Tumgik
#and the rest of the family obviously but that's hardly a new obsession
sokkigarden · 8 months
Note
If you’re willing to humbly accept my Jamie tartt request where the team has a board game/charades night and they set up the reader and Jamie to be partners cause they’re all sick of their flirting/pining and they obviously crush everyone cause they’re the perfect team?
this is a little bullet-point drabble bc that’s how these things usually start for me and i’d rather give y’all smth small instead of nothing! that being said this got out of hand. lmfao i hope you like this !!
Tumblr media
it all started when phoebe came around after training one day and was so obsessed with a new game that she made the richmond boys play with her
and this quickly escalated into game nights for the whole football club
everyone brought board games, card games and booze
family members came along, the whole facility got involved
it got really competitive naturally
you usually paired off with keeley while playing bc you both worked on social media and were becoming good friends outside of work too
but this meant you often ended up playing against roy and jamie
because there was some weird dynamic between the three of them
and somehow you got looped into it too
and eventually every time you played, you would start arguing with jamie
it was never anything serious, but it did get out of hand sometimes
it wasn’t your fault! you were super competitive, and he wanted to be the best at everything 
it didn’t matter if you played monopoly or scrabble, you always ended up nearly yelling at each other
it was all in good fun, but truth be told, you really didn’t know jamie that well outside of these game nights
you crossed paths with him just about as much as the other players, getting some content for socials and discussing PR promo with them
you wouldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but you wouldn’t openly admit it either
so it was fun to mess around and mildly flirt with him with the pretense of getting competitive over board games
finally one week, you noticed keeley and roy showed up together
they were clearly interested in staying close to each other all night, which left you and jamie the odd ducks out
at first you felt betrayed. what happened to you and keeley being the dream team?
but you’d seen how they had been glancing at each other these past few weeks
you should’ve known this was inevitable
but everyone saw the way you and jamie interacted as well
so when roy and keeley showed up together, they suggested you and jamie pair up to play poker
you’d been wanting to learn how to play for weeks and colin brought fancy new poker chips
jamie was pretty okay at poker, so roy and keeley subtly suggested you two pair up to learn and play
“maybe you’ll work better together rather than against each other” they said
they were definitely conspiring to see if something would happen between you two
you both reluctantly agree
but you can’t tell if jamie is grumbling more about being your partner or because roy and keeley are back together
you ended up playing poker against bumbercatch, colin, and isaac, with jamie helping you learn the ins and outs before heading off to find drinks
he definitely got distracted on the way, chatting to others throughout the room 
once he returned with drinks for you all, he saw how badly you were losing
so he pulled up a chair next to you, and started helping you
nudging you when he noticed what the others were doing
whispering in your ear what card to play
at one point, jamie places his hand on your thigh under the table to get your attention
suggesting how to play your cards right to beat the other boys
but you can hardly focus bc his hand is big and it’s warm and still resting on your leg
and even when you end up winning the round, he leaves his hand there, squeezing your thigh for encouragement 
its not long before the boys are groaning over losing their money to you
while jamie is still helping out a lil bit, you’ve definitely improved on your own
by the end of the night you’re feeling triumphant when keeley and roy make their way over to you
and jamie’s got a proud look on his face
jamie’s a pretty touchy person, so he slings an arm around your shoulder as you all walk to a bar together
roy and keeley share a look as you guys chatter together instead of arguing over silly games
clearly they were right
as you and jamie flirt and get to know each other for the rest of the night
the arguing was definitely a pretense to something more
and you have a feeling it will be fun to find what comes next
it all started when phoebe came around after training one day and was so obsessed with a new game that she made the richmond boys play with her
and this quickly escalated into game nights for the whole football club
everyone brought board games, card games and booze
family members came along, the whole facility got involved
it got really competitive naturally
you usually paired off with keeley while playing bc you both worked on social media and were becoming good friends outside of work too
but this meant you often ended up playing against roy and jamie
because there was some weird dynamic between the three of them
and somehow you got looped into it too
and eventually every time you played, you would start arguing with jamie
it was never anything serious, but it did get out of hand sometimes
it wasn’t your fault! you were super competitive, and he wanted to be the best at everything 
it didn’t matter if you played monopoly or scrabble, you always ended up nearly yelling at each other
it was all in good fun, but truth be told, you really didn’t know jamie that well outside of these game nights
you crossed paths with him just about as much as the other players, getting some content for socials and discussing PR promo with them
you wouldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but you wouldn’t openly admit it either
so it was fun to mess around and mildly flirt with him with the pretense of getting competitive over board games
finally one week, you noticed keeley and roy showed up together
they were clearly interested in staying close to each other all night, which left you and jamie the odd ducks out
at first you felt betrayed. what happened to you and keeley being the dream team?
but you’d seen how they had been glancing at each other these past few weeks
you should’ve known this was inevitable
but everyone saw the way you and jamie interacted as well
so when roy and keeley showed up together, they suggested you and jamie pair up to play poker
you’d been wanting to learn how to play for weeks and colin brought fancy new poker chips
jamie was pretty okay at poker, so roy and keeley subtly suggested you two pair up to learn and play
“maybe you’ll work better together rather than against each other” they said
they were definitely conspiring to see if something would happen between you two
you both reluctantly agree
but you can’t tell if jamie is grumbling more about being your partner or because roy and keeley are back together
you ended up playing poker against bumbercatch, colin, and isaac, with jamie helping you learn the ins and outs before heading off to find drinks
he definitely got distracted on the way, chatting to others throughout the room 
once he returned with drinks for you all, he saw how badly you were losing
so he pulled up a chair next to you, and started helping you
nudging you when he noticed what the others were doing
whispering in your ear what card to play
at one point, jamie places his hand on your thigh under the table to get your attention
suggesting how to play your cards right to beat the other boys
but you can hardly focus bc his hand is big and it’s warm and still resting on your leg
and even when you end up winning the round, he leaves his hand there, squeezing your thigh for encouragement 
its not long before the boys are groaning over losing their money to you
while jamie is still helping out a lil bit, you’ve definitely improved on your own
by the end of the night you’re feeling triumphant when keeley and roy make their way over to you
and jamie’s got a proud look on his face
jamie’s a pretty touchy person, so he slings an arm around your shoulder as you all walk to a bar together
roy and keeley share a look as you guys chatter together instead of arguing over silly games
clearly they were right
as you and jamie flirt and get to know each other for the rest of the night
the arguing was definitely a pretense to something more
if you didn't had a crush at the beginning of the night, you definitely do now
197 notes · View notes
mad-science-angst · 2 years
Text
Stolen Rings Chapter 1 ⚠️TW: Blood, violence, implied amputation⚠️
Panic coursed through his veins as his visor informed him that another metal extension was offline, torn from his back by the so-called hero beating the hell out of him. He rolled, barely avoiding another heavy blow. The victory was very short lived as he was grabbed and hauled into the air, being held up by nothing but his lab coat as his brother had them hover several feet in the air.
“Aw c’mon bud! You can’t really be powerless! Everyone in our family has something! We just gotta unlock it, you can’t rely on your little gadgets forever! Now hold still, I hear this hurts less if you're limp.” As he was dropped he desperately grabbed at anything around him, anything to slow his fall. But he hit the ground just as hard as the last few times, leaving him gasping for breath.
According to his visor his vitals were all over the place, his heart felt like it was going to explode and he could feel the blood coming from an assortment of injuries. He was pretty sure his finger was shattered as he laid on his back and felt himself slipping into glorious unconsciousness. His moment of hope was ruined however, when his visor identified his brother looming over him.
“Man, we've tried just about everything. You’ve got to be in an IMMENSE pain right now, more than enough to bring out any hidden abilities.” If Vincent had any more powers, he would have found them when he was little. The majority of his childhood was spent feeling like his lungs were on the brink of collapse, every breath stinging his throat.
And yet his brother just couldn’t get that through his thick skull. Because apparently being powerless was the worst thing in the world. “Well, I’ve got one more idea. And hey, even if it fails, I’m sure you can make a new arm!” Oh thank goodness, a final end to the pain.
Wait.
————
Two years ago Vincent saw just how little his parents would really do for him. A purple translucent visor sat on the desk, wires connecting it to the computer in front of him. Recorded video feed played on repeat as he watched his brother in slow motion over and over again, almost obsessively, studying his every move.
He wore a much older lab coat, the blood stains around the expertly reattached sleeve neglected. A painful but seemingly necessary reminder to his motives. The room was cool and dark, save for the monitors. A half empty mug of coffee sat nearby, obviously contributing to the dark circles under his eyes.
Pausing at a seemingly random moment, he switched to a different tab, rapidly typing something down before switching back to the video feed. He refused to have the audio on. He’d work with visuals alone, but he remembered every word that was said in hauntingly vivid detail.
His focus hardly faltered as he heard the elevator leading down to his lab activate. Footsteps followed shortly after as he noted the presence standing beside him. “Boss, Scorpion is here.” Vincent hardly acknowledged his presence, giving only a hum in response.
Jax sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep doing this.” “Doing what?” “THIS! Vincent, when was the last time you slept?” “Friday.” “And what’s today?” “Sunday. See, I’m getting better at this sleeping thing already!” The man gawked in disbelief before forcing out an even voiced response. “Vincent, it’s wednesday.”
Vincent seemed un-bothered by this news, eyes still focused on the screen. “Really? Hadn’t noticed.” “If you die it’s on you.” “Bold of you to assume I can die.” “You know what? Fine. But would you please come up, Scorpion is freaking Jerry out.” Vincent sighed as he got up, grabbing his mug and downing the rest of its contents. “Yeah, c’mon.”
When the elevator doors opened to the upstairs, the scene was interesting to say the least. Jerry was pressing himself against the wall away from a very passive Scorpion, as Julie and Alexandria glared at her. Boris was nowhere to be seen, along with Carlos. “What in the nine levels of hell are you WEARING?” Julie looked Vincent up and down with horror. Jax glared at Vincent as he happily informed her.
“Probably the same thing as on Friday, considering he hasn’t slept since then.” Julie’s horror turned to disappointment. “Really dude?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath. “Ok, everyone who isn’t Scorpion, shut the fuck up, and sit the fuck down. Jerry, you may go to another room until Scorpion leaves. Now, you.” He pointed to Scorpion In question. “What the hell do you want?”
“Nobody’s heard from you in a while. Though I’d check to make sure you’re alive and well.” “Well as you can see, I’m very clearly alive. If that’s all then-” “you’re clearly not well though. Have you really not slept since Friday?” Vincent was silent as he met her gaze, quickly looking away and around the room. She looked at Jax, and he thought he saw them nod at each other.
Before he could register what was going on, he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Reaching up, he felt where a dart was, as his eyes widened. “Oh you mother fu-“ he collapsed where he stood, being caught by Jax as he pulled the dart out. “He's out cold. I’m just gonna put him on the sofa.” Scorpion stood up, moving as Jax dropped the unconscious scientist where she had been sitting.
“How the hell he stayed up so long is beyond me.” Jax searched for something in his pocket as they talked. “I think part of it is the dates. I’m pretty sure he spent the entirety of Sunday having a mental breakdown. Plus his mom was on the news for some Mother’s Day special.” “The sight of her was enough to make him spiral?” “I don’t think so. She listed all her kids except him. The lab was on lockdown the rest of the day.” “Holy shit. And I thought I had problems.”
Jax pulled out a small rectangular device with straps on the sides. “Here. You’re gonna want this if you plan on stopping by more often.” She took it as she turned it over, examining it. “It’s what we use so AXLE knows it’s us.” “AXLE?” “The AI Vincent made. They’re connected to all the security units. Though the units usually operate separately. They get orders from AXLE, who gets orders from Vincent, and sometimes me and Boris.”
“…….. you guys have security units?” “Yeah.” “Were those the robot dog looking things?” “Yup.” “The ones that all but shredded that burglar?” “Yup.” “Right, so I’m just gonna keep this on me, always.” “That’s probably a good idea.”
1 note · View note
armenelols · 3 years
Text
Anyone to talk with about my newest obsession: children of Elros and Elrond?
28 notes · View notes
wallflowerimagines · 3 years
Note
Hello! Um... I don’t really know how to start this but say I love your hc! I think you do a fantastic job on them, there all very sweet but being the s.o.b I am I’m here to ask for some angst. How would you think the lords act if their S/O died?
...I'm feeling mean. 😈
Warnings: Angst, Death, Horror Game villains making bad decisions/not coping with tragedy, suicide.
Alcina Dimitrescu
Denial, Denial, Denial
You can't be dead. There has to be something, anything that she can do to save you. Alcina scrambles for a solution, attacking the problem from all sides, despite the reality of the situation staring her in the face.
Immediately injects your body with Cadou in a desperate hope to save you. Any possible chance that he has to save you she's going to take it.
It's not likely that your corpse reanimates, but it does mutate. At the end of the process, what's left of your body hardly even looks like you anymore, and she can't bring herself to look at it.
She builds a gilded crypt for your body-- it's stunning. It's inspired by you, all your favorite colors, styles and hobbies are incorporate to make the room feel full of your spirit. Alcina is an artistic woman, and she throws herself into the project like she's possessed.
It might take years, even decades to complete. It has to be perfect. When it's done she feels accomplished, but twice as empty. It might be one of the most beautiful dedications she's ever made, but it can't replace you. She has the room sealed off with no way to get to it, so she can't be tempted to visit. She just needs a piece of of you still in her home, or she can't get through the day.
...If your corpse does reanimate, it's actually worse for Alcina. Whatever she brought back was a shambling, horrifying mess of mold wearing your face. It couldn't think for itself, or even follow commands--it just wanders in circles and attacks anything that gets too close.
She keeps your reanimated corpse in a cell, unable to bring herself to destroy it completely. Sometimes, she'll go down to the basement and talk to the thing like it is you, telling it about her day, having one-sided conversations and thinking of all the wonderful memories the two of you shared.
When its dead eyes meet hers, her lungs seize in her chest and tears gather in her eyes. Alcina doesn't cry often, but when your corpse meets her gaze she starts to sob. Those eyes used to look at her with life and love and now...
Still, she can't stop herself from visiting it. It's a compulsion she can't stop, and it tears open the wound every time, but some irrational part of her deep, deep down thinks that one day, she'll descend those steps and you'll be there to greet her with a warm smile.
In either scenario, she will never have another partner. You're impossible to replace, and she feels truly, genuinely empty without you. Rest well, Darling. You'll never be forgotten.
Donna Beneviento
There is such a thing as a last straw, and this is it for Donna.
Please remember: this is a woman who has lost everything. Mother Miranda might have given her a new "family", but Donna is not nearly as attached to these new members as she is to her original family. And the loss of her original family has shaped her in such a way that if you died? She would be absolutely devastated.
It's not fair to put this kind of pressure on you, but in a very real way you were her last hope for normalcy. She had all these plans to fix her family with you. You were so instrumental to her hopes for the future that now that you're gone, it feels like she has no hope at all. You were her missing link, her one true love, and now that you're dead...
Donna screams until her throat is raw when she finds out you're gone. Angie can't help her, nothing can. She just can't cope with reality anymore.
She'll build a life sized Doll of you to try to help herself cope, but the minute she tries to implant of piece of her Cadou in it, she is filled with such a vehement hatred of the thing that she starts scream-crying before she takes an axe to it's face and hacks it to pieces. How dare it pretend to be you?!! It's not even close to the real thing, she shouldn't even have tried--
She might try to induce a hallucination of you to help her get through the day to day, but it's not the same. She can't perfectly mimic your laugh, or your smile, or the way you tuck her hair away from her face. It's so obviously not you, and Donna is... alone.
I do hate to say it, but she will absolutely try to kill herself if you died. You were the one person who understood her, empathized with her, and you were her best friend. You were her support system, the one person who could carry her through the worst times in her life, but you're gone. Donna can't believe that anyone else could be there for her like you were.
Salvatore Moreau
Absolutely, irreparably broken.
When the two of you were in a relationship, you busied yourself not only with smothering Salvatore in all of the love and affection that you could, but you also did a lot to help his self-esteem and mental health.
You made sure he knew that he was loved, that you could never hate him, and even on your death bed you make him promise never to forget how wonderful he is.
Once you're gone, though, Salvatore cracks.
He clings to every bit of you felt behind. All of your jewelry, clothing, pictures and sentimental items are preserved to the best of his ability. Your living space is transformed into a shrine dedicated to you.
It's not healthy, but he also deifies you in his memory. Mother Miranda is no longer the only person that he worships-- the memory of you is now sacred to him. You become something holy and perfect in his mind's eye. It doesn't matter how many flaws you had in reality, your death has turned even your worst flaws into traits to be admired and praised. His perception of you is totally twisted.
Speaking of Mother Miranda, he regresses a lot. His adoration of Mother Miranda was something you were helping him work through, but now he's right back at square one, and even worse off than before.
Moreau can't make a decision on his own anymore--from what to say, to what to do, and sometimes even what to eat. After all, it's his fault that you died, isn't it? You were his partner and he used to be is a doctor. How could he possibly trust himself with anything when he couldn't manage to save the most important thing in his life?
To the rest of his family, he's more pathetic than before. His obsession with his Mother was usually limited to when she was in the room, but now it's constant.
If he ever hears the quote "It's better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all," he gets supremely, violently angry. No. No, that's not true, it's bullshit, how dare you even say that to his face.
If he hadn't loved you, you would be alive. He would be alone, but you would be safe. You would be happy.
Now he's alone, and all you are is dead. He can't ever come back from it.
Karl Heisenberg
Rage. Unending, earth shattering Rage.
Whatever killed you better start to fucking pray, because Karl Heisenberg will not quit until it's suffering.
