of Dawn, protecting her and the child. “I stand before you as a celestial to beg for this child’s life. Though it is true he does not possess divine powers, it’s not this child’s fault, nor any of ours.”
“Don’t protect him, Helm! He’s a weak and useless mortal. We should have killed him weeks ago.” Myrkul spat. “Would have saved me and him the trouble of all this.”
Loviatar smiled wickedly. “That struggling pain is SO delicious, though.”
“Helm, is it right of us to let this child live in a broken way of life in the mortal realm? If what you say is to be true, would it not be better to let this mortal return to whence he came from, to be at peace instead of in a world of constant questions?” Tyr asked.
“Isn’t it better to have lived, Tyr, than not at all? Doesn’t this child deserve that?”
“I suppose… Savras?” The room full of gods looked to the one god who seemed dazed, unfocused, almost in a trance. “Tell us what will become of this child.”
“Darkness… sadness… wings, freedom… this boy will face the devil himself and come unscathed, he will have lived a life of love and loss. He will rewrite what was written. He will be a pure force of good.”
Dawn smiled down proudly at her child, who looked incredibly peaceful swaddled in a small baby blanket, sleeping. She couldn’t believe her little Scepter was going to do all of that. She wished she could be there… instead of an observer.
Tyr nodded. “Then it is settled. This mortal will be set down to earth at sunrise to be with his people, and we will figure out another way to craft an heir.”
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So, there it was. Dawn locked herself in her room for the entire day, crying. She was losing her child, and she’d never see him again. What was worse, is that he’d probably never remember her, never remember his real mother. The mother who loved him more than the sun, moon, or stars.
She’d made arrangements with the council to leave him with Abaddon. She knew him well and knew he’d love him and show him kindness and mercy, be a father to him. If she couldn’t help her son grow up, at least he could. She hoped he’d understand.
Suddenly, as the ink flowed through her quill, writing a small note to her beloved, Scepter let out a loud cry. The mother moved to sit up, wiping her tears before they landed on the parchment. She picked up the baby from the crib, wailing, into her arms as she rocked him, soothing him. Quietly, she began to sing her lullaby to him, one she’d sang every night since his birth.
Baby mine, don’t you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part
Baby of mine
Scepter’s cries ceased, as he stared up at his mother, content and curious. Dawn moved toward the balcony, opening the doors as she stepped out, stars twinkling around them and Moon rising above the two.
Little one, when you play
Don’t you mind what they say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear
Baby of mine
The goddess’s heart swelled with tenderness and love as Scepter’s eyes sparkled, looking in pure wonder at the stars and space around them. He reached out, grabbing a small star in his tiny fist. It flew out quickly, landing on his nose as the baby giggled. Dawn looked out at the other god’s rooms, her heart beginning to break as she looked back down at her son.
He’d never remember her, or any of this.
If they knew sweet little you
They’d end up loving you too
All those people who scold you
What they’d give just for the right to hold you
Dawn turned, heading back inside, bringing up her child close, their noses touching as Scepter smiled, giggling happily before giving a small yawn. Dawn smiled warmly at her son, walking toward the cradle. “Someone’s tired, huh?”
From your head, down to your toes
You’re not much, goodness knows
But you’re so special to me
Sweet as can be
Baby of mine
She gently lowered him, half-asleep, back into the crib, pulling up his blanket and planting a small goodnight kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Scepter.” A few tears rolled down the goddess’s cheeks as her gaze fixed on her sleeping son, smiling fondly down at him through silent tears.
She loved him.
It would be a long time until he ever loved her back.
#dnd#dnd fic#dnd 5e#scepter the wizard#gem quest campaign#minty the dm#dawn the goddess of light#pc origin story
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Winx Club season 8/9
In which the Winx take a nap and I ponder our villain.
9 The Light of Gorgol
Cave collapse! Aisha rushes to Nex and uses morfix to shield them.
Nex: Nice save.
Aisha: I just acted on impulse. it’s what I do best.
But staryums are still chowing down on the star core! Winx attack! It doesn’t do much though, because the staryums just escape through portals. The girls should really be going after Obscurum’s staff.
The girls decide season 5 magic just doesn’t cut it against season 8 baddies. They need Cosmix! But the star core has gone out and the staryums escaped with all the light.
Back on Valtor’s asteroid they deliver it to Valtor, who is once again dozing on his throne. This is the same animation as before, Valtor wakes up and does an evil laugh.
