#but it's uhh. gotten much worse. just these last few months | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frecklystars · 6 days

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;-; if anyone has the time, may I please ask for F/O reassurance? this is also kind of a vent I guess. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read/respond but you absolutely don't have to if you don't feel like it 😭🙏💙

May I please ask for reassurance that Barbie/Ken/I guess any F/O in general wouldn’t be easily manipulated into hurting me or leaving me?

I keep having nightmares and a reoccurring one is where my abuser sort of… coaxes my F/Os into leaving me or harming me. And I had a really bad one the other night and I haven't been able to shake off this Feeling

I won’t get too into what happened bc it would take forever and I’ll spiral but I had multiple instances where my abuser turned ppl against me, even back when we were best friends and I trusted her, this was all happening behind the scenes without me knowing; I was being isolated over the span of just a few months until I was completely alone with Just Her, and I had no clue. When I finally broke things off, she sent a lot of ppl to harass me online for almost a full fuckin year. It wasn’t a lot of people after my ass thankfully but i will say it was still fucking horrific, it lasted for a very long time, mob mentality is dangerous and this hellsite just reeks of it, and 2023 was the worst year of my entire life because of it

She’s extremely kind online. I mean irl too I guess bc I easily kept forgiving her for the things she’d do bc she acted so innocent and sweet and I stupidly fell for it every single day for several months. but she has this whole persona online where she presents herself as very meek and fragile (her words). She interacts with any self ship blog, she messages people consistently, she’s wealthy so she buys people commissions and tips artists often, she’s highly interactive with any posts ppl make. She’s friendly. And yet she’s also the kind of person who is capable of [insert incredibly long list of horrors that are so vile and sickening if I describe it right now in this current headspace I WILL throw up here]. But nobody knows that about her because she acts so nice online. and that’s … scary. like, if two years ago when we were friends, if a complete stranger ever told me "hey this person abused me" I would probably think to myself "huh? but she's so nice! surely she wouldn't do such things!" but. like. yes she would. she DID and from what i hear, she still DOES, and that's scary to think about

My flashbacks have gotten worse this month and it makes me feel really uhh... maybe paranoid is the right word... worrying that maybe in some universe she’d manipulate Barbie and Ken into dropping me too, or she’d get… random ppl to just.... attack me? In any universe I wanna self ship into, maybe she’d also jump in there and cause everyone there to turn against me. I know it sounds very stupid!! I don't get it either, I don't know why I'm worrying about these things that really do not matter in the longrun bc at the end of the day these characters are imaginary. but it's been eating at me way too much the last few days. I think it's because I've been overworking the last few and I still haven't gotten my hands on the medicine I need to basically Function Like A Person, so this anxiety I'm feeling is more difficult to handle than usual + the flashbacks/nightmares are worse than usual so that just adds to The Stress™

Barbie is a girl’s girl, I want to believe she wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt me. But she’s also a little bit naive and she sees the best in people. If my abuser was sweet and kind to her, wouldn’t she fall for it easily?? Same with Ken, I don’t want to say he’s dumb, but I think he can be easily manipulated. Especially by a pretty girl who acts sweet 😭 Can’t everyone be easily manipulated if someone is nice enough to them for a long time? Driver, K, Julian, whoever,,, I fear they’d all be very trusting towards her, like I was. My abuser is pretty and nice and she wears raunchy clothes so she’s enticing too I guess?? I feel like everyone I love would see the best in my abuser and side with her on anything and everything and harm me if she wished it, or cut me off slowly over time and forget me altogether. It happened to me irl so I feel like me self shipping is pointless bc it could probably happen in fictional settings too. Like what is the point in me seeking protection and love from F/Os when she is a self shipper who happens to be very good at manipulating and. idk if she were able to reach my F/Os, would she turn them against me? [face plants on the floor]

I feel like that’s what happened with TF… because I associate those robot F/Os with everything she did to me, and since she self shipped with them and convinced me they’d be vile and horrid towards me… I think that’s why I’m getting anxious about Barbie/Ken/etc now. Like some part of my brain says “well she was able to manipulate these robots into 'leaving' you, so who’s to say that won’t happen with Barbie as well, huh???” and I don’t want to view it as TF characters leaving me/wanting to harm me on her behalf, but that’s how it’s felt ever since I lost them. Maybe that’s why this is bothering me so much more to the point where I’m asking for help on how to view this in another perspective :(

And I know it’s dumb. F/Os are not real, they’re literally called Fictional Others. I don’t know why his is bothering me now out of nowhere way worse than usual but like I said maybe it's the immense stress I've been under for the past few weeks. This is a worry I’ve had since day one of self shipping with Barbie, even when I was sitting in the movie theater on opening night before the movie even STARTED I was already thinking in my head "is there any point to adding Barbie/Ken to the F/O list if my abuser would just get them to Hate Me anyways??" and I think that's a part of the trauma. I spent over a year Not Trusting People for the longest time I would feel so goddamn unsafe around anyone who interacted with me, regardless if I'd known them for 10 days or 10 years. I genuinely felt like everyone in the world was out to hunt me down bc I spent so long with a very kind, loving, gentle (or so I thought) person that I trusted wholeheartedly, who would go out of her way to make me feel like I was. hunted or stalked or trapped. Completely isolated with nobody in my life except Her. so I thought that's just kind of how All Kindhearted People would act, like there's this underlying desire to harm me because that's what I'm built for. She'd tell me she loves me the most, that I'm so special, it made her want to hurt me because it made her feel like she could protect me, she said it was an "urge" (her words! holy shit! how did I not understand how Bad that was until it was too late!! bro what the FUCK)

Normally when I get these thoughts, I just tell myself that it’s ridiculous and I shouldn’t stress about it. but it has gotten so bad the last few weeks, I am getting more flashbacks than usual, I’m getting more migraines than usual, I’m nauseous almost all the time now, I haven’t slept in two days, I feel dizzy, and I’m so tired of crying over something so stupid. I might as well ask for reassurance bc it’s hurting way too bad now and I'm uh. haha. I'm so tired oh my god. I know when I finally get some days off I'll relax again but right now I'm really struggling

I’m sorry this got longer than I thought. I guess I'm just asking for reassurance that it wouldn't matter how sweet and nice and friendly my abuser is, that Barbie/Ken/Colt/etc wouldn't be tricked, they'd still want to protect me and love me and wouldn’t let her come near me at all. If anyone has the time to send a message thru the inbox or replies (I'm unable to check dms at the moment unfortunately) it would help a lot ;-; ok now I’m gonna try to sleep again. I’m queueing this to post sometime in the morning, I will try to come online during a slow part of my shift to read my inbox if I am able to, and if I don't have the time I know for sure I'll find some time on Thursday (5/16) ...and I'm sorry I didn’t proofread this, I apologize if this makes no sense whatsoever I am kind of a mess atm 😭😭

#vent #ptsd #<- for blacklist #this is queued but i will try to read replies later at work if i have time #im sorry im unable to check dms at all for idk how long. but i can check my inbox

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6sakusa · 3 years

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‘last’ sakusa kiyoomi.

a/n: so this was a request for and i quote ‘angst that will cause extreme pain.” i hope this lives up to it.

warnings: angst, death & mentione of it, self-blaming, relationship issues.

“you just don’t stop don’t you? is it that hard to be less irritating?” sakusa huffed. the two of you had been engaging in an argument over the pettiest matter once again, and at this point you weren’t even near surprised. it had kicked off with you asking your boyfriend if he had eaten out of concern and then him proceeding to label you as ‘clingy’.

recently things were just different, he wasn’t treating you the same anymore and he barely made time for you. most people would say this was a common occurrence once any relationship had come out of the honeymoon phase, the only problem was you and sakusa were long out of that fairytale whirlwind. but through it all, he still showed immense love towards you, considering you had been together for years you were honestly expecting a proposal soon. but that all changed recently, and to make matters worse you couldn’t for the life of you pinpoint why.

maybe, just maybe.. was there someone else?

“i just care about you that’s it, why are you so adamant on turning things into an argument?” you sighed recalling at the way he snapped at you. his reaction would have shocked anyone but at this point in time, as much as you hated to admit it, you were almost getting used to it now.

but that didn’t mean it hurt any less, no, definitely not. it was just as painful each and everytime you saw the blank expression on his face, the way he went out of his way to avoid you and the growing irritation on his features everytime he was made to face you.

“because you’re annoying.” he blurted out seemingly without thinking, in all truth sakusa definitely did not think you were annoying, actually, he quite loved when you made an effort with him. but lately, he just doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. he loved you with all his heart and he wants to propose to you more than anything but the concept scares him, the fact that the two of you being married would mean you’re practically stuck with him. and he doesn’t want that for you, you deserve better. you deserve someone who is comfortable parading you around to the world, someone who is okay with going out on dates in crowded places, someone who will give you affection whenever you need it, someone who is good with words.

sakusa is not that person.

it would break his heart to see that one day you were regretting your decision of saying yes to him because he couldn’t provide what you needed. so his last resort? push you away. not far enough so that the two of you are no longer together because he couldn’t bare the thought of no longer being able to call you his, but far enough for him to have time to get his shit together, so he could come to you better and improved.

“so you don’t want me to talk to you is that it? God what has gotten into you? do you not want to be together anymore?” your voice faltered towards the end as you broke eye-contact with your boyfriend, tears were threatening to spill any moment and your heart was breaking in your chest. you were a bad person, you were a bad person because you were practically forcing him to stay with you even though it was so clear that he didn’t love you anymore.

well, that’s what you thought.

he stayed quiet at your question.. no, he doesn’t want to break up, that would be catastrophic for the both of you and besides he couldn’t ever love anyone the way he loved you. but if he responded saying he wanted to stay together that would prompt you to spark a conversation about why he was acting the way he was, and if there was one thing sakusa hated it was vulnerability.

“i just need some time to think.” that was a good response, he thought. he wasn’t ending things but you wouldn’t push further after that and he knew that, it was .. perfect.

“i’ll give you some time then.” tears were already staining your new top, you were excited to show it to sakusa because it was one of your favourite purchases you had ever made, but instead you had decided not to, you were weary of bothering him.

of course your tears didn’t go unnoticed by him, he watched as you put your shoes on and grabbed your coat from the hanger. he made a mental note to beat the shit out of himself for making you cry the moment you had stepped foot out of the door, and that’s exactly what he did.

he turned to the counter slamming his hands against his head, he needed to get his shit together and he needed to now.

it had been years and you had never expressed any distaste in sakusa’s personality or his methods of affections, would you really start now? maybe this was all stupid, it wasn’t like he would be forcing you to marry him so if you ended up getting tired of him in the future there wasn’t much he could do about it.

if anything, he knew he would regret not getting to put a ring on your finger at all and never knowing what could have been.

so that’s it, that’s decided. he was going to marry you and he would get it together the second you walked back through the door, he would give you the most loving embrace he could possibly muster up, and he would spend the next few months apologising for his behaviour. he would sit and listen to you babble all about the new top you bought because he did notice how much you had adored it when you had brought it home a week ago. and tomorrow he would go out and buy you a few gifts, there was that necklace that you loved from the quaint jewellery store down the road. that’s where he would be heading to first. because sakusa kiyoomi would do anything for you.

meanwhile you were imagining every possibility that could occur the moment you stepped back in. he would break up with you, it was inevitable. he practically hated you, you were acting like such a burden, an irritating and annoying burden. but you wished more than anything that things could be different because you loved sakusa with your entire being, there was no way you would move on once he discarded you. you had imagined your entire future with him and no one else, there was no way that you could change things now.

you sighed pulling out a polaroid of you and sakusa, the cold air that hit your hands just made you feel that much more alone. but you ignored it as you ran your hands over the picture, it was the two of you during the first christmas you had spent together. he had spoiled you so much that day with gifts that you had cried numerous times and begged him to return atleast half of it because it was way too expensive and you felt bad. you were cheery eyed with a wide smile and a small tear adorned your cheek, one of joy as sakusa hung off your arm. his smile was small but it was there, he was just happy that you were happy, he had loved you so much and you couldn’t help but wonder where it had all gone wrong.

why didn’t he love you anymore?

sakusa bumped his leg up and down on the livingroom couch, he couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. it had been three hours which was far too long for you to be gone without a word, to make things even worse you had left your phone in your shared bedroom meaning he had no direct method of contacting you.

a buzz resounded in the room and your boyfriend had never moved so fast so pick up the phone in his life, admittedly he was getting severely worried. he didn’t want you walking out of his life, but thankfully by tomorrow he would wake up next to your beautiful smile and everything would go back to normal.

“hello? is this uhh — sakusa kiyoomi?” there was a feminine voice on the other side of the line who sounded cautious about the pronouncation of his name, additionally, her voice sounded unsteady, it was almost as if she was scared.

“yes.” he responded bluntly wondering who this wench thought she was to be wasting his time, she had even called on no caller id. he had half the mind to hang up on her now, if anything you could be calling him this very moment and it was sending you to voicemail because he was occupied with this girl.

“sorry to impose but you are listed as l/n y/n’s emergency contact, are you aware of this?” his back pricked up at the mention of your name, emergency contact? now he was beyond worried.

“yes i am.”

“i’m sorry to say but— l/n was hit by a vehicle moving at almost fifty miles per hour and — she didn’t make it.” in that moment sakusa had never felt more dread in his life, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. was she saying that you were.. dead? but you couldn’t be dead, no you couldn’t be because he never even got to apologise to you, and you never got to accept his apology. he never got to buy you that necklace, things never got to go back to normal, he wouldn’t be able to live out the rest of his days with you.

he never got to propose. so no, you couldn’t be dead.

then why was he crying? this is the first time sakusa remembers crying as an adult, if it wasn’t true why was it feeling like his soul was being sucked out of him? why did it feel like even though he was a well renowned volleyball player loved by millions he meant nothing anymore? why did it feel like life had no meaning?

he didn’t even realise the phone call was still going on until he heard the woman clear her throat on the other line. “she wanted to tell you.. she’s sorry and she loves— loved you.” she corrected her mistake almost immediately but this didn’t do anything but make him feel worse.

“the hospital will contact you with more details soon, sorry for your loss.” and with that, the line went dead.

sorry? she was saying sorry too? and you.. why were you apologising? in your last moments did you really spend that time asking the paramedics to tell him that you were sorry? you hadn’t done anything wrong, you had never done anything wrong, it was all him, he was the problem, he was a fool.

he threw his phone against the wall and watched as it clattered against the floor with tear-filled eyes. this was his fault, if it wasn’t for him you would never have gone out, maybe if it was just one second later, maybe if hadn’t acted this way, maybe if he had stopped you from leaving, maybe—

so that was it.. even if he thought he was doing everything he could to protect you he had hurt you anyway, in the worst way possible. and how could he forgive himself? he never would.. he never could. because that day he lost everything, because you were his everything, the most precious thing to enter his life, his pride and joy, his entire life.

you were too distracted by the picture of the two of you together, now it laid discarded on the side of the road with a streak of blood staining the bottom half. thankfully the picture was still recognisable, because you made sure it was in your last moments, kiyoomi would be mad if you got it dirty.

regret was an understatement.

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nat-20s · 3 years

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#10?

prompt 10- recognizing the other's voice in a crowded room

so uhh u didn't specify this being a pairing, and it ended up jonmartin lol

this is like? an au where one of the domains of the lonely (and also maybe stranger) plays off the specific loneliness that comes with parties. u kno the one, where you have fun for about an hour and then realize that you're fundamentally isolated and you need a breather?

anyway

~*~

Upon opening his eyes, he is not where he last remembers being. He is not sure how long his disorientation will last, but considering he's standing up right, at the edge of a crowded ballroom, he suspects it may be the entire time that he's here.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, the TV blaring away on a program he didn't know any of the details of. It hadn't mattered what was playing, as long as it had some of the natural rise and fall of other people speaking. He had been severely mising that lately, those gentle rhythms of conversation, and trying to listen to an audiobook while staring at his bedroom's popcorn ceiling just wasn't cutting it. So, TV dreaming it was.