He doesn't kill who or whatever it was. He let's it sit there, mangled beyond belief, and uses his knowledge of mechanics and biology to keep it alive in constant, unending pain.
It's cathartic for him, but not in a healthy way. The more he hurts it, the better he feels, but at the end of the day, you're still gone, and he's still alone.
He's... lost.
Heisenberg should be angry, fuck he wants to be angry more than anything, but the longer he keeps the thing alive... emotions seem like they're too far away anymore. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants... you.
He keeps something of yours in his pocket at all times, just to run his fingers over it and remember you. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile... It's almost like a stress ball, and these days sticking his hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the thing is the only way he can calm down.
Sometimes he turns to ask your opinion on something, or tell you a joke with a big smile on his face because this one is going to make you laugh for sure-- and then he freezes when the reality sets in once again. You're not here.
Remember, Heisenberg has idealized the two of you as this perfect partnership. You were the first person who looked at him and loved everything that you saw. You weren't just his first real relationship, the first person that he implicitly trusted, but you were also his very first real friend.
He wasn't the most friendly person to begin with, but he did get better because of you. He was still spoiled, a little socially awkward, and maybe his dark sense of humor would slip and get a little too much, but he grew as a person.
Now that you're gone, he can't even remember what it's like not being a cruel, empty shell of rage. All he has left is his hatred of Mother Miranda.
After a while, it doesn't matter if he's ready to take her on or not. He's going to face that bitch head on and kill her, or die trying.
If he wins, he's finally free. If he doesn't... that's not so bad either. Karl doesn't really believe in an afterlife, but there's something appealing about joining you wherever you might be.
615 notes · View notes
bestiesenpai · 3 years
Text
Canidae - Geto Suguru
Ah, my first hybrid au and full on yandere piece for jjk! A momentous occasion, I hope everyone likes it lol, femme reader btw. 7.5k words
part two
Content warnings: pseudo-incest, yandere shit, kidnapping, not a/b/o but there’s mentions of going into heat, size difference(although I’m not sure how well I wrote it), talking about a past murder(but no actual killing), choking, stalking, dumbification, kind of shy/skittish reader, drugging(w/ pills and w/ a syringe), brief mention of drug usage, needles, slimy men...there’s a lot of slimy men in here
(S/N) = stage name
It’s been about two months since you ran away from home. You try not to think about it, but in the quiet moments of the day, the hours that you should be using to sleep before your next shift, during meals and even at work, it creeps up like a sickness that just won’t leave.
You hadn’t wanted to leave your home, even if the people there weren’t really your family by blood. After being adopted by the Getou family in your late childhood, you thought life would get better. They seemed like a wonderful family of fox hybrids, all silky black hair and cunning little smiles. Although they weren’t in your same species family, as a house cat you could get along with them easily, a subtle praise to evolution for making foxes more like cats than dogs.
“Hey house cat, stop sulking by the bar and go talk to customers.” A slap on the wall next to you jolts you out of your thoughts and into the loud and bustling world around you.
“S-sorry boss.” Ducking your head away from your furious boss, you adjust the skimpy shorts and crop top that truly did nothing to hide your skin. Working at a seedy hostess bar wasn’t exactly the plan when you ran away, but they were the only place willing to hire you.
Looking out across the crowded bar floor, at least you didn’t have to worry about going out on the street and handing out flyers to get customers tonight. There were several men of different species and ages, sitting at the bar with dark liquor or having pretty bunny girls pour drinks from overpriced bottles at private tables.
Taking a glance at what table you’d been assigned, your stomach twisted in knots. It was a table full of lion men, their business suits wrinkled beyond hope and their manes even more disheveled than what was normal for a lion.
“Hey pretty kitty!” One of them shouted drunkenly, waving a large clawed hand at you as you shuffled closer.
“H-hello.” Giving a nervous wave, you felt a little better at seeing a coworker - a red panda hybrid - sitting between a few of them.
“Ah this is (S/N), she’s a newbie!” The girl, who called herself Fuyumi, announced. Holding up her glass in salute, she took a sip.
“Fresh meat huh?” Suddenly, all eyes were on you again, but the atmosphere shifted. A predatory look was shared between the group and a few men got up to let you slide into the booth, next to your coworker.
“What a pretty little thing you are.” A lion purred loudly next to you, putting a heavy hand around your arm and squeezing your shoulder.
“T-thank you! Let me- let me pour you a drink?” Shrinking under the weight and his lecherous gaze, you grabbed the liquor bottle they ordered and refilled a few drinks that needed to be topped up. Your ears were pressed flush to your head from the nerves, tail slightly puffed up behind you.
“So, your name is (S/N)?”
“Mhmm!” The stage name was something you thought of on the fly, trying to make it the least like your real name as possible. Accepting a drink from Fuyumi, you tried to ease the anxiety pricking at your skin.
Listening in on a story being told by one of the men, you tried to act like you were paying attention. Faking a smile, laughing loudly and keeping the drinks full - those were the only things on your mind. Not the clients walking by being escorted to secret back rooms or the people so obviously snorting something up at one of the tables in the back.
“(S/N), you’ve been quiet!” The man with his arm around you shook you side to side, his eyes falling to your breasts moving and being squished together when he squeezed you to him. “Tell us about yourself!”
“Uhm-” Taking a quick glance at Fuyumi, you cleared your throat. “Well I’m new to Tokyo-”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” He cut you off, an eager look in his eyes. You shook your head obediently. Even if you did have a boyfriend, you couldn’t say yes. You had to be seen as attainable, just within arms reach if they wanted to have you for themselves.
“That’s good, the boys in Tokyo won’t do you any good.” A man to your left chimed in. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his hairy chest covered in golden fur. “But the men in Tokyo are a different story.” He winked at you and you forced a giggle up, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your slight displeasure.
“Yeah, what you need is a man, (S/N). You seem so nervous!”
“House cats usually are.” Fuyumi piped up. Grabbing your chin, she pursed your lips with the tips of her white painted claws. “Isn’t that right?” Cooing at you like a baby, she shook your head and turned you to face the men at the table. “(S/N) was so nervous for her interview she nearly cried!”
A round of mocking teases sounded at the table as Fuyumi let go of you, some of them calling you a ‘poor baby’ while others offered to buy you another round of drinks to help you feel better. Your face burned, embarrassment and the close proximity of all the bodies around you making a light sheen of sweat glisten on your skin.
“I’m fine now, though, promise!” Biting your lip, you did as you’d practiced before your shift: putting an arm under your breasts, you pushed it up and tilted your head down, looking up at the men from beneath your lashes. “I feel much better with all these big strong men here.”
It made you sick, the way they all leered at your body and visibly adjusted the front of their pants. Ordering a few more bottles for the table, the sick feeling refused to leave. It clung to the back of your throat, rising bile that refused to be swallowed down.
Hours later, as the sun began to rise and proper members of society were starting to head to work for the morning, you were finally done with work. The table of lions had bought your time for the whole night, their egos boosted by your show of submission.
“You actually did okay tonight, house cat.” Your boss grunted, thumbing through the cash she was counting. “Here’s your cut.” Holding out a handful of bills, you knew better than to question how much was in it. The last time you’d tried to speak up about being shorted, your only window was shattered by a brick and it cost all of your money to fix it.
“Thank you.” Nodding politely, you took it from her hand. It felt slightly larger than normal, but you knew it wasn’t the full amount you’d been promised to receive when you started working. There was always a bit taken off the top, and since you were a newbie, even more.
Quickly changing into baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, you slinked out of the club's back entrance with your hood drawn tightly. Located in the red light district, no one batted an eye at you or where you worked, but it wasn’t them you were worried about.
Running away from home meant running away from the only family you had left, an over controlling big brother with an obsession. An obsession with you. Ever since you met, got adopted all those years ago, he had been infatuated with you.
As a young, freshly teenaged fox, suddenly acquiring a little sister had been exciting. Especially when it turned out you weren’t the same species. He always wanted to be around you, ask you questions about what it was like to be a cat. At first they were innocent, asking about your diet and favorite toys, but as he got older, his interest in you skewed.
You saw the search history on his computer, he spent hours researching cat hybrid heat cycles and when the best time to mate was. He started to go through your phone, taking it away from you under the guise of just being an annoying older brother while secretly looking through all your messages. Always getting jealous if you hung out with friends or didn’t want to sit in his room with him. And his friends knew about his obsession, feeding into it and talking about how much they wished to have a little sister like you, and if he’d be so kind as to share.
Your older brother became more obsessed with you while he was looking for a job after university. Spending hours applying for jobs and going to interviews, he wouldn’t shut up about getting a good job and moving out with you. And when he finally got that good job he always mentioned, that’s when you had to run.
Walking with your head down through the streets, waiting at a crosswalk to pass had you on edge. Just remembering the way he held your hand in public with a grip tight enough to cut off circulation had you shoving your hands into your pockets. A couple walked across the street with their arms around each other, and suddenly the suffocating weight of your brother's arm around your waist as he slept in your bed with you was back.
Forcing air through your lungs, you ran the rest of the way home. It wasn’t a long way to the crummy apartment block you called home and you were inside your cramped studio space and crumpled against the door in no time.
It didn’t always feel good to be in here with it’s water stained ceilings, barely usable pipes and the one, barely big enough window near the front door. You could hardly call it a home, it was just a room with the mattress you bought second hand and the clothes you ran away with strewn across the floor with a tiny kitchen shoved into the corner and a bathroom that surely wasn’t up to code.
But for now, it felt amazing. Your running had only exacerbated the exhaustion you had from working such grueling hours, and just crawling over to your dirty bed took all the energy you had left. With the sun beginning to rise properly into the sky, you closed your eyes and went to sleep.
The sudden alarm from the crappy phone you bought was what woke you up, the early evening sun and the sound of your neighbors yelling at one another through the walls pulling the last few bits of sleep from the edges of your mind.
And so do the set of crystal blue eyes staring in at you from your window, one that not even you can see out of because it’s too high.
“Sat-” The name catches in your throat, and when you blink again the eyes are gone. Rushing out of bed, you rip open the front door and look up and down the hallway. But there’s no one there, no bright white arctic fox fur to be seen, and certainly not the man attached to it.
Gripping the door tightly in your fingers, you linger in the threshold. The longer you stayed out, the more the vivid eyes watching you sleep became a memory, something your overworked mind must have conjured up as it went from sleeping to being awake. With a shaky sigh, you step back into your apartment to get ready for your next shift.
Meandering through the busy streets, you passed by shops that were starting to become familiar to you. There was the odd convenience store, a few illegal gambling dens with restaurant fronts, strip clubs and sex shops.
With time to kill before your shift, you dashed into a convenience store, it’s stark fluorescent lighting a nice switch from the everchanging neon signs outside. Scrounging up what little pocket change you had, you bought the cheapest food possible and sat down at the tiny table near the windows.
Eating slowly, trying to savor not only every bite but every minute before going back to work, a flash of white caught your eye as the convenience store door was opened. The little jingle that played was the only indication someone had actually entered, you barely saw the door open or close.
You could only see a glimpse of the pure white, not even a full on look. Glancing over your shoulder, you didn’t see anyone standing in the aisles, no ears stuck out to give you an indication as to who had come in.
But there was the feeling of being watched that had you on edge. When you turned fully away from the window to look at the store behind you, there wasn’t anyone watching you, yet the feeling still stuck. The target on your back had just been shot dead center, a sharp pang of fear gripped your heart the longer you looked at the seemingly empty aisles.
“Long way from home, little kitten.” A familiar face emerged from your right, but it wasn’t the man you thought it was.
“N-nanami?” It was a shock to see him in a neighborhood like this, his pristine suit more fitted for the financial district a few train stops over that he sometimes visited for work. He was in his usual suit, the one he liked to wear when he was over at your house, and his blond ears and tail were as immaculately trimmed and proper as ever.
“Hm, you’re not calling me Kento-nii anymore?” He said scornfully, sliding into the seat next to you and leaning his elbows on the table.
“Sorry, Kento-nii.” Bowing your head, you turned back to the table as well. Clenching your quivering hands in your lap, your claws dug into your skin to try and ground yourself. Kento hadn’t even said much and yet you were ready to pass out.
“Why’d you run away? You know we all miss you.” Leaning his head in his hands, Kento stared out the window at the people walking by. His lip curled a little in disgust, and a low growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “This isn’t the place for a girl like you.”
“You know why I had to leave.” Staring down at your hands, your eyes burned as you blinked away tears at the memories forcing their way back to you.
“I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“Kento-nii, please-” Your voice trembled, catching in your throat as it broke.
“Tell me, (Y/N). Why did you leave?”
“S-su-” It made you want to throw up just saying his name, so you didn’t. “He killed our parents.” Saying it out loud made the painful burn behind your eyes grow stronger until you were blinking hot tears down your cheeks.
“That’s not true.” Kento said calmly while turning to you. “Your parents died from-”
“Don’t lie for him!” You shouted, finally looking up at Kento. As soon as your voice raised, he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, forcing your head against his chest and pulling you into a tight hug. Dipping his head down, Kento’s chin brushed your ears as he pressed his lips to them.
“Listen little kitten, you know better than to raise your voice at me. And you know better than to lie.” The fingers around your neck tightened and Kento dug the tips of his claws against your pulse. “Your parents died in a murder-suicide, nothing more nothing less.”
“Let go!” You sobbed, thrashing around in his hold. It was truly useless to try and fight against him. Foxes - and truly, a lot of other hybrid types - were much larger and stronger than you. There wasn’t any chance you had at trying to beat him in strength, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t try.
“Calm down, you’re making a scene.” Fully enclosing his hand around your neck, Kento squeezed the air from your throat and shut down the subsequent scream that followed. Reduced to whimpering, you stilled your body and tried to tug his hand off.
Gasping and choking when he finally let you go, your body was weak from the lack of oxygen and you fully slumped into Kento’s hold. Struggling to catch your breath, there was little solace you could find in his hand stroking between your shoulder blades.
“Come home, (Y/N).” He said gently, like he was coaxing a child into eating their unwanted vegetables.
“No.” Shaking your head weakly, your body trembled violently. Kento didn’t need to speak for you to know he wasn’t pleased with your answer, the pregnant pause that followed was enough.
“Why must you be so difficult, hm?” With a heavy, disappointed sigh, Kento let you sit upright again. Tsking at your bloodshot eyes dripping with tears, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped your face clean.
Your lower lip shook as you looked up at him, honey colored eyes to match his blonde hair. Vertical pupils stared back at yours, the only thing the two of you really had in common.
“I’ll ask one more time: will you come home with me, (Y/N)?” Cupping your cheek, Kento wiped the snot dripping from your nose and the drool that had started to drip past your lip. “If you say no one more time, I can’t promise anything.”
“Kento-nii…” Sniffling pathetically, you blinked hard and shook your head.
“(Y/N).” Groaning in annoyance, Kento dropped his hands and put his head back. “I don’t think you’re listening-”
“Y-you listen to me!” Standing up abruptly, your chair fell over from the force and loudly clattered to the ground. “I’m never going back there! Not ever!” It was dangerous to shout at Kento, especially as you saw his pupils begin to dilate. Out of all your brothers friends, he was the one who took the rules most seriously.
Grabbing the food you had left, you ran out of the convenience store. As your feet slammed against the pavement, you didn’t dare look over your shoulder to see if he was chasing after you. Kento hadn’t been the type to play those sort of chase games back at home, but the desperation to have you back in that house was strong enough that he just might follow you.
Running all the way to the clubs back entrance, you slipped inside and hid in the storage room. No one truly bothered to come back there anyway, it was the perfect place to hide behind a few untouched boxes until it was time for your shift.
“Hey house cat, someone personally requested you.” Your boss grunted when she saw you, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips.
“Who is it?” Attempting to look at the clipboard in her hands, you didn’t quite catch the name of the person that was written down.
“Who cares, it’s some rich fox wearing glasses. He’s at the back, you can’t miss his white hair.”
“What?” Your eyes shot open, heart stopping as her words bounced around your skull. It was too much of a coincidence that Kento had found you and now a white haired fox had requested you.
“Hey.” Grabbing you by the shoulder, your boss glared at you and turned your body around. “Get to work already and stop zoning the fuck out. You don’t want to make me put you on flyer duty do you? There’s some weirdos out tonight that would just love-”
“No! No, I’m sorry ma’am. I’ll get going right away.” Stepping away from her tight hold, you tried not to tremble as you walked to the back table. As you got closer, your knees nearly gave out on you as the fear you had was materializing right before your eyes.
It was indeed Gojo Satoru, your brother's best friend and the deadliest arctic fox you’ve ever come to know. With his pristine snow white hair and ears, keen blue eyes and those trademark dark sunglasses he wears, there was no mistaking him.
“Hey, little sister.” He crooned as you slid into the booth next to him, keeping a healthy distance between the two of you. “Missed ya.”
“Toru-nii, why are you here?” Keeping your eyes locked on the melting ice in his cup, you could barely breathe from the weight of your fear. There wasn’t anything that Satoru couldn’t - or wouldn’t - do. He’d always been the smartest, the strongest, he could beat any hybrid in anything he set his mind to, even with clear biological differences set between them.
“What do you mean why am I here? I’m here to see my favorite little kitten at her new job!” Throwing his arms open wide, Satoru had an easy smile on his face despite your obvious discomfort. “Although, I can’t say you’re doing very well so far. My glass is still empty.”
Wordlessly, you stiffly poured him a drink and slid the glass over to him. Pouring one for yourself as well, you clinked your glasses together when he raised it and took a short sip. Usually you didn’t drink on the job, getting the bartenders to mix you something that was mostly pure juice. But tonight you needed to take a bit of edge off.