So when he runs out of light does he just… run down like a robot with no batteries? And then he sits on his throne and waits to be recharged? That’d be interesting. I think this Valtor doesn’t have his spark of the Dragonfire, he’s trying to “fill the hole” with starlight, but unlike Dragonfire the starlight can be used up and then he runs out of magic. Actually my headcanon is that this isn’t the original Valtor—that one died at the end of season 3 but someone decided to copy what the Three Ancestors did and make their own Valtor. He thinks he’s the original, but he was made without the vital ingredient so he’ll never be as powerful as his past self and he doesn’t realize why.
The Winx say they need Cosmix power to fix the star, but that transformation doesn’t come with water breathing. Bloom is sure they’ll find a way!
Obscurum interrupts… why? To gloat I guess. He tries attacking the core but the girls are more than a match. Tec and Flora do a cool double shield.
But all the magic flying around annoys the anemones on the cave walls and they begin reaching out with long black tentacles. Also the cave is still not real stable. Obscurum knows a bad thing when he sees one, and flees.
The top of the cave… closes. We’re trapped in here! The girls attack the roof but it doesn’t open again. More anemonmes are waking up.
Aisha’s upset because it’s all gone wrong, “what kind of princess can’t even protect her kingdom?”
Nex notices the anemones waking up. Stella says they’re pretty but one of them zaps her hand. Flora explains sometimes anemones have “a poison that can make you sleepy.” and Stella wobbles and dozes off… and sinks towards the floor of the cave, which is covered with more anemones ready to grab her! Flora catches the sleepy Stella but now the anemones are releasing mysterious green bubbles that need to be avoided. The girls and Nex huddle in the center of the cave. They are in a bind; any magic they do just makes the anemones more lively!
Flora gets zapped and Bloom cried out, ‘No!” as she and Stella sink to the floor. The other girls catch them but now we have two asleep fairies.
Aisha loses it, she yells that nobody else should get hurt because of her, and starts zapping wildly. Which has the wrong effect. Nex tries to tell her she’s just making the anemones angry but she doesn’t listen.
In short order Bloom, Musa, and Tecna get zapped too, and it’s five Winx down! They sink to the floor where anemone tentacles grow over them.
Aisha wails and dives down towards them. Nex grabs her and says she can’t help like this. Aisha stutters, ‘What do I do, what do I do?” She’s really freaking out.
Just then they notice two merlumens, swimming away to hide from the Winx who they think are bad guys. The merlumens sing a little song and it calms the anemones down. Aisha and Nex follow them to a cave where merlumens are living. The lumens are worried but aisha reassures them that we’re the good guys.
The lumens explain that anemones are gorgol’s natural defense system and only attack when there’s a threat. Well the Winx did a lot of zapping, even if they were attacking the actual baddies.
Aisha: “I have to fix this.’ and swims off, poor Nex trailing along behind her. She goes back to the anemone cave and hovers saying, “I gotta do something, I gotta do something...” Man, Aisha just falls apart when her first instinct doesn’t work.
Nex is following her trying to get her to actually stop and think—but he gets zapped and falls asleep too! Aisha loses it further and zaps some more!
In despair aisha looks up and sees the two merlumens. She finally realizes the lumens’ singing calms the anemones down. She asks the merlumens to sing, the anemones retract their tentacles, and the Winx wake up none the worse for wear.
In fact, Musa realizes the anemones are dancing to the music, and does a gorgeous twirl. The Winx dance in the cavern.
The roof opens! I guess that was part of the core’s defense too.
Time to fix that star core! Aisha has a plan. She uses her morfix to create a bubble of air around the core so they’ve got space to switch transformations. The core is saved!
The girls switch back to sequin sirenix offscreen and then we see Queen Ligeia and the mermaids swimming looking down at the underwater star—which Bloom realizes is a starfish. The hammerhead shark swims by, restored not normal.
Back on land Aisha gives her speech again, this time adding parts about how everyone makes mistakes and lets their anxieties get the best of them.
And then we party! Twinkle parties. The girls dance together. Cool visuals, I love the girls’ dresses and the designs of the nobles and especially the mermaids.
Aisha and Nex go outside and Aisha thanks Nex for helping her.
Nex: “I’ll always be there for you… even when you don’t want me to be.”