Oh, that could be what was going on. An elaborate dream, constructed from the sound of a scenario he hadn't paid any attention to. He didn't think he'd fallen asleep watching anything to spark this kind of dreamscape, but that didn't mean much. It'd be oddly lucid, for a dream. And oddly sharp. His dreams, much like his memories, were always somewhat clouded over, and never as colorful as reality. Even his grayest waking days, of which there were many, had colors more distinct than what appeared in his mind's eye.

Simple test: he could never read or write in dreams. The words always swirled and distorted, and he somehow lost all manual dexterity. He needed a book, or a pencil, or both. He began to wander the ballroom, and abruptly realized that this was a masquerade, everyone wearing elaborate costumes with animal shaped masks. Did he fit in? Did he belong? He hoped he wasn't in what he fell asleep in, the worn hoodie and sweatpants barely worth making a grocery run in. The outside world wasn't supposed to see him looking comfortable, but presentable. He liked to think that if he left the apartment appearing at least somewhat put together, maybe people would believe that extended to other areas of his life. That it would be easier to ignore the increasingly dark circles under his eyes, that his nice sweater had been getting gradually looser as the tool of everything literally wore him down.

Small mercy, he wasn't like that now. A glance down showed that he was, like the rest of the guests? Captors? dressed to the nines. He has a suspicion that his own elaborate outfit, dark blues with gold and pearl embroidery, was a part of it. It was not a mercy to blend in here, it was a design element. Standing out would result in being noticed, being noticed meant being seen as an individual, and they can't have that.

It is with that line of thinking that he suddenly becomes aware of the weight of the mask on his face, the restriction of his sight through eyeholes. Looking into a teapot that's been polished to a mirrored shine, he see that he bears the incredibly crafted face of a field mouse. It would almost be plain, if it didn't have matching embroidery to his coat.

Fitting, he thought. It made him look smaller than he was, and he had so often wished to go unnoticed. A fly would've also worked, but he imagines it would be rather hard to make that into a suitably beautiful mask. Either way, he was level with the rest of the crowd. Even believing it to be part of the trick, even knowing that the masquerade was meant to make you false, there was some level of comfort to it. He was not going to be seen here. Instead someone more handsome, more charming, more even with his peers was allowed to take his place, as false as they were. Best of all, that's what all of them would be doing here, the whole appeal of a masquerade in leaving behind the person you loathe most and can never be free from.

Seems lonesome, for a party. So structured around the theater of it all. You can connect with countless people, and you don't get to actually connect with any of them at all.

Oh.

Oh, now this made all made sense. Crave interaction, and get a warped version of it.

He could see the napkins, emblazoned with a name that he didn't recognize, presumably the host, and, in much smaller font, the company name. Every one of them was consistent.

Easy enough to receive the message. This wasn't a dream. This was a punishment.

Hmm. Well, no, punishment might be the wrong term. Punishment implied that it was a consequence, a direct cause and effect of doing something wrong, by someone's definitions of "wrong". No this was. Torture is too strong of a word, and again, has the problem of making this seem willful. Deliberate. And maybe it was, but more likely, whatever this was had just sort of happened. A cruelty that comes with being in the universe they all happen to occupy.

This wasn't a dream. This was a consequence.

He doesn't know how to get out of here. He can't see any doors, and exits. The only approximation of one is some giant frosted glass that seem like they might lead to a balcony. They're only on the other end of the ballroom, but that lengths feels impenetrable, like it spans for miles and miles of harsh terrain.

There's a few options available to him.

One: Try to fall asleep, and see if he can get back to where he started. Lowest effort option, but he's pretty sure he hasn't been this fully awake in months. Maybe years. Something about the environment makes it feel as though electricity sparks throughout his entire body. It's an interesting sensation, certainly, akin to anxiety taken to an extreme degree, yet it's not particularly conducive to sleeping.

Two: Make a break for it. He doesn't know if there's anywhere to make a break for, but he also isn't sure how high up this place is. Maybe the balcony is a viable option for escape. Or maybe he'll find a door that had previously been hidden from him. Hell, maybe he won't fully escape, but he'll find somewhere quieter at the very least. Somewhere that he doesn't leave him so thoroughly dazed. This is probably the best option, even account for the wall of people surrounding him. But.

Option Three: Join the Dance.

Inadvisable. Foolish, really. The best outcome is..what? Is there a best outcome? Worst outcome is he's dancing forever, until his feet wear down to stubs of bone, until he dies, until he cant remember anything but the dance. Never a connection with any dancer, all of them, eventually, a blur of activity and nothing more.

Yet, it's what he's going to do. He's not the most curious person he knows, that honor goes to a man that he's been in love with for years, but can't grasp any of the details of while he's here. That can't be good. What was his name?

Anyway. He's not the most curious, but he's hardly immune to a detrimental sense of interest. He wants to know what the dance is like. He wants to see the intricate costumes of the others stuck here, and see if there's anything behind the masks. He knows it will, inevitably, leave him lonelier. He knows, inevitably, that he does not care. At least this version of loneliness is more interesting than sitting in his flat, wondering whether having thin enough walls to hear the echo of his neighbors' voices would make things better or worse. So, when someone approaches, adorned in a shrew mask, hand outstretched to pull him into the fervor, he accepts.

The dancer is competent. Neither of them steps on the others foot, and he lets himself be led. Even better, the dancer is willing to talk. A man named Tom, his voice cheerful even as he confirms that he doesn't know how he came here either. Tom shrugs when he asks if this bothers him, saying if you're going to end up somewhere mysteriously, gliding across a ballroom with a handsome stranger is hardly the worst place to be.

It takes a second for him to register the fact that Tom's flirting. It makes him laugh, and it feels wrong in his throat. The sound is unfamiliar, almost belonging to someone else, but it's brief enough not to hurt. He'll grieve all the time he's lost later, for now, he says, "How would you know if I'm handsome with this mask? Or are you just making a flattering guess?"

Tom opens his mouth to answer, a grin on his features that suggest something playful and wry is about to come out, but then the song ends. They both know, somehow, that the brief rapport they've gotten to enjoy has come to an end. They swap partners, and as much has he would like a second dance, when Tom gets swept into the throng, he knows he won't be seeing him again.

The next dancer is at a higher skill level at him, which results in nerves encroaching on what limited ability he has. Perhaps the peacock mask should've been a tip off. He doesn't speak to them, more focused on trying to keep up. He doesn't regret that they'll only have one dance, but he is slightly remiss that his own costume doesn't have feathers after watching the way they move.

The dancer after that catches him for a slow dance. Her name is Shelia, and he's never seen such a dazzling smile. He tells her as such, and she tells him that she would tell him the same, but she hasn't actually seen his own, yet. He makes an attempt, and she tells him, "Oh honey, you're waiting for someone here, aren't you?"

When he states his confusion, that nobody comes to mind, or at least, that nobody is going to come, she shakes her head. Apparently, she can always tell when her dance partners have somewhere else to be, and she doesn't resent it, but it does mean she's not going to give him her number for after the night ends. He's amazed she believes this night will end, but it's a sentiment that seems far too rude to voice out loud.

He also knows that he doesn't have somewhere else to be. If he did, he would've never joined in.

The music continues, and so does he. He tries to get names, tries to get connections. He flirts with Mark, and Nadia, and Jamie. Those people are his favorite during the dances, but losing the also feels the most acute. Robert is his least favorite, even more so than the peacock, for how incredibly small the fox makes him feel. Nothing is even said, it's just the entirety of body language screams that Robert doesn't think he belongs here, that he's not worthy of the clothes he's wearing or the hall he's haunting. Ironically, he's right. He doesn't belong here. These clothes, these people, are not his. Only Robert is quite so skilled at making that seem like a bad thing.

About ten dances in, long past the point he should be winded, he realizes two things. One, there's no pain in his feet, no heaviness to his breathing, confirming once again that no aspect of this environment is natural. Two, is that he's actually had a path. Sometime in the spins and leads and follows, he had been making his way towards the center of the floor. He denies the next partner, likely the worst of a faux paus in this environment, but he needs a moment to stop. Taking in the scene, he has yet to find the source of the music, but he has found the host of this party.

There's nothing to physically show that he's the host. His costume isn't particularly ostentatious, at least not compared to the rest of them. He's not surrounded by a horde of people clamoring for his attention. He doesn't glow or sparkle or have a spotlight on him. The only reveal of his status is the fact that the second he looks at the man in the owl mask, fear floods through him.

Now he needs to run. He needs to leave, he needs to get out, he can't let the man in the owl mask see him, let alone approach him. Pushing his way through the crowd is a bad idea, will bring too much attention to himself. However, he's not in a state to think about that sort of thing, panic gripping his actions. As he shoves his way past one person, he swears ten more people tke their place, and he, oh so close to despair, is unable to tell if there's any actual distance being put between him and the owl masked man.

As he's about to start biting, clawing, screaming his way out any way he can, he hears something that makes him stop.

"Let him go, or I will make you let him go."

The statement is cold, filled with vitrol and determination. It should only make him more afraid. But as he turns around, he sees someone he never expected to be here, someone who has come here anyway. In an all black outfit, the man's face is covered with that of a cat's, but he has not a single ounce of doubt as to who it is. And he's facing off against the owl man, the absolute fool. He's facing off against the owl man, and Martin knows that it's on his own account. What the hell? He can't...he doesn't know what's going to happen to him, what exactly the owl man is going to do, but he can't let Jon get hurt. Begging his voice to pierce through the pandemonium of people and noise, he calls out, "JON!"

Jon finds him in an instant, eyes locking. They only have a second before the crowd pushes in, before the owl man reaches out, wing-like cape ready to wrap Jon up and snatch him away. Jon simply calls out, "Balcony!" before he's once again out of sight. Martin wants to go towards him, wants to follow the instinct to try and protect the one he loves, but going forward is impossible.

The tempo and volume of the music has swollen, and he's surrounded by hands reaching out, trying to pull him in. One of those hands, much to his surprise, belongs to Tom. He stares, uncomprehendingly, and Tom shoves his hand out even further in an act of urgency. He has to participate to make progress.

He holds on tight, all the basic skill of their first dance lost. It doesn't matter, as long as Martin participates, he is rewarded. When the next song begins to play, Tom strengthens his grip, and they manage to prevent the switch. In a manner of minutes, or perhaps hours, they make their way to the edge of the crowd. Martin can see those beautiful frosted doors only about 10 meters away, mostly unobstructed, and releases Tom from their dance. "Thank you. I seriously didn't think..just, thank you."

Tom gives him a nod, his expression much more solemn than it had been during their initial meeting. "After our first dance, I remembered my kids. A daughter and son. If they're out there, wherever out there is, I need to get back to them. If you can get yourself out, maybe there's hope for the rest of us, yeah? I think you might be a tipping point."

Martin had no idea if that was true. Sounded a bit too..center of the story for him. The hero, the chosen one, he was never going to fufill those roles. But. But he doesn't know what a denial would serve, and if he can go through those doors, who knows? "Yeah...yeah, maybe. I'll certainly try."

Tom clasps one of Martin's hands between both of his own, and with a quick shake, tells him, "That's all I ask."

In a blink, Tom has once again been swallowed by the fray, and Martin strides to his goal. He catches glimpses of the owl man out of the corner of his eye. Despite the sight making his heart race, the owl man never makes it to him, almost as if the dancers had forcibly blocked his path. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can turn against someone in a matter of moments. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can decide to help someone in the same span of time.

As Martin stands in front of the exit to the balcony, he has to take a breath. This could be a trick. A trap. A cruelty. If it is, he'll deal with it. If not, well.

Well.

The doors are heavy, but he's still able to push them aside. The sight outside is incredible. The stars are dazzling, brilliant, and numerous, resembling themilky way that Martin has only ever seen in pictures.

It's wrong. It's obviously wrong. Martin's never been anywhere remote enough to escape the effects of light pollution, and he's pretty sure a brightly lit manor isn't the exception to that rule. Yet, that's not what's bothering him about it. He can't quite articulate why, but the sky in general should be..different. Worse, maybe. Greener?

Jon is staring up into the night sky with a fascination that confirms Martin's suspicion. After he takes a step towards him, Jon turns towards him, and a smile appears that knocks the breath right out of Martin. When has Jon ever smiled at him like that? It doesn't make sense, feels like another trick of the party, but Martin decides he doesn't care, he'll enjoy it while it lasts. "I have to say, this is definitely one of the nicer looking domains we've wandered through. Always a plus when we end up somewhere without any bloodstains."

That's not... "Huh?"

With an aftertaste of a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, Jon tells him, "Just that, for as much as I despise the loneliness, it does at least have cleanliness going for it."

He knows of the fears, at least, but the way that Jon is talking about them doesn't make sense. He's going to ask about it, try to get some clarification, but then Jon takes off his mask. There's more grey at the temples than he remembers, more eyes than the average person, and he's stunningly beautiful. Martin's always found Jon rather good looking, even when he didn't particularly like Jon himself (god, what a fool he was. Maybe what a fool they both were). Combined with the softness in the line of his mouth, the adoration in his eyes, it leaves Martin breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Feet moving of their own accord, he drifts closer to Jon. Once he's standing in front of him, Jon reaches up, then pauses, as if asking for permission. Half in a daze, Martin nods, then leans down. Ever so gently, Jon lifts Martin's mask off. The pinpoints of contact between his face and Jon's fingers almost burn, and he realizes that despite the electrified sensation under his skin, he's been cold this entire time. Mask fully off, Jon beams at him, and lets out a quiet, "There you are."

It's too much. It's the tipping point for him to go from enamoured back to properly baffled. "Jon, I don't..what are you doing here?"

Jon smile drops, and Martin almost wants to take it back. Almost, because he needs answers, because if this is a dream, if this is a nightmare, it's more wicked than he could've ever expected. Being stuck forever in a dance with only partners whose greatest talents were being alone in a crowd is one thing, but having a..a false Jon, one that regarded him with...that acted like...that felt anything close to the same as Martin was so..exacting. When it got taken away, when the illusion shattered, it would hurt. It's already hurting, anticipation of the wound causing a phantom pain. Jon's brows are furrowed, and at least that is familiar, expected. "I..thought you would want to leave. I came to get you out."

"I do," did he?, "but that still..that's not the why? Why would you come for me?"

"Because I love you? I know I'm not much for the swashbuckling hero role, bit I figured that would make me rather uniquely qualified."

Martin sucks in a breath through his nose and his eyes go wide. Ability to read be damned, this is a dream, and mean one at that. He's going to wake up, and he's going to remember, and he's going to be as alone as he's always been. "Since when? You're not..I think we've just started being friends, and it's not even, fuck, we're not even that close! And even if..if things were in development, which they aren't, you're supposed to be in America right now. Or, no, wait you're in a coma, or maybe..no, that's not-"

Martin's spiralling is abruptly cut off by Jon taking his hands. Looking at his face, he finds Jon staring back, his eyes, his two eyes, are searching him, and Martin realizes he might not be the only one that's lost right now. "Martin...what's the last thing you remember?"

A mostly empty flat, the delightful mix of insomnia and exhaustion, and the TV with the volume turned down low enough to not bother anyone but himself. The context around that scene is a bit fuzzier. "I..was at my place. It was..I dunno, it was boring."

"Anything else. Do you remember Jane Prentiss?"

"Of course I remember Jane Prentiss. Not likely to ever forget the worst two weeks of my life."

"What about Scotland?"

Scotland? "I'm mean, I've never been, but I, uh, am aware of the concept."

Except that wasn't quite true, was it? He had been to Scotland, and Jon had been there, but when? Why? What had they..

Jon's frown deepens. "Martin, do you trust me?"

He did. Despite everything, or maybe because of an everything he couldn't quite access, he really, really did. His response of "Yes" is more of a breath than a word, but Jon understands nonetheless. Jon reaches up, places his hands on the sides of Martin's face, and tells him, "Close your eyes."