“Please just go.” Forcing the words out of your tight throat, a wave of nausea washed over you as Satoru put his hand on your shoulder.
“I can’t leave here without you.” His lips brushed your ears like they used to back at home, but this time he wasn’t whispering crude little jokes to get you to giggle. Sliding his hand from your shoulder to around your ribs, Satoru quickly overwhelmed your personal space with the size of his body.
“Toru!” You gasped as his claws dug into your ribs, threatening to push through the spaces and break them entirely. Tugging on his hand, you looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to your lonely little table in the back.
“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Kento already tried to be nice and you were just so mean to him.”
“T-toru-nii, please!” Desperate tears sprang to your eyes as every word he spoke was punctuated with a tightening grip around you.
“And here I thought we trained you to be a good girl, (Y/N), I really did. But good girls don’t yell at their big brothers, they don’t lie and-” Satoru broke off to send a charming smile to a few passing hostesses before returning to you, “They certainly don’t run away.”
A choked sob racked through you, drowned out by the loud music being played overhead. In your struggle to get his hand off, you hadn’t realized Satoru slid you onto his lap until it was too late and he could wrap both long arms around you.
Forced to lean back against his lanky body, his fluffy white tail wrapped around yours, deftly hugging it close to him. Engulfing your scantily clad body, Satoru burrowed his nose between your ears, inhaling the scent he always said he liked back home.
“I’ve always wanted to see you wear something like this, ya know.” Thumbing the edge of your crop top, Satoru dipped his fingers underneath the fabric. “Always wanted to dress you up and play pretend, be my cute little hostess for the night.”
“Stop.” Grabbing his wrist, your eyes desperately searched for someone to come save you. But being seated at a table so far in the back of the club was playing to Satoru’s advantage; no one really paid attention to the back of the club because that’s where the truly shady things happened.
“C’mon kitty, play with me.” Satoru whined, bouncing you on his lap a few times. He was always childish, always whining for you to pay attention to him whenever he got the chance, and now was no different. You couldn’t see it, but you knew he had that trademark silly smile on his face regardless of the fact he had a death grip on your body.
“Toru-nii.” Jutting your lip out in a pout, you finally lurched your upper body forward enough to look at him over your shoulder.
“There’s that cutesy little face I missed.” Cooing at you, Satoru loosened his grip enough to let you sit sideways across his lap. Forcing you to wrap an arm around his middle, Satoru kept a tight grip on your back.
“Toru-nii…” Fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, you stole a glance at the eyes staring right through you. “Why do you- why are you helping him so much? You know what he did, I don’t-”
“I helped him do it.”
“What?” Your jaw fell slack and you stared right at him.
“Look, there’s no point in lying to you.” Leaning forward, Satoru grabbed his drink and took a generous swig. “I helped your brother kill your parents and stage it. We even practiced on a few drifters before moving onto the real deal.” Satoru’s smile had fallen, an unfamiliar serious look taking its place.
“You have no idea how long we all planned it, all three of us. Kento took care of your trust fund and the insurance, I subdued your parents and got them in position, and Suguru was the one who pulled the trigger.”
Tears were streaming down your face, smearing the makeup you’d put on, dripping into your open mouth. All other noise in the club fell away, leaving your ears ringing loudly from the silence in your head. Air was barely coming in or out of your lungs, your throat too tight to properly breathe.
“We had it all planned out perfectly, but then you just had to go and mess it up.” Satoru landed a swift slap to your thigh. “You just had to be a bad kitty and run off.” A second slap knocked the air back into you and your body jerked back.
“Toru-nii, why?!” Your scream was loud enough to be heard over the music, and Satoru looked around at the few curious eyes that were now looking at you, his ears flattening against his head as he forced a smile.
“We had to do it (Y/N), so we could all live together as a pack.”
“B-but we already had one.” Sure, you didn’t necessarily need to live in a group but it was nice to be in your adoptive family's pack and be surrounded by their love and care.
“That one...wasn’t the right fit.”
“For who?” Sniffling loudly, you wiped the snot from your nose. “Who wasn’t it right for?” It had been perfectly fine for you. There wasn’t any fighting, no strained dynamics and when your parents were alive, there wasn’t an overbearing older brother trying to completely consume you.
“You’ll do much better in the pack we have now, (Y/N).” Gripping your upper thigh tightly, Satoru leaned forward to press his lips against your ears once more. “Your big brothers will take great care of you.” A sound got caught in your throat, something halfway between a gasp and a scream.
“T-toru-Toru-nii.” A fresh wave of tears pricked your eyes and you blinked hard to keep them at bay. “Can I use the restroom? I just- I really need to use it.” Satoru stilled for a moment, sizing up your words and his options.
“Alright, but be quick.” Slowly releasing the tight hold he had on you, you could finally breathe again. Sliding out of the booth, you bolted to the employee bathroom and collapsed against the far wall.
There wasn’t a way out of the club without Satoru seeing. Even if you ran out the backdoor, he would still see you coming out of the bathroom. The front door was no use, there were too many people you would have to maneuver around.
“And then I said- what the hell, house cat? Are you drugged out?” A few bunny girls walked in, their long floppy ears decorated with silk ribbon. They never really spoke to you, but they weren’t mean to you either.
“My client- he’s just- I-” Stammering, you couldn’t find the words to explain the situation.
“Is he being a fucking freak?” Sauntering up to you, they tugged you up from the floor to lean against the sink counter. Sighing loudly as you nodded, one of them pulled out a small baggie from her bra, a few red pills tucked safely inside. “Here, slip one in his drink and he’ll be out like a light. Then you can have security escort him out.”
“No, he’ll notice.” Satoru would notice without a doubt if you tried to slip something into his drink. He was always watching you, sometimes more than your brother was.
“Alright well I’ll mix a drink and bring it to him, tell him he gets a free drink as a first time customer.”
“You’d do that, really?” You were nearly beside yourself with a sudden rush of hope.
“Yeah, why not? It’s been a while since I’ve had to drug a client. Plus, we can’t have our newest recruit quitting on us already!” Giving you a cheeky wink, the girls sent you on your way, promising to handle it swiftly.
Returning to the table, Satoru pulled you onto his lap once more. You didn’t struggle or make a single peep as his arms wound around you again. His grip was much softer now, not threatening to bruise and crush you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the girls you talked to walk to the bar. They didn’t look at you at all, going straight to the bartender and whispering a few things in their ear. Attempting to make conversation with Satoru, you didn’t have to wait long for them to come to your table.
“Hi sir, we heard it was your first time here!” One of the girls shouted, bouncing on her heels and making her ears flop around.
“Mhmm, so we thought it would be a nice treat to give you a drink on the house!” Another girl came up, setting down a bright pink cocktail. “Go ahead and try it, I bet you’ll like it!”
“Hm, okay.” Shrugging his shoulder, Satoru grabbed the drink and took a sip, smacking his lips together at the flavor and then taking another. “This isn’t bad, thank you!”
“Of course sir, our pleasure.” Winking at the both of you, they walked away slowly, keeping their eyes on Satoru and fully turning away after seeing him down half the drink.
Satoru always did like a bit of liquor, and it would quickly be his downfall. The drink was a sweet fruity concoction to mask the bitter pill as it dissolved and Satoru’s deadly sweet tooth was hooked immediately.
You didn’t even fully wait for him to pass out before getting out of his lap. His heavy head bobbed side to side, his words slurred not like you’d heard before and his arms had fallen slack off of you. Only his droopy eyes could seem to follow you, silently demanding you to stay in place.
Throwing on your outside clothes in the back room, you kept your hood tightly drawn as you ran from the club. You weren’t worried about pissing your boss off and having to deal with the repercussions, you wouldn’t be returning to that place ever again.
Bursting through your front door, you grabbed whatever clothes you could and shoved them into your bag. The small stack of bills you kept hidden in the bathroom was a welcomed weight to your growing pile, there was enough to at least buy a train ticket and a hot meal a good distance from Tokyo.
Under the cover of the moonless night, you tried to stick to the back alleys on your way to the station that would take you out of town. It paid off to live in such a seedy area, you knew all the ins and outs and where to go to avoid being seen.
Popping your head out from an alleyway, the street before you was deserted. A long string of old warehouses called the street home, their brick and mortar facades well worn from time. Dodging the streetlights as best you could, you could practically taste freedom on the tip of your tongue.
“Oh little sister.” A voice rang out into the dead street, an eerie song sung on the lips of the one man you’d never wanted to see again. Keeping as still as possible, your eyes burned from not blinking, and your lungs from not breathing.
His slow, methodical footsteps scraped across the cement ground, echoing in the silence and heightening your anxiety with every slow drag of his feet. As the sound drew closer, you pressed yourself against the doorway of a warehouse. There wasn’t any way you could outrun your brother, so you had to devise a plan to outsmart him when he got close enough.
“Little sister, I’ve been looking for you.” Suguru came to a halt right in front of you, his towering build casting a shadow over you in the already dark alcove. He was wearing what he had on the last time you saw him, a simple black tracksuit and his favorite slides. His hair had gotten a little longer, resting a few inches past his shoulder blades with the top half in a bun.
Quirking a brow, Suguru hummed low in his chest, reaching an arm out and resting a hand next to your head. His long black claws scraped against the wood of the door, his hand easily large enough to encompass your whole face and then some. The natural musky scent of his body was sickeningly familiar, like you’d only gone just a few hours without smelling it.
“Tell me, did you have fun playing hide and seek with your big brother?” Flashing two rows of gleaming white and perfectly straight canine teeth, Suguru leaned over you, the expanse of his chest blocking out any wiggle room. “I hope you did, because I’m done playing now.”
“Y-you’re not my- my big brother anymore.” Screwing your eyes closed, you twisted your head away from him as much as you could.
“Don’t say such things, (Y/N), you’ll hurt my feelings.” Suguru laughed dryly, clearly unamused.
“Getou li- ahh!” In a flash Suguru had his other hand around your neck, lifting you up to dangle on your tiptoes as he choked you.
“Don’t you ever call me that again, do you fucking understand?” Staring at you with unblinking eyes, Suguru squeezed hard. When your eyes started to roll to the back of your head he let go, stepping back slightly to let you fall to the ground.
Struggling to regain your breath, you tried to crawl away through the small gap left between the wall and him. You barely got one full step before Suguru grabbed you by the back of your hoodie, forcing you to stand and practically dangling you in the air like a doll.
“What’s this?” Seeing the sliver of skin underneath the hoodie, Suguru wrenched it off of you. Your sweats came off shortly after and you were exposed to the elements and his growing glare. “Care to explain why you’re half fucking naked?”
“G-” You started but quickly pressed your lips closed at the sharp look he sent you. “Suguru, just let me go.”
“Answer my fucking question.” His tone left no room for further argument, and you slowly drew your arms over your exposed midriff.
“I started working at a...a hostess bar.” Your words hung in the air, the weight of them heavy and clinging to every part of you. Suguru’s face made no change, the only thing that tipped you off to his anger was the intense flaring of his nostrils.
“My precious little sister has been working at a hostess bar for the past two months? You’ve been dressed like this every night, getting stared at and perved on by god knows what kind of men? You ran away for this?” Suguru’s voice was far too steady for the situation, spiking the already high adrenaline in your blood.
“Suguru please-”
“And it seems you’ve forgotten the number one rule. You know what you’re supposed to call me.” Backing you up onto the door again, Suguru’s fluffy black tail flicked out behind him, it’s long drawn out shadow swaying back and forth.
“You’re not my brother.” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes followed his tail. There was no way you could look him in the eye after saying that. Suguru began to laugh, a cold and hollow sound from the base of his throat that sent a chill down your spine.
“And why exactly is that?” Slamming both hands down on either side of your head, he leaned down to make eye contact with you, his pupils blown wide against his already pitch black irises.
“You know.” Forcing the words out of your mouth, you curled into yourself as much as you could.
“No, I don’t.” Speaking slowly, Suguru waited just a few seconds before slamming his hands down again. “Tell me little kitten, right now!” You let out a piercing scream, covering your face with your hands.
“You killed our parents! You killed them and I heard you fucking do it!” Coming face to face with your adopted brother, the man that killed your parents in cold blood, and having to talk to him about it were all making your head spin.
“No, no I didn’t do that, honey. You’ve got it all wrong.” Suguru’s voice dropped low, instantly adopting a soothing tone. His fingers toyed with the edges of your ears, brushing the soft fur gently. “Mommy and daddy...they had problems. And I know it must be hard to believe, but they did it to themselves.”
“You’re such a liar!” Smacking his hand away from your ears, you glared at him, frustrated tears stewing on your lash line. “I heard you shoot them Suguru! I heard mom-” Your voice cracked, and the tears began to stream down your face. “I heard her tell you not to do it.”
Falling silent, Sugurus face remained neutral. His hand remained in the air from when you smacked it away, and the only indication he was still alive was the subtle flicker of his eyelids and the way his chest barely moved as he breathed.
“I knew I should have drugged you more.” He finally broke the silence, putting his hand back on the door to keep you trapped. Everything Suguru did felt like you were watching it in slow motion. The way he drew in a deep breath, expanded his chest and arms out wide and then drew you into a tight, bone crushing embrace all felt like it happened too slow. Like you should have been able to prevent it.
“Suguru!” You screamed his name from the top of your lungs, throat quickly going raw from the volume of your shouts. “Let me go! Let me go!” Writhing around, you felt the air quickly being squeezed out of you.
“It doesn’t matter now though. It’s all in the past!” Laughing to himself, Suguru took a few steps back, going to the middle of the deserted street and under a light post. “That’s right! The past! No need to worry about it, what’s done is done!”
“Su-Sugu-nii! Sugu-nii please!” You finally broke. You finally called him what he had trained you to call him for all those years. Your precious big brother.
“Oh how I missed hearing you call me that!” Still laughing, Suguru let out a loud hum. “I think I should record you saying that so I can play it over and over whenever I need my fix.”
“Sugu-nii, please!” The tears of frustration were now turning to tears of fear and desperation. The squeezing had stopped, you could just barely suck in air, but your feet still dangled off the ground. “Please let me go- this isn’t okay!”
“What does a dumb little kitten know about what is and isn’t okay?”
“Sugu!”
“You’re just a stupid little baby who got scared without her mommy and daddy and ran away. Well don’t worry, my darling sister, Sugu-nii is here to take care of you.” Nuzzling his nose against your ears affectionately, Suguru sighed contently. “We’ll be a family again, just like before. You’ll be with the pack just like you’re supposed to.”
“I’m not- not even a fox, Sugu!” Your chances of leaving his hold anytime soon were quickly diminishing, there wasn’t much you could say - if anything - to convince him to stop. “I don’t need to live in a pack, I don’t- I’m not a canine at all!”
“Hm, like that matters. Foxes act more like cats anyway.” Shrugging his shoulders, Suguru put his hand on the back of your head, raking his nails softly against your scalp. He was holding you now like a baby doll, the arm that had previously been crushing you against him now coming to rest under your bottom and cradle you.
Something caught your eye, making you twist away from Suguru in hopes that it was someone that had heard the screams and was coming to save you. Your heart deflated just as quickly as it swelled when it was Kento who had appeared, a metal briefcase in his hands.
“Look, Kento-nii is here. Go to him.” Putting you on your feet, Suguru nudged you forward. Your knees locked, refusing to move toward the imposing figure.
“It wasn’t nice to drug Gojo like that, little kitten. He’s passed out in the back of the car as we speak, you’ll have to apologize to him when he wakes up.” Kento closed the distance between the two of you, eyes glowering and brows tightly knit together.
“How did you-”
“You think just because you run away we can’t track your scent? How do you think we found you at the club after you so rudely left our conversation? Just a few sniffs and it was like you walked us right there.” Flicking the briefcase open, Kento’s face was obscured as he began to dig around for the contents. “I was waiting by the backdoor of that shitty little club, I had a feeling Gojo wouldn’t be able to convince you to come back and you’d make a run for it again, and you did. It was far too easy to call up Getou and let him know.”
The words Kento was saying were barely sticking inside your head, your complete focus going to the loaded syringe he had pulled out from the briefcase and was now holding in his hands, an almost bored expression on his face.
Taking a step back as he took one forward, you bumped into Suguru’s chest. He made a tsking noise, quickly sliding an arm under your chin and another around your middle to keep you from moving.
“Stop! Stop, Sugu-nii please!” The tears that dripped down your face didn’t matter anymore. Your voice going hoarse from all the screaming didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. At least, nothing you wanted mattered.
“Just try to be calm, little sis. Kento will be quick.” Suguru chuckled darkly, resting his chin atop your head. Any further words you had dissolved into frantic screams as Kento grabbed your arm and wrenched it away from your body.
Pushing the needle into you, he injected you with a serene face. Like he had practiced this before, almost as if he was a doctor giving you a flu shot. Whatever was in the syringe was gone quickly, Kento unloading the whole vial into you before calmly placing it back in the briefcase and shutting it.
“Don’t cry baby.” Suguru cooed, pressing a flurry of kisses on your head as he loosened his hold and began to wipe the tears off your face.
“Sugu- Kento-” You were losing track of the world and fast. Things blurred together, the crisp edges of Kento’s body were melting into the brick walls behind him. Your limbs were giving out on you and Suguru was quick to pick you up and cradle you like he had done before.
“Sshh, just go to sleep.” Pressing his lips against your ear, Suguru whispered softly, giggling at the way you closed your heavy eyes and relaxed into his embrace. “We’ll be home before you know it. One big happy family.”
994 notes · View notes
fernweh-writes · 3 years
Note
Your writing gives me so much life and wholesome vibes! ;-;💕 If you wouldn't mind could you do the slashers with a s/o who loves to make home cooked meals for them.