Ok, that line is sweet, in this context of this relationship, but it’s exactly the same thing Riven said to Musa and in that context it was not cool. I kinda wish the writers had used a different line.
Here’s Valtor watching ready to tell us about his next evil plan!
Obscurum basically griovels for failing and says, “I must admit, that Aisha girl surprised me. It was a very difficult situation!”
Valtor drops him through a portal into a pinball machine where he gets batted around a bit.
So you could say that canonically there’s a pinball dimension. If for some reason you wanted to.
Once his minion gets back, Valtor shows off his next target. The star Hypsos, which is gorgeous, it’s a city inside the curve of the planet. Valtor plans to bring to life the hydra constellation, which is next to the star Hypsos.
So, how much DOES Valtor watch the Winx? I’m not thinking of this in a nasty way, though I guess your fanfic could go there if you wanted, I’m thinking more like if Valtor watches them throughout their days he’d learn all their weaknesses pretty easily. And with apparently infinite portalling power he could send the Winx one at a time to the environment where they’d be the weakest, or kidnap their boyfriends, or portal expensive stolen objects into their rooms and frame them for crimes so they get arrested by the magic dimension police, or portal poisonous snakes into their beds… I’m thinking of so, so many ways Valtor could mess with the Winx with less effort than he’s using now. I’m thinking of, what was it… Daine the Wildmage, directing animals to steal from the enemy, foul their food, and keep them awake at night. Because an enemy that’s hungry and sleepy and spooked is an enemy that’s half beat. Valtor could do that to the Winx just by using a little less grandiosity and a little more thinking with portals.
But that can’t happen because the Winx must stay together and must display at least two outfits per episode each, to sell dolls.
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Frozen Heart - ch5
Loki has a bad morning, but on the plus side, now Tony is well rested, he's able to recognise some accidental culture clash and resolve their awful misunderstanding! TW for panic attacks, blood, and accidental self-harm caused by a nightmare.
Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer! I’m tagging anyone who left a note on the previous chapter here as well, hope that’s OK!
Loki woke with a jolt, his heart pounding, nightmares of a frozen world and evil red eyes lingering in the fringes of his mind. He lifted trembling hands to cover his face, and nearly screamed.
He stumbled out of bed, his heart thumping, trying to get away from the vicious black claws, the blue skin that had haunted his nightmares since his childhood. He scratched at his arm, tore at the pale lines raised in the skin, whimpering and panicking, the quiet, calm voice inside now drowned out by the storm, and he couldn’t find himself, couldn’t dig himself out from under this hellish mask, this curse, this…
“Hey! Hey, Loki, please, calm, will you? Hey, look at me? I’m not going to touch you, alright? I just want you to look at the lights, can you do that? Can you breathe in with the light as it gets brighter? That’s great, keep going… OK, and now out. Like you’re whistling, purse your lips, yeah, just like that. Now in, feel it… feel it filling you up or… yeah, this is good. That’s great, buddy. OK, I’m just gonna… can I see your arms?”
Stark came closer, still holding his hands out in front of him and looking as unthreatening as possible. Logically Loki could see that he was veryunthreatening, a small mortal in soft clothing, hair still sleep-mussed and face pillow-creased, but with his heart still hammering inside his own chest, he couldn’t handle logic at all. He tugged his arms closer to himself, fingers slick with his own blood.
Then he looked down. The blood was indigo. He whimpered and pushed his arms out as far from himself as he could, staggering backwards, his breathing speeding up again.
“Hey, hey, it’s OK! I’ll get them fixed up, no worries.” Stark cupped his hands around Loki’s wrists, making a surprised hum. “Wow, you’re cold.”
Loki let out a burst of hysterical laughter that very nearly turned into a sob. How utterly pathetic. To have been reduced to a scared child, cowering in someone else’s room, terrified of his own appearance after a nightmare… Loki turned his face and closed his eyes. It was almost unbearable.
Stark tugged him gently over to the bed, encouraging him to sit. He left him there, staring down helplessly, hatefully, at his blue, bleeding arms. “Here we go,” Stark said a moment later, setting a bowl of water down by Loki’s feet. He took Loki’s wrist in his hand and started dabbing the blood away, staining the water an inky blue. Loki stared at the colour diffusing through the water and tried not to despair.
“There we go,” Stark said with a grin. Loki looked at his forearms, wrapped in pristine white bandages. He felt emptied out, like his heart had been excavated from his chest, leaving him dull and hollow. Stark’s smile slowly slipped from his face and he bit his lip. “Ah, do you… do you want to talk a bit?”
