#and i realize most of this sounds like an inconvenience but if you know char then you know char wouldn't consider ANY OF THIS inconvenient | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xtrasauce · 3 years

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I had a thought based off of one simple line I read somewhere like 2 years ago. So have this Dabi x Fem!Reader. You’re cornered, it’s dark, you’re at his mercy. some warnings: dubcon, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation (really more name calling?) - but! established relationship. you’ll understand what i mean

god this is so long

You truly hated working late nights. Even moreso that you were basically the only person competent enough to finish out the day without any issues. A new job was in order for sure, but you’d worry about that another day. Right now, as you rubbed your aching shoulders, your top priority was a nice warm shower, and to be rid of the business casual constrictions of your work skirt and button down. You really couldn’t wait.

The path home was the same - a few populated blocks and one or two turns into your neighborhood, easy right?

Well...

“What the fuck?” The blocked off streets confused you, but upon closer inspection you saw the breakup of gravel and concrete behind the gaudy hunks of plastic. Of course...what other inconveniences could you come across tonight? You mapped out the nearby streets in your head and it made unease creep into your limbs as you realized your choices were extremely limited. The darkness of the nearby alleyway stared back with a daunting emptiness - your unfortunate, and only option. Hesitance seeped into your blood and you felt something off in the air as you made only single step toward the enclosed space. Another step. And another. Your hands blindly sought out the rough surface of the nearby wall, you hadn’t realized you were holding a breath until you let out the shakily exhale deep in your chest. “Keep going” you told yourself, wavering footstep after footstep bringing you closer to the end of your anxiety induced trek. Step. Step.

What was that? Step. Step. Step. Step.

You froze. Anxiety hit an internal trajectory into full blown panic, but no part of your body could be bothered to move. Any semblance of breathing died in your throat as your ears rang, hoping to make sense of what you thought you heard. Step. Step. Step.

The gasp you let out was choked, and your legs acted on their own. You fell into a full sprint, heart thrumming in your head. You had no intention of finding out what followed you into the dark, your only objective to find the opposite end of the alley and find any nearby hero available. Nearly at the end, you willed your legs to throw your body into the light -

but the snake-like grip of fingers on your wrist yanked you backwards further into the shadows.

Your back slammed into the wall, your breath almost knocked out of your lungs. Your senses were heightened by your terror, almost allowing you to make out what seemed like the soft glint of pieces of metal in front of you. “Please-” came your frightened squeak. The figure pressed closer, and you heard the rustle of fabric at your side, accompanied by the presence of a hand quite close to your head. “Well, well...a stray kitten.” came a gritty rasp. Ash assaulted your nose, the smoky scent throwing you off as it mixed with the tone of his amused growl. You shook, “W-Who“ but once more, your voice failed you. A short laugh...and suddenly your vision was lit by blue.

Fire. Blue fire.

The man before held a cerulean flame in the palm of his hand. Illuminated now, you made out his roughened features: the hand in your face was almost completely charred in sickly purple and black hues of what looked like singed fleshed save for his fingers staples crudely scattered there; you moved your gaze to his face - finding more silver staples under his eyes and across his the underside of his cheekbones. Was his jaw stapled to his face? His hair was dark and unkempt as it fell around his face and stopped right at his eyes, which you finally had to courage to lock your own with.

Blue. Endless and terrifying; the only comparison you could make were angry ocean waves. You nearly found yourself lost in how brightly his eyes reflected the color of his flames, but the heat in his fingertips reminded you that you weren’t exactly safe. Your eyes darted to either side, looking for any opening you could conceive. However, you weren’t the only one with their gears turning. “Ah, ah,” he chided, face leaning in now, “Don’t think that’s wise, princess.” The hand at your head found your wrist again, flipping your position to press your cheek into the grit of the building. You felt him hover next your ear, his chest leaning into your back, “Come with me, and I won’t hurt you...probably.” The last word was said with a playful insincerity. It made bile surge upward into your throat. He stoked out the flames of his opposite hand, reaching to bar both of your wrists to your back. You were being shoved in a direction you could no longer recognize, the darkness and your fear disorienting your navigation, and the idea of no longer knowing where you were or where you were going made you whimper.

Where was he taking you? Who the fuck was this man? And most importantly - what was he going to do to you?

The sudden noise of a something strong crashing through a hard surface startled you out of your petrified thoughts, and you realize he’s busted through a door you hadn’t noticed prior to now. Before you had time to question it, the force of his hands pushed you into the room. Ceiling level windows allowed for small beacons of moonlight on the opposite side of the building to peek in. A few blinks gave your eyes the time to adjust to your surroundings. Several dusty crates and old pieces of furniture littered the area, your wisest guess coming to the conclusion that the place was abandoned. Taking in your environment, you almost missed the harsh click that sounded behind you, but your adrenaline knew better - you whipped around to find the man stalking toward you after having sealed the door shut. You made a beeline for the door, hoping to dodge past him somehow and reach the exit. But oh were you wrong. He was far quicker than you could’ve imagined, an arm shooting out and catching your waist with ease. You were immediately pulled into him with your back flush to his chest, his other arm bear hugging your frame tightly against him. Without much difficulty, you were lifted off of your feet as he carried you forward. Finally your voice sounded into the night air, screams echoing to the tune of ‘Let me go’s’ and a terrified chorus of ‘No’s. Legs and feet flailed wildly in his grasp - until you felt the hand at your neck. A flicker of heat pricked your skin,

“Wrong fuckin’ move, doll.” and he reaffirmed his grip on your body, constricting you almost painfully now, “...You’re gonna let this shit happen without fightin’ me...or I burn a hole through that pretty throat of yours.”

Panic sliced its way into your veins, “Let WHAT happen-” And his hand moved to tilt your jaw as his opposite forearm pressed against your breasts to give him a better view of your cleavage, “...Oho...” you felt the drag of something hot and wet along your neck now, “...I think you can take a good guess what.” The notion had you reeling, spelled out loud and clear with the heavy undertones of lust in his tone. You were tossed unceremoniously onto a nearby loveseat, barely being able to register he let you out of his grasp. When it finally dawned on you, your mind raced, “I have to-!”

One last push for your freedom, you immediately scrambled onto your knees, the idea to scuttle your way over the couch and as far from him as possible at the forefront of your thoughts. But again...you underestimated how truly swift he was. Nimble fingers wrapped around your ankle, hauling you towards his towering frame. “I don’t think you understand what’s fuckin’ happening here,” he growled, flipping you onto your back now, eyes in a fiery glow, “The only place you’re going is under me, princess.” He threw your legs open, pinning your body underneath his crushing weight as he settled himself on top of you. One set of fingers grabbed at your jaw, prying your face up, his lips sealing over yours in an instant. Your hands dug into his shoulder blades, the limited space not allowing for much movement. Nails breached past his jacket and into his scarred flesh - only coaxing a low groan out of the man however; and he worked at your mouth in an attempt to slip his tongue past your lips. When his efforts failed him, it would take only a quick pinch to your nipple through the thin confines of your shirt - the gasp being all he needed to fight down your own slick appendage. The kiss was heavy and extremely hot, almost unbearably so, as you felt heat rising up the entirety of your body. You felt a pang of guilt at how easily you let this man just worm his way into your mouth like this. The fight you put up could barely even considered that by your standards.

Another pinch to your nipple, pulling a hiss from you, “Focus on me,” he grumbled lowly, his hand fully cupping your tender flesh, “Can’t have you thinkin’ about somebody else while I’m fuckin’ you.”

You flushed at his accusation, but you’re given no time to dwell on it as his hand slips between the buttons of your shirt, prying the material apart, pieces clattering to the ground. Rough, textured skin threatened to snag on your plush flesh; between the heated kisses and the way his fingers are now swiftly releasing your breasts from their confines, your thighs involuntarily started to tremble. Those same hands that previously pinched the delicate flesh now found flush access to your tits, rough pads of his digits rolling and massaging your nipples to stiffness. You whined, face flushing at how needy you sounded despite the position you were put in. It was too much to feel his gaze on your face, watching you, so you turned your head. But his lips followed you, his teeth grazing the sensitive expanse of your neck and latching down just under your jaw, sucking the skin into his mouth, hard. A wave of prickling desire shot up your spine, and your thighs gripped his sides tighter. The keen you let out amused the man above you, so much so that he left your neck with a pop. He grasped your jaw once more, forcing your eyes to meet his. Deep turquoise bore heavy into your own irises - pure hunger and possession burning into you. He hummed with pleasure at the sight of your eyes glassing over, fat tears forming at the corners and the tremble in your lip from your fright oh so prominent. The wicked grin that spread across his features let you know truly how much he enjoyed your apprehension....but the noises he pulled from you had you internally questioning yourself. With his eyes holding your terrified gaze, you missed his hands sliding down your neck. Both of his hands suddenly pawed at your tits, squeezing and massaging the globed flesh. Your gasp was sharp - but not as much as the one you let out when his tongue found your nipples, running of the flat of his wet muscle over them, before leaning in to take the buds between his teeth.