Martin does as told, and Jon brings their foreheads together, an approximation of a kiss. There's a buzzing at the base of his skull, not painful, but not particularly pleasant, either. As Jon leans back and he opens his eyes, the sky is wrong, but it is the wrong that he has become increasingly accustomed to.

He remembers.

Jon hasn't fully released him yet, asking still ever so gently, "Back with me?"

Martin nods, and Jon drops his hands. Immediately, Martin grabs one of them with his own, because while it may be the apocalypse, at least he can do that as freely as he likes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, " he looks down, and sighs, "Eugh. Do miss the clean clothes though."

Jon gives a hint of a smile, and as he begins to move forward. "Now you understand my point about the lonely having a tidiness to it."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll take grime over memory loss any day."

"Next domain is a corruption one, so we'll see how much that holds true."

"Of course it is."

They walk in silence for a few moments until Martin gives Jon's hand a quick squeeze. "Hey Jon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for getting me out."

Jon replies, "Of course," as an easy statement of fact, and Martin believes it. He has to add, "And I love you too."

The responding smile he gets from Jon makes him think he might be one of the few people in existence to feel lucky after the end of the world.

#replies #fluff prompts #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jon sims #anon

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imasimpforshanks · 3 years

Note

omg I am so sorry I completely forgot to put the alphabet 😅 E C J M T for Shanks for the angst alphabet! thank you and sorry for the mistake! ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Shanks

a/n: hiii! Thank y’all for requesting! To the second anon, I went with Shanks (I hope that’s ok!!!) 💗💗💗

LOLOL THIS MY HUSBANDDDDD 💍😍

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

It would depend on how much he felt he could have prevented it. However, Shanks understands all to well just how cruel the world can be. He can’t constantly be in control of everything, so although it would be devastating, he would have to realize that this is reality.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Shanks would use the excuse that he is a Yonko. He’s no good for you, and you deserve so much better than an infamous pirate who only brings danger. While these are just excuses - ways to make breaking up with you easier - he really would be speaking from the heart. Shanks has always felt this way but never voiced it, but now it’s finally time to let you go.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

He leaves for long periods of time and refuses to you along. You know he’s only doing it for your safety, but it hurts that he doesn’t think you’re strong or responsible enough to join his crew on their voyages (note: he doesn’t actually think you’re not strong or responsible – his pirate life is just extremely dangerous, even as a yonko).

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

He’s seen and experienced a lot of death in his life so he’d be a able to cope with it a little better than others would. Even so, your death would still be heart-breaking (he would mourn privately though). Now, if he literally saw you get killed in front of him then RIP to the person who killed you because they will be the one/s to die next.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

Shanks is quite an open book. If he’s angry everyone knows. If he’s happy everyone knows (etc.). But, if I really had to pick one… I suppose it would be sadness or grief. He feels obligated to put on a front for his crew (although they can see right through it). He tends to let out his sadness and grief when he’s alone.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

He tends to crack jokes before your fights can escalate into anything too serious. Sometimes it’s intentional, but other times it’s just his personality shining through. And rather than serious fights there’s just a lot of teasing and taunts between the two of you.

If you were to have a serious fight, it would be about both of your safety (As would most fights with any of the One Piece characters).

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

More often than not, Shanks finds himself able let go of a LOT of shit. But the one thing he can’t seem to stop feeling guilty about is his failure to show up to Marineford on time. He knows he’s not directly responsible for Ace’s death, but that doesn’t stop the overwhelming guilt. If only he had gotten there a few minutes earlier.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

Coming back to you after each voyage is something he always looks forward to. However, that happiness is short-lived when he realizes he has to leave again in a few weeks. It’s always so painful having to say goodbye again.

I don’t think he would be too different during a break-up. Perhaps he may crack a few less jokes, but other than that, his personality and demeanour when around others remains the same. It isn’t until he’s alone that he lets his smile fall.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Undoubtedly, he’d be concerned, but he knows you’ll pull through (you have to pull through). So, after that initial concern has passed, he’ll be feeling all types of pissed off. Whoever, or whatever, injured you will pay – and honestly, he may not even deal the perpetrator himself (his crew is already on it - you are like family to them).

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

I honestly think Shanks is just the type of person to just tell you if he’s jealous. But he wouldn’t say “uhh I’m feeling a little jealous” or anything along those lines – no. Instead, Shanks puts on a little pout and does a massive fake sigh until you finally ask him what’s wrong. That’s when he hits you with the “I guess my attention just isn’t enough for you”, and you’re like “HUH?? MF WHAT?” He’s literally such a child HAHA.

But, if there’s one particular person he really does not like you being around and they won’t leave you alone, then he is not at all opposed to just shoving his tongue down your throat right in front of them. That’ll definitely get the message across.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Shanks may be a goofy and laid-back individual, but he will resort to violence if the situation calls for it. So, it is very likely that Shanks would kill for revenge. Maybe he wouldn’t necessarily do it himself. But, if he orders it, it’ll definitely happen.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Gol D. Roger’s death was probably one of the greatest losses in Shanks’ life. Roger is the reason Shanks is a pirate today, and young shanks was absolutely broken by his death.

(hard to write much for this one seeing as shanks’ character is still quite a mystery to us!)

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One time he completely forgot a date night that you spent SO LONG planning. It wasn’t just any date night either. It was a date you planned on his final night before him and his crew had to leave again for a while. You spent hours waiting for to show up, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he showed up at your place, breath reeking of booze. You just looked at him and it hit him (he was like “OH SHIT”). He started apologizing profusely. He didn’t try to make any excuses, he completely owned up to being a shitty boyfriend. But, the moment he knew he had well and truly fucked up was when you just nodded and waved good night to him, wishing him safe travels – you didn’t cry, get visibly angry you just left alone. Shanks knew that was far worse than any yelling.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

I literally am not joking when I say this but I think Shanks practically drinks till he passes out so even if he were to get nightmares he wouldn’t wake up LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO (ok maybe I am joking with this one but also kind of not).

In all seriousness though, I don’t think Shanks has nightmares very frequently. It’s gotten to the point where any fear or things of that matter that could be nightmares for him, have become so common in his life that he almost finds it not frightening to think about.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

He would get mad at you for placing yourself in unnecessary danger. He’d call you stupid and irresponsible, even though he doesn’t really mean any of those things – it’s just the image of him potentially losing you forever is replaying in his mind and it absolutely terrifies him.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

You saw him get serious serious once before. Like the kind of serious where he uses his conquerors haki and everything. It definitely caused a bit of a change in your relationship as it was terrifying to witness. You’ve always known Shanks was strong and intimidating when needed, but that moment really showed you what it meant when people called him an “emperor of the sea”.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

Not wanting to openly express his sadness and grief in front of others can be a very unhealthy quality. Shanks doesn’t allow himself good enough opportunities to express him emotions in a safe and healthy manner.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

(First of all WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO REJECT SHANKS ANYWAY LIKE HUBBA HUBBA I LOVE HIM ANYWHOOOOOOOOO…..) Shanks is the type to just shrug it off. He’d be a little disappointed, bc c’mon the hottest most amazing person he’s ever known just turned him down! But he knows not everything in life goes how you want it to. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and this just happens to be one of the things he’s lost. So ultimately, he’ll just shrug it off. (he will definitely get teased by his crew though).

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Shanks has no self-inflicted wounds. But he does have a scar across his left eye given to him by Blackbeard. He also has a missing arm which he (heroically) sacrificed as he saved lil Luffys life (does a missing arm even count as a scar?)

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

He’s never given you any reason to not trust him. He’s always open and honest with you. Well, as honest as he can be without placing you in any danger. Trust was something needed from the get-go of your relationship because he would be gone for long periods of time. The two of you wouldn’t be able to last without trust.

Oh, also if shanks ever did do anything to break your trust you best believe his crew will beat his ass (especially Benn). You’re family to them.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

My god does he want to see you. He would give his other arm just to be right by your side in an instant. He’s gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Shanks loves his crew, they’re a lively bunch and he trusts them with his life, and vice versa. But they’re not you. They don’t provide him with that same feeling of home that you do. Sure, this could be fixed if he let you join the crew on their journeys, but he absolutely cannot place you in that kind of danger. You’re already in enough danger as it is simply being in a relationship with him.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

Rather than lashing out at you, Shanks tends to give you the silent treatment. He looks at you without a word and just turns away. He does this in an attempt to make you feel guilty and as if everything is your fault.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

There isn’t much that makes Shanks feel weak. But, being unable to be near his s/o is one of the few things that does make him feel weak. It’s a constant struggle between wanting to have them around him constantly, but also not wanting to place them in any danger. Ultimately, he decides that not placing them in danger is the better choice, despite how much it pains him.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Shanks can handle being picked on and ridiculed himself, but he will not tolerate that sort of behaviour towards his friends. The second someone goes after a friend (or someone else he cares about) they are done for.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

LMFAOOOOOO WHY DID MY BRAIN AUTOMATICALLY THINK “his arm back” OOP-

I’M SORRY BUT I LITERALLY CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN HIS ARM HAHAHAHAHAH

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He’d try to crack a few jokes to at least help you feel better. Other than that, he just tries to make the most of your final moments together.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #angst alphabet #one piece alphabet

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danny-chase · 3 years

Text

Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

“Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

“I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

“The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

“He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

“Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

“Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

“Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

“-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

“His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

“Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

“Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

“I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

“I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.

Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

“Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

“Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

“Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

“Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

“Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

“But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

“Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

“Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

“This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

“If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

“Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

“Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

“Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

“Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

“Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

“Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

“What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

“You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

“No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

“Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

“Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

“Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

“How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

“I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #titans #dc comics #batfamily #batman #batman and robin #dick grayson #tim drake #my writing #roy harper #lian harper #damian wayne #red robin #canon divergence #tw hospitals #tw anxiety #tw gsw #wrote this one just for me lol self indulgent

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH23

There’s a lot happening in this chapter XD Poor Eliott. I have a surprise for everyone next chapter. I hope you’re all ready for it! See you next Friday!

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 23: Break Free

“Help!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Marinette clutched her purse. “Is there an akuma?”

“Worse,” Eliott moaned. “Lisette asked me on a date, and I kind of accidentally said yes.”

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief and rolled her eyes. “Eliott, that’s not an emergency.”

“Yeah, don’t scare me like that!” Macy swatted his arm.

“Sorry.” Eliott winced.

“So, why is having a date with Lisette a bad thing? I thought you liked her,” Martin said.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to go out with her!” Eliott replied.

“I’m confused.” Martin turned to Macy, who sighed.

“Eliott is the most flirtatious person in school, but he malfunctions when people flirt back.” She explained.

Eliott collapsed onto the couch with a groan, burying his face in his hands. “What am I gonna do?”

“You can always back out if you don’t want to go.” Marinette suggested while preparing the tea.

“That’s just it. I do want to go.” Eliott sighed. “I like Lisette—more than I thought I would. She’s smart and funny and down-to-earth. I’ve just never been on a date before.”

Marinette carried a tray over and set it on the coffee table, plopping down beside him. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lisette is nice.”

“What are you two going to do?” Martin asked.

“We’re going to a movie.”

“Eli, that’s the easiest date ever. You just sit in silence for two hours,” Macy said pointedly.

“But what if I spill my drink in my lap? Or in her lap? Or what if I trip over my shoelaces or start sweating really badly-” Eliott was spiraling faster than Marinette usually did with Adrien.

“Eliott, none of those things are going to happen. Just relax, and you’ll be fine.” When Eliott remained quiet, Marinette placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re scared, but I talked to Lisette at her party a few weeks ago. She’s really sweet, and I can tell she really likes you.”

“I guess…” Eliott sighed.

“You’re the smoothest guy I know. Girls at school actually swoon when you walk by.” Macy took a seat on his other side. “Marinette is right. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m just so nervous. I really like Lisette, and I don’t want to screw anything up.” He lowered his gaze to his lap, and Macy pursed her lips.

“Tell you what, why don’t we turn it into a group date? I’ll take Martin, and Marinette can ask Adrien. That way we’ll all be there for you if you start to get nervous.” Macy suggested.

“Marinette can ask who?” Heat spread rapidly across her cheeks. Things with Adrien were certainly escalating, but Marinette wasn’t sure she was confident enough to make the first move!

“Oh, don’t you start!” Macy giggled. “Looks like Martin and I are going to be supporting both of you nervous Nancys.”

Martin’s cheeks darkened three shades, but he didn’t protest. Eliott wasn’t the only one panicking now. How did this happen?

“I don’t want to drag you guys into this if you don’t want to,” Eliott said.

Marinette eyed him with pursed lips. It wasn’t that long ago that her old friends were helping her plot scheme-after-scheme to win Adrien over. When she’d been afraid, they had her back. Even if they were gone now, Marinette could still extend the same support to her new friends. Besides, Adrien might finally be able to kiss her—that would be a dream!

Taking a deep breath, Marinette offered Eliott a smile.

“We’re your friends. We’ve got your back,” she said.

“Thanks, Marinette. Sorry I crashed your celebration.” Eliott flicked his gaze down to the macarons on the tray.

Marinette pulled him in for a tight hug, and Macy and Martin joined in. Eliott relaxed in their arms. The past few months had been a rollercoaster for better and worse. Marinette had lost friends, gained friends, been presented with opportunities she only ever dreamed of. With Adrien closer to her than ever, she was finally starting to feel at ease, and although Lila’s threats still loomed over her, they were drifting further away. Marinette was burying her past more than ever, and soon enough, she was going to break free.

♪♫♪ New Romantics ♪♫♪

“Evening, m’lady. How is the prettiest girl in the world?” Adrien grinned when she answered his video call.

Marinette leaned back in her desk chair, her knitting abandoned in her lap much like Adrien’s Chinese notecards were in his. It had been a few days since Eliott’s meltdown, and she still hadn’t asked Adrien to be her date. Time was running out, but how could she ask the cutest boy in the world on a date when he said things that made her so flustered? Adrien had gotten bolder with his compliments, even slipping in the occasional pet name, and it made her brain all floaty. Although, this one was her least favorite...

“She’s fine, but are you really going to call me that?”

“What’s wrong with m’lady? You don’t like it?” His perfect eyebrows knitted together.

“It’s…okay. I just think other names are cuter,” she said.

What was it with blond boys calling her m’lady? She finally got Chat Noir to stop calling her that, she didn’t need Adrien to start now.

“Well, what would you prefer I call you?” he asked, those green eyes hooding in a way that made her heart skip. Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

“You can call me whatever you want. Just not m’lady.” She crossed her arms over her chest, cheeks burning.

“Hmm.” Adrien studied her. “Well, I could call you my incredibly beautiful, angelic, and talented goddess, but that’s a little long.”

“Only a little.” She giggled.

He tapped his chin. “How about my radiant queen? My sweet macaron? Mon ange?”

Marinette’s head was spinning. She had hoped to get over her nerves when she and Adrien started dating, but as it turned out, she wasn’t prepared for all the attention at all.

Adrien chuckled when she covered her rosy cheeks with her hands, leaning against his fist with a soft smile.

“I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even taken you on a proper date yet. I need to earn the right to call you those things,” he said.

Now was her chance.

“Um, actually, I wanted to ask you…” She pressed her palms together between her knees to hide how the shook. “See, Eliott has a date this Saturday, and he’s super nervous, so we all promised to make it a group date to support him. I was hoping if you were free that…you could be my date?”

“Okay.”

“I mean, it’s mostly just to support Eliott, so it’s not an actual date-date. Eliott just didn’t want to go alone, and we’re his friends, so we just want to make sure he feels comfortable. N-Not that I wouldn’t go out on a real date with you! I’d love to, if you wanted, and I guess this could count as a real date, but if you wanted to go on a date with just the two of us, that would be fine too. We could always pick a different day, and-”

“I’d love to be your date this weekend,” Adrien said.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh. Well, then awesome!”

“I’ll beg Nathalie to rearrange my schedule, so I can free up some time.” He promised.