Loki blinked at him.
“Like, uh… do you maybe want to… were you trying to, um. Were you trying to hurt yourself? Is this, like, a self-harm thing? Because I won’t judge, I just…” He scruffed his hair. “Yeah, I’m not very good at this shit. Are you… OK?” He winced and looked at Loki sideways, almost as if he thought Loki would strike him for his question.
“No, Stark,” said Loki, his voice sounding very distant. “I am not OK.”
“Yeah, I kinda… got that.” Stark sat on his haunches and rubbed his face. “You know what? We need a load of breakfast. I’m thinking pastries and donuts, something that won’t go cold or soggy, and then I think you should tell me all about it. I mean, I can’t promise I’ll be any help.” He winced again. “Honestly, I’ll probably be shit. Like, worse than nothing. I’m not… the best listener. Or the best friend. But…” he shrugged and looked away like he didn’t care at all. “Yeah, croissants! JARVIS, could you order us, eh, I dunno, one of everything from Belle Maison?”
“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS replied.
Loki looked up in the direction of the voice. He had been introduced to JARVIS the night before, but this morning, after a night of somewhat effective sleep, he could cling to the fascination sparking in his chest, distract himself. “Is your companion made of magic?” he asked.
“What, JARV? Nah - or, well, he’s an AI - artificial intelligence. He’s made out of computer code and electronics and… stuff.”
“I blush, Sir,” said JARVIS dryly.
Stark just smirked. “I’ll show you the bots in a minute, it might make a bit more sense then. Assuming you’re still up for a bit of research in a while?”
Loki felt the cold flood through his system once more, ridiculous for a Frost Giant. He had forgotten during Stark’s treatment of him this morning that he was little more than a prisoner here. He was Stark’s research project, and nothing more - this had not been kindness, but a care for one’s tools. Loki summoned up a professional mask and nodded.
Stark blinked, his own smile faltering. “OK… OK, if you’re sure? Anyway. For now, do you want a coffee or something? I need coffee, I’m not human without the first one of the morning.”
Loki narrowed his eyes at him. “Hyperbole?” he asked.
Stark winked at him. “Only just. C’mon, Billy Goat Gruff, let me hook you up with the good stuff.”
Loki had hoped that the distraction of breakfast and coffee would make Stark forget his demand that they talk, but once they’d eaten a couple of the sweet treats, he tapped his fingernails on the polished stone of the high table he called a breakfast bar. “So, Loki-Doki, you wanna tell me your story? How did you end up in a crater on another planet causing snow in the desert?”
Loki closed his eyes for just a moment, put his pastry down on the plate and clenched his hands into fists under the table. “As you wish,” he said, his voice strained.
Stark frowned. “Hey, no, it’s fine if you don’t wanna tell me, you know? I just… thought it might…” He scrubbed his hair again. “I dunno, help? People are always asking me if I want to talk, I just thought it was the done thing, or something. You don’t have to.”
“No, I am yours to command.”
Stark made a face. “Not really, though.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Holy shit. Holy… did I say something? Was there a culture clash here? Have I like… I didn’t sign you up to be my indentured servant or some bullshit, did I?”
Loki peered up at him, surprised at himself that his head had ducked so low, that his shoulders were so hunched over. “You said you would give me sanctuary in exchange for experiments…”
“I did?”
“You did imply something along those lines, Sir,” JARVIS interjected.
Stark pressed his hands to his cheeks. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me, JARV?”
“I didn’t realise that Master Loki would take the combination of words in such a literal way. My apologies, Sir. And to Master Loki.”
Loki frowned. “You did not… but why would you take me in if not to-”
“I mean, sure, I wanted to study you,” Stark wailed. “But only if you wanted to find stuff out too, or like, show off… I don’t want you to be here against your will, holy shit, have I kidnapped you? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, shit!”
Loki blinked, shocked. Stark was apologising? To him? And in such distress! But Loki was nothing to him, here he was not even a prince, why would Stark care about whether or not Loki would choose to be with him? “I don’t… you do not have to…”
“I mean, I thought we were just gonna do some cool science together, I had no idea I was dragging you here like some sort of a threat, am I SHIELD in this situation? Oh my god, I’m basically Agent, guh, I’m gonna be sick, JARVIS!” He turned to Loki with wild eyes. “I am really, really sorry.”