“Ahhh!” you yipped, your fingers now finding themselves in his hair. You tugged at his locks, unsure if it was a mechanism to pull him off of your skin...or to coax him further. The groan deep in his throat took the gesture as the latter, “That’s it...make those sounds for me. I knew you’d give in at some point, dirty bitch” and you felt a chuckle reverberate from his chest. “Nooo” you mewled, straining your back to pull away from his teasing and touching. All your efforts were proven in vain however, when you felt the grind of something solid against your cloth covered sex. Immediately you felt an ache deep within you, and your legs drew him in against your better judgement, wanting the friction once more. His eyes flicked up from your chest, watching your lip curling between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut when he rolled his hips down once more. One hand trailed down the curve of your hip, slipping quickly between your thighs. Once you felt fingers rubbing over your pussy, your eyes snapped open. “No!” you screeched, your hands desperately shooting to his forearm to pull him from his destination. Your efforts barely budged his arm; without warning, he pressed a finger past your panties, slipping through your inner lips and directly into your heat. A few simple strokes of digits inside you had you huffing already, fear-based adrenaline and desire mixing a cocktail in your belly. He swiftly pulled his fingers out, “Oh but kitten...look how bad you fuckin’ want it,” he purrs, showcasing his fully soaked, glistening fingers. Heat flushed the entirety of your body, watching him take those fingers into his mouth, sucking the slick from your pussy clean off of them. He licked his lips, pulling your hips closer, “Almost as bad as me.”

It was then he must’ve decided he was done playing around, and you heard the metal clink of his belt sounding under you. Your body twisted momentarily in protest, but heated fingers that gripped your leg now reminded you to make better choices. With his cock free from its confines, your eyes shot between his legs. A new wave of trembling wracked your body. He was thick and heavy, bobbing almost threateningly from how hard he was with the head already dripping. His hand came to stroke himself, as he shot you a proud smirk, “Take a good look doll, cause you won’t see it from here on out,” and he leaned forward, yanking your panties to the side in the process, “But you sure will fuckin’ feel it.”

And oh, did you. He surprisingly took his time entering you, the burning of him stretching you open, sending laps of fire up your hips - the only piece of mercy he’s managed to lend you so far.

He was so fucking big.

You winced as he continued, feeling yourself clench hard as you tried to will your body to accommodate. When he felt like he was far enough, he pulled back a little quicker, the thick ridges of his cock rubbing against the velvet of your cunt - a feeling that made him curse in a hiss above you. Your legs clung to him once more, pain and pleasure still an acrid mix swirling inside you. A few fingers found their way between your bodies - circling slowly over your clit. “Come on princess, open up that pussy,” he coaxed you with a cruel smirk, “So fuckin’ tight...” Your toes curled at the sensation, slowly letting gentle waves of satisfaction crawl up your stiffened limbs. The vice-like grip you held on him eased into something more of a needy cling. This man, this...stranger, managed to break you into submission, so much so that your pussy clenched at the feeling of him stuffing you to the hilt now. One long stroke, and you were so incredibly full. “Please...” you whined. But why? What exactly were you asking for? He swayed his hips, movements hard and deep as he lent you stroke after stroke. “What’s that?” he mused, tongue gliding up your neck again, stopping just short at your ear. He slammed his hips up at that instant, ripping a wanton moan from your lips. “Oh...like that? Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” You bit down on your lip in response, unable to give a coherent response. That only coaxed him further, his cock stroking deep inside you, your gummy walls squeezing down on him tighter and tighter by the minute. With his fingers still drawing circles on your clit, you felt your body spiraling towards the beginning of an orgasm. Tears threatened to fall from your lashes, this entire encounter leaving its mark on your heart as you couldn’t imagine what to do after he was completely rid of you. Your silence displeased the arsonist above you, and he bowed his head down, teeth attaching at the junction of your shoulder. The shock of pain had you gasp, quickly melting into a moan as his thrusts hit that spot inside you that had your back arching. It was beginning to be too much, and your hands bit down on the biceps of his jacket, “I can’t-” you cried out, “Can’t- s’too much ahnn”. His hips were slamming into you now, “You will” he growled harshly into your ear, the gruff in his voice making your cunt clench.

A few more swipes at your clit paired with his exhaled thrusts had you cumming in waves against him. You snapped your eyes shut, screaming and crying as your orgasm lit your body from head to toe with electricity.

It was his turn to bite his lip at the feel of you clamping down on him, his previously occupied hand now wrapping around your thigh and pistoning into your sopping hole as hard as his hips would allow. With the other hand on your breast, he chased his own high with rough pants gliding across your exposed skin, “Fuckfuckfuck” the clap of his balls on your ass was only pushing him further forward, “This cunt is fucking mine, you hear me? You’re my bitch to breed. ” And his hand shot up to your face, pulling your chin and shaking you alert to lock eyes. He narrowed his gaze, “Mine. Forever.” When your pussy fluttered around him, his body finally lurched forward as he roared out against your neck, pumping you full of his seed. The feeling of warmth flashing inside of you had you biting back a moan, your hole already feeling so overly sensitive. He finally slowed to a stop, pulling out at a hiss. His hand drifted up from your chest to caress your cheek, “...You alright, babe?”

One of your hands came to the back of his head, scratching gently at his scruffy locks, “I’m okay, hunny...definitely going to be a little sore though.” He chuckled softly at that, lifting his head to meet your eyes. You lent him a small smile, your fingers tracing the scars under his eyes, “Are you okay?” He was silent at first, but his arms suddenly encased you, pulling you upright and into his lap, his forehead leaning against your own, “Never been better, doll.” His hand gently pushed against your back, coercing you to lean forward against his chest. You did so happily, relishing the warmth his body gave off. Dabi hummed happily when you let out a sigh of relief at his arm coming around you, rubbing your back in a gentle, comforting motion. Warm lips pressed against your forehead, and in a hush he whispered, “I love you, babe.” Your voice was fading into hoarseness now from overuse, but you settled further against him, whispering into his neck, “I love you too, Dabi...”

You would stay like that for a while, holding onto one another, content with what comfort it brought both of you to be wrapped around each other as you were.

---------------------

“This place is so filthy, Dabi, jesus,” you griped, dusting your legs free of dirt and grime from the furniture, “How did you even know where to find this?” He swiped his nose, “Used to be an old League meetup spot. Shigaraki was really the only other person who knew how to get here besides me.” He handed you his jacket, the long garment being the only thing that was going to cover your naked chest considering he destroyed the buttons on your top. “Well...lets get out of here,” you sighed softly, stretching your limbs, “I’ll make us some dinner, and I’m sure we desperately need a shower.” He leaned forward, voice in a playful lilt, “You thinkin’ bout a round two already, princess?” You smacked his bicep, a soft warning in your tone, “Dabi!” He rolled his eyes, trying to bite back a laugh, “Yeah yeah, food sounds good.”

A small smirk crossed his lips, the jacket looked good on you, he had to admit it, and the thoughts about you being his girl made him feel something warm within him flutter about. He trailed behind you, but not before smacking your ass on the way out of the abandoned building, a yelp sounding from you, followed by a laugh.

God he loved you so much.

#ahhhhhhhh #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #dabi #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi smut #dabi thirst #x reader #mha smut #bnha smut

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

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The Weather Outside is Frightful

Some self-indulgent as all hell,‘because I can’ Ederity fluff, initially prompted by this, but it, uh, GREW. I regret nothing. Oh, and I sort of borrowed @risualto‘s OCs for a mention. Merry Christmas? :D

---

There were few things that could change your plans for the day quite like waking up to discover three foot deep snow drifts outside your window.

“Well,” Edér chuckled as he wiped a clear spot where his breath had fogged the glass, “guess I’m not makin’ it into town today...”

Charity tucked herself under his arm and whistled at the sheer white of the scene outside the window. “An’ I thought Peycg was jokin’ about her achy hip meanin’ this’d be a bad one.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “Pretty sure Dyrford can get along without its mayor for one day.”

“Y’think?” he asked, pressing an amused kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah. An’ all your paperwork will keep,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know a great way to spend snowy days?” Her fingers slipped under his shirt to trace light circles against his skin.

Edér’s breath caught even as he grinned. “Shovelin’ ?”

Charity rolled her eyes. “I mean, if you’d rather do that than cuddle your wife, sure.”

“Ah, well, if that’s an option on the table,”he kissed her temple, “it sounds much more fun.”

Even as she opened her mouth to reply with something flirty, a realization struck Charity and she instead buried her face in his chest with a groan. “Actually... that’ll hafta wait. I promised Bethyn I’d come check on Gjeorun today; his fever’s been stubborn-”

“Char, that snow’ll be hip deep on you,” Edér protested. “Higher where it’s drifts.”

“And? I’m not breakin’ a promise to check on a sick kid, Edér. Not for somethin’ that’s at most an inconvenience.”