“Kay.” Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a smile. “I hope you can come. I mean, Eliott really needs us, but also I want to… I’d be really happy if we got to spend time together.”

“Me too.”

“Adrien, I-” Her chest tightened, declarations shooting from her lungs to her lips, but Marinette caught them on her tongue. Out of all of her confession attempts, this time she was sure he’d reciprocate, but it didn’t feel right to say it now. A more cowardly Marinette would have confessed over video call, but she was done hiding behind cards and voice messages. These feelings were her most prized possession, and when she finally shared them with Adrien, she wanted to do it in person.

“Um,” she said. “I guess, I’ll see you Saturday?”

“I’ll do everything I can to be there.” He bit his lip. “See you soon, mon ange.”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

♪♫♪ Into You ♪♫♪

“How do I look?” Eliott asked.

“The same way you did five minutes ago,” Macy said pointedly.

Eliott paced the length of the sidewalk outside the movie theater where Marinette sat with Macy and Martin, tugging at his collar.

“Do I have anything in my tee-”

“Nope.” Macy cut him off.

“Eliott, you look great. No one’s as smooth as you, so just relax.” Marinette meant to be reassuring, but it didn’t pause his pacing.

Marinette leaned back, letting the sun warm her cheeks. Puffy, white clouds feathered the clear blue sky—the perfect weather for a date. She checked her phone again and bit her lip.

Nathalie cleared my afternoon today, so I’ll see you soon, mon ange!

Adrien would be arriving soon too. Their first date! It was finally happening. How many nights had she lied awake dreaming of this day? They’d gotten closer in the last month since she left. It was odd, but maybe it was true when they said absence made the heart grow fonder. Adrien certainly seemed interested in her now, calling her cute nicknames and complimenting her more frequently. She was starting to get used to it, or at least, she didn’t foam at the mouth whenever he flirted now. It was progress, considering she could barely talk to him a few months ago.

“Town car at 3 o’clock. Deep breaths, Eliott,” Macy said. She stood up and brushed the dust from her shorts. “You’re going to be fine. We’re all here for you.”

Marinette and Martin joined them as Lisette’s chauffeur opened her door, and two adorable blonde buns crawled out in a pink dress. Eliott stiffened, and Macy elbowed him. When he didn’t move, Macy rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

“Hey, Lisette. I love your dress,” she said.

“Thanks!” Lisette fluffed her skirt.

“Don’t you think she looks cute, Eliott?” Macy urged.

“Uhh, yeah, it’s fine.” Eliott rubbed the back of his neck.

Two hands pinched Marinette’s sides, and she startled, nearly dropping her phone into the gutter. Skilled hands caught her phone and spun her around without missing a beat, mischievous green eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Boo!”

“Adrien!” She flailed against his chest, and he shifted his weight to steady her. How was he always so graceful? “You scared me!”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He chuckled, leaning his forehead against hers. “Forgive me?”

“This time,” Marinette said.

Adrien placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “It’s good to see you.”

Before Marinette could get too worked up, Macy cleared her throat.

“Okay, looks like everyone is here. Shall we head inside?” She gestured to the theater.

Adrien’s hand brushed hers as they walked, timid and inquisitive. Marinette’s cheeks warmed, and she mustered the courage to slip her hand in his. Adrien twined their fingers, giving her palm an affectionate squeeze.

Another set of hands gripped their shoulders, and Eliott burst between them, shoving them apart.

“So, I was thinking for seating arrangements that we could do guys on one side and girls on the other,” he said.

“Or-” Macy interjected, leaning against the concessions counter- “you could sit by Lisette, and Marinette and I can sit by Adrien and Martin.”

“Another idea: Why don’t I sit between you and Marinette, then Lisette can sit on Marinette’s other side, and Martin and Adrien can sit together?” Eliott countered.

“Actually, I agree with Macy. I want to sit by Marinette.” Adrien took her hand again.

“Tell you what, why don’t Adrien and Marinette sit on the end, then Martin and I can sit next to you and Lisette in the middle.” Macy proposed.

“I think that sounds fair,” Lisette said, flashing Eliott a shy smile.

“Uhh, yeah. That could work, I guess…” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Great!” Macy beamed.

After purchasing their concessions, they made their way to their theater. Adrien held the door open for Marinette with a gentlemanly bow, and she bit back a smile. The theater was sparsely populated, giving them no shortage of seats near each other. Macy led the way to a row in the middle and ensured that everyone abided by the seating arrangements.

Eliott hesitated by his seat, shifting his weight. “Uh, I’m going to run to the bathroom, so I don’t have to get up during the movie.”

“Okay.” Lisette smiled up at him.

“Hurry back.” Macy gave him a stern look as he scurried back up the aisle.

Adrien gathered a few popcorn kernels and tried to catch them in his mouth. Marinette giggled after each failed attempt which only egged him on. When he finally caught one, he bowed theatrically, and she offered him a soft clap. He cast her a playful smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ya know, that was pretty impressive. I’d say I deserve a reward,” he said.

“What kind of reward?” Marinette asked, heart skipping a beat.

“Well, I have one in mind, but a gentleman always asks first.” He leaned in, eyelids hooding. “Will you reward me, mon ange?”

Marinette cupped his jaw in one hand, savoring how it made his breath hitch. Did she make his heart skip too? She’d never considered what physical reactions Adrien had to her. What thoughts kept him up at night?

Tilting her head, she closed her eyes, but before their lips touched, clumsy hands scrambled at their legs. They separated, cheeks hot as Eliott crawled over them to his seat.

“Sorry!” he whispered as the lights dimmed.

Adrien wasn’t deterred by the interruption. As the previews began, he draped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, and she leaned against his chest. It felt as perfect as she’d always dreamed, but Marinette’s bliss was short-lived when Eliott tripped over Macy into her lap.

“Hey! Sorry, uh, do you guys have any napkins?” he asked.

“No, we didn’t grab any.” Marinette shook her head.

“Okay, I’m just gonna run out and get some.” Eliott climbed over Adrien.

Marinette and Macy exchanged concerned looks. It wasn’t the only time Eliott got up during the movie. First it was napkins, then he wanted the same kind of chocolate Marinette bought. Next, he needed a drink refill, then he needed to go to the bathroom because he chugged all of his refill.

“Where are you going now?” Macy hissed, tugging his shirt the next time he got up.

“Another refill.” He waved his empty cup.

Macy facepalmed.

“Fine. I’ll go.” She snatched the cup away from him and pointed to his seat. “Go. Sit.”

Eliott slumped back to his seat with a pout, and Macy slid up the aisle, grumbling to herself.

“Poor Eliott. He’s so nervous, he can’t even stay in his seat,” Marinette whispered.

“I don’t think he’s sat for longer than five minutes the whole time.” Adrien added.

To prove his point, Eliott moved back up the aisle. Since Macy was gone refilling his drink, Marinette was in charge.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Bathroom.”

“You just went twenty minutes ago,” Marinette said pointedly.

“I drank a lot of soda!” He shot back.

“The movie’s almost over. Can’t you wait?” She glanced at Lisette who was eyeing their exchange with furrowed brows.

“I pee a lot when I’m nervous! Marinette, please don’t make me pee my pants on a date.” Eliott pressed his palms together.

Another patron shushed them, and at Marinette’s permissive sigh, Eliott sprinted from the theater. Lisette sank in her seat, leaning against her fist. Marinette flicked her gaze between Lisette, Adrien, and the exit. She turned to Adrien, an apology on her lips, but he flashed her an understanding smile.

“Go.” He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Why did he have to be so perfect?

She rose from her seat and chased after Eliott, her knuckles still tingling. As much as it pained her to leave Adrien, Eliott needed her more. He was curled into a ball outside the theater door when Marinette found him.

“Hey.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He peeked up at her with tortured eyes.

“No. I’m totally freaked! I can’t sit still for longer than ten seconds without feeling like I’m gonna throw up. I haven’t been this nervous since my first audition.” He lowered his head with a sigh. “Maybe I’m not cut out for dating.”

“Don’t say that.” Marinette chided. When he buried his face in his knees, she sat beside him. “If it makes you feel any better, I used to be the same way with Adrien. I could barely get two words out around him. My legs would get so jittery and gelatin-like that I could barely walk. I thought for sure he’d think I was insane, but ya know what? He never minded.”

She leaned her head back with a smile. “And now today, he and I almost kissed, and I was totally fine. Which, by the way, you so owe me for interrupting.”

“Sorry.” Eliott sighed. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned his head back to mirror Marinette’s position. “I feel like I ruined everything today.”

“There’s still time to save it,” Marinette said, “and you can always try again. I can’t tell you how many times I screwed up with Adrien. If Lisette really is the right person for you, then things will work out. The right people stay by your side, no matter how crazy you look.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He tapped his feet together. “I just really like Lisette, and it freaks me out. I’ve never really felt like this before. It’s all…new.”

“Maybe you should tell her that. I’m sure she’ll understand.” Marinette prompted.

Eliott offered her a smile, standing up and helping her to her feet. He pulled her in for a tight hug, leaning his head against hers. “Thanks, Marinette. I’ll reserve a romantic do-over date for you and Adrien.”

“I just want you to be happy, Eliott. We all do. That’s why we came along today,” Marinette said. “We’re always here for you.”

“I know. I’m really lucky to have friends like you and Macy.” Eliott pulled back with a sigh. “She’s going to kill me later.”

“Or she could do it right now.” Macy pressed the cold cup to his cheek, and Eliott flinched away with a yelp. “I see you got up again.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I think I’m good now. Marinette calmed me down.”

“Good. Let’s go back in and-” Macy’s voice trailed off as people started exiting their theater. “Don’t tell me-”

When Adrien, Martin, and Lisette walked out, Eliott slumped.

“Movie’s over,” Adrien said with a wince.

“That’s okay! Why don’t we all go get ice cream! I looked up Andre’s location while I was standing in line for drinks. He’s not that far from here.” Macy held up her phone.

“I could go for some ice cream.” Adrien glanced at Marinette with a smile.

“Yeah, ice cream sounds great.” Eliott echoed, casting Lisette a shy smile.

When they made it outside, Marinette slipped her hand into Adrien’s, twining their fingers together once more. Eliott was ahead of them chatting with Macy and Martin, so there was no risk of being interrupted. But… If Macy and Martin were with Eliott, where was Lisette?

Marinette stopped in her tracks, dropping Adrien’s hand as she spun around. Lisette hadn’t moved from the curb outside the theater. She picked at loose threads on her skirt, head low. Marinette abandoned Adrien for the second time, and Lisette looked up with a frown as she approached.

“You were wrong,” Lisette said.

“What?”

“About Eliott. I don’t think he likes me at all.” Lisette clarified.

“No! Eliott is just nervous.” Marinette insisted.

“I was nervous too! I kept telling myself that he said yes for a reason, but he’s barely even looked at me all day. I just can’t, Marinette.” Her big brown eyes bubbled with tears as a silver car rolled to a stop in front of them. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait! Don’t go!” Marinette pleaded. Her head snapped up, eyes widening in horror. “Lisette, look out!”

#mdcspr #my writing

42 notes · View notes

troublesomeshika · 3 years

Text

Come back

shikamaru nara x gn!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: swearing, description of a panic attack, angst

part 1, part 2

You were fighting. Again. It had been getting steadily worse. Both of you were stressed, overworked, and you hadn’t had time to relax together or at all in months. And now you had both snapped at the same time.

“Shikamaru, seriously, what the fuck? I am so fucking tired right now that I cannot deal with this. Why don’t I just go to bed and we’ll deal with this tomorrow.” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“No Y/N! We’re gonna deal with this now because it’s important.”

“Yeah well right now, nothing is as important to me as my head hitting that pillow.” using your last bit of energy you yelled back at him, “I couldn’t care less what you do! Do whatever the hell you want! It’s not like you’ll do differently with my input!”

“God Y/N why are you like this, can you give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave?” His voice was like ice, cold and sharp, piercing the tension that had been building for weeks. You were stunned. You’d never expected those words to leave his mouth. Sure you were both mad, but this was just normal couple things. Everyone fought, it was just a rough patch for the two of you. But this? It stopped you in your tracks. The words in your throat calcified, making your tongue stone. You couldn’t reply. You didn’t know how to reply.

“Hey, hey, c’mere it’s okay. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” You just shook your head. You hated letting people see you like this. It was the one part of you that, up until now, you’d managed to keep hidden from everyone. Even your boyfriend. But you hadn’t been expecting him to pop over randomly, especially not when you were in this state. He’d come in after knocking a few times, you hadn’t heard him, body paralyzed while you were stuck screaming inside your head. You felt his arms wrap around you softly, just enough to let you know he was there. “Ti-ghter...” you managed to choke out, before feeling him squeeze you. Finally all your muscles gave out and your body collapsed into his. You were shaking against his chest, gasping for air that your body had deprived itself of. He was murmuring something against your hair, but you couldn’t understand what the words were. As your breath slowly started to return to normal you began to understand, he was singing, softly. You’d never heard Shikamaru sing before, didn’t know he knew any songs. You finally pulled away, pushing the traces of tears from your face with the heel of your palm. Smiling, you asked, “since when did you know how to sing, huh?” He smiled sheepishly, “Well my mom used to sing to me when I was younger and... well, I didn’t really know what else to do. Are you okay? What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You turned away, face burning in shame. “Uhh yeah, yeah I’m okay. Nobody hurt me. I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s uh, not normal for me.” You’d let your walls break down in front of someone and now you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die, even if that someone was the love of your life. He grabbed your hands, “Look, talking about feelings is a drag, but it’s gonna be even worse if you don’t talk about them so, might as well get it over with right?”

“I... yeah I guess,” you sighed. He waited patiently, eyes trained on yours, while you stared at the ground. “Uh, well. I was kinda thinking about the future, not our future specifically, but just, what I’m looking forward to in general. And then I started to think about our future, and if we have one, and then I started spiraling and I just,” you paused for a breath, “I really love you Shikamaru, and I know that I could survive on my own, but I only really feel like I’m living when I’m with you. At this point, I honestly don’t know what my life would look like without you and that’s terrifying.”

“What a drag. Y/N, finding someone I like as much as you and who can beat me at shogi every now and then would be a lot of work. Work that I don’t particularly want to do. Don’t worry, I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”

What a foolish promise. You’d known it was nothing more than words at that point, but you had been through so much together that you’d let yourself believe it could be the truth. And now here he was, standing in front of you, asking you to give him a reason not to leave. You slowly raised your gaze to meet his. Tears, from anger or hurt, burned in your eyes. “You..... promised.....” little more than a whisper, you only knew he’d heard it from how his face changed. Morphing from anger to sadness. You knew what was coming next. He was going to break your heart. But you wouldn’t let him. Without giving him a chance to speak, you walked past him to the door and opened it. He looked at you, pain in his eyes, asking a silent question. And then, without saying a word, he left. Walking out of your house and out of your life. Slamming the door, you fell to the ground, sobs racking your body. You had pushed away the only person in your life who’d ever gotten through all your walls. You’d let him in, shown him your pain and your secrets, gotten attached. And when you opened the door, silently challenging him and hoping against hope that he would stay, he’d walked out like it was nothing. And it was your fault. You’d forced his hand. It had been hours that you’d sat on the floor, there were no more tears in your body, every bit of moisture had escaped. Slowly, you unbent your legs and stood, leaning against the wall as your head pounded. You knew he wouldn’t be there, but you had to check. Opening the door, all you saw was rain. No one walked by, no figures waited silently to hold you, no voices called out to tell you they loved you. Nothing but the soft patter of water against dirt. You were alone again, and so you let yourself speak the one phrase you wanted him to hear.

“....come back.... please...”

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

hi! this is my first post here and I’m new to all this! feel free to interact or message me!!