Loki stared at him. There was a warmth in his chest, a spreading feeling he barely recognised. When was the last time someone had apologised to him? Someone of consequence, not a servant or a subject - and even then, they would always do so with gritted teeth. Loki knew he was unpopular. He’d never attempted to change that - it had always seemed so immutable a fact. Loki the trickster, don’t trust him, don’t listen, don’t spend any time near him in case he turns you into a goat.
“I would… I would like to stay,” he said, and he tried to hide a wince at how vulnerable his voice sounded. “I am interested in your science. In our differences.”
“Really?” Stark said, freezing in his distressed motions. “Are you sure, though? You’re not just saying that because I’ve, like, activated some hospitality clause I didn’t know about? You’re choosing to--”
“I am choosing, freely,” he said, swallowing and looking up at Stark. “If I am welcome, still?”
Stark’s face broke into a wide grin. “Hell, yeah, you’re welcome!” He let out a long breath. “Phew, god, that was awful!”
Loki’s lip quirked up. “Why was it so awful?”
“Well, I don’t know what life’s like on your planet or whatever, but we humans don’t like coercing other people.” He made a face. “Well, the non-assholes don’t. Yeah, actually, scrap that? I don’t like coercing people. I can’t talk for the rest of them.”
Loki grinned. “Your realm is not so different from mine, in that case. It sounds as if there are plenty of assholes in both.”
“I mean, honestly, I probably count as one of the assholes most of the time.” Tony shrugged. “Hey, do you want to go down to the lab now? I can show you the bots, and we can find out what your alien biology looks like on my holos.”
And just like that, Loki was reminded what he was, his freakish blue skin, the horns, the demonic red of his eyes. He held himself still, trying not to wince, trying not to react, for how could he explain this? He would just have to control his expressions, focus on the science. Because perhaps there would be something in Stark’s ‘lab’ which would help him to find his way back to his old - no, his true form.
But Stark stopped mid-sentence. “No? What? What is it? We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” he said, biting his bottom lip again.
Had he always been this obvious? No-one in Asgard would ever have noticed, but Stark had spotted his reticence at once - and Loki had been actively trying to hide it. Had his masks ever been as strong as he had believed? Or had nobody ever been truly looking? Loki stared at Stark, amazed at the perceptiveness of this small, sparkling mortal. “It’s…”
“I’m serious, Loki, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, OK?” Stark said, holding his gaze. “If there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll stop, no matter how far through the process we are, if there’s anything you don’t even like the look of, we won’t do it. And of course, I’ll put myself through everything you do - like, except for actually doing magic, ‘cause I can’t. Oh, and I can’t go into an MRI because of this,” he added, tapping the centre of his chest over the odd glow. “But you don’t have to do that either.”
Loki searched his face for any hint of a trick, any lie, and found only compassion. He swallowed hard. “I do not look like this,” he said, his voice nothing more than a croak. “I mean… not usually.” He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists and feeling the sharp, obsidian nails digging into his skin. “I was Aesir - I am Aesir. I must be. But… during my brother’s coronation, I just… this happened. I turned into this… this monster, and now… now my magic is different, cold…” he took a deep, shuddering breath, the fear sending icy tendrils through every nerve. He looked at the table and gasped. Frost swirled out from every contact point with his skin, and he jerked his hands back in horror.
“Hey, hey, it’s OK,” Stark said, holding his hands out, placating the beast once more. “It’s OK.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, I know we said we didn’t have to talk, but do you want to tell me about it? And then… maybe we can get you back to normal?”
Tags from last chapter: @aformingsiren, @sketch953, @massivelandthingdonkey, @angrysockpuppetnoises, @ultra-rare-pegacorn, @redramzi, @senpaiweird, @giggling-breeze, @rarepair-collector, @saturnjuice, @kuree06 <3
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Alright so when I took this job they said all I had to do was narrate. You know, just follow this guy around and relay what he’s doing, make it sound interesting, yada yada yada.
Ok now that I say it out loud I realize that I’ve probably looked like a stalker for the past few days.
Fun.
ANYWAYS I was going somewhere with this; I had a point. Right. My point was that I didn’t think I’d end up in the middle of a burned down park, cowering in absolute terror behind some rocks that I really wish were bigger, and longing with all that's left of my heart that I could be one of those people that are, given the situation, naturally sprinting away whilst screaming at the top of their lungs.