“I’ll go,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose before he stepped away to start getting dressed. “Pretty sure I can at least tell a fever as well as you can.”

She thought about protesting, but it really would be an easier trek for him, and they weren’t yet to the point where treatment options would be complicated, and he had that look in his eye saying he was ready to be stubborn about this. “Ain’t gonna argue myself out of gettin’ to stay in the nice, warm house,” she said with a playful shrug.

Edér paused in pulling on his boots. “On second thought...” he teased.

“No, no, you volunteered already,” Charity laughed. She crossed her arms and pulled out her best look of mock-censure. “How will the people of Dyrford trust you if you don’t keep your promises, Mayor Teylecg?”

“That’s fightin’ dirty, darlin’,” he complained, throwing a balled up sock at her.

She caught it and threw it back. “I think you’re gonna need that, don’t you?”

Edér shook his head before pulling on the sock and the boot that went with it. “Fightin’ real dirty, Char.”

“I learned from the best,” Charity said sweetly. She plunked down on the bed next to him. “In all seriousness, though, I do appreciate this.” She kissed his cheek. “An’ I know Bethyn will, too. Oh!” She pushed back to her feet. “If you’re goin’ I need to give this to you...” The small bottle was still sitting on the table from when she prepared it the day before. “It’s for if the fever’s not down,” she explained, pressing it into Edér’s hand. “Slightly stronger combination of herbs than what Bethyn’s been usin’ so far. Hopefully his fever broke on its on, but if she needs it...”

“Better I don’t need to make two trips,” Edér finished for her. He slipped the bottle in the pocket of his coat and kissed her on the nose again. “Stay warm.”

“I think that’s more of a concern for you,” Charity said wryly as she retrieved his hat and scarf from the mudroom. She made sure to tug the hat all the way down over his ears. “Given that you’re gonna be wadin’ through snow an’ all.”

His eyes twinkled as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. “I’ll just think of you, it’ll keep me plenty warm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his arm. “You better get goin’, who knows how long it’ll take you to get there in this.” The Spackholms didn’t live that far, but wading through three feet of snow was going to slow him down.

“Alright, I’m goin’,” Edér chuckled, stealing one last kiss before he set off.

Charity shivered in the brief whirl of cold air when he opened the door, but still stood by the window to watch until he’d disappeared from view. She really should start at the very least clearing out a path to the chapel. But even that small taste of the weather inclined her toward finding more indoor methods of filling her time. She shuffled back toward the bedroom, smiled at the sight of Sunshine and Sparrow curled up atop the blankets she and Edér had pushed aside when they rose.

“You two look comfortable,” she chuckled. Sparrow yawned and Sunshine’s tail wagged against the covers. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you move. Or share. I love ya, but the one I really wanna snuggle just walked out the front door so I didn’t hafta.” She plunked on the edge of the bed and scratched Sunshine’s ears. “I should do somethin’ as a thank you, shouldn’t I?”

Sunshine let out a happy dog groan and leaned into her hand.

Charity laughed and scratched harder. “Is that a yes? Well, then, what should I do?”

He just wagged his tail again, letting his head sink to the covers, and Sparrow was so deep asleep her whiskers were twitching as she dreamed. Charity nibbled her lower lip in thought. It only took a moment to hit her. What would be a better reward for trudging through thigh-deep snow than to find hot cider and fresh-baked cookies when he got back? The weed in the flowerbed, of course, was her utter inability to cook. But surely there was some cookie recipe in their possession easy enough even she couldn’t mess it up. She knew they had ingredients aplenty; Edér made sure they were well-stocked by midway through Early Autumn.

“Baking’s different than cookin’, right?” she asked the snoozing animals. There was no reaction from either; Sunshine had drifted back off with the head scratches.

Charity smiled and pushed off the bed, tying her hair up in a messy bun as she headed toward the kitchen. It couldn’t hurt to try. After all, what was life without a little risk? Edér would probably tease turning her loose in the kitchen was more than a little risk, but he wasn’t here to stop her. She started humming to herself and pulled the recipe box from the shelf, thumbing through in search of the desserts. Really, how hard could it be?

---

An hour later, she was ready to eat those words, partially because she wasn’t sure if she or anyone else could eat the lump of dough sitting in front of her. It was supposed to turn into cinnamon-dusted cookies, but it didn’t taste quite right to her.

Charity’s face screwed up in a frown and she tugged a lock of hair that had fallen loose during her travails. She wasn’t sure it was worth taking the time to bake these if it was only going to confirm her suspicions that she was no good at baking, either. On the other hand, if she wanted to have some done before Edér got back, she’d really need to get them in soon. Even as she stood there, torn, there was the dull thump of someone knocking snow off boots outside, which made Sunshine bark, and the door swung open.

“Started snowin’ again,” Edér called as he stepped inside and hastily shut the door behind him.

Charity leaned back around the doorframe and grinned. “I can see that. There’s snowflakes in your beard,” she informed him, “even if they weren’t all over your coat and such.”

“Yeah, looks like it’s gonna be pretty decent, on top of what we already got.” He cocked his head as he stripped off his gloves. “Char, what’re you doin?”

She tried to look innocent, but was too close to laughing from his suspicious tone. “Baking. Or tryin’ to, I think I did it wrong...” On impulse, she scooped a fingerful of the questionable dough and crossed the living room. “Doesn’t taste quite right to me.”

Edér looked between her and the sample of cookie dough, clearly picking up the unspoken request. He smirked and leaned down to kiss her instead, fingertips briefly cold against the back of her neck, lips freezing against hers. “Perfect,” he chuckled, cleaning a smudge of something(probably flour) off her cheek with the side of his thumb. “An’ now if I die” --a nod toward the dough-- “least I got t’ kiss my wife one last time.”

“Too many of those jokes and maybe you will,” Charity grumped, but there was no real weight behind the threat.

Edér just grinned and took the dough. “You’re just a little shy on sugar, Char,” he informed her after tasting it. “These are th’ cinnamon dusted ones Gjyra makes?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “Just add some sugar in with the cinnamon when you’re dustin’ ‘em and it’ll be fine.”

She brightened. “Y’ mean I actually made somethin’ edible?”

He laughed as he tugged off his hat and unwound his scarf. “Only time--an’ the oven--will tell.”

“True,” she conceded with a wry laugh. “While I get the first batch in the oven, there’s cider warmin’ by the fire, an’ then I’ll join ya so we can get in some of that cuddlin’ we mentioned earlier while the cookies bake.”

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’,” Edér grinned, dropping his hat to slip his hands under the back of her shirt. “I need a lot of warmin’ up.”

Charity yelped at the shock of cold skin against hers and swatted his arm. “Edér-!” But she couldn’t resist giggling all the same, as she tugged him closer by the uneven pale blue scarf draped around his neck. “You owe me for that,” she whispered, before pushing up on her toes to kiss him. His lips were still cold, and there was melting snow in his beard and all over his coat, but she didn’t care.

He was grinning when she finally stepped back. “Only fair when you put your cold feet on me every night,” he murmured playfully, “But that seems a pretty good start.”

“Yep. A start,” Charity emphasized, patting his cheek and not even dignifying the other part with a response before she disentangled herself and headed back toward the kitchen. “Get outta your wet stuff, get some cider, and I’ll join ya in just a couple minutes.”

“Yes, dear,” he said mischievously, and she rolled her eyes but kept walking. The faster she had the cookies in the over, the faster she could join him. And on a cold snowy day like this, few things sounded better than snuggling her human furnace of a husband.

Bet he didn’t even get cold on the way to Bethyn’s, she thought as she started dropping cookie-sized lumps of dough on a baking sheet. Which brought another thought to mind. “How’s Gjeorun doing?” she called out as she worked.

Edér grunted, probably pulling off his boots, before he replied, “Fever broke last night just ‘fore he went t’ sleep. I left the medicine anyway; ‘case it comes back or one of the girls gets it.”

Charity winced. “Good idea, but hope not. They have a separate room, an’ Bethyn and Dannith have been good about keepin’ them away while Gjeorun’s been sick.”

“Yeah, but you know how Ilaine loves her brother...” Edér pointed out. There was the clink of ladle against mug, then the couch creaked.

“We’re gonna be optimists about this,” Charity retorted as she slid the cookies in the oven. “Or at least I am,” she said ruefully as she joined him. “Thank you for goin’.”

“You’re welcome,” Edér said easily, holding one arm out so she could join him.

Which Charity was all too happy to do. She snuggled in next to him. “Gods, Edér, how are you so blazin’ warm?!”

“Not all of me’s warm,” he countered mischievously, running chilly fingers down her arm and under the hem of her shirt(again).

Goosebumps prickled up her spine and she grabbed his hand to sandwich between her own. “I think this’ll work better.”

“Less fun, though,” he teased, brushing his lips against her temple.