- ☆

#shikamaru x reader #shikamaru x y/n #naruto imagines #imagine #anime #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru angst #shikamaru nara angst #shikamaru nara x (y/n)#shikamaru x (y/n)#shikamaru x you

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fandomscombine · 3 years

Text

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

#fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter x reader #feetofthetable500writingchallenge #fandomscombine writes #fred weasley fluff #george weasley fluff #harry potter imagine #weasley x reader #ron weasley #ginny weasley

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Our Love Is God pt. 2

Dabi x Reader

Warnings: mentions of noncon/somnophilia, abortion, dark themes, yandere characteristics, dabi just being a rat tbh

A/N: so like I said that I’d get back to this fic when I got bored or other, more important things were a drag to write and, well, I got bored/other,more important things were a drag to write. TW for talk of abortion. Dabi doesn’t take things lightly and thinks certain things that may make anybody who has had an abortion or has deep feelings about abortion either really guilty or really angry, but that’s not the point. The point of this fic is that he’s a bastard and not a savior. This is pretty short! And yes I plan on writing more, but that’s when I get bored or other, more important things are a drag to write!

Dabi found himself panting when he finally lifted himself up onto your balcony. It had been, what, almost two months since he’d last snuck into your room? Too long, but you hadn’t called him, and he had been busy to see what the hell was up with you. Now he had a couple days to himself, and he couldn’t shake the pestering feeling of wanting to spend them with you.

The door to your balcony was unlocked, thank god; he really didn’t want to have to burn the knob off—why make a reason for you to get pissed at him already? Dabi smirked. You were fucking cute when you were angry, but he wanted his return to be at least a little pleasant.

Unsurprisingly, you were passed out underneath that ugly-ass, pink canopy, snoozing away peacefully and unexpecting. Your bed was built for a princess, but with you sprawled out on your back with your arms splayed apart, your tank-top rising up to expose your soft belly, and your blanket tossed down so only one of your feet were covered, you looked nothing short of a cavewoman. Still hot though, and Dabi missed you.

That was it. Dabi missed you. He never really expected to miss anybody he fucked. He made plenty of girls mad in the past, so when you last kicked him out, it shouldn’t have been any different. He’d gotten used to a routine: sleep with some chick, piss her off, do crime, then forget about her. But since the night you’d kicked him out, he couldn’t get your bratty fucking face out of his damn mind. Was it that you were stubborn? Or was it that you came across as such a lil do-gooder, daddy’s favorite princess and all that bullshit, when you were really just a filthy slut on the inside?

“What is it about you that makes me crazy, baby?” Dabi asked aloud, tracing a finger up from the hemline of your pajama shorts to your bare ribs. He watched goosebumps appear on your tummy and flattened them out with the palm of his hand.

Your only response was a soft snore. Dabi scoffed.

The first time he fucked you, you had been asleep. Or at least, you were asleep when he began. He visited you a couple nights after he and Twice tried to loot your father’s safe. He’d thought you were a cute little shit, and just wanted to see your frightened face again. He climbed in through the balcony and found you asleep in your bed like you were now, only you were laying on your stomach. After sniffing around your room a little, he couldn’t help but crawl into your bed. He wanted to hear you scream, but you stayed asleep, even when Dabi’s hands inevitably started exploring your body.

Dabi couldn’t forget how deliciously wrong it felt to pet your pert little ass while you slept, how exciting it was to rub a knuckle over your clothed slit, how incredibly hot it was for you to cry out when he plunged two fingers into your sopping wet pussy. Yes, you cried, but you also moaned, and Dabi felt you clench around his fingers when he wrapped his free hand around your neck, pulled you back, and whispered to you, “I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna love it, babydoll.”

Dabi made good on that promise that night. You took him so well, and it really didn’t take him all that long to get you to sing for him. You liked being taken advantage of, and Dabi learned that the more aggressive he was with you, the easier it was to make you cum. And oh, baby girl, it was just too easy to make you cum.

He was hard now, and he wanted to fuck you, but he wouldn’t. Even though you snored, there was something peaceful about watching you sleep. Of course, that didn’t stop him from palming your breasts, if only just to see your nipples pop against your tank top.

“Why haven’t you texted, huh? Was I really all that bad to you?” Dabi’s voice was soft against your neck as he placed gentle kisses along your warm flesh. He nuzzled his nose behind your ear and inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of your washed hair. “You know I could be real good to you if that’s all you want from me…”

Calloused fingers brushed across flowery lips, the vast contrast between him and you burning a hole into his chest. He leaned over to see your mouth part subtly, invitingly. Dabi took the initiative and planted a light kiss on you. He whispered, “there’s no way you haven’t missed me a tiny bit.”

At this, you hummed, and Dabi felt tension melt from his shoulders. That was an affirmation if he’d ever heard one, which gave him permission to run both of his hands down your sides to take their sharpened places at your hips. He pulled you against his hardened groin and let himself grind his strain courteously into you.

“You know how hot you are, babe? You know how much I missed having you wrap around my cock?” God, he wanted you. He wanted to be inside of you. He wanted to kiss you, and mark you, and love you, and-

You let out a little, “uhh,” from the very back of your throat. Dabi could have damn well nearly melted into you from that tiny noise. He could only imagine what squeaks and squeals you had saved up from him when you woke up.

For a moment, he thought that he would break his resolve to not fuck you—you wanted him to anyhow—and honestly, he probably would have, had it not been for your phone lighting up, snapping his attention to your side table. It buzzed twice, which he could have ignored, and then two more times, which made Dabi grab it, reading the I.D. tag, ‘Daddy.’

Dabi scoffed and used your thumb to unlock your phone. He found that it was your father that texted you, asking about a visit to the doctor’s you made. Dabi kicked back on your bed and decided to dive into the depths of your phone, check your social media PM’s, calls you’d made, etcetera.

There were quite a few messages from boys in there. Some of them were coming on to you, others were asking when they’d see you again. Dabi’s jaw clenched when he read those messages, but he was pleased to see that you’d left all those jagoffs on read, even the ones who were more persistent. Dabi would be lying if he said he didn’t go out and sleep with a couple chicks while you were there ignoring him. You couldn’t blame him. He was a man with needs. But he never called them again. None of them mattered like you mattered, and by the look of things, it seemed like you felt the same way.

Dabi checked your photo album, finding nothing more interesting than the racey selfies you took of yourself, probably trying to feel good about yourself (Dabi sent those pictures to his own phone, before deleting the evidence). Then he went to your search history, smirking at the very specific websites you visited.

“You’re absolutely filthy,” he chuckled in the middle of watching a video you seemed to frequently visit. He couldn’t wait to try this out on you—a little make up sex surprise. In response, you turned in bed, throwing your arm around Dabi’s lap, your elbow just a few centimeters from his erection. Dabi frowned down at you, and clicked out of the video, knowing that it was just gonna spur him on. He decided to look back to see what you searched when you’d last saw him—see if you looked up anything close to ‘sex with a villain’ or the like. But he didn’t find that. What he found was weird. What he found made a pit form in the bottom of his stomach.

‘how to deal with heartbreak’ first caught his eye. Dabi thought that this could have been about him but this was about seven weeks after he’d last seen you. As he kept scrolling, it only got worse.

‘depressed after termination’

‘how to stop the pain without taking medications’

‘best ways to clean blood off of linens’

‘discrete doctors near azabu’

‘should i tell the guy im not dating about pregnancy?’

‘is there anything i can eat to not be oregano?’ (Dabi couldn’t even sneer at ‘oregano.’)

‘top 10 signs you are pregnant’

Dabi’s chest constricted. He nearly dropped the phone on your arm, but that would definitely wake you the hell up. “Pregnant?” He whispered out loud. It only made sense. Dabi never wrapped himself up with you like he did with other girls. There was something so fucking dirty about you taking him raw when he knew you didn’t want to. He knew you were clean because you didn’t fuck around—at least, not before him, which made his frown deepen.

Fuck. Despite the unusual shattered feeling Dabi felt deep in the pit of his stomach, he was still so fucking hot for you. He turned you over so that you were on your back again so he could examine your belly. He kissed you below your navel, wondering that if you hadn’t been ‘depressed after termination’ would there already be a little bump there?

There was a brief flash of a little hand pressing against the swollen stomach of a white haired woman, but Dabi quickly shook that memory away.

“Why, babe?” Dabi kissed your stomach again. Seriously, why? Did you think Dabi would be a shit dad? He probably would be! But he’d still be a dad, if he were raising a kid with you. Did you not know that? And it wasn’t like you didn’t have the funds to raise a healthy child with everything it could ever want and more! You were a spoiled brat and you would’ve raised an equally spoiled brat, and Dabi would’ve loved the hell out of the kid! What the fuck?!

Dabi’s mental fit was interrupted from a little bleep! chiming from your phone. It was from Snapchat, of course, because you were a little social media whore. Not even caring how it could look once you woke up, Dabi opened the snap to see a picture of city lights taken from high above with a little tag that read, ‘wish you were here.’ The user who sent it was nicknamed ‘K’ and their username was something indecipherable. Probably just another one of your rich-bitch friends, showing off the view from their penthouse apartment.

Dabi discarded your phone on your bed and brushed his hands through his spiky hair, cursing softly. He decided to leave then. He needed time to think and reflect. He’d have to bring this up to you sooner or later...if not, he’d figure out a way to work himself back into your life. You probably hadn’t called because you were feeling guilty, rightfully so. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to have you anymore. In fact, he wanted you more than ever before.

Jumping out of your window, Dabi decided then and there that he’d be back. He’d make you talk. And he figured that if he could get you pregnant once, he sure as hell could do it again. Easy peasy. He’d have you calling him daddy again in no time.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (CLOSED): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @rubycubix @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #reader insert #bnha reader insert #x reader #yandere!dabi #yandere!dabi x reader #olig

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pterodactylterrace · 3 years

Text

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 2

Chapter Summary: Cat’s out of the bag now

Rating: 18+ for later chapters

Warning: None for this chapter... maybe some swear words, idk

Prologue Chapter 1

Ever had a bad day? Like, a really, really bad day? Just... one thing goes wrong, and then everything else gets progressively worse from there? Then, just when you think you've finally reached rock bottom for the day and gotten a handle on it, it somehow manages to get even worse?

Well, that was the current situation Faye found herself in. Absolutely everything had gone wrong that morning and now she found herself in a bit of a pickle as she rushed about the, thankfully empty, makeup trailer.

"Just, sit here and watch your tablet, ok?" Faye instructed, sitting the toddler down on a stool tucked back in a hidden corner, praying this would work. If it didn't, she had no clue what she was going to do.

She rushed back to the chair just as Henry squeezed his massive frame through the tiny door, flashing her a blinding smile as Kal pushed his way in past his legs to settle in his favorite, sunny spot by the door. "There's my favorite artist!"

"Oh, you're such a liar." Faye laughed, leaning into his welcoming hug and giving him a quick squeeze around his midsection, breathing him in when her head pressed into his chest. Smelling that good should be against the law.

"I would never lie to you." Henry assured, playfully bumping her with his shoulder as he seated himself in his usual chair.

It seemed everything was getting better, things were finally turning around and going well, she was actually going to pull this off! She had already applied the prosthetics, so the hard part was already done with. With a sigh of relief, Faye turned back around to get the foundation ready to blend over the fake scars when she heard it.

"Oh, hello there." Her stomach dropped.

"Hi, I'm Briar!" The little girl greeted enthusiastically, beaming up at the large man sitting in the makeup chair.

"What are you doing here?" Henry asked gently.

"Tablet not working." Briar whimpered, holding the device up despondently, her lower lip sliding out in a pout as tears began collecting in her eyes. Always the drama queen.

"Then let's take a look at it, shall we?" Henry suggested, absently lifting the girl and sitting her on his knee to examine the tablet in her chubby little hands. Faye could swear her heart was going to beat right out of her chest as she watched him tapping away at the screen, the sounds of cocomelon soon spilling from the speakers again, much to the child's delight.

"Yay! Cocomelon, cocomelon!" The little girl cheered, fixing her eyes on the screen.

"Now, sweetheart, where's your mother?" Henry asked, his brows drawn together as he looked at the little girl already mesmerized by the show in front of her.

"That's Mama." Briar quickly explained, pointing directly at Faye before diverting her attention back to her tablet. Henry's brows rose almost comically high as he looked up at Faye, waiting for confirmation of what he was just told. Faye had a daughter? He'd known her for months, how was this just now coming up?

"I... I'm so sorry." Faye quickly apologized, panic beginning to rise in her throat. This was bad, so very bad. Not only did she look like the world's most unprofessional makeup artist, but she was probably in the running for worst mother as well. Who just leaves their kid in the corner while they work? "The babysitter called and canceled this morning and I couldn't find a replacement before work. I thought if she had her tablet she would be quiet and out of everyone's way for the day, but then it stopped working and-"

"Faye. Faye!" Henry interrupted, pausing to make sure she was paying attention. "I need you to calm down. Everything is ok. Things come up, it's not a big deal." He assured, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "Sweetheart, do you like dogs?" Henry asked, turning his attention back to the little girl as she nodded enthusiastically. "Well, you see that dog over there?" He asked, nodding towards a snoozing Kal. "He's mine, and he just loves pets."

"I pet him?" Briar gasped excitedly, passing her tablet off to Henry and squirming out of his lap to scurry over to the sleeping bear, patting him on the top of his head with a clumsy little hand.

"That should keep them both busy enough for us to finish up here." Henry pointed out, settling back into the chair as though nothing had happened. Faye glanced between her daughter, cooing over the bear of a dog by the door and back to Henry a few times, her mind trying to catch up and process what just happened. She shook her head once to clear her thoughts and shakily returned to work, glancing over to the toddler every so often out of habit.

"So were you going to tell me you had a daughter?" Henry finally asked, raising a brow at the woman painting his face.

"I-... It never came up." Faye mumbled, looking back to her daughter as she curled up into the dog's side, babbling away to him about the bedtime story she'd been read last night.

"But why would you hide that?"

"I don't know." Faye lied, focusing her efforts closer to his mouth to end the conversation. Of course she had a reason. A rather simple one at that.

Guys like him aren't interested in single mothers.

Sure, it was a bit silly looking back on it. After all, what chance did she have with Henry? A slim one, if any. That still didn't stop her from hoping he may see something in her. Of course if he did show any interest, she would have eventually told him. Having a child isn't exactly something you can hide, after all. However, she had been hoping to wait until he was more invested in her than just being "his favorite artist".

Too little, too late.

"How old is she?" Henry asked once the brushes moved away from his mouth.

"She'll be three next week." Faye informed quietly, keeping her gaze averted.

"Next week? Do you plan on celebrating?"

"Not really. All my family is back home in the states. I was just planning on making her a cake or something, but I'm kind of a crap baker, so I'm on the fence about even doing that."

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but what about her father? Is he going to celebrate with you?"

"No." Faye answered simply, biting her lip and trying not to dwell on the past any more than she had to.

"So exactly how bad are you at baking?" Henry changed the subject, closing his eye as she worked around it.

"Briar, do you like mommy's cakes?"

"No!" Briar quickly answered, Kal's head popping up at the sudden outburst.

"Why not, sweetie?" Faye pressed.

"They're yucky! Bleck!"

"Does that answer your question?" Faye retorted, raising a brow at the man in front of her.

"Would you like help?"

"What?"

"Making a cake. I could help you." Henry offered, locking his eyes on hers.

"You bake?" Faye blurted out, wincing at her sudden outburst as Henry laughed.

"In fact I do. I have a few days off from filming next weekend. If you'd like, I could come over and help you make her a birthday cake."

Was this real life? This couldn't be real life. In real life, handsome men don't just swoop in and offer to make a cake for your daughter. This was some elaborate dream. Or a very drawn out strip-o-gram.

"I mean... that would be great, but-"

"Perfect, what day works best for you, Friday or Saturday?"

"Uhh... Saturay, I work on Friday."

"Alright, I'll give you my number so you can text me your address. Ten in the morning alright?"

"Yeah, umm... she naps around eleven, so ten is fine."