Should I run away? I mean, it seems like the more logical option here; If I could get over that bridge, then I’d-
*bridge disintegrates*
Well there goes that.
Looks like I’ll be narrating then! Yippee. So, I should probably warn you, I haven’t exactly been paying attention to my assigned main character, ergo I don't have that much background knowledge. Oh who am I kidding, I have none.
Anyhow, sorry, I know I should be narrating. I’m getting to that. Background knowledge. What do I know?
Uh, actually nothing much happened to this dude. A few weeks ago he found a dead body in his bathtub. Now that I think about it, that’s probably where I should’ve started paying attention….
Ah, fucked this up, didn’t I.
Also, as a side note, I’m gonna be calling this dumbass Jake because my dumbass kind of sort of didn’t ever really at all catch his name.
Alrighty folks! I’m gonna…. Be brave…. And peek out from behind these rocks…. Did I mention how much I wished they were bigger?
Ahem. *clears throat*. Narrator voice. *nods decisively*. Lets go.
There’s fire everywhere. On the tops of trees like snow at the peaks of mountains (how are there even still trees here) bushes have morphed into bonfires, while patches of grass are practically leaking little flames like a dope game of ‘the floor is lava’.
Jake stands, looking at the devastation with wide eyes. Smoke billows out into the sky, painting the already grey clouds black.
A deafening crash sounds behind him- you know, the kind you get when a boulder squishes a four story building like it’s a three year old’s structure of off brand legos. He’s thrown to the ground, and waits, breathing heavily.
Aw god why did I forgot my flask of vodka today? I freaking need it.
And as if that weren’t enough, a spaceship just blipped into the sky.
Should I run?
I should probably run.
Sorry, sorry, I’m not very good at this narrator thing. In my defense, I didn’t think they were serious! Alright, I’m gonna try that again.
Suddenly, and quite literally out of nowhere, there’s a fatally blinding blue-red light, making everyone in the immediate vicinity-- which isn’t that many people anymore, most have used their last few remaining drops of common sense and fled for their lives --squeeze their eyes shut and hastily bury their heads in whatever was nearest and most convenient to shield themselves from impending blindness, wailing in a mix of surprise and agony. All flames previously terrorizing the verdure are extinguished and the smoke is blown out as a single gust of forceful wind, which also effectively topples the few remaining, yet charred nonetheless, trees, buildings, and people.
Augh, ew, eurgh, I got a mouthful of Martin’s grocery bag. How do I know it’s Martin’s? They have a distinctive taste of mild sadness and resignation. Right, right, the spaceship.
See, when I say spaceship, I mean cool looking flying saucer thingy appearing like it was plucked right out of a conspiracy theory and given some upgrades. It’s a giant, azure/ultramarine blue, except for the bottom which shines in a weirdly mesmerizing yellowish glow, squished sphere. Oval. Pancake. Sorry, I don't know my shapes. It seems to be practically thrumming with energy, like it drank five red bulls followed by ten extremely caffeinated coffees and finished it all off with a few five hour energy drinks.
I cannot tell you how much I hope it doesn't do what it looks like it’s gonna do and explode.
Meanwhile, Jake has picked up… a sword. Well shit. Medieval, much? Not a gun? No? Personally, I think a gun would be extraordinarily effective against the horde of what looks like blobs but are probably extravagantly dangerous aliens filing in a weirdly orderly single file line out of the saucer and immediately beginning to lomp closer and closer and closer crap did I mention they were getting closer?
Should I run?
I should probably run.
Hold up, no, that reminds me, I’m supposed to be narrating. God, I’m atrocious at this, aren’t I.
He feels sweat break out on his brow. The sword is heavy in his hands, and he can barely lift it, let alone decapitate a blob, but he’s in too deep to let his weariness show. He’s gotta be strong and save what’s left of these people, this city, or die trying. Which is probably what’ll happen in a few minutes. But ah, well, he’ll die fighting for Americanos , which can’t be all that bad.
Technically, if you think about it, he’s suicidal, because his colossal ego will not, quite literally, for the life of him, allow him to take a smart route, like getting into that convenient truck and bowling over all the blobs, or snatching up a gun from that store across the street, or even just alerting someone who is actually capable at dealing with an event like this like the authorities.