She snorted. “For you, maybe. Don’t let me forget about the cookies. Wouldn’t wanna burn what might be my first success story where food’s concerned.”

“Cross m’ heart.” He went to kiss her temple again, but Charity tipped her chin up to catch it on the lips instead. Edér chuckled. “I was workin’ that direction, darlin’.”

“Not fast enough, you weren’t,” she mock-grumbled.

He grinned. “I can fix that...” He tugged his hand free of hers and instead curved it along her jaw as he kissed her properly.

“Much better,” Charity murmured when they parted. She snuggled in closer against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

Edér chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hair as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and settled in as well. “Glad you approve.”

She just hummed happily. This was the way to spend cold winter days, she mused. It could snow as deep as it liked outside; she was perfectly happy right where she was.

Even when they forgot about the cookies.

(The second batch turned out just fine.)

#queens fic #eder teylecg #charity #ederity #eothasian idiots #otp: brighter than the sun #this is like early winter the first year they're married #(so i still get to write charity giving him the sweater she made some other time :3)#and look their honeymoon phase lasts like two or three YEARS #bc i do what i want :D

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asras-hat · 5 years

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I want to get more into longer writing rather than short lil headcanons (I’ve written longer pieces before, but they’re really not my strong suit), so here’s my attempt at interpreting the scene between Asra and MC when Asra decided to leave town during the plague (MC’s POV).

I might be posting more stuff like this (and if you have prompts, hmu), so keep an eye out :)

The confines of my tiny desk in the Palace library are beginning to feel like a prison. Day in and day out, I toil here, fueled only by the vain hope of discovering a cure for the uncurable. The musty smell of faded books chokes me like a vice; the dappled light spilling from the stained-glass window is nauseating. Any hope I had of ending this plague has dissipated, chipped away like soapstone each time I despondently watch another tiny rowboat paddling its way to certain death across the harbor. I can’t see the Lazaret from my desk in the library, but by the docks the smell of charred flesh traveling on the sea breeze from the crematorium is enough to turn my stomach at the mere mention of the island. People working near the harbor have taken to covering their mouths with cloth to avoid the acrid smoke and all its implications. Whose family members are we inhaling today? Mine? Yours? It never matters in the end; we’ll all end up on the island eventually.

I don’t realize how much I’m squeezing my quill pen until it buckles in my hand, spraying my already-illegible notes with tiny spots of ink. An anger disproportionate to this inconvenience begins to build up in my chest, and after all this time I’ve finally had enough. With the jaw-clenching screech of metal on polished wood, I shove my chair backwards and clamber to my feet, ignoring the quizzical stares from my fellow researchers as I stumble gracelessly towards the exit.

After bodily shoving the sturdy door open, I’m greeted by the soft glow of hallway lighting that nudges its way through my hazy vision. I stretch out the crick in my back with a satisfying pop, glancing around the mercifully-deserted hallway. Shaking the fog from my head, I make my way through the winding corridors and, finally, out onto the streets of Vesuvia.

What once would have been a source of contentment – the smells of food vendors’ stalls floating through the warm summer air, the chatter of crowds walking by – now feel alien to me. The air is heavy with the scent of death, soot from the Lazaret collecting in every crevice of every cobblestone and board. As I glance around at the few passers-by, I size them up with a trained eye, gauging the likelihood of each contracting the Red Plague.

You… you in that red shawl. You’ll be lucky to make it through the week. It would be best to get your affairs in order, before it’s too late.

I cringe inwardly at my own detachedness, disgusted with myself as much as I was my surroundings. I was warned that dealing with death for too long would desensitize me. I suppose they were right.

I need to get to the shop, maybe grab a cup of tea to clear my head and pick up some spell ingredients while I’m at it. I can almost hear my aunt’s voice in my head, stern but kind as she regarded me over the flashing bronze frames of the glasses resting on her nose. Take better care of yourself, she’d say. Can’t have you going crazy on my watch.

I laugh softly to myself, shaking my head.

“I’ll do my best,” I murmur, allowing the corner of my mouth to quirk upwards slightly at the memory. “For you.”

This promise, though seemingly superficial (as its recipient was no longer around to hold me to it), guides my footsteps through the streets until I find myself standing outside the familiar façade of my and Asra’s shop. Pushing open the door, I’m somewhat surprised to find that Asra is home, rummaging through a drawer, his back turned to me.

“Asra?” I say, and he visibly jumps, smacking his head hard on a shelf full of glass bottles, which clink together noisily. I wince as he slowly and painfully straightens and turns towards me, one hand buried in his curls and most likely cradling a rapidly-swelling bump.

“Are you alright?” I ask, concerned. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be home so early,” he says, refusing to make eye contact, instead staring at the floor. “…Aren’t you staying at the Palace?”

“Aren’t you?” I counter. “Where have you been all day?”

I can practically taste the waves of guilt radiating from him as he bites his lip and continues averting his eyes. His guarded childhood days as an orphan sculpted him into a person for whom secrets are second nature, but as far as I’m aware he doesn’t often keep them from me, and certainly not with this much discomfort.

“Asra,” I insist. He inhales deeply before finally looking up at me.

“I think we need to leave Vesuvia,” he proposes. I furrow my brow, uncomprehending.

“Leave?” I ask. “What are you talking about? We can’t leave; they need us here.”

“You’ve seen the numbers, (MC),” Asra sighs. “Death tolls are rising every day. At this rate, one of us will get the plague sooner or later, and I’d rather throw myself into the harbor than see you suffer like that. The only way to escape this, truly escape, is to leave. We’ll go somewhere the plague hasn’t traveled yet. Nevivon’s safe, or so I’ve heard –”

I smack my palm loudly against the surface of the counter, cutting him off.

“Can you hear yourself?” I ask incredulously. “People here are dying. The Palace is relying on us – Countess Nadia is relying on us. You’re suggesting we just waltz out of here and find a new home?”

“Not a new home, but –”

“And what happens when two tiny plague beetles clinging onto your scarf jump off in Nevivon and repopulate and infect the people there? Will we walk out on that plague as well? Leave an apology note to Ilya for killing off his entire home city?”

“(MC)…”

“No, I won’t have this. You can leave, but I’m staying here. And when you find my festering corpse among the others, know that I died doing what was right. What we should both be fighting for.”

I turn to leave, but Asra clasps my wrist, his fingers pressing the glass beads of my bracelets into my skin. I try to shake myself free, but his grip is strong, and I resignedly turn once more to stare at him. His eyes are large and pleading, and I wonder for a moment if he’ll cry, but my heart doesn’t soften for him in the slightest.

“Please,” he begs, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do if this were the last time I spoke to you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I say. “Stay here. Come with me to the Palace and work with me on a cure. We can do this, together.”

He sighs miserably, loosening his grip on me and curling his fingers into the curve of my wrist.

“If only that were true.”

“Goodbye, Asra.”

Tears welling in his eyes, he tries to pull me in for a hug, but I push him away.

“Come and find me once you’ve changed your mind.”

I turn on my heel, snatching my bag from off of a table and walking out the door. I ignore Asra’s voice behind me as I storm off, and I can swear I hear a frustrated sob before the door swings shut behind me. Combing my fingers roughly through my hair, I set a brisk pace away from the shop, away from the marketplace, away from Asra. The sounds of the plagued city echo around me as I wonder whether what Asra said would ring true. Were those the last words I’d speak to him? I shake the thought from my mind, not wanting to burden myself with what-ifs. That could be a thought for another day.

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana fanfic #the arcana asra #asra alnazar #the arcana game #arcana #the arcana nix hydra #the arcana fanfiction

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alo-piss-trancy · 5 years

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SD/R2 OMO HEADCANONS (Pt1)

Decided it was probably time for me to post a list of my omo hcs for this game since I did the THH chars! Like with the other list, I'll be excluding a couple I have no interest in thinking of omo content of (in this case, Hiy/oko and Teru/teru). I'm breaking this one into multiple posts throughout the week as I compile my thoughts (I'll add a link to all of them on the fic masterlist page later so you can find them all) because I feel this is gonna be a lot longer than my THH post haha!