"So ten on Friday." Henry confirmed as he stood, pulling her in for another hug.

What. Just. Happened?

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #multi chapter #guys like you #guys like you fic #chapter 2

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eunoiaflow3r · 4 years

Text

Slow Dance

A/N: based on the song Slow Dance by AJ Mitchell and Ava Max.

Warnings: fluff haha, there will be mistakes. fem!reader.

Requests:

Hi! Could I request Spencer Reid fluff? Spencer and the reader have hidden feelings for each other and his team manages to get him to tell the reader? Thank you :) @hahaboop

I have a request for Spencer Reid! One where the reader is the youngest member of the BAU (maybe she could be like 22, just graduated from college) and everyone is really protective of her. So, Spencer has a crush on her but doesn’t know how to tell her because all the members in the BAU are too overprotective and the rest of the building flirts with her or something like this. @always394patronus

Word Count: 2.3k

~~~~

If you stay for this minute, girl I'll never let you down...

The team had just gotten back to the BAU after a long case a few states away, and everyone except you and Spencer was out of the door. You were stressing out because yet again you were being paired with either Morgan or Hotch on every single case you’ve been given the past few months. At first you had hardly noticed, but with every passing case and every, “young one,” comment, you have grown more and more furious.

Spencer understood completely. Having been a twelve year old highschool graduate, he’s gotten his fair share of the “being young,” comments and teases. He could only imagine it was probably considerably worse for you since you were a woman, and women are commonly misconstrued, as the, “weaker gender.”

You were everything but weak though. Over the past few months, after you had joined the team, he and pretty much everyone noticed that you are incredibly smart, head-strong, honest, and ambitious. Perhaps this is why the team felt the need to protect you.

Sure, there have been plenty of new members, and new people and faces and scents, but you were different. In this case, different wasn’t terrible, it was just - unexpected. You were the youngest there, and with you being another woman added to the team, everyone kind of looked at you a little differently. It wasn’t that they doubted your profiling skills, oh no, you were, “damn good,” at your job as Morgan likes to say, and it wasn’t the fact that they thought you couldn’t handle yourself because of your age, but they were trying to make it so that the cases wouldn’t get to you.

Because of your age, they felt that after a while maybe the cases would get to be too much for you, and they wanted to prevent you from a world of confusion and hurt.

That is what hurt you the most though. Why couldn’t you just be treated like everyone else here?

And Spencer listened to anything and everything you had to say. He had become the closest thing to a best friend you could have, but sometimes it just didn’t feel like you were meant to be just friends.

Sometimes he’d catch himself staring at you a bit too long, or wanting to come up with anything he could to talk to you, or maybe even go as far as staring at your lips when you were talking, but he digressed, and tried to suppress anything he might have felt for you.

And you did as well.

All the time you had caught yourself wanting to just pull him into a hug that lasted forever, or hold his hand, and maybe even kiss him, but he was your coworker. Not only that, but on top of all the field limitations, those same limits seemed to be in office as well.

We ain't off the limit, I could hold you after now. No more talking, I don't know what you wanna do with that?

A few bold interns from a couple of floors down had tried to ask you out on a date, and maybe even a few more, but as soon as they had or even had the thought to, Morgan, Hotch, and sometimes even Garcia would give you a disapproving look, glare the guy down, or maybe even go as far as shut the guy down verbally for you.

Afterwards you’d always apologize to the guy, and you always felt bad for having to do it. Well, not really. Of course it made you upset that they never seemed to want you to live your life and actually find love, but the only one you wanted to go on dates with anyway was Spencer.

You knew your jobs, and the fact that you worked together could be a problem, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you could actually be something. Or maybe you misinterpreted the looks he gave you, and he actually doesn’t like you that way at all.

That night, Spencer had gotten home and went straight to sleep. Usually he’d dream of his mom, the cases, or maybe even some of the plain rides, but tonight's dreams seemed to have been filled with you. You were on his couch, in one of his cardigans, reading a book, eating some kind of fruit. He came in, sat next to you and handed you a cup of coffee after placing a quick kiss to your lips.

In the dream after that he had woken up, and you were snuggled in beside him. He had his arm wrapped around him, and your legs were tangled with his. The sun had barely risen, and the comforter was twisted in a weird way between the two of you, but when he actually woke up the next morning, he couldn’t help but noticed it felt so normal, and he wished it had been real.

He ran his fingers through his tangled curls, and scolded himself for those dreams. How was he going to look at you the same in a couple of hours when he almost-knew what it felt like to kiss you, and he almost-knew what it felt like to be so close to you?

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” You cringed at the nickname Rossi used towards you, but you answered him anyway.

“Nothing, just tired.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself. You gave him a ‘what?’ look.

“You’re not tired Y/N. You’re distressed.” He nods towards where Reid is sitting. “You haven’t stopped staring at him, care to talk about it?”

“Not really.” You sighed, spinning your chair around so now you were no longer even facing Reid - that way you wouldn’t be caught staring again.

“I say go for it.” You give him that ‘what?’ look again waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s obvious you two like eachother. Take it from me, don’t wait before it’s too late.”

“But the team -” You argue.

“At the end of the day, the team doesn’t matter. Just you and Spencer.”

And with that, Rossi walked away leaving you to think about what he said, and if it was even really possible for you two to be something more than friends.

It feels good, why you even wanna hold it back? We just work and I know there's no coming back.

“Awe, would you look at them!” Garcia gushed, watching you laugh at something Spencer said across the bullpen.

“Look at who?” Morgan asked clearly oblivious to the two of you.

“Spencer and Y/N.” Garcia answered pointing slightly in your direction so that Morgan could see too.

Morgan looked over and saw that you were sitting on your desk, and Spencer was standing in front of you with a cup of coffee in his hands. You were giggling like crazy, and Spencer smiled too although he wasn’t quite sure what the joke was.

“Y/N! Tell me what’s so funny! All I said was cassava!”

This only caused you to laugh even harder. There was this trick in elementary where you would ask someone a series of easy math questions very quickly, and then on the last question you’d ask them to name a vegetable. The trick was that usually the participant would say the basic vegetable, “carrots,” but no, Spencer Reid answered, “cassava.”

Once you stopped laughing, you explained it to him, and he didn’t find it as funny as you did, but nevertheless he started laughing too because your laugh seemed to be infectious. _

“I didn’t know which you liked better, so I brought both.” Spencer said, smiling behind bags of chinese food and two boxes of pizza.

“Oh my God Spencer!” you gushed, grabbing some of the bags and one of the boxes.

He closes the door behind him and puts all the food on the table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask giving him a quick hug.

“Well, I know you’ve been a little down lately, and I just thought I’d help in any way that I could.”

You almost cried. He was so sweet to you, and you had no idea how to react. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and show him how much you appreciate him with a passionate kiss, but you knew that you probably shouldn’t.

Spencer invited you over for a movie marathon, and you’d be there any minute. He had made sure his apartment was flawless, and everything was perfect. Sure, you’ve been to his place before, but lately, things have begun to feel...different.

There was this one time at work where you two had gotten so close that he had just almost kissed you, but he had chickened out, and he had regretted that decision ever since.

When you got there, you both ended up staying up until three in the morning watching your favorite movies.

“Do you wanna go catch some lunch?” Terry from downstairs asks you.

“She likes someone else, sorry my man.” Morgan answers for you resting his arm across your shoulders.

Once the guy was gone, you turned to him with a frown.

“Someone as in who?” You ask.

“Uh uh,” he steps away. “Don’t play dumb with me Miss Lady. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the elevator.

Once you had entered the bullpen, you noticed Penelope and Spencer in a corner - except she looked to be giving him a pep-talk of some kind. _

“Spencer I’m telling you, you NEED to make a move.” Penelope practically whines. “I am tired of seeing you two pine after one another.”

Spencer shakes his head and sighs. “We don’t know if she even - and the team. The team practically throws the guys who even look at her out of the window.”

“You’re different, you know it’s different with you.”

Spencer wasn’t so sure. He’d hate it if he were to kindle something with you, and the team was unsupportive. _

A couple of days later, Spencer had walked by your desk and noticed a bouqet of roses in your wastebasket.

“Who were those from?” He asks half curiously, half jealousy (although he’s not willing to admit that.)

“Some guy named uh- Dylan, but I uhh, I’m interested in someone else.” You looked everywhere but Spencer’s eyes, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, you do?” he asks wearily, not quite sure where you were going with this. “Do I know him?”

“Oh yeah.” You smile. “You guys are practically like this.” You twisted your middle and pointer finger together to show the closeness.

He smiled down at you catching on. “Don’t tell me it’s Morgan, Y/N.”

“Nah. This guy likes to read. I don’t think Derek’s ever picked up a book in the last five years.”

It was late one night and you and Spencer were the only ones left in the office. You walked over to his desk where he was reading the newspaper, but when he noticed you his head immediately picked up. “Remember when I told you that you know the guy that I’m interested in?”

“Mhmm yeah, I think I remember.”

“He’s you. The guy is you.”

“Could have fooled -”

And you leaned in capturing his lips in yours. He tasted of coffee and bubblegum, which isn’t as bad as it might seem. He kissed you back and you forgot everything for a moment - forgot you were at the bullpen, forgot he was your coworker, and forgot the team's reaction actually might have meant something to you.

They meant nothing now when he’s pulling you down to straddle his lap and deepening the kiss. When you felt his tongue along your lips you opened your mouth a little wider so that he could kiss you just a little bit harder.

You both pulled away at the same time but stayed close, as he was running his hands along your sides.

“Me. You could have fooled me.” he finishes. You laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips which he returned before climbing out of his lap and steadying yourself on the ground.

You were going to walk away, until he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“Hey,” he practically whispered. “Go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”

I wanna slow dance if you’re feeling me now If we don't hold hands you'll be killing me now

Spencer had arrived at your apartment with a bouquet of wildflowers.

He had knocked, and when you opened the door, he was absolutely shocked.

“Wow, you look stunning.” He lets out.

“As do you.”

You grab the flowers from him and place it in a vase before grabbing your jacket, his hand, and heading out of the door.

The night went smoothly, and the dinner was great, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Spence?” You asked, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. You were holding the hand he wasn’t using to drive.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever seen The Notebook?”

“Actually...no.”

“Okay.”

“Why?” he asks looking over at you. You couldn’t have been more beautiful in his eyes.

“You’ll see.”

When he pulled out in front of your apartment, and you were out of his car, you took his hand and led him to the middle of the street - the only source of light being the street lamp hovering above the two of you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Slow dance with me.”

“I can’t dance.”

“That’s alright.” You stepped close to him and guided his hands so that they were resting on your backside, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. From there, you led him to step with you to a nonexistent rhythm.

You two weren’t really worried about any cars, this wasn’t a busy street.

“Tell me about The Notebook.” he says, pulling your body closer to his.

“Well Noah actually laid down in the street, not danced and -”

I need a romance, one chance I just wanna know, will you slow dance?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanoon #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines

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frightfurtabby · 3 years

Text

HimiKiyo Week 2021: Day 1- Creeping Darkness

//HimiKiyo Week 2021 is finally here! Took a little bit tonight to finalize edits and come up with a title. Look forward to more each day for the next week~

I’m proud, this is one of my longest singlechapter fics ever if not the longest

Links to other Platforms:

Amino: https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-2021-day-1/5B58_R2MsVulaQEnXkXVBzYlGjd3mXnP3Z

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34119466

The seaside village Himiko moved out to was more out of the way than the usual cities and suburbs. Apparently, her mentor couldn’t come. It was going to be a pain being out in that little house all alone. Who knows, maybe he’d sent another student of his the same kind of message?

To her disappointment there wasn’t anyone else, still not a single other apprentice known to her. She decided that after not doing anything yesterday but unpacking and eating and sleeping she would go over to the shrine marked on the local map. If nothing else she could pray for good luck before really getting down to working.

The course of this assignment and her whole life changed the moment she saw that strange figure at the offerings box while nobody else was around. They wore a long green kimono with beautiful dark hair almost matching that outfit in length. They looked to be glowing ethereally, with pale white skin akin to a porcelain doll.

Their hand was in the offerings box. At first she assumed they must be giving their own prayers and as such stayed back so as to not intrude. She noticed then that the figure was taking something *out* of the offerings box and that’s when she wondered if they were a thief.

“Fret not, these offerings are for me, dear human.” a voice came to her, seeming at first separate from the figure still several feet ahead. Someone addressing a person as “human” and saying it was their offering… She’d never seen a kami before, but that was the sole explanation that made everything make sense about them.

“Then you’re a kami?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

“That I am, I am called Shinguji. This family name refers to residing here, at the True Temple. My given name Korekiyo means just and pure”

“I-it’s a beautiful…” The mage was torn in half between the word ‘name’ and the word ‘place.’ The brook not far behind the pair was babbling audibly and birds were chirping. The water went past the trees and out to the river, which fed it almost directly into the ocean.

Even if something wicked this way was coming there was nothing yet to taint the natural beauty. She wasn’t sure if it would even be able to with a keeper this pretty.

“A beautiful what?” The spirit gently prodded her with the question. They had noticed her biting her lip in uncertainty.

“Name, your name is pretty. Uhh, and I’m…” she was too flustered to easily find any of the necessary words.

“You are Yumeno Himiko.”

“So you knew that already?” It was not that surprising in hindsight, but in that moment she was caught off guard, focusing on trying not to be so tense in their presence like she had been up to that point. She worried she was giving off the wrong message.

“I intuited it, but I don’t blame you for being surprised. Most humans think of us Kami as mythology, but I’ve known these old figures, and dealt with many creatures as my neighbors in my centuries of life.”

“In that case then are you able to intuit why I’m here?” The mage tried hard not to sound too much like a schoolgirl talking to her popular crush.

“I could. It would be easier if you told me. Whatever it is, you seem particularly stressed out by it.” They tilted their head slightly, a very human gesture, and it was clear they were reading deeper. Either humans had gotten it from the ancient gods or vice-versa. One of those things nobody would ever be able to remember the origin of.

It was better to answer the question than get too off track wondering about that.

“Well, my master who is a magician told me there was something that was going to go wrong here. He gave me the mission to stop it.”

It was Kiyo’s turn to be concerned.

“Well, I have been given whispers that a nasty yokai is approaching this land. It comes from the far north and wishes to sap power for itself. Very few claiming to be survivors of this have shown up, and we’re all so isolated these days...”

That was a bad sign.

“Is it because of us?” If her master had worried so much about it then there was no doubt in her mind that this thing would be going after humans if it hadn’t already started.

“Not all of you, but some who are greedy have broken many natural connections and scattered the so-called mythical creatures and spirits away. In a way it’s beautiful, the circle of life even. Although, it is believed perhaps negative energy has attracted this beast from its home and onto its rampaging path.”

A realization hit her. In her research she found that even things that you would not expect to have a soul or a consciousness did at least have the same kind of natural energy as things that did. So objects and anything/everything else with a soul would be susceptible to producing negative energy.

“So it's a cycle of things feeding into it.”

“Yes. I fear if it gets to a certain point it’ll have enough momentum that there will be no stopping it. So you should think about what you will do to face the possibility.”

Something about those words felt familiar. Even though it was a serious topic, Himiko was comforted.

“And you need someone like me to stand a chance?”

“The more the merrier, of course. There are things even I may have missed and for that you can be an extra set of eyes and ears. We’re going to train and prepare.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent, at first guided by Kiyo and by the end on her own, getting more used to the area and learning some specific landmarks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starting the following day, Himiko started up a routine to come back every day, which would last for several months. Each day she learned new things about the old times that had only ever been guessed about from artifacts. She learned that even Kami had a cutoff point in memory, even if it did happen to be thousands of years stronger than mortals. The only truly omnipotent beings were those that had created earth eons ago, who were as elusive as ever.