But what can he do, he is American, after all. It's simply unavoidable; part of the culture description. *white people i swear
He watches morbidly as Martin’s grocery bags blow past from the ruins before him, and glances up as the spaceship above him gives one final thrum and blips away, probably back to wherever it came from, leaving him alone with an army of blobs bouncing threateningly towards him.
In truth, he didn’t know what they were. All he knew was that if they kept destroying everything at this rate, there won't be a single McDonalds left in America, and he couldn’t have that. Of course, by then there wouldn’t even be an America, and everyone would have to go to the McDonalds’ in Russia. Russia has McDonalds, right? Oh, he simply could not do that to his fellow citizens!
He pondered this, along with whether or not Australia exists, all the while counting down the seconds (...7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… dammit 3, 2, 1… 3, 2, 1… 3, 2-- he’d get it eventually) until his doom and willing his arms not to shake with the incredible weight of the sword in his hands. Whose idea was it to make swords out of metal, anyways? It’s incredibly stupid-- nowadays 90% of America wouldn’t even be able to muster the courage to touch one, let alone the strength to lift one.
Ugh, he knew he should’ve gone with that plastic light saber he’d seen at the mall. At least then he could’ve gone down with style.
As if on cue, there’s another, at this point expected, crash resounding behind him, and he turns to watch in despair as said mall tumbles almost comically to the ground.
There goes the light saber.
And another McDonalds.
Ohh, things were getting bad.
The park, if you could still call it a park, is deserted now save for the occasional Martin’s grocery bag skittering about, and he can’t help but give in to the desire to reflect upon his life. He wasted it, playing video games and other shit like that all day, every day. This is the first time he’s been outside in a long time. He now knows with absolute certainty that if he were ever granted such an opportunity he’d go back and redo it all. He’d try harder to beat that level, he’d get the better controller, he’d stay up later working on his technique. But all that was a distant dream now, something he could not hope to accomplish now.
He wished that maybe, just maybe, heaven would have a nice game console for him.
When he’d gotten selflessly sucked into this adventure, he never thought he’d actually die, never expected anything to really happen- If he had, he of course would never have turned the power of his last 8 braincells away from a computer screen and into the real world to start investigating.
Ah fuck, sorry for interrupting, I think I twisted my wrist or some shit while trying to get a better vantage point on these still too small rocks.
Should I run?
I should probably run.
On a different note: I’m really sorry guys. When you take a narrator job they never tell you anything about your person. Had I known he was American, I would have immediately sabotaged this entire thing; I could never in good conscience have subjected you guys to.. well.. this.
But alas, now I’m stuck narrating an American who is going to get me killed.
Unless… Unless there’s a loophole. My parents were lawyers, so I excel at finding those.
The rules are, you have to stay with your hero and narrate their adventure. How an American turned out to be one of the heroes, I know not, it must be a glitch in the system. But I’ll be fucking damned if this glitch gets me killed. Literally. So! Once the hero, inevitably, dies, you’re free to go. There’s nothing much left to narrate afterwards. And since Jake is closer to the horde of blobs coming our way than I am, as soon as he’s bowled over I’ll sprint. To the side, like a smart immigrant would do. Not straight back, because then the blobs’d just follow me and kill me, so the only logical conclusion is to circle around them and see if my apartment is still intact. I didn’t finish my cream puffs and I really don't want them to melt.
They’re getting closer. He can hear their squelching, and the chicken nuggets in his stomach churn unpleasantly. There’s bits of goo flying off them in all directions, and when said goo makes contact with something it immediately disintegrates that unfortunate something, leaving nothing behind. Is this really the fate that’ll befall him? Is this how the world ends?
Well, death by disintegration it is then. Oh, he can’t wait to brag to his boys about this.
Oh, wait, no, that’s not right. He’ll be dead.
And, in the last few moments before the blobs reach him, he reconsiders. There’s still so much this cruel world has to offer, and he never took advantage of any of it. Nor was he ever grateful for much of it.
He suddenly feels a new feeling. Determination. He will destroy every single one of these vile creatures, and he WILL come out of it intact. He has to.
With new resolve he scrapes together the last of his strength and raises his trusty sword over his head, every nonexistent muscle tense, ready. They’re getting closer. Closer. 50 yards. 30 yards. 20. 10. Just a few feet.
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes dramatically. Swings his sword.
And is immediately squashed with the most sickening squelch there could ever be.
Ew.
Should I run?
I should probably run.
Yeah, I’m gonna run.
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