Here we go, the first 3 (or 4) chars! Please stop reading now if you don't want spoilers for the game bc there will be several!!!

~~~

Gun/dham:

* I firmly hc him as vegetarian (not vegan. He will consume byproducts like milk/cheese/eggs/etc, but only harvested himself or from small farms/sources that he has personally vetted/researched where he knows 100% that the creatures are treated ethically.)

* That's actually not omo-related besides milk oops but it relates to my next point, which is that for the most part he prefers Natural food/drink. Water, fruit or vegetable juices/smoothies, etc. He's not really used to strange 'Human' confections like soda or coffee, so the caffeine and diuretics hit him hard and fast and make it difficult for him to estimate how much time he has. It also makes him jittery/hyped as hell which Does Not Help.

* As long as he isn't screwed over by caffeine or a ton of drinks, he has a decently strong bladder and can hold for a long time. He has a lot of practice from hiding/waiting to help certain animals, laying trapped under sleeping cats/dogs, etc. And also avoiding public restrooms like the Plagues they are for most of the day...

* He's bladdershy AF and has been since early childhood. I saw he had signs drawn on the doors/curtain in his room during my playthrough (including the bathroom) and that is definitely his safezone. Can't go outside either bc 1. He's paranoid he'll be seen by other ppl and 2. That feels disrespectful to the nature deities despite the logic that animals do it all the time. He knows that's dumb and he hates himself for it.

* Sometimes I do like to ignore the bladdershy hc just for some variety. Even in that case tho he'd still be a bit of a diva about which public bathrooms he uses. If it's gross or weird he's gonna avoid it/complain/refuse to go even if bursting. He's stubborn af

* We all know he canonically goes commando. Therefore he is in extra danger because any leaks will go straight to his pants RIP Since he usually wears black it isn't that visable (as long as it's just a bit and not a full wetting), but if he ever has to wear smth else u know he's screwed c':

* He's not very vocal when desperate at all. Mostly strangled whines or grunts (only when alone or if so urgent he can't hide it), he's just so easily embarrassed that he can choke most sound.

* He can also hide his body language pretty well. He can manage to keep himself to rigid posture and the occasional shudder or fidget if needed. Only when he's beyond caught and about to wet will he resort to obvious grabs or dances in front of others.

* Even if he wet he wouldn't cry (I don't seem him crying much for anything tbh, barring extreme things like death). He's angry at himself and extremely ashamed. He would get red as a tomato, attempt to slink away and avoid any witnesses for several days. Could get snippy or hide in his shell all pitiful, depending on the person.

* When alone or sure he can't be caught, he'll fidget more once things are dire. Mostly his long-ass legs. Jiggling, crossing, bending at the knees or bouncing up and down, shuffling from foot-to-foot, everything. He doesn't really do much with his hands beyond a quick crotch-squeeze.

* He'd def let Haj/ime or So/nia dom tf out of him as far as making him hold/lose control, he's submissive and enjoys the challenging test of limits. However, I could also see him totally having a thing for 'marking' his partners during the times he doms.

So/nia:

* Lowkey has a bladder of steel tbh, tho you'd never expect it by looking at her. It takes a lot to get her desperate and even more for her to crack enough to show her needs to others.

* She had a lot of long lectures/lessons, meetings, social events, formal balls, etc. growing up, so she just got used to waiting a lot between breaks so as not to interrupt or be rude to her guests. This also makes her wicked good at remaining completely calm on the outside and keeping the quiver out of her tone even when she's absolutely dying.

* Even once people know her problem, she would NEVER grab herself or dance. Literally the most you'll get out of her is legs crossed at the ankles. For the most part the only sign of her desperation is the slight fullbody shivering where she has her muscles and posture strained. If you're very lucky she may wince or her voice will start shaking/get breathy (her breathing gets super fast and shallow when at her absolute limit. Like nearly hyperventilating fast).

* While not shy at all about asking/telling others where she's going, she was raised with manners. She refuses to interrupt while others are busy, and will wait until she feels the time is appropriate to but into convos or leave the room, even if that could take a long time. She will not skip out on a group task if she can help it bc she feels very strongly about doing her part and not coming off as a slacker (so group investigations/new island exploring/building for Us/ami in Island Mode are all LONG tasks she will force herself to stick out without complaint, even if she's about to wet herself).

* Despite being a princess, she definitely doesn't view anything as being 'beneath' her. If someone asks her to just go outside/in a sketchy place/strange receptacle, she'll do it without question as soon as they agree to glance away. In fact, sometimes it's actually a little thrilling.

* If she did wet herself she would certainly be embarrassed, maybe even teary-eyed depending on the situation/who was around. However, it certainly isn't the end of the world for her, and she would be able to brush it off fairly easily once she got cleaned up and had a chance to breathe. Could probably start making jokes about it by the next day, or just wait patiently for everyone to forget about it.

* Probably has a big piss kink (for others. She isn't much on doing holds herself, minus an occasional 'Damsel in Distress' type roleplay). And honestly just a big one for domming others (sometimes sweetly, sometimes cold/cruel like True Royalty). She looks cute but She Nasty (tm). Gun/dham and Haji/me (to a lesser extent, bc his smart-ass take-no-shit attitude makes him a bit of a brat sometimes lol) are her bitches.

M/ikan (I have to split hers in two bc I have polar opposite hcs) :

Non-Despair M/ikan -

* Is every bit as shy uwu ohnoooo~ as you'd imagine. Super blushy and fidgety and teary-eyed but never admits what's wrong even once it's obvious, to the point of potty-dancing in place (but she's Totally Fine she can hang in there and doesn't need to stop what she's doing)! You literally have to drag her away to the bathroom if u don't want her to have an accident. Would rather die than inconvenience anyone by telling them she has to go, will berate herself for the inconvenience when that backfires and she's made a mess of herself, 120% convinced everyone hates her and p much refuses any comfort bc she's so trapped in the spiral. Bawls her eyes out.

* If on a rare occasion she does work up the nerve to speak up and is denied, that's it. She will not dare ask again even if the person didn't realize how badly she had to go. Nope. Clearly her only option is to hold it until she can't anymore, or until she's alone and can run off by herself.

*Also she totally would whimper to herself in The Worst omo video star voice lmao "Oh noooo I'm leaking into my panties~, it's cOmIng OuTtttt~ uwu uwu uwu" (i'm not making fun of those istg but u know Exactly what 'sexy baby' voice I mean. That is Mi/kan. Don't be so fake bitch We Know u didn't fall spread eagle naturally)

* Says 'Potty' unironically. It's the only word she uses for the bathroom.

* Surprisingly not bladdershy at all. She's actually the opposite. Will go Anywhere (but will be embarrassed while doing it).

* She's used to holding a lot bc afraid to leave class/stuck helping patients for hours on end. However while she has a wicked high capacity and stays very hydrated, she has pretty shaky control. Leaks A LOT, be it in general or bc she gets startled/nervous. She's like a chihuahua lmao. She wears medical liners when on duty as a nurse or during school, but for general hangouts she forgoes them (totally bc she forgot and Not bc she wanted to show her wet panties off to strangers/peers when she falls again, that would be Slu/tty and Improper).

* Once held for ages and then ended up wetting herself just bc Hiy/oko told her to. It wasn't actually a request, just a one-off snippy comment that H forgot about like 10 min after she said it and walked away. When she found out Mi/kan took it seriously she absolutely lost it laughing for the next few days

*Her potty dances include lots of thighs rubbing together/hunching over, hands wandering dangerously close only to pause and grip her skirt/dress hem, hopping from leg to leg and shaking at the knees. She's pitiful when desperate and very cute. Pants and whimpers near constantly, nibbles at her knuckles to try and muffle it.

* Knows when she's at risk of actual damage from holding, but it's still a 50/50 shot of whether she'll break down and go or keep trying to hold. She knows it's unwise, but due to her complete lack of self worth she doesn't really care if her own body is damaged.

* That said, she monitors everyone else very closely and will harass them firmly to take breaks if they're at risk.

Despair/True Mik/an -

* MASSIVE PISS KI/NK. Loves to be dommed/told to hold until she wets. LOVES to do the same to others and tell them all the mean things for a change. She will borderline Break You.

* Takes great satisfaction in watching others struggle. If given an opportunity to make others desperate/prevent them from getting to a bathroom without revealing herself, she will definitely take it. She has no sympathy.

* The Queen of lacing things with diuretics, but can also often find that boring/too easy. A bit disdainful of that method tbh.

* Tying ppl down to hold or hooking them to IVs and 'misplacing' the call button is more her style.

* Used to hold for Jun/ko a lot to appease her. Would be willing to hold for Na/gito, but tbh he's just as willing to hold for her so it's a bit of a stalemate and they've yet to work out who does what.

* Will piss on her victim/lover while staring them directly in the eyes. Does not flinch. She toes the line between sexy and just plain creepy lol

#omocute #omorashi #fandomo #fictomo #bear txt #drspoilers

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donewithjeon · 5 years

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Downfall [21]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 4,373

Genre: Assassin AU

Note: This is a re-upload due to the original chapter being taken down by Tumblr. Sorry for the inconvenience!

They found you.

Somehow, the enemy was able to find the location of the Yongsan division office. They must have followed your van here after the incident at City Hall or used some other undetectable means to trace you. Perhaps that was their plan all along, to discreetly tail your vehicle during the hectic escape to safety. Whatever the answer is, it no longer matters how they managed to discover your haven.

They’re here—and you’re under attack.

The fire alarm is shrill and seemingly perpetual in its shrieking pattern as it drills into your head with each blaring reiteration. The halls and rooms are echoing with the sound to alert the inhabitants of what they already know—the structure is starting to go up in flames with the source of the disaster well below the level you are currently on but advancing its spread with persisting speed.