Ahhh, thank you so much hun <3 As someone who loves to cook and who’s goal in life is to be a spoiled housewife, absolutely.
-Fern
Slashers x S/O who likes to cook
slight nsfw content if you squint
Michael Myers
This man craves a sense of normalcy in his very peculiar life. After all, he was diagnosed with a case of crazy at a young age and ever since no one had made an effort to care about him. One of the main reasons he would ever keep you around would be because you fit the housewife role that he needs wants. You give him the one thing he always wanted that no one else ever could, domesticity.
Michael has a weird schedule and just sort of comes and goes as he pleases. This can make having a hot meal ready quite difficult, but once you begin a steady routine of cooking for him he starts to appear whenever you’re cooking. Well at least most of the time, stalking and killing can keep him very busy sometimes.
He’s not very picky about what you cook, so you have plenty of freedom to make whatever your heart desires. He’s certainly not going to complain. Although, if you remember his favorite meals and cook them for him from time to time he will be extra grateful. His gratitude is often expressed through becoming very handsy with you.
Likes to watch you cook! Again he loves the whole domestic thing and watching you serve him cook for him pleases him. Plus you just look so cute wearing an apron. Also loves how focused you can be. Don’t expect him to help you though, this is your job y/n.
Pretty sure everyone agrees that Michael has a major sweet tooth so if you bake him sweets he decides you’re never going anywhere… ever. He’s keeping you, end of story.
The only thing he ever helps with in the kitchen is licking the bowl when you bake. Snatches the spoon from you as well, he wants all of it.
Bo Sinclair
Another man that is very much into the housewife thing. Like he gets off on it.
We all know Bo isn’t quite right in the head, but we all love him anyways! He wants someone to serve him, after all he needs to be in charge and to have control over everything. This includes controlling the roles within his own home.
The fact that you willingly cook though and actually enjoy cooking sends him over the moon. He knew that he had made the right decision when he decided to keep you. This just makes him further believe that you were meant to be his.
Home cooked meals remind him of the good parts of his childhood. So watching you cook with an apron tied around your waist while humming and just being content with what you’re doing makes him melt. It’s also going to make him more likely to open up and be a little more vulnerable with you. Watching you cook just puts him at ease.
Cooking his favorite meals though is what really gets to him. Especially if you decide to go all out and be cheesy by “setting the mood” with candles and fancy silverware. He’ll make fun of you and pretend to hate it but the lack of malice in his voice gives him away.
You can often find him standing around the kitchen while you cook as well. This started once you asked him to try something once to see if you needed to add anything. Now he won’t stop waiting around for free samples.
Bo decides that winter is his new favorite season. The shop doesn’t have any heating and he also spends a lot of time chasing victims around the woods or down the streets. In other words, he’s spending a lot of time out in the cold weather. Walking into his warm house to find the sweetest wife in Ambrose putting a hot meal on a plate for him makes his day. Don’t be surprised if he begins to bring up his other ideas about how you can keep him warm.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent isn’t obsessed with the whole housewife thing the way that Bo is. He could really care less if his s/o cooked or not after all he had survived this long.
But, Vincent often gets lost in his work. This leads to him losing track of time quite often, so skipping meals isn’t something out of the ordinary. It’s not that he means to it’s just so easy for him to forget unless his stomach starts growling.
He does love that you love to cook for him though. Anytime you bring food down to his workshop so that he doesn’t forget to eat he absolutely melts. He doesn’t know how you could be anymore perfect.
Although he doesn’t expect nor necessarily want his significant other to take care of him he does enjoy the fact that you do so anyway. It shows that you care about him in a way that he hasn’t been cared for in a very long time. Especially enjoys the sentiment of you making him his favorite meals. Not only do you take care of him, you take the time to remember the little things about him! He doesn’t think he could possibly feel more loved.
After the first time he watches you cook, he’s hooked. You just look so cute and content in the kitchen. Seeing you so happy and at ease puts him at ease. It lets him know that you’re happy in Ambrose and that you really do love him.
Unlike most of the other slasher, he will help you clean up the kitchen. You two make quick work of all the dishes since you wash them and he dries them and puts them away. It started off with him washing the dishes until he watched you struggle to place plates at the top of a cabinet. Although, he did enjoy being able to press himself against your back while he helped you.
Thomas Hewitt
The fact you love to cook not only delights Thomas, but helps out Luda Mae as well. With you handling the kitchen, it takes one of the most time consuming chores off of her hands. Allowing her both a chance to rest as well as a chance to finally clean up more of the old house. And we all know whatever makes Momma happy makes Thomas happy.
Honestly though, you’re going to have to take up gardening as well. After all the town is pretty much abandoned and there isn’t much to work with. Hope you know recipes for making human meat taste good…
Once again, we have another slasher who’s ideal life involves a housewife. Thomas just wants his life to be normal for once but he also wants someone to truly care about him. He is always the one taking care of other people in the family so having you to take care of him is the one thing that keeps him going.
Thomas works hard and victims are always putting up a tough fight. Since all of Thomas chores take a lot of physical exertion, he always feels like he’s starving at the end of the day. Luckily he has you! You’ve never failed to have a hot meal waiting for him.
Don’t tell Momma, but he thinks that you’re a better cook.
Please ask him his opinion on the food. Thomas hardly ever gets a say in anything since Hoyt usually gets to call the shots. It may not be much, but you asking him for his input makes him feel important.
Cooking his favorite meals after you know he’s had a hard week just does something to him. Maybe it’s because it shows him that you care, that you pay attention and notice things. Whatever the matter, he definitely enjoys tossing you onto the bed after dinner to show you his gratitude. After all, no good meal is complete without dessert.
Stu Macher
His parents were hardly ever home so Stu learned to fend for himself. This included a lot of unhealthy takeout. You have no idea how he survived off of pizza for so long. Is your cholesterol okay Stu? Killing people and having to chase them down is probably the only reason he ever survived without you.
Lucky for him, now he has you! And you love to cook for him and he enjoys everything you cook. Making him his favorite foods is a quick way to get him excited so please cook them for him after he’s had a hard day.
Expect to have a fancy kitchen and anything your heart could desire to cook with. You two will definitely have a house with one of those walk in pantries so that you have plenty of space for ingredients. If you’re going to spoil him with good food obviously he is going to spoil you by giving you everything you need to do so.
Stu never though he could enjoy cooking, but you quickly show him that it can be fun. This means you can expect him to willingly help out from time to time, whenever he’s in the mood to help. It also means you can leave at ease knowing he won’t be feasting on takeout anytime you go somewhere. At least you thought so until you came home to an unbelievable amount of pizza boxes on the counter.
He is determined to invest in a label maker and put puns on all of your spices like the adorable dork he is.
Billy Loomis
Mr mommy issues absolutely loses his shit when you cook for him. Billy absolutely thrives off of you taking care of him. Once you start cooking for him he won’t allow you to stop, it becomes an expectation.
Billy likes to cling to you while you cook, quite literally. He’ll have his arms wrapped around your waste with his head resting on top of your head/shoulder so that he can watch what you’re doing. Hopefully you can maneuver around the kitchen with him attached to you because he isn’t going anywhere.
After being together for so long, Billy usually tells you when he’s going to “hang out” with Stu. Knowing he wouldn’t be back until very late, you left out food that he could easily heat up. Finding food on the counter with instructions of how long to microwave it melts his heart. Now he’s one hundred percent sure that you’re permanent.
Shows his gratitude more than you would expect him to. He will put away the leftovers while you clean up the kitchen. It may not be much, but it’s one less thing for you to do before going to bed at night.
Don’t worry, he’ll be the one in charge of dessert. It’s another way of showing his gratitude.
Brahms Heelshire
Obviously cooking for him is a requirement so it’s a good thing that you enjoy cooking. But it’s the way you go the extra mile for him that makes him set on keeping you.
You always make him his favorite foods which just fuels his spoiled ass. If you make something you don’t like he’s going to try an throw a tantrum over it. May even go as far as to stay in the walls for a whole day. But when he finds his dinner has gone cold because you had went to bed before he decided to stop being stubborn and come eat he will realize he was in the wrong.
Just make sure to put your foot down, otherwise he will never eat any of his vegetables. He’ll pout about it and complain the whole time but whatever it takes to get him to eat healthy. Eventually he will learn to stop complaining.
No one has ever actually enjoyed doing something for Brahms. He always had to force people into pretending that they cared about him. But you not only took care of him you enjoyed doing it. The home cooked meals you made left him feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. You put your heart into the things you cooked for him, put your time into making something you would enjoy.
I keep thinking of you hiding something in his food as a way to get him to eat something without him knowing. One day he catches you sneaking in the ingredient while he’s in the walls and he is outraged. How dare you lie to him y/n, after he was such a good boy no less!
If you bake him sweets he will make himself sick from eating so many. You’re his impulse control, please hide the sweets from him so that he doesn’t get sick. It’s for his own good.
Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull
He’s a very busy man so having you cook for him fills him with joy. There’s nothing like coming home to a hot meal after a day of chasing people down and dealing with idiots like Preston. His injuries can also leave him feeling very drained so it’s good that you know how to make plenty of different meals to make him feel better.
If you ever wanted to learn more about cooking he would 100% pay for classes for you. Could even arrange for them to be during times when he goes on business trips so that you have something to keep you occupied while he’s gone. When he gets back he expects you to show him everything that you learned.
Jesse loves it if you ever bring him food. Granted the first time you showed up at one of the warehouses he freaked out because you could’ve been hurt. Spann makes sure to reassure him that she knew you were coming and arranged for you to be kept safe the whole way there and back.
I can also see Spann being flattered if you brought extra food for her. It saves her time and allows her to get more done within a timely manner. Also means she doesn’t have to worry about everything falling apart while she tries to get food.
Watching you cook does something to Jesse and he’s not against picking you up and carrying you upstairs. He can think of something much better to eat than whatever you’re cooking. This has also led to the smoke alarms going off more than once.
733 notes · View notes
hawks-supremacy · 3 years
Text
Rubik's Cube of Emotions
Summary: You, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi used to be great friends but then one day it stopped. You and Tsuki are forced to confront each other when your new friend Yachi convinces you to be the new co-managers of the Karasuno volleyball team. (angst, fluff)
warnings: eating disorder, swearing, bullying?
genre: angst to fluff
word count: 2.2k
a/n: day 1 of attempting to write everyday until my birthday. Fun fact: I don't even like Tsukishima that much but my cousin hates him so I wrote it out of spite? Idk I don't like him but I see the appeal.
You were sitting in the library after school trying to do some research when your friend Yachi approached the table you were at. “Hey Y/n I need a favor.” She said sliding into the chair next to you. You closed your books and sighed, “Who is it this time?” You asked, looking at her. She looked at you shocked and started sputtering, “Yachi ninety percent of the favors you need from me are because someone was mean to you and you can’t confront them yourself. I mean last week Rei took your favorite pen and refused to give it back so you had to come get me.”
“Fine, it’s not that anyone was mean but this super pretty girl came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be the new volleyball manager because she graduates next year.” You held your hand up effectively pausing Yachi’s rambling, “Let me pause you right there and let me guess. You panicked, both because a pretty girl was talking to you and because she was your upperclassman and said yes.”
Yachi nodded, “Yes but that’s not all of it.” She said sheepishly, you raised your eyebrows and motioned for her to continue. “I also asked if you could be like a co-manager and she said that that was okay. I know you probably don’t want to but I cannot do this alone. Please come with me, the first practice I’m supposed to attend starts soon.” You rolled your eyes and started packing all of your stuff before starting to walk out of the library. You turned and saw Yachi looking like a kicked puppy, “Yach are you coming or not, you are the one who dragged me into this you big ball of anxiety.” She smiled and grabbed her bag running to catch up to you.
You were near the gym when you saw Kiyoko Shimizu. You assumed she was the pretty 3rd year that Yachi was intimidated by and walked up to her, “Hey Kiyoko? I’m Y/n, the person Yachi volunteered to be the co-manager I guess?” Kiyoko turned after hearing her name and saw you walking up to her with Yachi hiding behind you, “Yes, follow me. I’ll introduce you to the team.” You both followed her into the gym, you walking beside her and Yachi cowering behind you, gripping the sleeve of your jacket.
As Kiyoko opened the doors three boys approached one spouting compliments at her the other asking who you and Yachi were. “Guys these are your potential new managers.” Yachi took a step out from behind you before yelling, “Uhm, my name is Yachi!” You waved at everyone who was gathering around briefly telling them your name. As people were greeting you, you glanced around the gym, stopping at two people, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. You looked at them for a few seconds before moving on to the third year wearing a bun.
He bent down slightly, asking Yachi if she was a first year. You tried no to laugh as she screamed and politely and panicky told him that she was a first year addressing him as if he was more than a third year and then freaking out when the two second years were staring at her. “Forgive her, she's not good with new people, she’s hardly good with people she knows. She’s still scared of me sometimes.” As you finished your sentence Yachi mumbled that she was scared of you because you’re scary.
The third year with the bun turned to Hinata telling him, “This is great now you have managers for next year.” Before Hinata could really say anything Kiyoko stepped in saying nothing was set in stone and that you too just wanted to meet the team. As Yachi said it was nice to meet the team everyone bowed and said “Hello” at the same time, effectively freaking Yachi out. As Kiyoko was telling them to back up and not crowd you both you didn’t notice as Yachi slipped outside, “Sorry for bothering you.” She said and closed the door. “Again sorry, she’ll get used to you I promise. I’ll let you get back to practice.” Everyone said goodbye and dispersed to go do their own thing until practice officially started. As you turned to leave you heard the annoying voice that seemed to follow you everywhere, “Are you really that obsessed with me that you would join the volleyball team somehow. If you really had that big of a crush on me you could just say so.” Turning you saw Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the latter looking at you apologetically. You rolled your eyes, “Yes Tsuki I'm oh so obsessed with you that you consume every waking thought I have. Get over yourself.”
Walking out of the gym you saw Yachi crawling on the ground. You were about to ask her what she was doing when someone interrupted you, “You alright?” He asked. She turned around looking at him for a few seconds before yelling, “Please don’t kill me!” and sprinting away. “Kill you?” He asked mostly to himself. “Sorry about her.” You said to him, you seemed to be apologizing for her a lot today. He jumped, turning around to see you, “Jesus kid you scared the shit out of me don’t do that, nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“We’re the possible new managers for the team. She takes a while to warm up to new people. Also you shouldn’t be worried about a heart attack at your age. Lung failure seems more like it.” You pat him on the shoulder as you went to go find Yachi to sternly talk to her about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi being on the team. Yamaguchi you don’t mind as much, it’s Tsukishima that's the thorn in your ass. It’s not that you hated him, you just well, hated him. He sat behind you in your classes and constantly picked on you. Needed to always tell you that he scored higher on the test or his paper was better than yours. He was just annoying.
You found Yachi by her locker gathering the rest of her things, “Hey Yachi! I need to talk to you.” You said as you jogged up to her, “I don’t think I can do this man, Tsuki is on the team and he is not going to leave me alone if i do this with you.” She put on her jacket and picked up her bag and you two began to walk out of the school to go home, “Please, I can’t do this alone. You said you wanted to spend more time with me anyway. What happened between you two? Weren’t you really good friends with him and Yamaguchi before this year?”
You shrugged looking down at your feet, “He got a stick up his ass I don’t know what you want me to say.” You looked over and her and saw her giving you a disapproving look and you sighed, “Yeah we used to be great friends, best friends even. Then this summer he just started being cold to me. I honestly don’t know what happened and I don’t know if I want to know.” She nodded and was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, “I get it, I do. But I really need you to do this with me. I might die if you don’t.” You sighed dramatically, throwing your head back, “Fine but you owe me. I may have only known you since the beginning of this year but even I know that you probably would’ve survived.”
It had been a while since you agreed to help Yachi with being the volleyball team manager and so far it had been hell. You ignored Tsukishima when you could but one of his perks and your downfalls of being childhood friends was he knew what buttons to press. Now here you were at some training camp in Tokyo and ignoring him could only do so much. It was the last day and so far you’ve had to deal with him treating you like you had to do everything he said, him loudly and obviously talking about you to Yams, and snide comments about the way you looked or something you did.
The last straw was when you sat down to eat and he made a comment about your weight. You and Yachi were sitting down to eat when Tsukishima walked over with Yamaguchi, “Gee Y/n do you really need all that food?” You didn’t say anything as you looked down at your plate. You didn’t think you got a lot, you got as much as Yachi. You weren’t necessarily insecure but your weight was always something your family commented on, eventually it made you cut back on eating, some days not eating at all in hopes of maybe trying to lose some weight to appease your family. Lately it hasn’t been so bad, Yachi has been helping with it, you were eating more regularly and getting back to normal. But now you feel like you’re back to square one. “Not gonna say anything? That’s a first.”
You set your plate down on the step you were sitting on and told Yachi that you really weren’t that hungry before walking away. As you walked into the gym you were all eating outside of you heard Yachi talking to Tsuki and Yams, nearly yelling. It’s honestly the first time you’ve heard her raise her voice for the first time that wasn’t out of nervousness or anxiety.
You were tossing a stray volleyball in the air when you heard the door open and close. “Yachi I told you I’m not hungry honestly.” You said focusing on the ball not looking at her. “I’m not Yachi and you should eat something.” You sighed as you heard the one voice you probably didn’t want to hear right now, “Do I need to stop eating or do I need to eat? Make up your mind Tsuki.” You caught the ball and turned to face him. He was holding your plate of food and scratching the back of his neck avoiding eye contact, “I uh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
You scoffed, “Is The Tsukishima apologizing? I didn’t know you knew how. You’ve been an ass since this summer and now that you know you hit a soft spot you change? Not happening. Besides, it's not something I go around advertising.” You sat down on the bench and he followed suit setting the plate in between you both. You sat there for a few minutes not saying anything before he cleared his throat, “I really am sorry. You look fine. I’m sorry about being an ass to you this whole time, please eat.”