She also trained. Oh, how wonderful it was to train again. And with a more formidable opponent than most people she would ever encounter normally. After each session she was told more about the species of yokai, and which were more likely to be dangerous foes that needed preparation for.

They would pray and make wishes for having strength and safety at the lucky rock on the path along the brooks. Kiyo allowed Himiko to take and keep a bit of power from it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened when she thought it was going to be just another day of what they had been doing. It was not.

There was something off in the air. And it wasn’t just the dead trees, those were normal for winter. What wasn’t normal was the small patches of rot in them already, the rot had even spread to the grass and other plants on the ground. There was a trail of it and it reeked of a nasty yokai. A being only interested in death and destruction.

Even worse was that Kiyo was nowhere to be found. They had made a game plan about that, Himiko was to check somewhere inside the shrine in order to find clues. Inside the prayer chamber proper it was a mess just like it would be in the case of any other type of break in. The rot hadn't set in because the room was blessed and was better able to resist, but there was a distinct trail of slime that showed its movement and the room.

She could picture Kiyo weaving around it and dodging attacks to have a chance to hit back at it. The fight had torn up the screens and the ancient art it depicted, and even punctured holes in the inner walls and flooring. An extra band of beads like one Kiyo would often wear was left behind. The signal was received.

Something wasn’t right, however. A presence that was too strong to be explained by the evil residue. It seemed like what they were working against had minions left behind, for the exact reason that someone like her was in the area and had to be stopped. The question was how many were there?

Five of them came up from either the ground or one of the holes puncturing the walls, one right before her and four circling around, forming seemingly out of the shadows and the goo. They quickly solidified into dark shapes that were much like werewolves, though she recognized among them different animal traits expressed. One even had bunny-esque lop ears.

Himiko took out her wand and started muttering some spells under her breath, making a broad sweeping motion to keep all at bay. The one closest was pushed back and stumbled in surprise. Trying to charge her led to an acrobatic maneuver: it leapt over onto its back and she whipped out a stage magician-like string of handkerchiefs and pulled it up to start choking the beast out.

They surprisingly weren’t as vicious as she’d imagined from how each of them had shown up. It couldn’t do any of its special moves. Unfortunately, its friends could, and they did. They rushed and she let go for a moment, tripping up one and using its momentum in a way it crashed into the first one before it could recover.

Swinging off it allowed her to jump up and kick a third before lashing a whip of electricity from her wand, yanking the fourth and gaining momentum by bouncing off it with a drop kick right about where the lungs were.

Watching them struggle, she realized they had once been animal spirits for sure, only to have been corrupted. They weren’t just something conjured by their boss.

Hesitation for even one second almost cost her when one swiped claws, just barely missing her and taking her hat instead. The advantage of being shorter than the monsters was they’d miss like that. And much like the stage magic she pretended to use in daily life, the hat was spring-loaded with some friends for them to play with. A magic box that was shattered by the attack let out doves of magical energy that distracted each as well as a jack-in-the-box dummy that took her place as a target for just long enough to take one out.

Even though the trick had been figured out, she could tell from their expressions changing the exact instant of the realization there wasn’t much the poor things could do when the tide had been turned. The rest of them were dispatched with a quick volley of attack spells. She sprinted out, conjuring another hat loaded with a similar trick from her storage at home, just in case. It was more physically exhausting than mana draining so she borrowed from her reserve to recover breath and catch up sooner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She crossed her fingers that those things weren’t going to be much more of a problem on the way over. The trail grew cold on her about a dozen times already the past 4 days but each time she doubled back to a previous checkpoint, there was another sign she’d accidentally glossed over. Each time something was left in an obscure place: a back alley or a bush only to be dragged out by a cat, occasionally right to her.

Whether it was an order from Kiyo or someone else, she wasn’t sure, but all the help was appreciated.

It seemed to be that when it took someone, it had to complete a loop back home. It was much faster than she could follow on foot. So the mage took to various buses and trains when she needed to.

Himiko hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the 4th night, and all the past nights had been similarly lacking in rest. She’d set alarms to go off within a few hours of very scattered naps so she’d at least run decently when it finally came down to it.

She snuck out of an inn somewhere very rural and very cold in the northern reaches of Hokkaido. She could just feel the cave system nearby was definitely the origin point of the attacker.

Before she could even begin the climb upwards, an upright, tall figure came barrelling down in her direction, diving from above off of a rock and gliding down gracefully, coughing and panting, falling to their knees after the taxing stunt. That fall easily could have killed a human, plus most people couldn’t fly without magical objects.

“We need to get back up there, hurry!”

“Kiyo!”

However, before the first shape could speak further they were interrupted from behind Himiko. Just a few feet downhill a second Kiyo was standing.

“Don’t Himiko! That thing can become other entities!”

The first Kiyo to arrive chuckled and shook their head. “Well, that’s true, clever of you to tell her first.” A deep sigh later, they continued. “Shame I’ve heard of that little trick before and prepared something for this kind of thing.”

“A double cross is it?” the second Kiyo asked. “It’s quite a claim you have there, being the real me, having planned for your own deception.”

Whichever Kiyo was the real one, it was hard to tell at first. The two auras had been in close proximity so a mage in training would have a hard time pulling apart which was which. Then the first Kiyo cleared their throat again.

“Well then, I have a proposition.” they said, turning their attention back to Himiko. “Yumeno Himiko should be able to ask a question, then see how both of us answer, and she’ll know which of us is real.”

“Of course, after spending so long with me she’s bound to know the real one. I’d be crazy to decline,” the beast said.

Kiyo knew this thing would do anything to avoid being pegged as suspicious. It was a double bind for the beast. The only way this was ending was fighting it. This was part of that plan. Delaying it just a tad until the right time.

Himiko cleared her throat, glancing between the two one more time before she closed her eyes. It was nerve wracking but as long as it wanted to not out itself, the yokai would never blindside attack her.

“My question is very simple: What is it that I was training to do?”

The creature nodded. “Understood. This one is easy. We were going to stop the one who’s taken all those others and stop them from taking enough power for its plan.” It turned to Kiyo, giving a taunting glare. “And before the monster tries any trickery, to be specific, we were practicing your magic and got you a mana boost. It’ll help the new technique not be so taxing on you.”

That was almost entirely correct. Kiyo knew then their suspicion was right and something in the area had been spying and relayed all its gathered information back to prepare this creature for any threats that may spring up. That’s what attacked first, the helpers that Himiko had to fend off to get here.

“Alright. My turn.” Kiyo remained characteristically calm face to face. “We were training. So I don’t have to repeat what the other me said, I’ll agree. However, there was something missing from that answer.”

“Missing? What, pray tell, did I miss?”

“The mana boost served as a test to see if you were already there. And I felt something that may have been a minion performing recon.” Emphasis on the last word. That was something Kiyo had been anticipating. Before they had been taken, she was given a code word. They only mentioned it to her in a whisper on the day that they felt a presence leave to the north with no other context. ‘Recon’ was that word.

Eye contact was made, Himiko gave a slight nod to show that she understood and it was off to the races. She went on ahead, up one path leaving the Kiyos behind. It was a signal to the real Korekiyo. And so, the two fought again, much like they had when the faker had invaded the temple and kidnapped them to try and complete the ritual.

They weaved in and out, sometimes further to one side away from Himiko and her destination when Kiyo was having their way and closer, forcing her to duck and use repulsion spells to avoid being caught up in the scuffle. Kiyo’s attacks looked like needles when they flew at their enemy, so she even gave those attacks a boost. She heard the cries of anger and pain when one managed to hit just the right place.

The yokai was a resilient one though, it would just pluck them right out and fire back energy attacks of their own. One of them hit Kiyo and sent them tumbling back down the mountain some distance, dropping several dozen feet to a thud.

They got back up almost instantly, knowing how much danger the girl ahead was in, and pulled out a pair of scythe to quickly dig into the mountain’s side and climb up to a point where they could launch up and gain enough momentum to catch up right behind that yokai.

Faster than ever, Himiko ran. It seemed being tired was starting to slow both down the further up the mountain the climb went. She dove and rolled right into the cave and the faker caught up, confirming even further that it was the yokai when it dove to try and stop her from entering, the disguise melting away grotesquely. She didn’t even have time to be offended at it ruining and distorting those beautiful features because of how fast it barrelled back into the base.

All she could do was point her wand directly in its face and say the words. Like a bullet, red light with a pointed tip struck right through an already gaping hole that showed the black flame-like matter that was its heart. The evil and corrupt soul was pierced.

It could barely re-shape itself anymore with its wounds. It stared at her with half its true features and half rippling nothingness as the face it wore sloughed off and dissipated like a puddle under sunlight. Even the animal-like maw began falling off, fangs first.

Then Kiyo wrestled it from behind and wrapped it in chains of light. It was likely already dying. But part of its corrupt nature would linger in this spot if it was not sealed and purified.

“What no! Nooooo”. It started shrieking when the shock of being blindsided had finally worn off and it found itself in chains, being dragged away towards the cave’s inner chamber. It was powerless to do anything but watch these interlopers ruin everything.

“Unfair, unfair, unfaaiiiiir.” Most of the thrashing came in the form of weak kicks. It was truly pitiful for something that had beaten kami before. .

“What a childish temper tantrum.” Kiyo scoffed at it, only briefly turning a shoulder to pay it any mind as they continued towards the end of the mission. It was so mad, and nipped away trying to bite its captor in spite of there being no chance of succeeding now. .

Himiko came to a strange spot on the back wall and Kiyo lifted the beast over their shoulders and used its paw to unlock a big room full of artifacts, a bunch of seals on them to keep its victims contained. Many tomes of black magic and scribbles showcased a plot to steal power from all the shrine deities to build a “Domain of Darkness”. In which it plotted to prevent the sun from ever rising above Japan, and the whole planet after long enough, ever again. This would remove power from any being who got magic from natural resources and would kill billions of mortals.

Himiko looked at the plans and laughed nervously, sweating a bit.

“So um… you don’t think that this would have worked?” she asked, desperately wanting this to just be the pipe dream of an arrogant monstrosity.

“Absolutely not. I’m by no means the strongest of my kind, and you’re still training. It took prisoners, yes, but this is delusional. We won in part because we were underestimated. That kind of fatal mistake would have doomed this plan eventually.”

A sad whimpering came from it, laying on the ground in defeat.

Himiko was tasked to watch over it while Kiyo performed the unsealing rituals. Each one she spared glances at, admiring them from her spot in the center of the room. She could almost feel a tinge of jealousy among the defeat and anger emanating from their felled foe. It was way more interesting watching Kiyo work and chat with each spirit that was freed. Each time they agreed instantly to help get the rest out, which hastened the process.

Each one helped before some left to make sure their shrines were fine. The remainder, led by Kiyo, thanked Himiko. Their hands warm around hers. Kiyo felt every little soft spot on her hands and even some slight callusing, presumably from the fighting. Even those bits were lovely.

“You can go home now. It’s getting late but we need to stay for now. I will return to you with the important news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Himiko got home first, since that was decided as the meeting place. It was far enough from the shrine that it wouldn’t be immediately obvious if that entity came back for another round. She got on her knees in front of her bed, elbows firmly leaning into the mattress so she could clasp and pray. She was exhausted.

“Please let it be gone once and for all.” She trusted Kiyo could do that much.

Then she was awoken by footsteps and sat upright to who was joining her. Her door had opened and glowing in the moonlight, Kiyo came in, closing the door behind them.

“I have seen to it that this chapter is done.” The spirit held a hand to her cheek and gently brushed a long finger across part of her face. “Thank you, your journey has only truly just begun but you can relax for now.”

Himiko was flushed a bright red.

“I was struck by your beauty from the moment that I walked to your shrine.” Her heart raced. They’d touched a couple times by now but this was the most breathtaking and close. The most intimate. She raised a hand of her own and touched Kiyo’s arm gently.

A soft smile spread on the spirit’s lips. “Oh, I could tell. I could also tell that there was a pull here. Some call I needed to answer for you and it's only become more clear that there was more to it than that.”

Time felt like it slowed down to a stop as the two maintained soft eye contact.

Then they kissed her. A warmth emanated from them, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“More to it?” she asked, even though the kiss gave her a very good idea of what they were going to tell her next.

“I love you. And so… I want it to actually be *our* journey.” They heavily emphasized the word indicating that the adventure would be shared. It already was, it had been since the day she came to this place.

“Would it really be okay? For you to leave your shrine I mean. When it comes time for that.”

“No worries about that, I can find someone for that when that’s necessary.”

#HimiKiyo #Himiko Yumeno #Korekiyo Shinguji #himikiyo week #fanfic #writing #ao3 #amino #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

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angelsfalling16 · 3 years

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okay okay i can’t think of anything specific but like hurt comfort for deniall? i can never get enough of that ship and i really like the idea of that trope for them!! like something where devs upset about all the attention baz has ever gotten and how he feels like such a background character in life and nialls like ohhoho how would you feel if i told you i’ve been in l or with you since we were like 10. idk just spit balling anything you want to do tbh i love all ur work so!!!

a/n: As soon as I saw this ask, the ideas started turning in my mind, and I really liked the idea that you had, so I ran with it. I love writing deniall fics because it allows me to write different types of stories, which is really interesting. Thanks so much for Sending me this prompt, Nonnie!! I hope you like it! :) The title is from the song Story of Us by Taylor Swift

Read it on ao3

***

Niall

Dev is having a meltdown. Like a full on lying on the floor with moody music blasting through the speakers meltdown. This isn’t the first time he’s acted like this, and the fact that he didn’t come find me to tell me what’s wrong means it can’t be too bad, so I decide to ignore him for the moment until he’s ready to talk.

He reminds me so much of Baz in the way of his dramatics at this moment, but if this were Baz, I would be backing way off for fear of being burnt to a crisp for the sole reason of being in the same room as him. Dev on the other hand is all bark and no bite. It's kind of adorable.

I move around the room, pulling books from my school bag and tidying the room a bit, pretending not to notice the boy lying in the middle of the floor or the fact that I think my ears might be bleeding from the volume of this music.

I’m walking over to pick up a stray shirt on the floor when Dev grabs my ankle, nearly causing me to fall flat on my face.

I sigh. "Alright. What gives, Dev?"

"Did you know that Baz is older than me?" He mumbles into the carpet, and I briefly wonder when the last time was that we thought to vacuum in here.

"What?" I ask, wondering what this has to do with him lying on the floor.

"Yeah. By three months. For three months, I was the only grandchild, the only nephew. I was beloved by everyone. Then Baz came into the world and all of that went away."

"Uhh..." I say, still not seeing the point. "There's no way you even remember those three months."

"No but it’s still true."

"Okay?" I say slowly. Where the hell is he going with this?

He rolls over on his back but dramatically throws an arm over his face so that I can’t really make out his expression. I’m not sure whether he’s being serious or just really melodramatic, but realizing we're going to be here a while, I plop down on the floor next to him, using my magic to turn the music off, sending us into a silence that sounds almost as deafening as the music was.

"Do you ever feel like you're a background character in someone else's story?” Dev asks finally. “Like nothing you ever do will be important enough to be the main character?”

I think about it for a moment. "Not really. Why?"

"It's like my whole life I've been living in the shadows, a few steps behind Baz. No matter what I did or how deeply I was hurting, it could never compare to whatever was going on with Baz. It began to feel like a competition, one that I never had a chance of winning."

"Life isn't supposed to be a competition. The way you feel or hurt is valid even if someone else has it worse. It’s your life and your experiences and that is what's important."

"I know but it’s still hard not to feel like a background character."

He really sounds distraught over this, and I wonder how long he’s been holding all of this in. I want to reach out and take his hand in mine but decide that that would be stupid and keep my hands to myself.

"You know what I think?” I say. “I think everyone is the writer of their own story. They get to make their own choices and decide how much they allow themselves to be affected by others. They can’t change other people's stories, but they can be a part of them. So yeah, it’s possible you're a background character in Baz's story, but what about in your story?"