You’re running down the stairwell of the building, moving as quick as you can to see if there is still a chance to escape. Even if there isn’t, there’s no way you’re going to stay in your room and accept the charred fate that awaits you. Ignoring the restriction of movement in your arm and the searing pain that overwhelms your back from the brash stress you’re putting on it, you keep a steady and brisk pace down the seemingly unending steps.

Until, you can’t go any further.

You freeze at the top of another flight of stairs as you were just about to get ready to conquer it. At the bottom, the fire is now clearly visible, and the heat emanating from it is so blisteringly strong, it feels as if your skin will start boiling if you go any closer. The embers lick dangerously under your feet, and the smoke not only proliferates from the lower floors to obscure the rest of the path you were planning to take, but the suffocating fog ascends in billows to scorch your lungs, eyes, and everything in between.

If the conditions are this bad when you’ve barely made it to the fourth floor, then it’s a guarantee that your exit route must be overtaken with flames, seeing how the building is burning from the bottom up. The threat is drawing nearer with each passing second, which effectively wipes any idea you had in your mind that this could be a viable path to take.

Turning back around, you begin a sprint up the same stairs you rushed down on, hoping that your legs won’t give out on you in this more difficult trek to your new destination. Since you can’t even dream of going to the ground floor, the only place you can go now is up. There’s no need to stop and take a peek over your shoulder to check the status below, because you’re fairly sure that the fire and smoke are rapidly advancing.

You can feel it.

Once you reach the top of the very last set of stairs, you’re met with an exit that is labeled “roof access” in bold, red letters. You throw yourself onto the metal bar and shove the door open, not stopping your winding feet until you reach another roadblock: the edge.

Above your head, the sky is nothing but a murky shroud, but below, you are able to see the hellish illumination of the fire that has already devoured half of the structure. You strain your eyes to look beyond the smog and sparks, and when you focus on the ground near the sidewalk, you detect numerous dim figures you can only assume are onlookers of the spectacle. It definitely looks to be a long way down with nothing to break the fall but the unforgiving pavement.

Remarkably, that doesn’t stop the people trapped inside the building.

Movement coming from the upper levels catches your attention, and when you try to discern what it is, your vision follows the descending shadows as they fall out of the windows and make their way towards the cement. Judging by the rate at which they are dropping, you can easily distinguish that those forms aren’t just papers or objects from the offices floating through the wind. Bodies are flying out of even the tenth floor windows, plummeting down with increasing velocity until they crash onto the unrelenting surface with sickening splits and splatters. Everyone is desperate to escape this burgeoning inferno, and you can’t say that you’re too far behind the tipping point yourself.

Actually, you’re about a step away from it.

Staring down at the scene below, you can determine that while the threat is coming ever closer, there are no other escape routes available for you to choose from. There are only two options: you can either stay here until the building burns up or collapses beneath you, which could be any minute now, or you can jump off and join the rest of the agents who took the leap of faith. Maybe you’ll be able to get away with your life in exchange for broken legs if you position your landing correctly, as slim of a chance it may be.

You take a deep breath, immediately regretting it as you inhale a lungful of the all-too-familiar fumes of ash and carbon. Your time is running out, and you know that there’s only one thing left to do.

Wake up.

You jolt awake with a start, your eyes shooting open to meet the same insipid ceiling from your previous awakening, except this time, it’s eclipsed by a looming shadow above you. Your first reaction is to lunge up from your bed, reach out for a nearby item to protect yourself with, do something so you can ensure your safety and stability, but you can’t move.

That’s when you realize that someone is hovering over you, clamping your wrists and shoulders down in an attempt to hold you down. Since flight is not an option, you start to kick into fight mode, but when your frantic eyes land on the face of your supposed assailant, the tension relaxes from your body in a wave of relief.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says, slowly releasing his grip and straightening himself up from the leaning position. “I thought it would be best to wake you.”

Your heart is still racing from the residual adrenaline pumping through your veins from the unpleasant awakening and even more unpleasant dream, but you start to steady your breathing after grasping an understanding of the circumstances. At least he took caution to restrain you before attempting to wake you. It seems as though he has learned from the mistake he made last time—of course, the nasty bruise and near concussion probably served as a lesson he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“Why are you here?” you question, subtly trying to move past the embarrassment of having to be woken up like a child who was acting out because of a nightmare.

“To tell you that you’ve been discharged,” he states as he watches you prop yourself upright on the bed. “You can leave whenever you’d like as long as you stay on the other side of the Han. I was just about to head back to HQ, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were up yet.”

“I’m up now,” you begrudgingly declare. You rub your eyes of whatever remnants of sleep are still leftover and push the sheets off of you. “I’ll be out in 10.”

“Take your time.”

Namjoon leaves with a click of the door, leaving you to your own devices. You take this time to release a well-needed sigh in appreciation for your body and mind finally calming down. It’s much too early to be in inner turmoil right now, but apparently your brain thought otherwise and felt the need to grace you with the highly unnecessary and unwelcomed dream.

You couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time last night, and it was only when you could almost perceive the first rays of the morning sun brightening the dark blue sky that you managed to slip into a slumber.

Evidently, that didn’t last long.

Even though the couple winks you were able to squeeze in leaves you feeling wearier than ever, you still can’t relinquish the chance to get up and leave this stuffy room, even if it’s just to return to the comfort of your own bed. You keep that thought in mind as you go to change out of your hospital garments, but you having a strong feeling that it’s going to be a long while until you have the pleasure of getting some real rest.

As you pull out of the parking garage, you brace yourself to face something similar to a warzone, but much to your surprise, things are completely and utterly normal. With the flow of the traffic and the stream of pedestrians filling the streets, everything is business as usual, almost as if a violent crime didn’t just take place in the heart of Seoul yesterday. It could be because you’re heading back to Gangnam, which is on the opposite side of the Yongsan office from the crime scene, but nevertheless, is seems as though the city is an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

That is, until you step foot into Kim Daily.

On most days, it’s the upper levels of the 54-story structure, the quarters where the assassins spend the majority of their time, that are bustling with activity, but today, the lower precincts where the news company works its journalism magic are just as busy, if not more so, as the rest of the building’s denizens.

You have grown to admire their hard work and their ability to stay on top of things, because among the many powerful resources Mr. Shin possesses, this news company is one that proves to be most reliable time and time again.

It has not even been a full 24 hours since the incident occurred, yet it seems like the situation is well on its way towards being resolved. The whole of yesterday was dedicated to revising the print for this morning’s paper and filling the online news platform with all the necessary information that needed to be distributed to the general public.

The big headline doesn’t include the gritty details of the violent turn of events that you would usually find on cover stories such as these. There’s nothing specific about the one dead and nine injured, numbers that are blown up with prominence on other news outlets, nor are there profiles of the shooter and his associates, a decision no doubt to keep your identities safe.

Instead, the main emphasis is on reform—how we will recover from this tragic event and the steps we need to take in order to prevent it from happening again in the future. It’s an extremely well-written, convincing, and thrilling exposé on the nation’s gun control regulations that most definitely will leave readers nodding their heads in agreement or at least scratching their chins in contemplation.

On top of that, quite literally, is Mayor Moon’s face plastered on every front page. The photo is not taken from the press conference that transpired yesterday, despite it being fitting for the article, but instead, it’s one of his more professional shots that you would spot on posters for his campaign tour. The Mayor of Seoul looks like a jolly man with thin-rimmed oval glasses, neatly-combed black hair, and a smile that ironically brings out the prominent frown lines on his forehead.

Within the exposé, quotes from the press conference concerning the attack at Seoul Plaza have been included. Mayor Moon responded to the early criticisms and vowed to do everything in his power to make the city safe again. To win over the public even more, he also discussed his proposition of restricting firearms to a greater extent by requiring GPS tracking of all guns that are in circulation from now on.

Between this incident and what happened in Sejong earlier this year, you have a good hunch that the new regulations will be put into full effect soon enough.

It’s all good in theory, but you know that there’s no way that a law like that will reign legitimately, at least not for you guys. If anything, it’ll just become that much easier to monitor the authorities and any other low-class criminals who are unlucky and ignorant enough to carry around bugged weapons.

Come what may, Mr. Shin is managing to make the best out of a situation that could have gone terribly wrong and should have had no upsides whatsoever. You thought it would certainly take more of a strenuous effort to bury things and cut all loose ends; shootings in Seoul are exceptionally rare, and even for a man of his capabilities, you were sure it was going to be difficult to sweep under the rug and cover up. Not only is he doing exactly that though, but he is also helping to paint Mayor Moon in a better light, fruitfully furthering the solidity of both of their positions.