Narrowing your eyes you looked between him and the food, “If you’re so sorry then why? Huh? Why are you being an ass? I mean one minute we’re all friends and the next you’re rude and dismissive.” He sighed, rubbing his face muttering that it was stupid. “Tsuki it’s not stupid to me, I lost two of my closest friends seemingly overnight with no reason at all. I’ll eat if you tell me what the hell changed.”
He thought for a second leaning on his knees before speaking, “Yamaguchi and I were hanging out one night this summer and you came up in the conversation. After a while Yams made me realize that I maybe like you. I didn’t know how to deal with that so I pushed you away instead and I may have pushed it too far. I’m sorry for everything I just didn’t know how to tell you so I probably handled it in the worst way.”
You paused for a second thinking about what he said before laughing and picking up the plate to start eating. “You aren’t gonna say anything just laugh? See this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said standing up. You finished chewing your bite, “Sit down, god you’re so dramatic. I laughed because this all happened because you’re emotionally constipated. Yanno if you told me this once you figured out your rubik's cube of emotions we probably could’ve been dating this whole time.” You didn’t say anything else and finished eating what was on your plate as he sat down with his mouth open gaping at you. “Wait so you like me too?”
You covered your mouth as you tried not to laugh at him, “For someone who constantly pointed out how they were smarter than me for the majority of this school year, you’re pretty fuckin dumb aren’t you.” He pushed you over and told you to shut up. “Oh come on Tsuki, is that anyway to talk to your girlfriend?” You watched as his ears began to turn red and he repeated the word girlfriend in a questioning form. “Unless of course you don’t want me too, then this was all for nothing and we can walk out of the gym like none of this happened.”
“Fine I guess, you’re uh, my girlfriend.” He said, coughing and looking away. You raised your eyebrows and laughed, “God Tsuki don’t sound like I held you at gunpoint. You’re such a tsundere. I guess I’ll deal with it though.” You said as you sighed deeply. He looked offended and pushed you off the bench as you both laughed at each other taking turns making stupid insults about the other person.
Outside the gym Yams and Yachi were all but pressing their ears against the door listening to your conversation, “They definitely confessed.”
167 notes · View notes
five-rivers · 3 years
Text
What Was Bound, What Was Loosed Chapter 3
Written for Dannymay Day 6: Core.
.
Ellie took to spending her days in the palace library.
Danny thought he was trapped. Believed he was trapped. So did everyone else. But Ellie didn’t believe it. All cages had keys. Danny had opened hers. It was only right that she return the favor.
(Of course, she wasn’t happy about being stuck herself. There were still things she wanted to see on Earth. She missed the stars.)
The books were old and new. Some were in English, others were in languages she couldn’t even begin to recognize. Most of them had nothing to do with what she was looking for. Like in any library, they were on a wide variety of subjects, all spread out.
Still, she searched. The stack of tomes that had to do with ghostly kingship and the laws of the Infinite Realms grew progressively larger. Occasionally, one of the shades would attempt to put the books back, but they were easily dissuaded, having no will of their own.
She was making progress. Not a lot, but some. Enough to keep her going.
.
Vlad knew when to quit.
Oh, maybe it didn’t seem like it, he was easily as obsessive as any ghost, but he did. Sometimes, a plan just wasn’t feasible, and he had to cut his losses.
Cutting his losses, in this case, meant getting incredibly drunk on ghost wine. Fright Knight didn’t approve, but who cared what he thought? Fright Knight was part of the reason he was in this situation in the first place!
If he had just been warned this would happen, he’d have been able to make arrangements, to find some way to keep his portal open, or to stay in the human world, where his life was.
But no. They were all trapped here. No way out.
When hundreds of ghosts all said the same thing, Vlad was inclined to believe them. Danielle, as motivated as she was, was simply experiencing denial. Or, perhaps, bargaining. He had to admit he was never exactly clear on the stages of grief.
Then, there was Daniel, who seemed to be firmly trapped in the ‘depression’ stage, more of a ghost than Vlad had ever seen him as. He lingered in corners, at the edge of Vlad’s vision, quiet, sad, always flanked by Fright Knight and that other ghost, the one with the clocks.
There were parts of him, his Obsession reasserting itself, that yearned to reach out to Danny, but… He didn’t even know how to begin.
.
Danny felt like a pale, wandering shadow of himself.
Most of the time, he slept, exhausted by the demands the Zone made on him and the continuing changes he was undergoing. The expanding circle of vitality, of rejuvenation, of reconstruction and growth, that so many ghosts were celebrating had to draw energy from somewhere, after all, and even though Danny was absorbing just as much as he was expending, that process made him drowsy in and of itself.
Pain, too, plagued him. His missing eye ached, and sometimes it seemed as if the crown was burrowing into his skull, not merely resting on it. His hand hurt from all his attempts to take off the ring.
He could hardly care for himself in even the most basic of ways. Clockwork often had to remind him, or help him, and he was always so excruciatingly gentle.
Then Vlad and Ellie came.
Their arrival was a relief. Ellie was a friend, was family, and hadn’t been complicit in his betrayal and binding. Vlad had been an enemy, and not even an honest one at that, but essentially everything they’d been at odds over was moot, but he was familiar.
Despite the relief, despite his desire to connect with people who hadn’t hurt him, at least not as badly as everyone else, he hung back. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to bridge the gap.
So, he lurked and lingered. When Ellie went to the library, when Vlad moped and bothered the shades that ordered the kitchen, he followed, he watched.
Clockwork and Fright Knight, of course, followed and watched him in turn.
At least, this is what happened when he was awake and aware enough to do anything. Danny was under the impression that being awake and independently mobile at all this soon after being… coronated… was unusual, perhaps even unnerving. Normally, he’d be curious, excited about new abilities and what they might mean. Maybe he’d even throw around a quip or two about how awesome he was but…
It wasn’t the time, and he didn’t have the willpower to reach for even that dubious coping mechanism.
In the too-numerous times when Danny was both awake and not well enough to follow Ellie and Vlad around, he liked to sit in the garden. It was almost peaceful there, by the fountain, although the plants had a distressing tendency to reflect his every change in mood.
Today was one of those days. He was too dizzy and lightheaded to drift after Vlad or Ellie, even if neither of them moved very much, but he didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, or, worse, the throne room. His core seemed to pulse, sluggish and painful in his chest. Or perhaps that was his heart. He couldn’t really tell with this mixed-up form. It could even be both.
Another slow wave of transformation swept out from him, making his extremities tingle. He watched, tiredly, as it briefly interacted with the walls of the palace and the scattered shades before moving on. The shades… another aspect of all this that Danny wasn’t comfortable with, but couldn’t bring himself to learn more about. They were sustained through his power, but what were they? Extensions of his will? Aspects of his personality? Constructs generated by the palace? By the Ghost Zone itself? He didn’t know.
As much as he should try to learn, he couldn’t help but think of them as yet another imposition, another burden he was being forced to bear.
This wasn’t a healthy mindset. Jazz would tell him as much. Jazz wasn’t here.
“Danny!”
He looked up, his one eye already searching for Ellie. Fright Knight stepped forward, as if to protect him, but Danny snarled at him, annoyed. He wasn’t going to let him get in between him and one of the few people he could currently stand. Clockwork stayed back, passive, but he looked… worried. Uneasy. As if anticipating a disaster.
“Danny!” exclaimed Ellie again, bursting from a bush, a thick book raised above her head. “I found it!”
“Found what?” asked Danny, leaning forward slightly as Ellie joined him sitting on the edge of the fountain.
“A way out!” She opened the book and started flipping through it, obviously looking for a specific entry.
Both Clockwork and Fright Knight looked extremely tense, now. They probably didn’t want him to find this, didn’t want him to leave. Would they try to stop him?
He hunched his shoulders. He might not be well, but he could fight and make it hurt.
“Here!” said Ellie, triumphantly. “Look at this.” She tapped a picture of a bright, spherical object.
“The core of the Infinite Realms?” asked Danny, reading the legend of the picture.
“Uh huh. Apparently, it’s what determines what the Ghost Zone is like as a whole and controls the rules and laws and stuff. Like, even when it comes to what ghosts act like, and what they can physically do, or how the Ghost Zone’s physics behave. But the important part is that you can go talk to it and petition it and stuff, and sometimes it’ll listen. I bet we can get it to listen to you and make it so that the Ghost Zone doesn’t need a king anymore.”
Danny felt a flutter of hope. The book was old from what he could see, and, ignoring Ellie’s paraphrasing, the language was fantastical and couched in metaphor, but still if there was a possibility…
Near their feet, small, bright flowers began to bloom, each no larger than the head of a pin.
“Daniel,” said Clockwork, in a careful, soft tone. It wasn’t pity, not quite, but it was the verbal equivalent of being handled with kid gloves. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Then what is it like?” asked Danny, hunching his shoulders and leaning protectively over Ellie.
“What do you think the King of the Infinite Realms is?” asked Clockwork.
Danny shrugged. Clockwork gave him a small, pained smile.
“The King of Ghosts and the core of the Ghost Zone,” said Clockwork, “they’re the same.”
Danny shook his head, unwilling to let this scrap of hope slip through his fingers so easily.
“Please, Daniel,” said Clockwork. “Why do you think it was so vital that you be crowned? The Realms cannot exist without their core.”
It made sense. A horrible, horrible sense.
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Ellie. “The core’s supposed to be the basis the whole Zone is built on. That can’t just be one person.”
“The library has some books on the subject,” said Clockwork. “But you can see how Daniel is changing things.”
Danny felt his hope collapse and doubled over, hands on his head, face almost touching his legs. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it. All those people, everywhere, his responsibility, his… Not just the people, everything. Everywhere. Not just his responsibility, but relying on him, modeled on him, dependent on him, centered on him.
He wasn’t just the Ghost Zone’s ruler, nominal or not, he was its heart.
“Danny?” asked Ellie. He looked up.
There were blast lines in the ground, radiating away from him. The fountain was cracked and leaking water. Fright Knight had, evidently, grabbed Ellie and leaped away, into the air.
Clockwork hadn’t left, still leaning towards Danny. There was a jagged, dripping slice across his shoulder. Danny gasped, reaching towards him.
“It’s alright,” said Clockwork. “It’s alright.”
“I can’t be,” said Danny. “I can’t be. I’m—I can’t be part of the Ghost Zone. Not—Not like that. That’s not—I can’t be what the Ghost Zone is built on, it doesn’t make sense, I…”
“It’s alright,” repeated Clockwork. “Would you like to go inside? You may feel better if you eat something.”
“Don’t want to bother Vlad,” mumbled Danny. Didn’t want another person to see him crumbling like this.
“We can send something up to your room,” said Clockwork.
He did feel tired. The fountain was repairing itself behind and underneath him. He groaned as the ground beneath him pulled together as well.
“I don’t want to be the core of the Ghost Zone,” he said, knowing that what he wanted was not and never had been a consideration. “I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be in charge of anything.” He grabbed the edges of Clockwork’s robe, ignoring the moisture despite the pang of guilt it brought him. “I want to go home. And I…” His words failed as he reached for Clockwork’s injury. “I don’t want to do this.”
“This is nothing, Daniel,” putting a gloved hand over the wound. “I have had far worse.”
It started to rain. Great, heavy droplets of water tainted with just enough ectoplasm to glow.
It was one way to hide tears, he supposed.
103 notes · View notes
evolutionsvoid · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Ho boy, where do we even begin with these things? How do I write this entry without going insane? No real clue. I have to say that I try my best to keep things fair for all the species I write about, regardless if I like them or not. No one is reading my work solely because they want to know what my top ten favorite animals are, they want information! So even if I despise a certain beast, it is my duty to share straight knowledge and facts without steeping it in bias and personal opinions. However, thinking about this species gives me a headache, and it only gets worse as I delve deeper into the details. So I ask for the dear reader to forgive me if I diverge a bit or get a little negative in some parts. I don't mean to do that, but I can't guarantee anything! Now on to the Boracund! The Boracund are a mammalian species, with their relations tied to pigs and boars. With a porcine frame, a signature snout and those nasty tusks, it is easy to see how the three are alike. How they are different should be pretty obvious too, unless all your ham wears armor. Covering the top of the body, tail and upper limbs of the Boracund is a hefty layer of boney scutes and keratin scales. This home-grown armor is surprisingly durable, as it can withstand blades and even deflect arrows! Obviously it is used for protection, though the Boracund tend to use this defense more for other Boracund! This is because of those giant tusks that the Boracund possess, which can easily slice through flesh and gore a hapless victim. Both male and female Boracund grow tusks, but it is the male's teeth that grow to such an impressive, and deadly, size. When your rivals carry around such weaponry, armor is pretty much a must! The habitats they should prefer are in temperate climates, and they tend to be found in forests and surrounding areas. They like forests that produce a lot of mast (which means the fruit of forest trees, for those who don't know), as it provides a steady food source and also lures in other tasty treats. Like many members of the pig family, the Boracund are omnivorous, eating pretty much anything they can get into their mouths. With powerful jaws, razor tusks and a big appetite, there isn't a whole lot these fellas won't eat. Fallen fruits and nuts are a common meal for them, as well as small reptiles, mammals, eggs, and even carrion. Their snouts and teeth can also aid in digging up roots and tubers, which they will also happily devour. They are also capable of downing prey with the help of numbers, as this species travels in sizeable sounders. They rarely go after creatures larger then them and tend to only take advantage of the sick or weak. It is said that predators who live in Boracund territory must be fast in dispatching prey, lest a sounder descend upon the injured target and devour it. With the ability to take advantage of many food sources, it is easy to see how this species is so freakishly adaptable. What an utterly wonderful trait.    