He slides his arm down to rest on his chest so that he can stare at me. "When did you get to be so wise, Niall?"

I shrug self-consciously, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up onto my face. He looks away to stare up at the ceiling, like all of the answers will be up there.

"Okay. So say that that’s true and you can write your own story, what could I do to make it my own?"

I hum noncommittally, thinking about it. I know what I would do if it were me. I would tell my best friend I'm in love with him and have been since we were like 11 and first thrown into this tiny room together.

I can’t say that though because it would ruin everything. Maybe I will in a few months when we leave Watford for good and go our separate ways.

He's looking at me expectantly now, so I try to come up with an acceptable answer.

"If I were trying to make my story my own, I think I would try to figure out what's holding me back and find a way to change it. I would find a way to take charge of it and not wait around for things to happen to me."

He tilts his head thoughtfully at me and a strand of hair falls down in front of his eye. My fingers itch to reach out and brush it away but I ball my hand into a fist to keep myself from doing something stupid.

"So, what's holding you back then Niall?"

My face heats even more as I stutter out a response. "N-nothing. We weren’t talking about m-me."

I press my lips firmly together as if to prove my point.

The corner of Dev's mouth turns up in a small smile, and it looks like his dark mood is almost gone. Something else has grabbed his attention. I just wish that thing wasn't me.

"We should go to dinner," I say in an attempt to distract him. I start to stand up, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back down. He doesn’t let go and now we're sitting face to face in the middle of our room.

"You have a secret," he accuses. "You're terrible at keeping secrets, so this must be big."

I swallow hard, my heart beating hard against my rib cage. "It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Come on. You can tell me. I'm your best friend."

And there it is. The reason I could never tell him how I really feel: I don’t want to lose his friendship. It means too much to me. He means too much to me.

"It’s nothing," I say again. "It’s not an important part of my story." The lie causes me physical pain as the words leave my mouth, and I want to take them back. I hate lying to him.

He looks like he wants to push the matter further, but he simply lets go of my arm and shrugs.

"Fine. You don’t have to tell me." He says it flippantly, like it really doesn’t matter, which for some reason makes me hurt even more.

My skin feels cold where his hand just was, and suddenly it feels like there’s too much room between us. He was wrong. I'm not terrible at keeping secrets. I just don't like keeping them, especially from him,which is why I decide that it's time to stop keeping this one.

"Dev wait," I say even though he hasn't moved yet. "I'll tell you."

"You don’t have to," he says softly. "I didn't mean to push you."

I shake my head. "No, you didn't. I want to tell you."

"Okay."

I drop my gaze down to my hands in my lap but then I decide that I need to look at him when I say this. I have to see his reaction, no matter how bad it is.

"You said that you feel like a background character but I know that's not true. It couldn’t possibly be true because you're such a big part of my life."

He starts to say something, but I shake my head to stop him. If I don’t say this now, I don’t think I'll ever be able to say it. I take a deep breath and continue.

"From the moment the Crucible pulled us together and brought you into my life, I knew my life would never be the same. As soon as I saw your crooked smile and floppy hair falling into your eyes, I knew that I was gone for. I may not have known what it meant just yet, but I knew having you in my life was all I would ever want." His expression is unreadable as I say all of this, so I just keep going, trying not to worry about what he must be thinking. "You can't possibly be a background character because you’re a main character in my story. You’re one of the most special things about my story, and you’re one of the things that keeps it going, gives it purpose."

"Niall, what exactly are you saying?" Dev asks slowly.

A small part of me wants to say that he's just my best friend, but I can’t go back now. I have to see this all the way through.

"I’m in love with you, Dev. I have loved you for years and--mmph."

I'm cut off when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me with so much force that it nearly knocks me over.

He pulls away just as quickly, his face red and unable to look at me.

"Sorry. I just--. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Niall, I... I love you, too." He looks back up at me when he says it, a smile playing on his lips.

My brain stalls out at that, but I can feel my face break out into a giant, stupid grin. I can’t believe it. I can't believe Dev actually feels the same way about me.

It’s my turn to kiss him, and I actually do knock into him with enough force to make him land on his back on the carpet. Then I kiss him like my life depends on it.

He wraps his arms around me, and we lie tangled up together kissing for a long time.

"I think dinner is over now," Dev says when we finally break apart, and I laugh.

I roll off of him so that were both lying on our backs together, side by side. His hand finds my and I interlace our fingers.

We stay like that for a few minutes before there's a knock at the door.

"Are you two alright in there? You missed dinner." It's Baz.

Dev sits up quickly, and I join him.

"Remember," I say quietly. You’re not a background character. You are so much more than that."

He smiles and says, "I know. Thanks for helping me see that." Then louder, he says, "We're fine. We just got a little...distracted."

I can feel my face warm as I stand up, hoping I don’t look too much like I was just rolling around on the floor with my roommate.

"Oh. Is it alright if I come in?"

Dev looks at me and I shrug. "Sure. I have some snacks hidden in my wardrobe. We can eat in here."

"Alright thanks," Baz says when I let him

The three of us sit on the floor together passing snacks around and making small talk about our day. Dev keeps throwing knowing glances my way, and I try not to blush as I think about all that has transpired on this carpet in the last hour and a half.

I wonder what Baz would say if I just reached over and took Dev’s hand right now, but I don’t think I'm ready for him to know just yet. I am not ashamed of this. I just want it to stay between me and Dev for a little while longer.

It will be our little secret. Our special, amazing secret.

I can't keep the smile off my face, and I can tell Dev knows exactly what I’m thinking about, but he doesn’t say anything until Baz has left for his own room.

"So..." He says.

"So..." I repeat.

He smiles at me and my heart melts. Merlin, I love him.

"What does this mean?" He asks, and his face flushes, giving away how nervous he was about asking that question. I'm surprised he even has to ask.

"For me, it means I want to be your boyfriend."

"I want that, too."

We kiss again and it's perfect.

It’s like one of those big moments in a story when everything comes together, and all the pieces fall into place. This is what everything has been building to, and it’s even better than I ever could have imagined.

This is not the end of our story, merely the end of this chapter in it.

#deniall #deniall fic #dev x niall #the simon snow trilogy #rainbow rowell #story of us #my writing #i wrote this in like an hour and a half on my phone last night #which is kind of crazy for me #lol #i had a lot of fun with it!

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prettyflyshyguy · 3 years

Text

Oops I wrote more C virus stuff

I got super energised and spent all night drafting up a one-shot about what happens when Ashley reunites with Leon post RE6 in the C-Virus AU cannon. It’s unfinished and is very much a draft, but I’m excited so I wanted to post what I have so far. I intend on compiling a bunch of these together and putting them up as chapters on AO3 and Fanfic.net once they’re edited, featuring various different characters.

You came this far just to become a Monster - The Aftermath

A brief summary: Ashley visits Leon while he’s stuck in quarantine. It gets a bit emotional.

I’m assuming the President in RE6 was the same in RE4 despite the uh long time difference between the two games. It’s 9 years and I’m Australian so I know nothing about American politics but I think a president can only serve 8 years in one stint so uh maybe he’d just been elected in 4 and was just running out of time before he died in 6? I’m rolling with that for the sake of my head-cannon/AU storylines. It makes sense given Leon was described as being good friends with him, and we can assume the friendship started once he got Ashley back home safely after the events of 4.

Given Ashley was 19/20 during RE4 she should be 28/29 post RE6 depending on her birthday.

The conversation with Hunnigan echoed in her mind as she walked down the labs corridor.

“While pursuing Chief Security Advisor Simmons, Leon became infected with the C Virus. He’s OK, don’t worry. It’s just we’re still running tests to make sure he’ll stay ok.

I know the report I gave you didn’t have much to go on in it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t allowed to provide you with much more information. You’ll just have to wait until you can see him for yourself.

He’s happy to talk with you, you can go down to the labs today if you’d like.”

“He’s happy to talk? You mean I can’t see him?”

The warm smile was betrayed by the sorrow in Hunnigan’s eyes.

“He’s still adjusting to everything. He’s spoken to a couple of our doctors and he’s dealing with a lot of internal negative emotions right now, about what people think of him. I don’t think the tests are helping.”

Hunnigan reached out and gently held Ashley’s hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you visit. It’s what he really needs right now. Trust me.”

Standing outside the viewing room door, holding her keycard at the ready, she steeled herself. The way the security staff described the setup, Leon had access to a shutter system on the viewing window, giving him control over how and when visitors can see him. It allowed him much needed privacy given his life since coming home was endless tests and scans and scientists.

Tapping her card against the reader, the light flicked green and she heard the lock release. Pressing down on the cold handle, she slipped inside. There was a small coffee table near the viewing window, the shutter was down. A few chairs were on the far wall, she pulled one up to the window and sat down. On the table there was a remote control, it looked custom made for the setup. It only had a handful of buttons, the most important of which was a ‘call’ button that she was told would alert Leon that someone was in the room, and a ‘mic on’ button. The room had an inbuilt microphone and speaker system to allow comfortable communication even if large groups were there.

It felt uncomfortably sterile. Worse than a hospital. She looked up to the top left corner of the room, where a security camera stared back. She was also told Leon had access to the feed. She wondered if he was watching now? Hunnigan said she’d call ahead. Was he waiting for her to do something first? Would he be upset that she was so hesitant?

Shaking off the feeling she hit both buttons on the controller and flashed a smile and a wave towards the security camera, for good measure.

A moment passed before she heard a light clicking sound on the intercom, before a voice emerged.

“Ashley, hey…”

She was surprised that he sounded so… Normal. She wasn't sure what she expected, no one had given her any information other than that he’d been infected but he hadn’t lost his mind. There was an extensive report written about the events that went down, she’d been able to convince the BSAA to let her read a copy of it but it was heavily redacted. Particularly the parts pertaining to Leon.

“It’s… good to see you.”

She was relieved to hear the sincerity in his voice, despite how slightly rough around the edges he sounded. He was Leon, that hadn’t changed. But she could tell he was different all the same.

“It’s good to, uh, hear you, haha..”

Her feet shuffled, she started bouncing one leg. Looking longfully at the window glass with the shutter still closed. She was fine with phone calls but this was making her nervous. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d last spoke, that they’d last caught up in person.

“I’m sorry, about your dad. I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. I’m sorry for everything, Ashley.”

“It’s ok, Leon. You did everything you could.”

Despite the lack of contact, the uncomfortable fog in the room was palpable for both parties. Her leg bouncing rate increased. Shuffling could be heard over the intercom speaker. They each heard the pain in the other’s voice. The wound was still fresh and very deep.

Not wanting to have that conversation to a wall, Ashley attempted to change the subject.

“So how are you holding up? I mean with the tests and everything. Hunnigan said you shouldn't have to be in isolation much longer.”

“Uhh yeah… It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

She let out a small sigh.

“You can’t bullshit me, Leon.”

Silence.

“You’ve been stuck inside that room for almost three months now. You must be tired of it, and lonely.”

She paused, before continuing.

“When I got back from Europe after you rescued me, they kept me in isolation for precautionary testing for two weeks. They were paranoid I guess. I know for you they didn’t need long to clear you of any issues. Those two weeks were the worst of my life.”

“Worse than being injected with a mind-controlling parasite?” he joked back.

“Much, much worse.” she playfully replied, “I didn’t have a strong, capable, and handsome government agent to save me from a bunch of creepy scientists in hazmat suits.”

She heard what sounded like a muffled laugh. A smile crossed her face.

“Unfortunately for me the only ‘strong, capable, and handsome’ government agent I know is limited to Visitors on Wednesdays only.”

This made Ashley giggle suddenly, the first time she’d properly and genuinely laughed since before the C-Virus incident even occurred.

“When I came home, Dad was so worried. He just wanted to make sure I was gonna be ok. He was always so busy and worked so hard. He just wanted to make sure he could change something for the positive. In the end you made sure that happened. You and Helena.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and gently dropped off her chin. Followed by another.

“I’d known Simmons for just about my whole life, he’d had family dinners with us, we’d visit his house frequently. Dad had confided in him about so much I just… I can’t believe he’d betray us like that. I can’t believe he would be so selfish.”

The tears were making it hard for her to see, her words were mixed in with sharp breaths as she began to sob.

“He killed dad and all those people, after everything, he just fucking killed him and killed everyone else and burned it to the ground all for what!! And now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do, Leon I just don’t know what to fucking do!”

She cried for a moment, letting the anger and the grief flow. Purging her system, letting it out. As she started to calm down she pulled a packet of tissues from her bag, to clean her face.

“I want to make a difference. I want to do something, like dad did.” she said slowly through strained breaths.

“I never want to feel helpless and small ever again. After you rescued me in Europe, after everything you did to stop Simmons, I want to do something for the world too.”

She glanced up at the security camera, as if it would respond back somehow. Hoping he was watching.

“You and dad made me realise what I wanted to do with my life, what I cared most about. I even changed my college degree to International Relations when I got home but I mean, you already know that. Now with the BSAA here, I’ve asked Hunnigan if she can help me shift my career slightly, and work with you and everyone else here.”

“Really? You want to work for the BSAA?”

She nodded, not knowing if he could even see. Taking the moment to have a drink from her water bottle to gather herself.

“... I’ll put in a personal recommendation, if they’re still accepting those from me after everything.”

“Thank you Leon, I’m sure they will.” Ashley smiled.

“Well if they let me do anything, once the tests are cleared, I’d like to go visit your old man with you. If you don’t mind. I couldn’t be there for the funeral so… “

“Of course Leon,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “I’d love that. I’m sure dad would too.”

“I think you’d be great here, we need more people like you Ashley.”

“Of course, someone needs to be around to stop you getting into more trouble right?”

She was hoping for a smart ass response, a laugh, a quip, something. Her comment was met with silence. Her heart sank.

“What happened to you, Leon?”

He avoided responding, she could hear more slight shuffling noises.

“I know you feel uncomfortable, god knows I would too. Everyone’s talking about you, saying you’re a hero. You and all the others that worked together to stop the C-Virus from spreading. You saved people's lives.”

“... I don’t think you’d be calling me that if you could see me right now.”

The most she’d gotten to read about the effects of the virus on him were small comments about carapace and ‘external structural changes’. In all honestly she had no idea what he looked like, if he was even recognisable. She didn’t really know how to ask, besides the fact she really only knew Hunnigan well enough to be confident posing the question.

“I wouldn’t know. No one’s shown me any photos of you. I have no idea.”

He was silent again.

“But you’re still you, in the end. Does it matter what you look like?”

“It does when you look like a monster.”

She recoiled slightly at the tone of his voice.

“When I was in China, when it happened. It didn’t really matter to me. People's lives were at stake, Simmons was out there, I embraced it in the moment because I couldn't let people down. I needed to do something. I couldn't just give up and avoid facing the world. But now? I’m stuck in this cell and every few days I get more needles poked into me and more scans and more people asking me stupid fucking questions and I just.”

He paused suddenly. Breathing for a few moments.

“I can’t deal with all of this. I’m as good as a lab animal now. And why would anyone think any differently if they saw what I’ve become.”

“C’mon, don’t say that.”

Suddenly the shutter began to move upwards, a brighter light from the room beyond the glass spilling in. It took Ashley a moment to adjust before she could fully stare at the figure sitting opposite her.

“If you were in trouble and the thing that came to help you looked like this, would you still call it a hero?”

#Leon Kennedy #Ashley Graham #C Virus AU #Resident Evil 6 #Resident Evil #fanfic #fic #Look I got way to excited about this and just knew exactly what I wanted to write #so have this very rare burst of Text from me #I'm enjoying practicing writing interactions between characters and focusing a lot on the interpersonal relationships #I'm trying to pack a lot in there #nods to other characters #reflections of the past game events #how things might change in a characters psyche after they experience something big #I hope you enjoy and if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it #because this is a draft and its almost 6am and Ive been awake a long time

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icyharrington · 4 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships

wc: 4.2k

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns @langdonskillerqueen @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

#michael langdon #is it wrong #michael langdon x reader #mine #michael langdon fic #ahs #american horror story #apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #cody fern #x reader #ahs x reader

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