A true win-win scenario.

By the end of the scramble, you stand corrected, having taken your boss’s professional prowess too lightly. Mr. Shin has been running the game for decades now, so you doubt that this is the worst thing that he has witnessed during his lifetime. It was foolish of you to think that any other undesirable outcome would have spawned from this situation.

In the following days, it seems as though the shooting and the subsequent proceedings that occurred afterwards are all that is being broadcasted and covered by news companies and major media sites alike. It’s all that comes up on the TV at the apartment when you have time to turn it on, which you do have plenty of recently as the assassins have been told to put down their guns and knives and lay low until things get concluded with ink strokes and keyboard clicks.

It’s times like these where the pen is, in fact, mightier than the sword.

“I am here to confirm that we have successfully captured the offender and have taken him into custody.”

An astute voice leaks through the speakers as you watch the announcement on screen. Cameras are flashing and shuttering at amazing rates, but that doesn’t seem to faze the Police Chief, Cho Ryeowoon. This uniformed man of experience has a rigid stance and hardened facial expression that makes him appear almost immune to the commotion around him. He’s standing behind the podium to carry out a simple task, one that will hopefully be the bow that wraps up this entire case.

“Everyone can rest assured that the streets are safe. With the recent mandates that have been passed, there is no need to worry about something like this happening again.” Sure enough, it only took a span of a few days for the gun control regulations to be imposed. Chief Cho’s guarantees sound so matter-of-factly, and you’re impressed by his ability to turn such a dubious subject into a highly persuasive speech. “As for the culprit, I think I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that it is only right that he be brought to justice—and you have my word that he will.”

After a few seconds, a picture of the alleged criminal is pulled up onto the screen by the broadcasting station. The man in the photo is not Jungkook in any way shape or form, but since the CCTV footage of the actual wrongdoer was never released to the public, the viewing citizens will be none the wiser. Even those who were physically present won’t be able to say a word otherwise, because with a beanie and a mask, any male with the same build and basic traits can probably pass as Jungkook.

You can’t help but wonder who the poor sap going under the guillotine is, but you guess it doesn’t hold significance. If it did matter, he wouldn’t be where he is right now, taking the blame for your teammate’s actions for the sake of your organization and its allies. Besides, if you know anything about the organization, it’s almost guaranteed that the man did something foul for him to be placed on the hot seat like that—this is just a slightly less practical way of getting him where he needs to be.

Truthfully, you’re pleased that this is being covered up so competently. None of you need the stress of the aftermath weighing down on you, especially not on top of all the other baggage you have to carry. It’s a bit selfish to say the least, but being in the position that you guys are in, it can’t be helped.

It’s merely self-preservation.

Since the effort to recover from the close call went better than you could have hoped for, especially after the “culprit” was captured, the status of the organization returned back to normal in record time. Following suit, your stitches were taken out after about a week of having received them, and by now, the wound is no longer hindering your movement and performance.

The situation seems to have blown over in the blink of an eye, but on the contrary, those few days of unemployment were arduous for the business. While you were all preoccupied with the large-scale affair, it was not quite as impacting to the rest of the city’s population who weren’t directly affected by it. Even in the madness of everything that happened regarding the wanted man, clients were not holding off on placing orders and requests, so to act in accordance, the organization accepted them like they always did.

This is a business, after all, and these are your jobs—your livings. Everything else was continuing on with its fixed pace after acknowledging what has passed, and you guys couldn’t afford to be bumming around for any longer when there were contracts to be signed and orders to be fulfilled. Especially after the news broke that the organization had quite possibly been infiltrated by a mole, not another minute can go to waste.

Just like that, life goes on.

Jungkook was transported back to headquarters shortly after you returned, and yet, even as the days go on, you don’t catch so much as a glimpse of him.

It’s rather strange if you think about it. There are many times when both you and Jungkook are busy with your own assignments, and during those periods, days or even weeks can go by until you two see each other again. Currently, it has only been a little over a week, but these are not the same circumstances. It’s a completely different story because you know that he is in the same building as you, conversing with the same people as you, probably even eating the same food as you, but he himself is choosing to keep you distant and away.

You hate this feeling that is planted within you, growing each day that it’s left neglected like intrusive vines that spread through every fiber of your being. You wish that you could at least apologize in person or even see with your own two eyes that he’s really okay, but so far, you haven’t been given a chance to clear up the mess.

Some of the others are doing their best to keep you in the know, so when they relay to you that his condition is progressing well, you have no choice but to take their word for it. He’s apparently healing up quite speedily—to your liberation, there are no persisting damages from the bullet wound—but you didn’t expect any less from Jungkook. Sometimes, you seriously believe he’s just built in a different way from most people in this world.

From what Jin has graciously taken the time to tell you, Jungkook has been put under special care until he is completely healed. You’re grateful for your supervisor, because even scraps of information such as this is not necessarily mandatory to divulge to the rest of the team. Perhaps he’s so attentive at informing you because he feels guilty about the whole exchange at the Yongsan corridor. Even if that’s not the case, Jin does tend to have a bit of soft spot for you—Lord knows you’ve been softening him up by poking and prodding him for details since the dawn of time. It’s not that you take advantage of this fact at all, but more often than not, you are able to coax something useful out of him.

This is one of those times.

It became clear to you that this “special care” wasn’t just to track the superficial injuries Jungkook sustained once Jin uttered that single word, one that you realized was the true reason for the elongated recovery time and temporary removal from the team.

Therapy.

Yes, assassin therapy is not only a thing, but a quintessential aspect of the system. Just as important as physical health, if not more, mental health is dealt with the utmost care, precision, and promptitude.

The organization holds monthly evaluations for all members working within it, and among the several tests is a mental state check, one of the practices in which everyone’s psyche is measured and monitored. These examinations are tedious at times, but they are essential not only for curing anomalies but for preventing those imbalances from happening in the first place, and the consequences of deciding to omit this facet of the assessment are far too high. The officials and even other members need to know that the inner workings of an operative are not abnormal or unstable in any way before setting them out into the field with the potential to inflict adverse harm and wreak havoc.

Furthermore, this arrangement proves to be amply effective.

There have been a few instances where you have heard of assassins being pulled from their roles on the team, almost always at the end of the month and with minimal repercussions. There was only one deviant from this otherwise efficacious procedure you remember hearing whispers about that concerned a particular agent whose primary job was interrogation—just like Jimin. His personal methods, however, became too eccentric, even for the organization’s tastes.

To put it bluntly, he was discovered to have been cutting off and eating the hostage’s fingers in order to force them to comply.

Admittedly, it was an effective torture technique—there’s really nothing like watching someone eat your own body parts in front of you—but unsurprisingly, it didn’t go over well with the higher-ups, or anyone else for that matter. Shortly after he was caught—it didn’t take long after the initial episode—the agent was removed from his post before he could go off the deep end, as if that line hadn’t already been crossed.

This entire screening process is in no way a perfect one, but without its implementation, the organization could very well have seen greater calamity or even collapse by now.

Jungkook’s behavior certainly raised some red flags with the company officers, and while you can argue that it’s not nearly as bad as Mr. Finger Fetish, you have to agree with the call for rehabilitation that they made. It still gives you shudders when your mind travels back to ponder what kind of mentality Jungkook held in that moment that drove him to go through with his erratic actions. It makes you wonder if you should have paid more attention to the signs that led up to that point.

No, you were well aware of them—you just didn’t act upon them.

You figure that it’s no use in making yourself feel worse than you already have been feeling all week. Now that the problem has been uncovered, the focus now is to make sure that it’s extinguished and won’t be rekindled again. You’re relieved that he’s undergoing the proper treatment he needs, and thankfully, everyone’s extremities are still intact.

Plus, you know Jungkook will make it through to the other side better than ever.

All of you are a little broken in your own way, whether you’ve been bent and twisted or torn and frayed. There is not one person among you who doesn’t struggle with your own self, because regardless of if you like it or not, residing inside every single one of you is the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not only do you learn to live with this reality early on, but you are taught to overcome it and manipulate it to your advantage.

Human emotions are such frail constructs to begin with, but even with what could easily be considered weaknesses, you’re trained to hone them—control, not erase. You are to amplify them when the situation calls for it and to suppress them when they run the risk of getting in the way, but you are never to dispose of them.

In spite of everything, you are human, and they are what make you so.