  During most parts of the year, Boracund travel in these sounders, with them usually divided into male and female groups. The females sounders will possess multiple mothers with various litters of piglets, who all live under the watch of a matriarch. The male groups, however, have little leadership to them, working more as a friendly crowd that enjoy the benefits that sheer numbers bring. Their time is either spent searching for food, resting in their home shelters or grooming. Their version of grooming and hygiene is taking mud baths, as it helps cool their bodies as well as remove parasites. Things change up for all these sounders when the breeding season kicks in. When it is time to mate, the males grow rather irritable and obsessed, their family groups dissolving as they search for viable sows. Driven by the season and hormones, they scour the land for females, barely eating or slowing during their pursuit. When they find a female sounder, they begin to mark their territory. The piglets and other young members of the group are attacked and driven off, though the ancient matriarch is quick to protect them if things get too violent. Crazed males that kill piglets can incite the wrath of the matriarch, whose age and experience often makes them powerful foes. As long as the male does not cross this line, then they may remain with this sounder and attempt to claim it. Since the first male that enters this sounder is rarely the last, they must turn to defend their claim from rivals. Other males will soon arrive and they will fight to be the top hog. These battles are brutal and bloody, with tusks and hoof leaving terrible injuries. Even decked out in armor, male Boracund get pretty mangled during these fights. When the breeding season comes to a close, all viable females will be carrying, eventually giving birth to four to eight piglets. With a litter that size, and with that many females per sounder, you can see that this species has quite the population boom each season! Why, their reproductive rate is so high, its almost like you could harvest entire sounders and the population would bounce right back without hardly a stumble. How delightful. An incredibly interesting thing to note about the Boracund is that their breeding season can undergo a bizarre change every so often. A decade could go by with things going as normal, males running after females and what not, but then suddenly the next year will become something quite strange. After years of study, the consensus is that this unique breeding season is triggered by a high population of Boracund. When their numbers within an area reaches a critical peak, something in their bodies will be set off when the breeding season kicks in. This powerful change seems to only affect the males, if the females are involved then it is very subtle. When this switch is flipped in the males, their bodies undergo a terrifying transformation. Their armor darkens until it is almost black and their fur takes on a reddish hue. From numerous bony protrusions and pedicles that run along their body, velvety growths will begin to form. Much like the antler of a deer, these structures are growing something flashy and pointy, but it is rarely classy. They will grow all across the head and body of the male Boracund during the build-up to the breeding season, and you can already notice that they are growing agitated. The male sounders will break apart long before the season gets into swing, as they are driven into an angered state from the growths. Just as the season is about to start, the velvet will fall away, or rather be torn off in bloody strips. The furious males will rip apart this fuzzy sheathe to reveal a horrible dagger made of bone. What emerges from this gory ceremony is a beast covered snout to hoof in twisted, gnarled spikes. Bony jagged "teeth" now run on the outside of their jaws, while skewering spines line their backs. Bony spurs jut from their legs, while ivory wings sprout from their shoulders. The whole beast is now loaded with pointy bits and terrible weapons, which fits quite well for what comes next. Not only do their bodies transform, but so do their minds. It isn't so much a "transformation" but more of a "degradation." These males go absolutely berserk. The hormones in their body drive them to an even crazier state, which is further fueled by their gnarled bodies. You see, these bony growths aren't usually shaped to fit their bodies. Their formation is quite erratic, often leading to bony blades that hurt the very beast that wears them. I have seen a male Boracund who was so overgrown with these nasty things that they couldn't even open their mouth, the teeth-like formations grew around the jaw and forced it shut. Even then, its head was covered in gashes and bloody tears, as its attempts to open its jaw just caused its weaponry it dig into its own hide. Absolutely horrible! This pain puts them in a constant rage, and all this is directed into this bizarre breeding season. Now decked out in weapons and on the warpath, the males turn into rabid beasts that rip apart the countryside. They plow through the landscape in search of sows, but they are so blinded by their terrible state that they will literally throw themselves at walls in order to get to a female. What was once a fight between males to claim a group of sows has now become a bloody frenzy, with males shredding each other in the madness. Their battles seem to have no end in this state, they just tear each other to pieces. They lose any concept of surrendering or accepting defeat, they just throw themselves at each other until only one remains standing. Even the females aren't spared! Younger ones who do not have the strength to withstand such punishment can be butchered in the melee, slaughtered by the bloodthirsty males who have lost themselves to this agonizing frenzy. Eventually, the carnage will end and the season will finish. What males remain will lose their extra growths and revert back to normal, while the surviving females raise the new batch of piglets. This horrific breeding season is referred to as "Devil's Rut," when this species goes into this self-destructive state. It is believed that this event occurs to help regulate the population, only activating when their numbers reach a critical state. Too many Boracund could lead to all food sources being wiped out, which would leave them to starve. Reducing their numbers through this season, as well as cutting out those too weak to handled it, helps the population remain stable and strong. Thank goodness it takes years for such a thing to occur, right? RIGHT?!       I have to imagine that some folk have read through this entry and come to a realization. "Hey, Chlora," you may wonder, "you said this species likes temperate climates and lives in the woods, right?" To that I would say, "yes, I did!" With that confirmation you may reply "but I don't live near such a habitat, and yet I see the Boracund everywhere! Why is that?" This would call for a congratulations on my part, as you have read my entry and taken its word to heart. Thank you for your attention and mindfulness! Indeed, you have seen Boracund in a habitat I haven't mentioned and that is because, dear reader, THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE! Boracund love temperate climates, they love forests! You know what else they love? EVERYTHING! Marshes, deserts, fields, grasslands, mountains, you name it, they stole it! Their ability to eat practically anything combined with their adaptable lifestyle and hardy bodies means they can live wherever they blighting please! There are populations of them scattered all across the globe, and every living thing that has to put up with them feels that presence! They strip the land bare with their feeding! They steal resources from other creatures! They tear up vegetation and plants that should have been safe from herbivory! They even chase predators away from their kills! They are a disease, and we cannot seem to freaking stop them! You slaughter a whole sounder of them and they just all pop back after the next breeding season! They reproduce so quickly and they don't go down without a fight! This isn't like the pig farm, you can't just round them up and give them the axe! They are armored, they are vicious and they are cunning! Kill one and the rest scatter into the wilderness! Set one trap and they learn to avoid that area! It is maddening! And to make it all worse is the fact that they undergo that Devil's Rut. When that kicks in, they are a threat to everything. They become insanely aggressive and incredibly dangerous. Driven by smell and pain, they will go after anything they see as a threat or anything they think is a female. Pig farmers have talked about these wild Boracund attempting to break into their own pens to get at domesticated sows, as they mistake them for their own kind. The damages are insane, and that doesn't include the fact that they can maim and kill anyone who tries to stop them! Crops are ruined and trips into the wilderness become dangerous. If you live in an area that is undergoing Devil's Rut, do not let your children outside of the town! These things are dangerous and they will attack anything they come across. Keep your saplings inside and don't even venture out there yourself! Cities and towns lock up their gates during these ruts and many warriors have been hired to ward off these crazed beasts. Good thing this only occurs about once every ten years! Whoops, did I say "ten?" Because with their exploding numbers, it takes half the time to trigger a Devil's Rut in areas they have been introduced! HOW WONDERFUL! They are a plague wherever they have been introduced, as the ecosystem is not designed to handle them! "So if they are invasive," you may ask, "How did they get here?" SO GLAD YOU ASKED Due to their large size, signature armor and impressive weaponry, there are some folk out there that would see them as a beautiful hunting trophy. Look at those tusks! Look at that armor! Think of how much meat we could get off that beast! What a dream, they think, AND THAT IS ALL THEY THINK! They just want to be the cool guy who has a big devil pig stuffed in their study so they can show off to all their friends and be like "look how cool and tough I am!" And then all their stupid friends would think "gosh gee I need one of these crazy beasts in my domicile so that I may too show off how big and cool I am!" And when you get enough people thinking that, then you get the idiots who think "well, all these people want to hunt this big awesome pig monster, why don't I import some for easy cash!" And then they do, and they build a hunting ranch specifically for hunting Boracund so that they can fill their coffers with all the money these showoffs will throw at them and then use none of that gold to BUILD A DECENT FENCE! Nope, just some posts and some boards, that is enough to keep these monstrous creatures contained! Lo and behold, they break out and vanish into the wilderness, where they may breed like rabbits and infest countless habitats! NOW THEY ARE EVERYWHERE, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!? Oh of course they are! They are thrilled! "I can just go into my backyard and kill one, all while wearing my bathrobe! What's that? Dozens of species are threatened and entire ecosystems are being ravaged by these things? Well, who cares? I get to bag me a pig!" Those gall-headed weeds don't give an ounce of care for the systems they rely upon for their wonderful hobby! What about all the crop damage?! What about all the people who are vulnerable to these beasts?! Not every town has the means to ward them off, and the damage and injury that occurs is horrible! Markets raided, people attacked! It is insanity! It has gotten so bad in some regions that people have called them "Pig Dragons!" OF COURSE THEY DID! NOT ONLY DO THEY DESTROY THINGS, NOW THEY HAVE TO BEAR THAT CURSED NAME! You want a dragon?! I will show you a dragon! You all laugh at me when I talk about the "Dragon's Pig Program," but if I can get that going then there is hope! What better beast to help harvest these monsters than actual dragons?! These animals are a hefty source of meat and hunting them is crucial! If I can convince enough dragons to turn their attention towards this species for a potential food source, then their populations could be easily reduced! I think it is a genius idea, but oh no all the fancy aristocrats are like "Dragons? Near my land? Unacceptable! Those ugly beasts will cause so much damage!" UNLIKE THE HOG MONSTERS YOU PEOPLE BROUGHT OVER! You cause this huge problem and then stick up your nose at every solution! Just because it doesn't affect you! Well you listen hear you overgrown, blight-filled piece of rot! If I ever get my hands on you I am going to take that fancy hunting spear of yours and*   *No further text is provided, save for mention by the editor that several pages have been removed. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------- Behold! The long awaited Pig "Dragon!"  And by long awaited, I mean that I once offhandedly mentioned something about a Pig Dragon in a description I wrote years ago. I am sure no one remembers me naming such a thing, but my memory exists solely to torment me and couldn't let it go.
45 notes · View notes
iidiotkid · 3 years
Text
Okay I kinda wanna talk about Tim because this is my account and I do what I want
On one hand, I understand why people hate him. He’s a Rich White Sad Boy, and we have plenty of those, but like,,,,,, I think Tim as a character is a pretty interesting move for the batman universe. At least in concept
He’s written to be a self-insert. It’s obvious. He’s a boy with a neglectful family life (which is far more common than the other batkids), who gets noticed by the heroes he adores and they think he’s smart, who has very little personality traits other than that, etc
But that’s exactly why I think he’s interesting. Because a lot of the things interrelate and if they had actually been explored it properly it would have been so cool.
To start off, the child neglect. This is a kid who has had limited social interaction his entire life. The two people who are supposed to love him the most didn’t care enough to even call most of the time, and most of the kids that talked to him would have been doing so because of his parents, how would that affect a person?
He, like many batfamily fans, fixates on a family situation he perceives as healthy. He follows them around, watches the Robins and their interactions with Batman, takes pictures of everything and keeps them in a scrapbook like someone would do their own family photos. He projects himself onto them, pretends like he’s a part of them, wishes that his own life could be like that...
But then something happens. Jason dies. The only true family he’s ever known, even if they never knew him, is fractured. Dick stops coming by as often, Bruce starts getting suicidal. Everything’s gone to shit and he’s desperate to fix it. He knows what’s wrong and, after a lot of convincing, he manages to get Bruce to let him correct it.
Which means he’s officially a part of the family he’s always wanted to be in! The childhood dream that he never fully dared to allow himself to wish for has come true! Sure, Bruce is still a little hesitant about him, but he’s officially Robin!
Now what?
Now he hits a problem. Everything he defines himself with are mostly just his status — he’s the heir to Drake Industries! — and that’s all. But now he isn’t really a Drake anymore, he’s spent more time with Bruce in the past few months than he has with his biological parents since he was a baby. So, who is he?
Robin, of course! He can’t call himself Bruce’s son, the man hadn’t adopted him and it felt a bit like he was betraying the Drakes by considering himself that, so he latched onto the only other thing present. He was Robin.
And this made him fear losing Robin even more. Because, if he wasn’t Robin, then who exactly was he? He knows he wasn’t chosen, that Dick and Jason were and he WASNT, he’s so painfully aware of it. Bruce didn’t want him, not really.
And that was fine, he was used to people he loved not wanting him around.
In fact, this situation was even better than the usual. At least Bruce was willing to deal with him! Of course, he doesn’t know how long that’ll last, so he tells himself he has to work hard. If he messes up too much then Bruce will realize he’s more trouble than he’s worth, just like every parental figure always realizes given enough time, and he can’t deal with that.
Obviously, he becomes a perfectionist. He had already been pretty obsessive, this was almost inevitable. Late nights poring over files, unfocused in his classes, but a he’s damn good Robin. And Bruce is noticing! He’s praising him for figuring things out so fast, he’s thanking him for his help!
But Tim is a growing boy, and growing boys need their sleep. Poor reflexes, stunted growth, gradually declining ability to think... all bad things when you’re Robin. And Bruce is noticing, because of course he is he’s BATMAN, but he hasn’t said anything yet so it’s fine and really Tim can just deal with it —.
Enter one Dick Grayson. He sees this kid take a pretty bad blow in a fight, sees this kid in the Robin suit nearly die while he’s unable to do anything, and all he can think about is Jason dying alone in that warehouse while he was unable to do anything in space. He couldn’t save Jason. He can save Tim.
Visits from Bludhaven become more common despite all the tensions between Bruce and him. Tim doesn’t know why Dick is suddenly so interested in him, hardly anyone ever is, but he is more than happy to accept it for now.
Dick takes him out to see Gotham, not as vigilantes but as civilians. Tim has never seen Gotham like this, not really. His parents had never been all that interested in showing him, and school field trips are always spent bitching and moaning about how boring they were or stressing out over worksheets, so he hadn’t had a chance to really enjoy Gotham for what it was. A gorgeous place despite the circumstances.
He starts spending more time out in Gotham simply for himself, even when Dick wasn’t around. He starts meeting new people. He learns that he’s a listener. Watching people talking about things they loved, seeing the way their faces light up and their hands move around wildly in their excitement, it becomes one of his favorite pastimes.
And, of course, they make life sound like so much fun. He starts doing even more. He visits the arboretum, the planetarium, the zoo, he loves them all. Nature was so gorgeous, and in Gotham it was such a rarity to see any of it that every time he visited he could feel the breath catch. He wants to make Gotham better. He knows not everyone can afford to go to these kinds of places all the time, so the only solution is to try and better the city.
He’s no longer Robin for the sake of being Batman’s Robin, he’s Robin to help Gotham.
He’s doing it purely to be helpful, because he genuinely likes helping people now. He’s seen their smiles, he’s heard their stories, and he wants to protect them.
But he can’t do that if he keeps working himself half to death (literally), so he starts allowing himself some proper rest. He is surprised to learn he’s actually doing BETTER as Robin now. He’s a better fighter and a better detective, sure, but he’s also more concerned about collateral damage in fights and he’s better with victims.
And Bruce notices. Of course he does, he’s Batman, but he doesn’t say anything again. Tim is doing well, and he was usually quiet about most things so he can leave him be.
Or, at least, that was the plan until a particularly adamant Dick drags him out of his brooding to talk to Tim. Bruce, however awkward and stilted, asks how his day went.
So Tim tells him that he doesn’t have to do that, that they don’t have to force a relationship. They were Batman and Robin, and that was enough for him, they didn’t need to be Bruce and Tim, too, if Bruce didn’t want it to be that way.
Bruce’s breath catches just like Tim’s does when he sees the stars and the plants and the animals as they truly are. And then Bruce slowly draws him into a hug, it’s painfully awkward and a little uncomfortable with all their armor, but then Bruce says that he does want it. That he wants Tim.
And Tim realizes then, with his face buried in Bruce’s cape and promises of a better relationship with Bruce, that he isn’t Robin. Because Robin was little more than an idea.
He was just Tim. And maybe Tim was enough.
66 notes · View notes
giorno-plays-piano · 4 years
Text
Rx Queen
Tumblr media
Pairing: criminal!Bucky Barnes x Reader 
Warnings: obsession, stalking, non-con, breeding, minor depiction of violence.
Words: 2567. 
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes was the most difficult patient you had ever treated as a criminal psychiatrist. His release from prison doesn’t make things easier for you. 
_____________________________________ 
You turned off the phone and threw it on a chair, clenching your teeth. Whatever Dr. Strange wanted you to do, you wouldn’t stay another day in this goddamn place, waiting to be abducted or even murdered. It was too much. Today you found the new bottle of your favourite perfume on your nightstand. It wasn’t there before you went to bed last night. In fact, you could hardly remember the last time you bought yourself a perfume.
It all started two months ago when James Buchanan Barnes, the patient you had been working with during those seven long years, was finally released from State prison after serving 15 years of life sentence. The Soldier, as prisoners called him, once gone mad and murdered his commander. Bucky – that’s how he asked you to call him during your first seance – had PTSD, antisocial personality disorder, and severe depression. You could say he became better after all those years of treatment, including insane doses of antidepressants and mood stabilizers, but it was not enough to set him free. He was dangerous, psychotic even, yet devilishly clever: he knew how to portray a man who had reconsidered his life choices and deeply regretted taking someone’s life. 
You knew he had never truly cared. Patients like him did not have capacity for remorse.
You started treating him once you became a criminal psychiatrist; Bucky was among your very first patients. Now when you thought of it, you could hardly believe Dr. Strange just transferred a patient like him to you, a young girl with too little experience to handle an unpredictable psychopath hiding behind a façade of a victim. Of course, you made many mistakes, starting from telling Bucky about your own past and some mental issues. That time you believed you can gain trust of your patients by being more open about yourself. You were a complete idiot.
Now there was not much to do once his time in prison was up. You didn’t have true evidence to make him stay. A part of you wasn’t even sure you wanted it – when a riot had started in the prison three years ago, it was Bucky who shielded you with his own body from Brock Rumlow, a serial killer and your second most dangerous patient. Bucky was the only reason you were still alive.
But he was also the reason why you were leaving in haste, packing only necessities. 
It all started quite innocently with him sending you flowers and thanking for everything you had done for him. It didn’t alert you that he knew what your favourite flowers were. You thought it was just a coincidence since bouquets like these were sold in any flower shop in the city.
Then you stumbled upon him in a café where you often had your breakfast on weekends. It could alert you, but Bucky was sitting with a charming red-haired woman, her manicured hand resting on his thigh. She didn’t quite strike you as his sister, especially since you knew he had no relatives left after his violent father died in a car accident. Seeing such a beautiful woman with him just two weeks after Bucky was released from a prison was surprising, but you knew how seductively charming Barnes could be. Besides, he looked really good in his biker jacket, his tight black jeans showing his strong muscular legs.
In the end, you just talked to both of them a little and gave your advice on which dishes to choose. You walked away, praying you were wrong about Bucky and hoping he could settle peacefully like some of your former patients. Actually, even though many of them were imprisoned again, others were able to return to normal life. Some even had families now – from time to time you received thank-you notes with nice photos and many heartwarming words. It was probably one of the few things that made you keep your job.
It was over now. You were not going to stay in a place Bucky break into multiple times. Maybe you were not sure before, but the bottle of perfume was an obvious sign. It also meant that when a week ago you woke up and smell a man’s scent on your sheets you were not delirious. Bucky was there. He was laying beside you on your fucking bed.
How did it happen? Why didn’t you see his obsession growing with each day? You were his psychiatrist; you knew him better than anyone. How could he hide his infatuation with you for so long? Of course, you knew he had some feelings for you, but it was never that bad. You thought he would forget about you once he would be released. In the end, now you were not the only woman he saw around.
You kept stumbling upon his beefy figure more and more often. You realized Bucky was stalking you when after a month of his release you saw him watching your house from the forest. He was hiding behind the trees and bushes. It was a miracle you managed to see him at all – after 15 years he was still the Soldier, his skills remaining keen.
You tried talking to Dr. Strange. It wasn’t your first time being followed by your former patient, and police had always assisted you. But Barnes wasn’t like any of those stupid psychos who left tons of evidence behind them. Police had nothing to work with.
Well, you weren’t going to sit there and wait for Barnes to come and get you. You had no idea what was going on in his unstable mind, and you weren’t ready to take risks. You had already booked a flight to Austria tonight.
It was scary, thinking about wandering around a city you had never been, in a foreign country where you had neither relatives nor friends. But Barnes would have a hard time following you there, and that’s what mattered.
You threw a pack of salted cashew in the bag and returned to the bedroom to grab your phone from the chair. It wasn’t there. Although you dropped it just five minutes ago, your phone simply wasn’t there.
You were so fucked.
Next minute you were in the kitchen grabbing a knife, but a strong muscular arm knocked it out of your hand, and you felt Bucky’s musky scent. He stood behind your back, caging you with his bulky arms. You froze and held your breath. You knew you better obeyed the man instead of provoking him to become violent.
“And where were you going, honey?” His husky voice was enough to make you tremble. “It’s not nice to leave without saying goodbye, is it?”
“Please, Bucky.” You did your best to hide how frightened you were. “Stop.”
“No, honey.”
He leaned closer to you and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling its smell. His rough hands were already caressing your body through the clothes.
“You’re free to start a new life. You can find a good woman, have a family if you’d like.” Panic was rising in your chest. 
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“No, Bucky, it’s not.” You said in a calm voice. “It will only get you back behind the bars. Don’t throw away your life, please.”
“What life?” He growled, turning you around harshly, and you almost fell on his chest, his arms holding you still. “I have no life. I should have never left my cell, you know this better than anyone else. I’m rotten. Damaged goods. I will never have the life I’ve always wanted. Do you know I have nightmares every fucking night again?”
“It’s because you don’t take your pills.” You carefully put your hands against Bucky’s chest. He tried manipulating you, you knew that. “When was the last time you had thioridazine?”
“Stay with me, and I’ll take whatever pills you want me to.” He grinned suddenly, cupping your face. 
Bucky’s strong athletic body emanated heat, and you were already sweating from both his closeness to you and an extreme agitation. Why did it take you so long to leave? You should have done it the first thing in the morning, just grab your documents and money and run to the car. Maybe then you had a chance. Unless Bucky had already been hiding inside your house…
“Why do you want to make a wrong choice again?” You felt his heart beating loudly with your palm against his chest. “You are given a chance to start over. If you want me to consult you still, I can figure something out. I can continue helping you, but you need to find your way. Don’t you think it’s good to meet new people, have friends, find a job, date a girl?”
“Who wants to deal with a psychopath like me?” He let out a chuckle, his expression darkening. “No one can handle me, doc. No one but you. Do you know I wanted to commit suicide before you showed up seven years ago? If not you, they’d already buried me.”
Before you opened your mouth to protest, he turned you around again and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You broke out in cold sweat. If Bucky was able to outpower Rumlow, that beast of a man, he would have no problems forcing you to do whatever he pleased. It took three strong prison guards to bring someone like Bucky down. You were helpless.
“No one out there is good enough.” His breath was tickling your ear. “You’re the only one, can’t you see? Maybe I’m rotten to the core, but you still helped me. You made me better.”
You stopped in front of your bed, the white cotton sheets and blue blanket crumpled. You stormed off early in the morning once you saw a bottle of perfume on the nightstand and didn’t care to make your bed.
You needed to keep calm. As far as you could see, Bucky didn’t plan to murder you, not when you would accept him, that is. He obviously had a nice plan how to make you stay with him without police knowing, but as long as he kept you alive you still had a chance. You needed to play along.
“On the bed.” He let out a low growl, and you felt the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass.
Shivering, you took off your slippers and sat on the bed facing him. His erection was obvious; Bucky was breathing heavily, his pupils dilated. The next second he was pulling his black t-shirt over his head, and you saw his shredded body littered with scars. You saw one particularly long one on the side close to his waistline: this was the one Rumlow gave him when Bucky was protecting you during the riot. The man let out a quiet laugh when he saw your eyes focused on a nasty pink line.
“Why are you frightened, honey? I know you want a family too. You good-for-nothing ex wasn’t able to give it to you, but I can.” His hands landed on your bared shoulders, and you flinched a little. “Let’s get married, and I swear I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”
“Bucky, relationships don’t work like this.” You whispered, withholding a cry when his hand pushed you down on the bed. 
“Don’t they?” The man smiled and cocked his head to the side, removing his black leather belt. “You do something for me, I do something for you. That’s what I learnt in prison.”
You dragged yourself back as quickly as you could, but your back was pressed into the wall once Bucky put his knee on your bed. There was nowhere to run.
“Don’t be scared, honey.” His sweet voice broke the silence, and he crawled to you, slowly caging you with his bodyweight. “Let’s make a deal. You marry me, you bear my child, and I will return to prison. I don’t care if they’ll give me twice more pills or make me a lethal injection as far as you take care of my kid. You’ll love my kid, won’t you? You’ll take care of them. You’ll make them a better person than I am.”
The more he spoke, the more feverishly he touched you, his left hand pinning your palms above your head. He traced his arm along your breast, ripping your shirt with so much force that its green buttons ended on the floor. You realized your cheeks were wet with tears when Bucky kissed you on the forehead and wiped your face with his other hand.
He wanted to have kids with you. Why? Why you? Why did he consider you a perfect mother? Why did he consider returning to prison? Why was he ready to trade his goddamn life for a chance of having a child? Why couldn’t he have a child with someone else and just keep living?
Oh, of course he couldn’t. Bucky loathed himself. It wasn’t uncommon for the patients with Cluster B personality disorders, and it was probably true he wanted to end his life since you saw his self-destructing behavior. In the end, even his effort to save your life back than in the prison might be some kind of a suicide attempt. 
And the reason he wanted you and no one else… Well, you were the one who had been taking care of him all these years. The only one to navigate him through his nightmares when everyone else gave up on him. He saw good in you. He wanted it for himself. He wanted to make sure his child would never be treated the way he was.
You cried out when Bucky suddenly forced his cock into you. It felt like he was ripping you apart – he was huge. Your eyes flooded with tears again, and he cooed at you softly, pressing his chapped lips to your burning face. You couldn’t even remember when was the last time you had sex since you broke up with your ex a year ago. Thankfully, Bucky gave you time to adjust. He kept whispering filth into your ears and stroking your naked thighs. When did he take off your jeans?..
He kissed the top of your head, playing with your hair, and moved his hips slightly. You hissed in pain, but then realized it was a bit better – the pleasure started building up slowly, and you squeezed your eyes shut. No, no, you were not disgusting, your body tried to cope the best way it could, nothing else, it was a perfectly normal reaction, you knew that. Then you felt Bucky licking up the shell of your ear and whined desperately.
“It’ll be ok.” He whispered and kissed your temple. “I’ll take you to a nice place, and we’ll be there all alone. Once I make sure you’re pregnant I’ll return to prison, I give you my word.”
You bit down on your lip to muffle the noise coming out of your mouth.
“If they keep me alive, I might become your patient again.” He sounded almost ecstatic, rutting deep into you. “I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll stuff my mouth with your pills. Please, just stay with me.”
Staring at the white ceiling, you bit your tongue so hard your mouth filled with blood. You’d survive this. You’d get him behind the bars again. 
You wouldn’t stay.
812 notes · View notes
sturchling · 4 years
Text
I Can’t Stand Liars
My finals are finally over, and I am finally done with college! I have some time to write again. This is another story based on a prompt from @silvia7272
Hope you all like this one!
Alice doesn’t get along with her family and starts to live with her Uncle Jagged. She meets Marinette and they become friends. When Alice notices Marinette becoming more and more sad, she decides to join Marinette at her school. And then Alice meets the local liar.
Alice’s family was perfectly normal. Her dad was a member of parliament and had been for several years. Her mother was a stay-at-home mom who spent all day cooking and cleaning. Her brother was the star of the rugby at school. They were picture perfect. Except for Alice. Alice was not perfectly normal. She loved rock and roll music, tattoos, and wild hair. It is safe to say that Alice and her family do not get along well. There was only one member of Alice’s family that she liked. Alice liked her Uncle Jagged. Uncle Jagged had started traveling the world, playing music, and having a great time. But Alice’s father would not allow Alice to see or even speak to Uncle Jagged. Any time she asked to see him, her father would say, “Your uncle is a degenerate. Just wasting his life playing that ridiculous music, not contributing to society. I will not have him taint your potential.” That answer always infuriated Alice. She never understood how her father could say that about his brother. As Alice grew up, she grew distant from her parents. They hardly talked to her anymore, and when they did, all they wanted was to make sure she was perfect.
When she turned 13, she had a massive fight with her parents. Alice had gone and gotten a small stud in the side of her nose. Her parents had blown up when they saw it, and spent hours yelling at her and telling her that she will be taking out that stud and never putting it back in. Alice stormed off to her room, absolutely furious. She was so tired of having to be perfect, she just wanted to let loose and have fun. It was her life after all. It felt like she was lying about herself. And she hated lying. So, she did something she promised her parents that she would never do. She looked for her Uncle Jagged. The most recent post on his official social media said that he was here in London. Alice wasted no time, packed a bag, and left the house to go looking for him. The different fan websites showed what hotel he was staying at, and one person had even found out what room he was staying in. She got to the hotel about half an hour later. She went straight to what was supposed to be his room and knocked. A woman with magenta hair opened the door. When she saw Alice, she got an annoyed look on her face. “How many of you obsessive fans am I going to have to turn away today!?” As she starts to close the door, Alice stammered out, “wait!” Alice grabbed the edge of the door to keep it closed and continued, “I am not a fan, I’m family. Jagged is my uncle, I’m his niece Alice.” The woman looked at her appraisingly and slowly opened the door a little more. Alice pushed it a little more saying, “Please, just let me see him. He will tell you who I am.” The woman thinks for a minute and reluctantly agrees, “Well, it can’t hurt. And there is a small resemblance.” The woman opened the door and let Alice inside. Finally, the woman then called out, “Jagged! You have a visitor!”  A voice from somewhere in the suite responded, “Who is it Penny?” So that is the woman’s name. Penny calls back, “A girl saying she is your niece. She says her name is Alice.” A crash sounds from the back of the suite and suddenly Jagged came running into the main room. He stared at her in shock and said, “Alice? What are you doing here? It’s rock’in to see you, but I thought your dad didn’t want me to speak to any of you...” Alice dropped her bag and replied, “Well, me and dad never saw eye to eye on that. We had a major fight. I can’t take it anymore Uncle Jagged. They don’t care about me; they just want a perfect daughter.” Jagged, after hearing this, walked up to his niece and hugged her. “As rock’in as it is to see you, I need to tell your parents where you are. I am sure they are worried. Do you have their number?” Alice gives Jagged their number and he goes into the other room to call her parents. It was a while before he came back and Jagged was mad when he came back. Alice bit the bullet and asked, “So? I guess I have to head back home now?” Jagged’s jaw clenched and said, “No. They said the exact opposite. They said if you want to come to me then you can just stay with me. They don’t have time for such an ‘ungrateful daughter’. They essentially just disowned you. So not rock’in.” Alice was shocked. She knew she and her parents didn’t get along at all, but she didn’t think they would disown her. So that was how Alice started living with her Uncle Jagged and traveling all over the world.
Eventually, they started staying at the Le Grand Paris. Alice had been having a great time living with her Uncle Jagged. Alice got to be herself. She switched out her nicer clothes for an edgier outfit. Her typical outfit now was a purple halter top, ripped up black jeans, black combat boots, and a black leather jacket. Her hair was now dyed purple to match her uncle’s. During this time Alice was completing an online education. They had originally  tried and public school when Alice first started living with Jagged, but when students found out who she lived with, they would say anything to be her friend. And when they found out that Alice wasn’t going to just get them into concerts for free and get them all of this merch they wanted, they ditched her. Eventually, Alice grew tired of people lying to her to get close to her and decided it would be better to just attend online school. Alice couldn’t stand to be around liars.  Alice had just turned 14 and she was starting to want to attend an actual school, since they were most likely going to be in Paris for a long time. One day, the local school Francoise Dupont sent a class to the hotel for career day. That was the day Alice met Marinette. Marinette and Alice instantly clicked when she designed the glasses for Jagged. From then on, whenever Marinette came to speak with Jagged, Marinette would stay after her meeting to hang out with Alice. One day, Marinette seemed sadder than normal. When Alice asked what was going on, Marinette just said it was some minor drama at school. But Marinette just seemed to get more and more sad. Marinette would never answer Alice when Alice brought it up. Alice hated that Marinette was lying. After everything with her parents, after they made Alice lie about herself, Alice hated lying and liars. After a while Alice got more and more worried for her friend and decided to enroll in Marinette’s school. It was easy to convince her Uncle Jagged to let her attend that school. The night before Alice started school, Marinette came over and hung out with Alice until late, helping Alice get ready to start at the school. Alice didn’t realize that she was about to meet the liar responsible for her friend’s sadness.
Monday morning, Alice arrived to Francoise Dupont bright and early. She had found out the day before that she was in Ms. Bustier’s class just like Marinette. Alice walked to the classroom and saw Marinette sitting in the back of the class. Alice joined her in the back row. The two girls chatted for a while, until the rest of the class arrived as well. Two girls walked in, one who looked furious, and the other had a black eye. The angry girl stormed up to Marinette and started yelling, “Marinette! How could you!? Why did you attack Lila!” Marinette shrunk back a bit and tried denying the claim but this girl just kept yelling. Alice got fed up, stood up, and slammed her hands on the table yelling, “HEY!” That got the angry girl to shut up. “Why are you yelling at Marinette?” The girl turned to her and asked, “who are you?” Alice, who was still annoyed that this girl was yelling at her friend, replied “I’m Alice, I’m new. Now I’ll ask again, why are you yelling at her?” The girl with the black eye interjected and started crying, “Well, since you’re new, you wouldn’t know but Marinette is a bully. She won’t leave me alone. She is so jealous of me. She even attacked me last night after I left dinner at the VIP section of the Le Grand Paris hotel restaurant.” What? Alice was now thoroughly confused. Marinette couldn’t have attacked this girl. Marinette had been with her all night. Alice decided to ask a few more questions, cause to much of this story didn’t make sense. There was no way people believed this. “Wait, why were you at the VIP section? Why would she be jealous of you?” Everyone in class looked at Alice like she was crazy. The angry girl answered Alice, “Girl Lila is a super important person. She has helped Prince Ali with his charities, her dance moves were so good that Clara Nightingale has taken her dance moves, and she knows a bunch of famous people. She even knows Jagged Stone. She helped save Jagged’s kitten from getting run over on an airport runway. That is why she was at the VIP section last night; she was speaking with Jagged about the song he wrote about her.” Alice was shocked by what she heard. How does anyone believe this nonsense? This Lila girl is obviously a liar. Alice looked closer at the black eye and noticed now that it was clearly makeup. This girl isn’t even a good liar. So, Alice, ever the honest person, blurted out, “Wow, Lila. You are a horrible liar. Those stories are so fake.” The whole class immediately glared at her while Lila just cried out, “How could you say that?” Alice rolled her eyes. “Easily. Firstly, you are not even really crying. No tears. Second, I know Marinette didn’t attack you last night, because Marinette was with me all night.” While they were gapping at Alice and trying to argue with her, Alice reached down and grabbed her water bottle from her bag. Alice opened the bottle and continued, “Also, that is not a real black eye. And you know how I know that?” With that Alice threw the water in Lila’s face. The makeup she had used for the black eye immediately started smudging and dripping. Alice put the bottle down and said, “I know that because I have never seen black eyes drip before.” The class now turned to Lila and was staring at the now ruined ‘black eye’. “Finally, I may not know about those other celebrities you claim to know, though I can guess those are lies too, I know for a fact that you do not know Jagged Stone, he never wrote a song about you, and you never saved his cat” Lila started to show her true colors and snapped, “How could you possibly know that? Not like you know him. You just look like a super fan.” With that Alice smiled, and even Marinette started to smile as she realized that she was watching Lila’s downfall. Alice ended her spiel by saying, “I never fully introduced myself, did I? My name is Alice Stone. I am Jagged’s niece. He has never had a kitten; it is to normal for him. He does have an awesome crocodile name Fang. And Jagged has never mentioned you. You are just a terrible liar. Do not lie about my Uncle again, he probably won’t like that you are telling people he wrote a song about a minor.” With that, Alice sat down and watched the fireworks. The class realized the reality that their ‘friend’ was just a liar and began yelling at Lila. At lunch, Marinette turned to her and said, “Not that I didn’t enjoy watching that show, but why did you do all that?” Alice replied, “I may have been meaner than I meant to be, but I had to expose her.” Marinette looked at her confused and asked, “Why did you have to expose her. You could have just told Jagged and had him handle it. Not that I’m complaining.” Alice smirked like the Cheshire Cat and said, “I just can’t stand liars.”
806 notes · View notes
winterrose527 · 3 years
Text
The Favor, Part 2: Rome, Italy
(Part 1 can be found here)
Rome, Italy
“I totally could’ve been a gladiator,” Theon determined as they left the Colosseum.
Jon nodded, “I can see it.”
Robb turned to look at him, “You can?”
“Oh yeah,” Jon agreed, readily, “I often have daydreams of Theon being eaten by lions.”
Robb chuckled as Theon and Jon circled one another.
He had no idea how either of them had this much energy. They’d taken well advantage of the Roman nightlife last night, and hadn’t gotten in until the sun was rising. And what a sun it was. It had to be over a hundred degrees out here, sucking all of the energy right out of him. That mixed with tourists.
The fact that he was one didn’t temper his disdain for them.
He didn’t like to complain, but he couldn’t wait to get to the seaside. They had a train to Naples the next day, and from there they’d go to the Amalfi Coast. They’d stay there for a few days, before flying to Ibiza to meet up with some friends. He was then heading to London to start his new job, and the boys were flying home.
This trip was a bit of a farewell tour to their youth. Or, that’s how he felt now but he always got a little dramatic when he was hungover.
They’d graduated in the spring and thanks to all having their next steps lined up for the fall, had one last carefree summer. Theon was heading to law school, Jon to work for Mormont, who he’d been interning with since his freshman year, and Robb was off to London to put his degree in international business to good use.
When he’d made his decision to take the offer, Theon had suggested a bit of a Eurotrip to send him off and Jon had readily agreed. Since he’d only ever been to France, on a trip with his entire family when he was seventeen, he had jumped at the opportunity for a proper send off.
They’d been making the most of their travels, Theon falling in love with a different girl every night, he and Jon certainly having their heads turned from the sights as gorgeous European girls walked by them arm in arm.
“I need to take a piss,” Theon informed them.