You can only attempt to hold something in for so long until you explode; it might not always be the cannibalism route, but an eruption is imminent. There have been plenty of instances of this happening—examples, if you will—with the orphans and assassins before you, displayed in the various ways they fought with themselves, whether they couldn’t pull the trigger or they pointed the gun at themselves.

The organization allocated the time and effort to refine their training and selection program so that the possibility of those outcomes has been reduced to the lowest prospect, but even so, they did not resort to producing mindless drones. You are all still your own individual person with innate strengths and weaknesses, the former being polished and the latter being purged.

In Jungkook’s case, he is currently in the process of having his faults expelled, and in harmony with that, you need to make sure that your strengths have been toughened after the experiences you overcame. You can look at it like he is working on his own mission at the moment, so the only thing left for the rest of you to do is continue on your own missions as always.

Without him.

#reupload!#downfall #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic

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jojotier · 5 years

Text

This Is Fine

Everything was on fire.

Tsukishima stared blankly at the smoke-filled living room, smelling burning polyester from the only new piece of furniture they’ve been able to bring into this dilapidated hovel of a place. Not for the first time he wondered just how in the hell he ended up here. Dealing with this. Presumably for the rest of his life.

Koito was in a slightly contorted position on the floor, kneeling with one leg positioned slightly to the left, surrounded by claw of newt and various explosive chemicals in a ring where the fire refused to enter. And he had the absolute audacity to look startled at Tsukishima’s entrance.

“Don’t tell Tsurumi,” was the first thing out of Koito’s mouth. Whatever else he said got mangled with satsumaben. Then Koito’s foot, despite being safely held within the circle where flames didn’t reach, caught fire. Not that it seemed to hurt Koito and not that Tsukishima was particularly surprised. It was just... Something that he did. He caught on fire randomly and often and didn’t freak out about it unless it was in his hair. Spontaneous combustion was just one minor inconvenience, but god forbid Koito’s hair be sacrificed.

“I won’t tell Tsurumi.” Tsukishima very calmly said. “... But I’m not hiding it. He’s going to see the aftereffects of this.”

“What! No he won’t!” Koito hastily screeched, getting to his feet. The fire from his foot clawed up his leg slightly as his right shoulder also caught on fire. Tsukishima should probably do something about that. Maybe he’d wait just a few more seconds, though, to make Koito suffer. Maybe it was the beginnings of smoke inhalation, or maybe it was dismay at the fact that the couch they might’ve been able to make off with was going to be singed beyond comfort- but it felt like the right thing to do. Or at the very least, the most gratifying thing. “Tsukishimaaaaa!”

“Just put it out.”

“Tsukishi-maaaaaaaaaaaa!!! I CAN’T.” Koito quickly ran his fingers through his hair, freaking the fuck out as the fire raged around the both of them. If Tsukishima wasn’t used to casual arson, he might have been worried about a bit of rotting wood falling from the ceiling above. “I’m a fire mage!!! I START FIRES, I don’t know how to PUT THEM OUT.”

“We need to invest in a fire extinguisher.” Tsukishima idly said, starting towards the kitchen. It wasn’t advisable to open up the windows and suck the moisture from outside- then all this smoke would start billowing out, and on the off chance someone found this remote hovel, they’d be alarmed. Best to take all due precaution in concealing themselves, possible suffocation notwithstanding. Maybe he’d ask Tsurumi about squatting in a place with a more open floorplan next time…

“DON’T JUST LEAVE ME LIKE TH-”

Tsukishima indeed left him there like that. Just so long as he got some water before Koito’s hair succumbed to the blaze, there was enough time. Thankfully, there was certainly enough time before Tsurumi and Usami came back from their scouting. Just enough for Koito to clean everything up if he were so insistent on the ill-advised notion of trying to hide his little experimental accident.

Plucking an old bucket from a long-abandoned corner of the hallway, Tsukishima dumped the clumps of maggot-ridden meat (that was the fun part about squatting in random houses- the fun little surprises of what was left behind) from it and continued on to the kitchen. They were lucky, this time- this little place didn’t have electricity, but it had a good deal of water still left, easily purified by some of Koito’s fire and his own sorting. Not that the water needed to be particularly pure to be able to put out the fire.

He passed by a kitchen island cut clean in half, wooden sides sticking up from the decaying floor, and turned on the tap. The water that oozed out was slightly thick in consistency, opaque, cloudy grey- and the goddamn smell… but if anything, maybe the disgusting stuff would be incentive enough to keep Koito from repeating this little venture, if only for the duration of their stay here.

Tsukishima made his way back into the room, only to be greeted by Koito, sprawled out over the floor like the melodramatic pile of pipe cleaners in the vague shape of a human being he just so happened to embody, cursing in a horrendous mix of understandable Japanese and satsuma dialect. Koito looked towards Tsukishima slowly, eyes squinted against the light of the fire which burned a few new holes in the floor. “What the hell is that smell…”

Tsukishima said nothing. It was easy enough to separate the pure water he needed from the putrid whole- especially since the second all that moisture left it, the grime congealed on the bottom of the bucket, sticking as fast as rust. Or ectoplasm. Eugh. He just tossed the water in the bucket out over the room, streams breaking off from the clear whole to cover the entire surface area of the room. The flames around the room extinguished, and then there was Koito, laying in the middle of the charred mess, soggy and disgusted. Koito slowly got up, a look of horror crossing his face.

“PLEASE tell me that water wasn’t from where I think you got it from!”

“Okay. This water wasn’t from where you think I got it from.”

“TsukisHIMAAAAAAAA!” Tsukishima wondered, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, how he hadn’t gone deaf yet. Especially since Koito, smelling vaguely like the gross shit from the kitchen sink, screamed directly into his ear while shaking his shoulders, “You’re such a LIAR!!”

“I don’t really know what kind of answer you were expecting,” Tsukishima said, and perhaps this was the moment when his patience was wearing thin. Just perhaps. “There’s only one source of water around here. Unless you’ve found any other alternatives you’re willing to share, we just have to deal with…” Tsukishima was just in the process of holding up the grime ladened bucket to illustrate his point when he realized- it was… strangely lighter, than it was a few seconds ago.

He glanced inside, and the metal exterior gleamed dully back. All the slime was gone.

Hm. Considering the sudden, slight breeze he was feeling- and not from any open windows, of which there were none in this house- Tsukishima could only suppose that this wasn’t good. He stepped back, pulling the moisture from the air around him close as Koito, bewildered, gave him a scandalized look. “Get back here! I wasn’t done yelling at you for-”

There was a sudden pop, bang, sizzle, and a storm cloud formed above Koito’s head. A flash of lightning was the only warning before the cloud opened up, pouring thick, smelly drops of the slime from the bucket directly over Koito’s hair and head. Tsukishima froze some of the water and used it as a makeshift, clear shield- even if there was no way in hell he was getting this gunk on him, there was also no missing the image of Koito, wide-eyed and shaking in rage, as the slime dripped down his forehead.

Twin peals of laughter sounded from the doorway, and Koito very slowly turned to face it. The Nikaidou twins were leaning against each other, gasping for breath as they pointed and laughed at Koito, with his top half drenched in muck which was made of materials that Tsukishima sorely wished to never learn about. Koito made a sound akin to a choking monkey.

“I’m going to KILL YOU-”

“Oh no!! I’m terrified,” Youhei snickered, walking in tandem with Kouhei as they quickly moved to the other side of the room. Kouhei snickered back, raising a hand and blowing a strong gust of wind Koito’s way. That wasn’t the best- Koito’s hands caught fire, and with the new source of oxygen, the flames dropped to the floor and reignited the living room anew. Tsukishima sighed. He just put the fire out in here….

And honestly, he had half a mind to just let it all burn as Koito ran after the Nikaidou brothers, gunk-cloud comically following after him like a living cartoon. Tsukishima was well past the point of being surprised, and as the room slowly became engulfed in flames, he blankly stared at it all.

Not for the first time- certainly not the last- he wondered if it was too late to run away to the mainland and take up. Farming or something. Maybe go indebt himself to a pair of elderly hot spring owners. Literally anything else.

It would beat being here, at this moment, watching Koito freak the fuck out over the slime in his hair catching on fire as Youhei and Kouhei sat back and tried to videotape it. Sighing, he encased the cloud above Koito’s head (because honestly, what were clouds but concentrated moisture useful for fucking with unsuspecting mages?) in a block of ice and pulled the clean water back out to douse the entire room. Then, he set the frozen slab of dirt to chasing the Nikaidous. Not that it wasn’t absolutely hysterical that Koito got doused earlier- but they did lead to Tsukishima having to deal with the second house fire today. He really didn’t want to deal with a third.

Before Koito could open his mouth to say something completely insufferable, which Tsukishima knew in advance would be utterly insufferable by the mere look on his face, the front door slid open.

“Hello boys~ I’m home…” Tsurumi poked his head into the room from the front hall, Usami on his heels. Then he stood and watched, taking in the scene.

The living room was still charred to all hell. Koito froze off the side, staring like a deer in headlights, while both Nikaidous were running around the room from the projectile dirt that Tsukishima had frozen and set about. Off to the side, the couch, the one nice piece of furniture they had found here, was burnt to its springy skeleton. And there was Tsukishima, standing in the middle of it all, looking blank as anything.

“... Tsukishima, is there… anything you want to tell me?” Tsurumi raised an eyebrow, apparently amused.

“Next time, sir,” Tsukishima said, “we need to find a house with a working bathtub.”

(This all is in honor of the beginning of mine and Gaz’s siren au, and the beginning of the main fic, Symphony Ad Libitum! Go ahead and have a look at what Gaz has written, it’s fantastic!)

#golden kamuy #tsukishima hajime #koito otonoshin #7th division #golden kamui #fanfiction #my writing #fluff #humor #magic #everything is tiring and so am i #sorry haji #jiogbv

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