“Me too,” Jon said and then clapped Theon in the chest, “Let’s go to that café, I need another espresso or I’m gonna die.” He looked at him, “You want anything?”
Robb rubbed his temples, “Just a water – flat. FLAT FLAT FLAT.”
Italy’s obsession with sparkling water was the only thing he didn’t like about it.
“I believe you mean agua naturaaaale,” Theon informed him.
“Dude, stop trying to speak Italian,” Jon sighed, “You get laughed at every time.”
“Pardon me for trying to break the Ugly American stereotype,” Theon argued.
“You literally are wearing American Flag shorts as we speak,” Robb pointed out.
“You come for my Chubbies you make me question our entire friendship,” Theon all but shouted at him.
Jon held him back and then pushed him across the street, the two of them nearly getting hit by half a dozen cars on their way over. People were honking, tourists were pointing.
So much for overcoming the Ugly American sterotype.
He looked up at the Colosseum. It had been one of the places he was most excited to see, though he knew that was pretty cliché of him. He couldn’t help it, though. He’d always been fascinated by the bloodier bits of history, and sure, yes, maybe seeing Gladiator had been a defining moment in his youth.
It was unbelievably impressive, structurally, obviously, but as he had walked through it he hadn’t been thinking about that. He hadn’t even been thinking about how gruesome it was.
He’d honestly been thinking of how he would have performed.
Most likely he would have gotten eaten by lions as well as Theon but maybe –
“Excuse me?” an American voice interrupted his thoughts.
“The entrance is over there,” he pointed.
“Yeah the um, line of people sort of tipped me off,” she joked and he turned to her.
Her voice was familiar, but that was only a passing thought when he took her in. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
A bonafide All-American beauty.
She looked familiar, too. Is she a model? He wondered if he’d seen her in a commercial or in one of Sansa’s magazines. She had the face for it, though admittedly she was a bit short. She hardly even came up to his shoulder.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She shook her head, “I don’t think so but listen okay so this is going to sound crazy – I actually can’t believe she talked me into it again, but um… can you just – um… please don’t… I can’t even ask…shit.”
He was sort of overcome watching the cutest panic attack he’d ever seen, when all of a sudden she was kissing him.
Oh.
He knew her. Of course he knew her. She had dominated his thoughts for the entire summer in between his junior and senior years of high school. In fact, when he’d shown up for his freshman year of college, he’d have been lying if he hadn’t looked around, hoping to see her at orientation. Though it had been years since he’d thought of her apart from a passing memory.
While he was sorting all of this out, she was kissing him and his arms had wrapped around her without thinking about it.
“Thanks,” she smiled as she pulled away.
“Got it!” a voice said off to the right, “Come on Ella, we’ve got to go!”
“Ella,” he smiled, drinking her in.
“That’s me! Anyway, thanks for your help,” she said, and started to walk away, “You’re a really good kisser. So um, well done.”
He laughed, watching her walk away. A brunette girl going and linking her arm through hers, the pair walking away from the main line of people to a shorter one.
“Wait!” he called, realizing that this was happening again.
He’d made a mistake letting his Mom pull him away last time. He should have gotten her number. Her full name. Her agreement to be his forever.
“Ella-,” he called, but she’d disappeared in the throngs of tourists.
Damn this hangover.
He started moving through them, determined to catch sight of her. She wasn’t in line, but then he heard a laugh that had to be her and he looked through to see her walking into the Colosseum with a smaller group.
There was a guard posted at the entrance she must have gone through.
“Uhh… ciao um… yo necessito, fuck no that’s Spanish,” he sighed, the guard looking at him, “Look I need to get in there really quickly.”
“Private tour,” he shook his head.
“I know, I know I’ve already been in I don’t care about the Colosseum -,” the guard looked at him like he’d just insulted his mother and he shook his head, “No I do it’s great but there… did you see the beautiful girl that walked through here? Blonde? About this high? She is… very very bella,” at this point he was wondering if his butchering of the Italian language could be considered a hate crime but she was now nowhere in sight, “Please can I just go in for one minute.”
“No,” the guard said in a bored tone.
“Look,” he sighed, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Fuck off, man!” the guard shouted at him.
“Alright, alright!” he backed up.
He went around the large line of people and found Theon and Jon looking around for him.
“Where the fuck did you go?” Theon asked as Jon handed him a bottle of water.
“We need to get you guys out of the sun,” Jon said, “It makes me uncomfortable when I’m the one in the best mood.”
“Shut up for a second,” Robb told them, looking around for more exits, “Look, she’s here.”
“Who is?” Theon asked, “That crazy girl from Prague?”
“No! No, her. The girl who kissed me in Paris, do you reme-,” he started.
He was cut off by the groan heard around the world.
Theon shook his head, “I’m not going through this with you again, man.”
Jon was rubbing his temples, his eyes wide but on the ground, “I really thought we were past this.”
“No, shut up, listen to me, she is here. It just happened again,” he told them. “I was just standing here and she came up to me and she’s even hotter than she was then and she just kissed me.”
“Did she know it was you?” Theon asked.
“Um I don’t think so,” Robb answered.
“And where is she now?” Jon asked.
“In there,” Robb pointed to the Colosseum.
“Okay, so let’s review,” Theon said, “This girl has twice now come up to you - a total fucking stranger and asked you to kiss her. Neither time has she in any way tried to prolong your acquaintance. How do you know she isn’t doing this to a different guy in every city she goes to?”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Robb warned.
“Don’t do this,” Jon shook his head, “I am not listening to you moon over her for the rest of this trip. I will chuck you over the cliffs of Ravello.”
“So help me find her,” Robb pleaded. And then without warning shouted, “ELLA!”
“Dude!” Theon warned.
“Seriously security is eyeing us,” Jon noted, looking around.
“Guys - ow stop pulling me!” he ordered as both Jon and Theon had grabbed an arm and were currently dragging him away.
“Wouldn’tve lasted a day in their man,” Theon shook his head.
He looked back, as though she might be peering at him through the ruins even now.
*
The next day as they were on the train to Naples, his heart stopped every time he saw a blonde walking by.
“You’re torturing yourself,” Jon told him.
“I should have waited,” he shook his head.
Jon and Theon shared a look, which to his eyes looked a bit guilty – which they should since they all but carried him away from her – and leaned forward.
“Look, if she’s the one, you’ll see her again,” Jon promised.
“And in the meantime, you’ll meet a good English bird and forget all about her,” Theon suggested.
Robb scoffed.
As though any girl in the entire city of London could hold a candle to Ella.
13 notes · View notes
soniaxdixon · 3 years
Text
The New World; Series
Okay so this is my first time writing a fic and obviously will be my first series but I’ve just rewatched TWD for like the 17th time and my obsession with Daryl has reached new levels. I hope that it isn’t too shit and that you guys actually read/like it. Thank you in advance for baring with my average writing but I mean, how else will I learn? Anyway, enjoy! 
Sonia x 
Set pre to early season 1, back story for when the world ended.
Part 1 of ??
Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger hot headed sister. When Rick gets shot and falls into a coma, Y/N’s world ends. Y/N Finds herself at a quarry near Atlanta with her nephew carl, sister in law Lori and her best friend Glenn where she meets her new family including the equally hot headed redneck Daryl Dixon. Over time Y/N and Daryl begin to form a friendship, finally allowing one another to open up to someone and maybe finding someone they can actually love. 
Warnings! Slowish burn but the feels are there from the start, swearing, some gore (hardly in this one) and merle being a bit of a dick as usual. 
Words: 1428
Growing up a Grimes wasn’t always the best, especially being hot headed but having Rick as a brother made everything a lot easier. He was always able to calm you down, like he was the only one who knew how.
The day he got shot felt like a piece of your heart being ripped away, never to be replaced, never to be healed. That was the day your world ended.
When the world went to shit you were wishing he was there guiding your every move.
You scrambled through your one bedroom apartment, haphazardly shoving clothes into bags, anything and everything you thought you might need. Medicine, first aid kits, anything you could use as a weapon, anything to keep yourself alive. Ripping open the drawer near your front door you grabbed your keys and drove like you had nothing to lose. Racing through streets, running red lights, you watched as the world crumbled before you. People looting stores on one side of the street while on the other side the monsters ripped into the people you once new. Normalcy was now a memory. Normalcy was not normal anymore.
Swinging around a corner you barely put the car in park as you leapt out and barrelled into Lori’s house.
“Lori! Carl!” You yelled as loud as you could, your voice being drowned out by the sounds of sirens, helicopters and king county shattering around you.
“Lori! Where the fuck are you?” At this point you were screaming.
Carl came running around the corner throwing himself at you, tears in his eyes as you both fell to the floor hugging each other. Knowing he was safe was all you needed.
You held carl’s face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s in the garage with Shane, packing all of our camping gear. I’m scared Y/N”
“I know you are baby but we will get through this. I promise.”
You got up and let go of the boy, racing into the garage and catching Lori’s eyes, she ran and embraced you.
“Thank God you’re okay” she said, still holding you tight.
“I don’t know what to do Lori. Everything is happening all at once, how will we get Rick through this, how will we get through this?” You rambled looking between Lori and Shane.
You watched as their expressions dropped, Shane’s eyes looking at the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. Lori’s eyes filled with tears as she grabbed your hands.
“Rick’s gone”
The words hit you like a freight train as you collapsed to the floor, your own knees not being able to take the weight of the words that she spoke.
“I went to the hospital to get him out, he wouldn’t wake up. I tried Y/N I tried.” Shane was explaining what happened in the hospital but the words washed over you, your brain refusing to comprehend the things he was saying.
————
All of this felt like years ago at this point. A distant memory. Rick was a distant memory.
You woke up in your tent as the morning light began to enter the space. Sounds of people chatting quietly outside filled the air as you forced yourself off the ground, pulling on your black jeans, a grey t-shirt and your boots. Looping your belt around your waist and making sure your knife was easily accessible.
You fumbled around with the zipper of your tent still half asleep, stumbling out and greeting everyone with a small smile.
“There she is” Dale said with a charming smirk, “any longer and we would have sent Carl to come and jump on you.”
You chuckled at the remark, “It’s like 6 o’clock, calm down old man” you retorted, earning a hearty laugh from Dale.
You made your way over to Lori to see if she needed any help with breakfast but she and carol had it under control. “Smells great, you making your famous Sunday pancakes, Lori? Don’t forget to actually mix the batter” You said, obvious sarcasm in your tone.
She pushed your arm playfully as you reminisced the many clumps of flour you had eaten in the past, forcing a smile every time with a fake compliment “they’re greeaatt”
You sauntered over to T-Dogg who was sitting on top of the RV keeping watch.
“Mornin’ Y/N”
“Hey T”
You made it half way up the ladder before you were halted by an unfortunately familiar voice.
“Now how the hell did ya manage to squeeze that ass in those jeans, God damn.” The Southern drawl of the older Dixon brother had you fuming before you even turned around.
“Man don’t you ever shut up?” T-Dogg yelled from the top of the RV.
“What the hell d’ya say to me?” Merle retorted but before anything could get heated between the two of them you dropped off the ladder and made your way over to Merle.
“Keep it in your pants you redneck prick.” Your harsh tone really getting the message across as Merle put his hands up in surrender but still made it known that his eyes were on you the whole time you walked away.
Your best friend, Glenn made his way into the middle of the group announcing that he wanted to make a run into the city to look for some supplies. He said the last time he went in, he found a department store that had everything from clothes to food and looked as though it wasn’t overrun or burnt down. A few of the group members volunteered to go including you but Shane was quick to shut that idea down.
“No way in hell am I letting you go into the city.”
“Last I checked, you’re not my babysitter, Shane.” You quickly responded
He shot you a glance and you rolled your eyes. It wasn’t worth the argument, plus, after you had volunteered, Merle did too and you did not want to deal with that headache for however long the run took.
Within an hour, Glenn and the others were packed and ready to go into the city. Glenn came over to you and you pulled him into a tight hug.
“Don’t get eaten, please.”
He chuckled and let go of you, nodding. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“No promises” you smiled and waved as he and the rest headed off towards the city.
You looked to your left and saw the younger Dixon brother watching as his brother went off on yet another run. You could see worry in his eyes but you knew he would never show it properly. He’d probably be called a pussy by Merle for showing the slightest ounce of care towards anything. You didn’t realise you had been staring until you heard his voice.
“What the hell r’ya lookin’ at?” His words came across with more anger than he had intended
You blinked quickly and looked away. Your cheeks flushing a slight shade of pink as you struggled for words. Something about this man made your mouth run dry and your stomach flip.
“N-Nothing, sorry.” You quickly walked off but Daryl’s eyes remained trained on you, squinting as you walked towards the sunlight but still remaining focussed on you. He couldn’t figure you out. You were so harsh towards his brother, so easily set off by the slightest thing. If someone said the wrong thing you would mercilessly attack them with words and yet with him, you could hardly speak. You couldn’t be around him for more than 5 minutes.
He thought about you for a while, he didn’t understand why you were on his mind but you were. You had never even held a conversation and yet the only thing he could think about was you. In a similar way, the only thing on your mind that night, was him.
You made your way to your tent stealing one last quick glance at Daryl who was making his way up the RV for night watch, he locked eyes with you for a second and you smiled, a small smile but enough to make daryl nod at you in return.
The simple gesture made your heart jump as you hastily pushed your way into your tent almost falling over.
Changing into your pyjamas the simple interaction played over in your head as you climbed into your sleeping bag and drifted to sleep.
Just like that, another day was over in this new world and another one was ready to begin.
56 notes · View notes
Text
Killer Knightmares:
@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.
Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.
___
It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.
“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.
He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.
Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.
When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.
Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.
Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”
Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”
The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.
Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?
“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.
Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.
She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.
Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.
----
Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?
Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.
With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.
A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.
Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.
Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.
-----
Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.
With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”
That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.
“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.
The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.
Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.
“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.
Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.
“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.
A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.
Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.
Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.
In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.
Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.
Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.  
8 notes · View notes
fairylightsandchai · 4 years
Text
The Internship - Part 1
A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested. 
Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader
Words: >10K
Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no? 
Tumblr media
(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.) 
           You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.
           And then the Battle of New York had happened.
           You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.
           But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.
           After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.  
           You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.
You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.
At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.
           And now you were about to walk into his class.
           Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.
           Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.
           You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.
           “Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.
           You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.
           “U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”
           Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.
           He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s-            “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”
           The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.
           “Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”
           His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.
           “You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”
           The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.
           “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”
           Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.
           “Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.
           “Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.
           “Any questions?”
           There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.
           “Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.
           Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.
           “That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”
____________
           Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.
           He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.
           A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.
           As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.
           A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.
           But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.
           The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.
           Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.
You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.            
After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.
But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.
There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink.            “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.
“No, Tina,” you sighed.
“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.
“Is never a viable answer?”
“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”
“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”
“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”
You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.
“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”
“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”
“TINA!”
“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”
Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.
But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé  about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.
No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.
___________
You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.
Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.
Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.
More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.
As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.
Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.
He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.
“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.
“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.
“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)
“That’s a nice color on you.”
“Looking lovely as always.”
You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.
           Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.
           This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.
           After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.
           “This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”
           Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-
           “(Y/N), is that you?”
           …Maybe you’d spoken too soon.
           Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.
           “Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
           “Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”
           You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.
           “Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”
           “Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.
           “The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”
           “Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”
           “Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”
           Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.
           “It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”
           You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.
           “Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.
           “Thanks, doll.”
           You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.
           “N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.
           “I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”
           Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.
           “Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.
           “Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”
           He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.
           “No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”
           Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.
           You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.
           “Steve?”
           He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.
           “Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”
           “It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”
           “Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”
           You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.
           “I’m just joking,” you assured him.
           “Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”
           You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.
           Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.
           “You ok over there, doll?”
           “Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”
           “Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.
           “Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”
           You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.
           For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.
           “Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”
           You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.
           “Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”
           You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.
           “No problem, hon.”
           You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.
           How had he known that you were friends with Tina?
_____
           Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.
           Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.
           But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.
           You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.
           He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.
           He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.
           You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.
           His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.
           With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.
           He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.
           His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.
           But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.
           All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.
           He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.
_______
           You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.
           Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.
           When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.
           As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.
           “Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”
           “Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”
           You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.
           “Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”
           When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.
           “Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.
           After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.
           The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.
           Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.
           When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.
           “Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.
           “So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.
           “For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”
           You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)
           “If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”
           A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?
           “…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.
           When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.
           Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.
           “Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.
           “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”
           You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.
           “Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”
           “A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”
The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.
“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”
           “Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”
           “Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”
           You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.
           “It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”
           “It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”  
           Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.
           “Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.
           As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”
           “Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”
           “Why not?”
           “Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”
           You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.
           “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“
           “No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”
           Your lips twitched into a half-smile.
           “Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”
           “…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”
           “Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.
           “What is it?” you asked.
           “Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.
           Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?
           You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.
           “I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.
           For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.
­­­­______
           You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.
           Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.        
           When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.
           “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.
           “I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”
           Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.
           Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.
           You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.
           Dear (Y/N),
           Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.
           Sincerely,
                       Steve Rogers
           You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.
           You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.
           After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.
           When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.
           “Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”
           “…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.
           He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.
           “I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“
           “How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”
           Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.
           “Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”
           You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.
           “I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”
           Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.
           You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.
           “U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.
           “It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.
           “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”
           Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.
           Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.
           “It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”
           The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.
           “So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”
           He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.
           “That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”
           You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.
           “Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”
           “Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”
           “Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”
           “Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”
           You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.
           “A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.
           “That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”
           Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.
           But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?
           “I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”
           Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.
           “Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.
           “Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“
           “No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”
           Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.
           “Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.
           “Whatya say?”
           You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.
           “I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“
           “It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”
           You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.
           Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.
           “I’ll do it.”
_______
           Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.
           He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.
           Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.
           He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.
           You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.
1K notes · View notes